Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Redemption

Christa gazed around the room helplessly, trying to figure a way out of her predicament.

“Let me talk to them. I’ll go see the professors on my own and plead my case.”

Lucia shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. At this point, they’ve added a letter to your permanent file. If you go to them after the fact, they’ll view it as harassment.”

Christa scowled at the implication.

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to harass them.”

Lucia gave her a long look. “Be that as it may, I can’t let you speak to them.”

Christa felt the control she thought she’d regained slip through her fingers.

(It didn’t occur to her that this must have been how Professor Emerson and Julianne felt when they’d been brought before the disciplinary committee in Toronto.)

“It’s too late for me to apply to other programs. This will ruin me.” Her chin began to wobble.

“Not necessarily. Many programs receive applications until March. My assistant can help you identify those programs. Perhaps you should consider returning to Canada.”

“But I want to stay here. Professor Martin said—”

“Professor Martin is not the chair here; I am.” Lucia nodded at the door. “I realize this is a disappointment, but perhaps at another university, you will be successful.”

“There must be something I can do. Please.” Christa sat forward in her chair, begging.

“You can appeal to the dean, if you wish, but university regulations prevent her from demanding that faculty serve on specific examination committees. I’m afraid she can’t help you.” Once again Lucia nodded at the door. “My assistant will help you research other programs. I wish you good luck.”

Christa stared across the desk, in complete and utter shock. But as she exited the office, she remembered something, something Pacciani had said to her back in Oxford.

Be careful, Cristina. You don’t want Professor Picton as an enemy. . . . Departments around the world are filled with her admirers. Your chair at Columbia was her student.

It angered her sorely that in the end, Pacciani had been correct. But as quickly as the realization came to her, so did a possible solution. She would simply have to pursue her education outside the patronage system of Professor Picton. And that meant that she would need to research every single professor in every department that offered a doctoral program in Dante studies.

She had days of work ahead of her, simply to find a possibility of enrolling in a doctoral program.

(It must be said parenthetically that karma had been served.)

Fear and anxiety are not so easily managed, especially by people who have struggled for years with both. When the Emersons returned to Cambridge, they each made appointments to see their respective therapists, immediately.

Dr. Walters suggested several different strategies for Julia to cope with the anxiety over her pregnancy, but she stressed the fact that Julia needed to ask for help and that she also needed to accept it and not try to do everything on her own.

Dr. Townsend painstakingly addressed Gabriel’s worries over the health and welfare of his wife and unborn child. But he was pleased with the progress Gabriel had made since the summer.

The Emersons also visited Dr. Rubio, who confirmed the pregnancy, estimating the due date would be around September sixth. A series of appointments were scheduled, including ultrasounds to monitor the progress of the baby and any issues relating to the uterine fibroids. Julia was urged to modify her diet and to take supplements, in order to ensure her health and the health of the baby.

She was also instructed to avoid oral sex with her husband.

“Come again?” The Professor’s voice boomed in the small room.

“No male-on-female oral sex during pregnancy,” Dr. Rubio repeated briskly.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Dr. Rubio gazed at him coolly.

“And where did you become board certified in obstetrics, Mr. Emerson?”

“It’s Professor Emerson, and I went to Harvard. Where did you go, an anti–oral sex college?”

“Darling.” Julia placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Dr. Rubio is trying to help us and the baby. We want to be healthy.”

“Cunnilingus is healthy,” he huffed. “I can prove it.”

Dr. Rubio cursed obliquely in Spanish. “If air enters the vagina, it could cause an air embolism, which might harm the baby. I advise all my patients not to engage in that kind of oral sex. I’m not picking on you especially, Professor Emerson. Now, I’ll see you at your next appointment. Don’t forget—no caffeine, no raw milk products, no Brie or Camembert, no alcohol, no shellfish, no sushi, no peanut butter, and certainly, no oral sex.” She glared in Gabriel’s direction.

“One might as well say ‘no pleasure.’ What the hell is left?” he complained, moodily.

