Gabriel placed the bills in the man’s hand and turned sharply on

his heel, the echoes of the beggar’s joy and blessings ringing in his ears.

He wasn’t deserving of a blessing. He hadn’t committed an act of

charity the way Julianne would have done it, out of compassion and kindness. He was simply doing justice to her memory, or purchasing an indulgence.

As tripped over a cobblestone, he realized what he had to do.

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P

The next day he tried to secure the house in Umbria that he’d

shared with her, but it was already occupied. So he traveled to Assisi where he checked into a small, private hotel that was simple in its furnishings and populated with pilgrims.

Gabriel had never styled himself as a pilgrim. He was far too

proud for that. Nevertheless, there was something in the air in Assisi that allowed him to sleep peacefully. In fact, it had been the best sleep he’d had since leaving Julia’s arms.

He rose early the next morning and made his way to the Basilica

of St. Francis. It was a place of pilgrimage for persons of all faiths, if only for its medieval frescoes and the peaceful atmosphere that per-vaded it. It was no little coincidence that he found himself retracing the steps he’d taken with Julianne prior to Christmas. He’d taken

her to Mass in the Basilica superiore or upper part of the church, and had even waited patiently while she went to confession before the

Mass began.

As he wandered through the upper Basilica, admiring the images

and drinking in the comforting quiet of the sanctuary, he caught

a glimpse of a woman with long, brown hair disappear through a

doorway. Intrigued, he decided to follow her. Despite the crowd of tourists and pilgrims, it was easy to pick her out, and so he found himself descending to the Basilica inferiore.

Then she vanished.

Distressed, he searched the lower church. Only when his search

proved fruitless did it occur to him to descend deeper into the bowels of the Basilica toward the tomb of St. Francis. There she was, kneeling in front of the crypt. He slipped into the last row of pews and out of respect, knelt. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

It wasn’t Julianne. The young woman in front of him was a

little fuller in the hips and wider in the shoulders and her hair was darker. But she was beautiful, and her beauty reminded him of how

much he’d lost.

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Sylvain Reynard

The room was small and primitive, a studied contrast to the wide-

open and elaborately frescoed upper Basilica. Gabriel was not alone in finding that the simplicity that was St. Francis’s life and mission was more accurately reflected in the unassuming tomb. It was with

such thoughts in mind that Gabriel found himself leaning against

the pew in front of him and bowing his head. Before he could form

the intention to do so, he began praying.

At first they were just words — desperate utterances and whis-

pered confessions. As time wore on, his prayers took on a more

repentant shape, while unbeknownst to him, the young woman lit

a candle and departed.

If Gabriel’s life had been a major motion picture, an old, weath-

ered Franciscan brother would have stumbled across him as he knelt in prayer, and seeing his distress, would show him compassion, offering spiritual guidance. But Gabriel’s life was not a motion picture.

So he prayed alone.

If you had asked Gabriel afterward about what occurred in the

tomb, he would have shrugged and evaded the question. Some things

cannot be put into words. Some things defy language itself.

But there was a moment in his prayers in which Gabriel was

confronted with the magnitude of all his failings, both moral and

spiritual, while at the same time feeling the presence of One who

knew the state of his soul and embraced him anyway. He was sud-

denly aware of what the writer Annie Dillard once referred to as the extravagance of grace. He thought of the love and forgiveness that had been lavished on the world and more specifically, on him, through

the lives of Grace and Richard.

And Julianne, my sticky little leaf.

The magnet for sin found something very unexpected underneath

the floors of the upper Basilica. When he left the church, he was

more determined than ever not to return to his old ways.

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Chapter 36

For Julia, the rest of April was a vortex of activity. There were

final revisions to be made to her thesis, meetings with Katherine

Picton and Nicole, and Friday nights to be spent with Paul.

Katherine ensured that Julia’s final draft was error free and

something that she could be proud of. Then she telephoned Cecilia

Marinelli in Oxford to ask her to look for Julia at Harvard in the fall.

Paul secured a studio apartment in Cambridge for her to sublet.

She began working through a list of texts Katherine had suggested

she read in preparation for Professor Marinelli’s seminar.

At the end of April, Julia received a very official looking letter from the Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies. Dr. Aras requested her attendance at his office in a week’s time. He assured her that their appointment had nothing to do with a disciplinary matter, and he

stated that Professor Martin would also be in attendance.

With great trepidation, she trudged across campus on a Monday

afternoon, clutching her L.L. Bean knapsack. She took comfort in

it, in the fact that it had been her companion for almost a year. Paul had offered to accompany her, but she’d declined, arguing that she needed to face the Dean alone. Still, he’d hugged her and promised to wait for her at their favorite Starbucks.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Mitchell. How was your semester?”

Julia gazed across the desk at Dean Aras in surprise. “It

was — interesting.”

The Dean nodded, his eyes shifting to meet Professor Martin’s.

“I know this academic year has been challenging for you. I asked to speak with you simply to find out if you have had any other problems since the hearing.”

Sylvain Reynard

Julia looked between the two academics, measuring them. “What

kind of problems?”

“Dean Aras is wondering if Professor Emerson bothered you at

all after the hearing. Did he call or email you? Did he try to meet with you?” Professor Martin appeared friendly, but there was an

undertone to his demeanor that made Julia suspicious.

“Why do you care? You got what you wanted. He left the city.”

The Dean’s expression tightened. “I’m not about to retry the case

with you, Miss Mitchell. This meeting is a courtesy, an attempt to ensure that you have been able to proceed with your education free of interference. We’re trying to determine if Professor Emerson kept his word and left you alone.”

“I received an email from him a few days after the hearing. He told me to stop contacting him and that we were over. That’s what you

want to hear, right?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Professor Martin exchanged a meaningful look with the Dean.

“I’m sure you’re glad to put this matter behind you.”

Julia sat silently, not bothering to answer.

“You’re free to go. Congratulations on a successful year and con-

gratulations on being admitted to Harvard. We’ll see you at gradu-

ation.” The Dean nodded at her dismissively.

She picked up her knapsack and walked to the door. Just as her

hand reached for the doorknob she stopped, turning to face the two professors.

How strange it is, she thought, that these two men, armed only

with massive intellects and closets full of tweed, could wield so much power over her heart and her happiness.

“I don’t regret my relationship with Professor Emerson, even

though it ended badly. Both of you were incredibly dismissive and

patronizing to me throughout this entire process. I understand the importance of protecting someone who needs protection, but the

only people I needed protection from was you.”

Julia gave them a withering look and exited the office.

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Gabriel stayed so long in Assisi, he became a fixture at the Basilica.

Every day he spent a long hour sitting by St. Francis’s crypt,

thinking. Sometimes he prayed. Sometimes God seemed near and

other times he seemed far away. At all times, Gabriel wished he was with Julia, although he began to realize how flawed their relationship had been — how he’d wanted to change his ways to be worthy of her

when really, he should have changed because he was an insufferable ass.

He was enjoying lunch one day at the hotel when a fellow Ameri-

can struck up a conversation with him. The man was a physician from California, who was visiting Assisi with his wife and teenaged son.

“We’re going to Florence tomorrow, and we’ll be there for two

months.”

“Doing what?” Gabriel asked, eying the gray-haired man curiously.

“We’ll be staying with the Franciscans. My wife, who is a nurse,

and I will be working in a medical clinic. My son is going to be

helping the homeless.”

Gabriel frowned. “You’re doing this as volunteers?”