Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Redemption

Call me when you get this message, no matter what time it is.” [another pause] “Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra. I love you.”

Gabriel tossed his cell phone on the large, empty bed.

He was still processing his conversation with his sister. Much of what she’d said surprised him. It was clear that her relationship with her father was loving and good. In this respect, as in others, it appeared that he and Kelly had two very different fathers.

It had been a relief to have some of his questions answered, even if the answers led to more questions. Certainly, the news about his grandfather was good. A warm feeling spread in his chest at the thought.

At least I have one blood relative I can be proud of, in addition to my sister.

How he wished he could have come home to a sleeping Julianne and tell her what had happened. How he wished he could crawl into her arms and erase the day. He’d made a colossal error when he determined to do things alone. And now, as usual, he was forced to live with the consequences.

Cursing himself, he strode to the shower, hoping that the hot water would clear his head. Then he was going to finish reading his mother’s diary, to see if he could discover the truth about his parents’ relationship.

December 5, 2011

Washington, D.C.

Natalie Lundy stared at the photograph in shock.

She heard a strange buzzing sound as her world suddenly came to a halt. She looked at the black-and-white picture—at the man and the young blond woman holding one another and smiling for the camera. At the large diamond solitaire glittering on the woman’s finger. At the announcement of the union of two powerful political families.

Natalie’s stomach rebelled. She heaved over the wastepaper basket, emptying herself of that morning’s breakfast. Shakily, she wiped her mouth and stumbled to the bathroom.

She drank a cup of water as her mind worked. She’d just lost everything. She’d heard the rumors, of course. But she also knew that Simon was only with Senator Hudson’s daughter for political reasons. Or so he’d said the last time he’d been in her bed, at the end of August.

She’d done what he told her to do. She’d worked for his father and kept her mouth shut. She’d emailed or called Simon on occasion, but his responses had become fewer and fewer until they ceased altogether, sometime in November.

He’d been playing her. He’d been playing her for years. Always panting after someone else while satisfying himself with her body.

And she’d done things for him. Things she hadn’t wanted to do, such as various sexual acts and pretending not to care while he fucked other women.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as a terrible idea took hold.

She had nothing to lose, but everything to gain. He had everything to lose and God damn it, she’d see that he lost it.

She put the water glass aside and wiped her mouth, darting into the bedroom on surer feet. She crouched on the floor and pried aside one of the floorboards underneath her bed. She withdrew a flash drive and carefully put it in her jacket pocket. Then she replaced the floorboard.

Grabbing her coat and purse, she headed to the door. As she hailed a taxi, she didn’t notice the dark car parked across the street. So she didn’t realize that it pulled into traffic behind the cab, following at a safe distance.

Gabriel, are you getting my messages? This is the third time I’ve called and gotten your voice mail.

“I left you a message this morning about the train engine. There are letters scratched into the bottom of it and they say ‘O.S.’ I don’t know what that means, do you? And how did you know to look for them? I never noticed them before.

“I’m sorry you have to extend your trip but I understand. I hope that your meeting with your aunt goes well.

“I’m at the library working on my last seminar paper. You know we’re not allowed to talk on the phone here. Text me and I’ll step outside and call you back. I love you. And I miss you.”

Julia groaned as she ended the call. Gabriel’s messages had been melancholy and sad, and growing more so. Somehow, between all his errands and her attempts at completing and submitting her lecture for publication, they’d missed one another. She worried about him.

At least if she could complete her final seminar paper, she’d be finished for the semester. Then she and Gabriel could begin their Christmas holidays.

She began typing on her laptop in earnest.

* * *

“What do you think of Giuseppe Pacciani of Florence?” Lucia Barini, chair of the Department of Italian at Columbia University, gazed at Gabriel over her desk.

He snorted. “Not much. He’s published a few things in addition to his book, but nothing of consequence, in my opinion. Why do you ask?”

“We’re conducting a search to replace one of our retiring professors and he’s on our long list.”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“However, a graduate student has made serious allegations against him, dating all the way back to when she was his student in Florence. You know her—Christa Peterson.”

Gabriel grimaced. “Yes, I know her.”

“I heard the rumors about what happened in Toronto. I also heard that Christa started those rumors and that she’s one of the reasons why you and Julianne are no longer there.”

“Julianne was admitted to Harvard. We were getting married. I was eager to leave Toronto.” Gabriel’s affect was decidedly flat.

Lucia gave him a friendly smile. “Of course. I only realized what a problem Christa had been after Jeremy Martin persuaded me to take her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been inclined to admit her. We receive a lot of applications and can afford to be choosy.”

Gabriel simply sat, immobile like a statue.

Lucia removed her glasses. “It’s come to my attention that Christa is a troublemaker and that she takes her troublemaking tendencies wherever she goes. She had trouble with Pacciani in Florence, she had trouble in Toronto, and apparently, she had trouble with Katherine Picton in Oxford this summer. Katherine telephoned to tell me to start teaching etiquette to our graduate students since it’s obvious they don’t know how to behave in public.” Lucia’s tone was absent any amusement. “I don’t like receiving calls like that from anyone, especially from her. This semester, my faculty informed me that no one wants to serve on Christa’s examination committee. They’re worried about being slandered for harassment.”

Gabriel’s look was pointed. “They’re right to be worried.”

“That was my thought, as well. Now I’m in the awkward position of either having to agree to supervise Christa myself, and offending Katherine, or having to tell her to go elsewhere.” Lucia tossed her glasses on the desk in front of her. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”

Gabriel paused, knowing in that instant that Christa’s academic career rested in his hands. He could explain, in detail, what really happened in Toronto and Oxford, and demonstrate the lengths to which Christa would go for a sexual conquest. Such information would no doubt make up Lucia’s mind for her.

He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and then put them back again, acutely aware of the words Julia (and St. Francis) would whisper in his ear.

Exposing Christa would also expose himself and Julianne. She didn’t want the rumors fed. And she deserved to be able to stand in a room filled with academics and be seen for herself, and not as part of a scandal.

Lucia was a friend, but not a close one. Gabriel didn’t want to revisit every encounter he’d ever had with Christa Peterson, embarrassing himself and his wife. For her sake, and the sake of her reputation, he decided to try a different tack.

“If we put the personal issues aside, I can tell you that Christa’s work for me was mediocre.”

“That’s been my impression. If you couple that with her behavior . . .” Lucia shrugged. “She’s a liability.”

“I doubt Pacciani is blameless. I’ve seen him in action.”

“He represents another difficult situation.” Lucia gestured to a file that was sitting open on her desk. “Christa is making allegations about his past behavior, but there are reports that he beds his students and that’s why he’s eager to leave Florence. I don’t want that in my department for obvious reasons, not least of which is because it invites lawsuits.”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, tapping his foot unconsciously.

Lucia placed her glasses in a case, which she then tucked into her purse. “Enough of my troubles. Let me take you to lunch. I have reservations at Del Posto.”

She pushed back from her desk. “We have a lot of catching up to do. Is it true that Julianne told Don Wodehouse that the question he asked wasn’t germane to her thesis?”

Gabriel laughed uproariously. “No, that isn’t true. At least, not exactly.”

He followed Lucia out of the office, proudly describing Julianne’s presentation and the way she handled her questioners, including Professor Wodehouse of Magdalen College.

* * *

“Damnation.” Gabriel cursed his iPhone, which appeared to be dead.

As if he had the power of resurrection, he shook it, pressing the on button repeatedly. He’d almost decided to fling the item into Central Park out of frustration when he remembered that he’d neglected to charge it the evening before.