ing with a therapist for a year or so afterward, in addition to going to weekly self-help meetings. It isn’t as if I haven’t gone down that road.”

Julia frowned. “You’re in recovery and you don’t go to meetings.

I haven’t said much about it before, but that’s a serious problem. On top of that, you still drink.”

“I was a cocaine addict, not an alcoholic.”

She paused, searching his eyes. It was as if she’d uncovered an

old medieval map that outlined the edge of the world with the words here there be dragons.

47

Sylvain Reynard

“We both know that Narcotics Anonymous strongly suggests

that addicts don’t drink.” She sighed. “As much as I will try to help, some things are beyond me. As much as sex with you pleases me, I

don’t want to become your new drug of choice. I can’t fix things.”

“Is that what you think? That I use sex to fix things?” His question was in earnest, and so Julia resisted the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I think that you used to use sex to fix things. You said as much

to me once, remember? You used sex to combat your loneliness. Or

to punish yourself.”

A dark shadow passed over Gabriel’s features. “It isn’t like that

with you.”

“But when a person is upset, old patterns of behavior emerge. It’s true of me too, except my coping mechanisms are different.” She

kissed him softly but long enough for his panic to recede and for

him to kiss her back.

When they pulled apart they stood wrapped around one another

until Julia decided to break the silence. “Your lecture last night reminded me of something.” She pulled her phone from her purse and

quickly scrolled through some pictures. “Here.”

He took the phone from her hand and gazed at an exquisite

painting. In it, St. Francesca Romana cradled an infant child with the assistance of the Virgin Mary, while an angel looked on.

“It’s beautiful.” He returned her phone.

“Gabriel,” she said softly. “Look at the painting.”

He did. And the strangest feeling passed over him.

She began to speak in a low voice. “I’ve always loved this painting.

I thought it was because there are similarities between Gentileschi and Caravaggio. But it’s more than that. St. Frances lost some of her children to the plague. This painting is supposed to portray one of her visions of what happened to those children.”

She searched Gabriel’s eyes to see if he grasped her meaning.

But he hadn’t.

“When I look at this painting, I think of your baby, Maia. Grace

is holding her, surrounded by angels.” Julia pointed to the figures in the painting. “See? The baby is safe and loved. That’s what Paradise is like. You don’t have worry.”

48

Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia looked up into his face. His pained, beautiful face. Gabriel had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to comfort you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him tightly.

Eventually, he wiped at his eyes. He hid his face in her hair, feeling grateful and relieved.

The following afternoon, the rain stopped. So the couple took

a taxi up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which provided a sweeping view of the city. They could have taken a city bus like regular people, but Gabriel was not like regular people.

(Few Dante specialists are.)

“What did Rachel say in her email?” he asked as they admired

the tiled roof of the Duomo.

Julia fidgeted with her fingernails. “She and Aaron said hello.

They wanted to know if we were happy.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all?”

“Um, no.”

“So?”

She shrugged. “They said that Scott had a girlfriend. That was

about it.”

“Good for Scott.” He chuckled. “Was there anything else?”

“Why do you ask?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Because I can tell when you’re

hiding something.”

He began to run his fingers up and down the soft flesh at her

waist, a particularly ticklish spot.

“You aren’t going to do that in public.”

“Oh, yes I am.” He grinned and began moving his fingers with

purpose, trying to tickle her.

She started giggling and trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but

he held her close.

“Come on, Julianne. Tell me what Rachel said.”

“Stop tickling,” she gasped, “and I’ll tell you.”

Gabriel stilled his hands.

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Sylvain Reynard

She took a deep breath. “She wanted to know if we’d, um, slept

together.”

“Oh, really?” His lips turned up into a half-smile. “And what

did you say?”

“I told the truth.”

He searched her eyes. “Anything else?”

“She said she hoped you were behaving yourself and that I was

happy. And I said yes — on both counts.” She waited for a moment,

thinking about whether or not she should mention the email from

a certain Vermont farm boy.

“But there’s something else. Go ahead.” He was still smiling

indulgently.

“Well, Paul emailed me.”

Gabriel scowled. “What? When?”

“The day of your lecture.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” he fumed.

“Because of this.” She gestured to the irritation visible on his face.

“I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t want to do that when you

had to speak in front of a room full of important people.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that you passed Christa’s dissertation proposal.”

“What else did he say?”

“He wished me a Merry Christmas and said that he was sending

something to me in Selinsgrove.”

Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s my friend. It’s probably maple syrup, which I will

gladly give to my dad. Paul knows that I have a boyfriend and that I am very, very happy. I’ll forward the email to you, if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Gabriel’s lips thinned visibly.

Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You were eager to

have me spend time with Paul when Professor Pain was around.”

“That was different. And I don’t particularly wish to discuss her ever again.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t keep running into people I’ve

slept with.”

50

Gabriel’s Rapture

Gabriel glared.

Julia clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was a

terrible thing to say.”

“As you may recall, I have run into at least one person with whom

you’ve been sexually involved.”

He turned and walked away, approaching the edge of the lookout.

She gave him a moment or two to himself, then she stood beside

him and cautiously wrapped her little finger around his. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

“Thank you for rescuing me from Simon.”

Gabriel scowled. “You know that I have a past. Do you intend

to keep bringing it up?”

She lowered her gaze to her shoes. “No.”

“That remark was beneath you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes trained on the city that was spread out before

them. Red tiled roofs shone in the sun, while Brunelleschi’s dome

dominated the view.

Julia decided to change the subject. “Christa was behaving

strangely at your last seminar. She seemed resentful. Do you think she knows about us?”

“She’s sour because I haven’t welcomed her outrageous advances.

But she met the deadline for her revised proposal and her work was acceptable.”

“So she wasn’t — blackmailing you?”

“Not every woman is your rival for me,” he snapped, pushing

away her hand.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “That remark was beneath you.”

After a moment, the anger seemed to seep out of him. His shoul-

ders slumped. “Forgive me.”

“Let’s not waste our time together arguing.”

“Agreed. But I don’t like the idea of Paul emailing you. Although

I suppose you could be friends with worse persons.” Gabriel sounded unusually prim.

She smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek. “There’s the Profes-

sor Emerson I know and love.”

51

Sylvain Reynard

He pulled out his phone so he could take her picture against the

background of the beautiful view. Julia was laughing, and he was

taking picture after picture when his phone began to ring. The not so dulcet tones of London’s Big Ben sounded between them.

Julia gave him a challenging look.

He grimaced and pulled her into an intense kiss. He cupped her

face with his hand, determinedly parting her lips with his own and gently slipping his tongue inside.

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull

him closer. And all the while, Big Ben chimed.

“You aren’t going to answer it?” she finally got a chance to ask.

“No. I told you earlier, I wasn’t going to speak to her.”

He pressed his lips to Julia’s once again, but only briefly.

“I feel sorry for her,” Julia said.

“Why?”

“Because she created a child with you. Because she still wants

you, but she’s lost you. If I were to lose you to someone else, I’d be devastated.”

Gabriel huffed impatiently. “You aren’t going to lose me. Stop

that.”

Julia smiled weakly. “Um, I need to say something.”