Julia giggled nervously. “I’m sure we can find something. Thanks, Dr. Rubio.”

And with that Gabriel drove Julia to the nearest Barnes and Noble, whereupon he bought no less than three pregnancy books, all of which stated that cunnilingus during pregnancy was fine, so long as air didn’t enter the vagina.

Then the Emersons retired to their home, whereupon the Professor commenced proving his point.

* * *

“I’m not sure you should come with me to my next doctor’s appointment,” Julia mused as she dressed one morning.

It was January twenty-first, the date of their first wedding anniversary. Rebecca (who was delighted at the prospect of becoming a nanny in addition to her housekeeping duties) had rented out her house in Norwood and moved into one of the guest bedrooms. Julia found her presence comforting, especially since she and Gabriel no longer had mothers to guide them through pregnancy.

“I’m going to all your appointments. Rubio doesn’t scare me.” Gabriel sounded impatient as he buttoned up his dress shirt. “And she doesn’t know everything, either.”

Julia didn’t bother arguing.

She was in her second month of pregnancy and was already feeling the effects. Her breasts had enlarged and were very tender. She was exhausted most of the time, and she’d become sensitive to various scents. She’d had to request that Gabriel no longer wear Aramis because she couldn’t stand the smell. And she’d gotten rid of all her vanilla-scented products and replaced them with grapefruit-scented items because it was one of the few smells she could still tolerate.

To Gabriel’s delight, however, Julia’s hormones were such that she wanted sex several times a day. He was happy to accommodate her.

(For in this respect, as in several others, he was the consummate gentleman.)

“Are you all right?” Gabriel observed her face, which had taken on a greenish cast.

She continued buttoning up her jeans. “Look, Gabriel, they still fit.”

He reached over to kiss her forehead. “That’s great, darling. But we should probably start shopping for maternity clothes.”

“I don’t want to spend my anniversary shopping.”

“We don’t have to. But I thought we’d spend some time walking around Copley Place before we check into the Plaza for the weekend.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “That sounds good.”

By the time she reached the kitchen her stomach had begun to roll. She eyed the platter of scrambled eggs on the breakfast table as Gabriel helped himself to a few strips of bacon.

She felt a funny sensation in the back of her throat.

“Why don’t you start with a slice of dry toast? That’s what I used to do every morning.” Rebecca picked up a loaf of bread and motioned toward the toaster.

“I don’t feel good,” Julia announced, closing her eyes.

“I bought more ginger ale. Sit down and I’ll get you one.” Rebecca put the bread aside and moved toward the fridge.

Before Julia could respond, she felt her stomach heave. She covered her mouth and ran for the nearest bathroom.

Gabriel followed, the sounds of her retching echoing down the hall.

“Sweetheart.” He crouched next to her, reaching around to lift her hair out of the way.

She was on her knees, head hanging over the toilet.

She vomited again and again, her stomach emptying.

Gabriel rubbed her back with his other hand. He fetched her a towel to wipe her mouth and a glass of water.

“This must be love,” she murmured, in between sips of water.

“What’s that?” He sat behind her, cradling her in his arms.

“You held my hair, Professor. You must love me.”

He reached a tentative hand to her lower abdomen. “I seem to recall you looking after me once, when I was sick. And that was before you loved me.”

“I always loved you, Gabriel.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. “We made this little one together. You aren’t going to scare me off with bodily fluids.”

“I’ll remember that when my water breaks.”

* * *

The Emersons spent a few hours leisurely walking around Copley Place before driving to an Italian restaurant in the north end for dinner.

That evening, in their suite at the Copley Plaza hotel, Julia undressed, dropping her clothes carelessly on the floor. Gabriel surveyed her body, his eyes fixing on her breasts, which were full and ripe.

“Your beauty always takes my breath away.”

Julia felt her skin heat under his gaze. “Your compliments always surprise me.”

“They shouldn’t. Perhaps I don’t say them often enough.” He paused, staring at her. “We aren’t newlyweds anymore.”