department on Monday.

It’s small but I hope you like it.

And thanks,

Julia.

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Sylvain Reynard

P

Katherine Picton lived a reserved life. She owned a nice home

in the Annex neighborhood of Toronto, which was within walking

distance to the university. She spent her summers in Italy and Christmas holidays in England. And she spent most of her time publishing articles and monographs on Dante. In other words, she lived the life of the respectable academic spinster, except that she didn’t garden or take lovers or own a bevy of cats. (Regrettably.)

Despite her age, she was very much in demand for public lec-

tures and more than one university had attempted to lure her out of retirement with promises of extravagant salaries and modest teaching responsibilities. Katherine would rather have dug the Panama Canal with her fingernails while suffering from yellow fever than give up the time she could devote to research in order to maintain an office on campus and attend faculty meetings.

So when Greg Matthews of Harvard University telephoned her

in January about an opening for an endowed chair in Dante studies, that’s what she told him.

He reacted in stunned silence before fumbling over his next

words. “But Professor Picton, we could arrange it so you wouldn’t

have to teach. All you would have to do would be to deliver a couple of lectures a semester, have a presence on campus, and supervise some doctoral students. That’s it.”

“I don’t want to move all my books,” said Katherine.

“We’ll hire a moving company.”

“They’ll mix them up and it will take weeks to put them back

in order.”

“We’ll hire special movers — movers accustomed to moving librar-

ies. They’ll take your books off the shelf, pack them in order, and replace them on your shelves here in Cambridge exactly the way they were in Toronto. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.”

“Moving companies don’t know how to catalogue books,” she

scoffed. “What if they mis-shelve something? I have thousands of

volumes in my library, and I might never be able to find what they 140

Gabriel’s Rapture

misplace. And what if they lose something? Some of those books

are irreplaceable!”

“Professor Picton, if you would accept the endowed chair, I’ll

come to Toronto and move your books personally.”

Katherine paused for a moment until she realized that Greg was

serious. Then she burst into peals of laughter.

“Harvard sounds very accommodating.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, hoping that she would change

her mind.

“I’m not interested. There are lots of younger persons you should

be considering instead of a sixty-eight-year-old retiree. While we’re on the subject of your department, I want to talk to you about my

graduate student, Julianne Mitchell, and why I think you need to

admit her to your doctoral program.”

Katherine spent ten minutes telling Greg why it had been a

mistake for him to fail to offer Julianne adequate funding the previous year. Then Professor Picton impressed upon him the need for

Julianne to receive a lucrative fellowship beginning in September.

Finally, when she finished scolding him and effectively telling him how to do the job of the Director of Graduate Studies (which was

not, in fact, his job), she promptly hung up.

Greg stared at the phone in his hand with a look of incredulity.

P

During the last week of January, Julia was weightless, floating and happy, the skin on her neck now perfect through medical technology.

Her scar removal was healed, and no one would ever know that she’d been marked. Therapy was going well and so was her relationship

with Gabriel, although on occasion he seemed distracted and she

would have to call his name to bring him back to her.

She’d just finished an amiable coffee with Paul, during which

they discussed Christa’s recent inexplicable good mood and was on

her way to the library when she received a telephone call that would change her life. Greg Matthews offered her early acceptance into the 141

Sylvain Reynard

doctoral program in Romance Languages and Literatures at Harvard,

on a very generous fellowship, for the fall semester.

The acceptance was conditional on the satisfactory completion

of her MA at the University of Toronto, but as Professor Matthews

pointed out, given her letters of recommendation and the glow-

ing endorsement offered by Professor Picton, Julia should have no

problem completing her degree. Professor Matthews was eager to

hear Julia’s acquiescence to the offer, but he knew that most graduate students would need a little time to think about it, and so he asked her to telephone him with her decision in seven days.

Julia was surprised at how calm and professional she sounded on

the phone. Of course, she wasn’t doing much talking. After the call ended, she texted Gabriel with trembling, nervous fingers.

Harvard just called — they want me.

Conditional on my MA. Love, J.

A few minutes later, she received a reply.

Congratulations, darling. In a meeting.

My place — one hour? G.

Julia smiled at her iPhone and quickly completed her library

errands before walking to the Manulife Building. She was excited

but worried. On the one hand, her admission to Harvard was the

culmination of her dreams and hard work. On the other, Harvard

represented separation from Gabriel.

Bolstered by Doctor Nicole’s encouragement to be kind to her-

self, Julia decided to have a hot shower in order to allow herself a few minutes to think. She left a note on the hall table where Gabriel always dropped his keys and proceeded to make herself at home in

his spacious bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she was half-asleep

under the tropical rain showerhead.

“This is a welcome sight,” Gabriel whispered, opening the door

to the shower. “A warm, wet, and naked Julianne.”

“There’s room for a warm, wet, and naked Gabriel too,” she said,

grasping his hand.

He smiled. “Not right now. We should celebrate. Where would

you like to go to dinner?”

142

Gabriel’s Rapture

There was a time when Julia would simply have accepted Ga-

briel’s suggestion because she wanted to make him happy. But on

this occasion, she spoke up. “Can we just stay in? I don’t want to be around a lot of people.”

“Of course. Let me change and I’ll be right back.”

By the time Gabriel returned, Julia was standing in the center

of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

He handed her a flute of champagne and they clinked their

glasses together.

“I have something to give to you,” he said, disappearing into the

bedroom. He returned a moment later with something crimson in

his hands. He held it up so she could read the lettering on the front.

“This was mine. I’d like you to have it.” He took her glass and

placed it next to his on the vanity, then tugged at her towel until it dropped to the floor.

Julia pulled the hooded Harvard sweatshirt over her head, stand-

ing like a nearly naked sorority girl who had just rolled out of bed with her boyfriend.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, wrapping her in his arms and kissing

her enthusiastically. “This is quite an accomplishment, and I know that you’ve worked very hard for it. I’m proud of you.”

Julia grew a little teary at his praise, for apart from Grace, no one had ever expressed pride in her or her accomplishments. “Thank you.

Are you sure you want to part with your sweatshirt?”

“Of course, my smart, smart girl.”

“I haven’t decided if I’m accepting their offer or not.”

“What?” He pulled away, and his expression morphed into a scowl.

“I just received the call today. I have a week to decide.”

“What’s to decide? You’d be crazy not to accept it!”

She fidgeted with her hands. She thought that Gabriel would

be saddened at the idea of their separation. She hadn’t thought that he would be so enthusiastic.

He paced back and forth. “Didn’t they offer you enough money?

Because you know I’ll cover the cost. I’ll buy you an apartment near Harvard Square, for God’s sake.”

“I don’t want to be kept.”

143

Sylvain Reynard

“What are you talking about?” He turned his head, peering over

at her sharply.

Julia squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I want to pay

my own way.”

Gabriel groaned in frustration and cupped her face in his hands.

“Julianne, we will never be equals. You are my better.”

He stared at her, his sincerity bringing a particular light to his blue eyes, and he kissed her, before pulling her into his chest. “I have more vices and more money. I refuse to share my vices, but my money is yours. Take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Then let me help you secure a loan. Please don’t turn down this

opportunity. Please. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

“Money isn’t the issue. Greg Matthews offered me a very generous

fellowship, which will be more than enough to cover my expenses.”

She grasped the hem of her sweatshirt, tugging it to cover more