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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Gabriel’s Rapture
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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Chapter 37
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?”
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