Gabriel's Rapture gi-2
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And thanks,
Julia.
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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
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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?”
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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 accom
plishment, 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.”
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“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
of her naked body. “I’m worried about what will happen to us if I go.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes. But I don’t want to lose you.”
“Why would you lose me?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Long distance relationships
are difficult. You’re very handsome. Lots of women will try to take my place.”
He scowled. “I’m not interested in lots of women. I’m interested
in you. I’ve applied for a sabbatical. If that doesn’t work, I could take a leave of absence. It wouldn’t hurt for me to spend a year at Harvard finishing my book. We can go together, and that will buy me some
time to figure out what I should do.”
“I can’t let you do that. Your career is here.”
“Academics take sabbaticals all the time. Ask Katherine.”
“What if you resent me?” she asked.
“It’s far more likely that you’ll resent me — being tied to an older man when you should be dating men your own age. And an older
man who is a selfish know-it-all and can’t stop bossing you around.”
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Julia rolled her eyes. “The man I love is not the person you de-
scribed. Not anymore. Besides, there’s only a ten-year age difference between us.”
He grinned wryly. “Thank you. We don’t have to live together if
you don’t want to. I’ll be your neighbor. Of course, if you don’t want me to go…” He swallowed and waited for her response.
Julia threw her arms around his neck. “Of course I want you to
come with me.”
“Good,” he whispered, pulling her into the bedroom.
P
After Julia returned to her apartment the following day, Gabriel
spent the afternoon working in his home office. He was about to
telephone her to ask if she wanted to meet for dinner when his cell phone rang. Realizing that it was Paulina, he refused to answer it.
A few minutes later his home telephone rang, its unique ring
indicating that the call was coming from the security guard downstairs.
He picked up the phone.
“Yes?”
“Professor Emerson, there is a woman here who says that she
needs to see you.”
“Her name?”
“Paulina Gruscheva.”
Gabriel cursed. “Tell her to go away.”
The security guard lowered his voice. “Of course, Professor. But
you should know that she seems upset. And she’s using your name
rather loudly.”
“Fine,” he spat. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Gabriel grabbed his keys and strode out of the apartment head-
ing toward the elevator, cursing.
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With the relief that an early acceptance to Harvard brought,
Julia was able to redouble her efforts on her thesis. When
she and Gabriel were apart, she worked tirelessly, spending hours
upon hours in the library or at her apartment writing.
As a reward, Gabriel decided to whisk her away to Belize for
Valentine’s weekend. It was a celebration of love, Julia’s acceptance to Harvard, and other things that Gabriel was not yet ready to share.
On the day of their departure, Julia stood on the front porch of
her building, checking her mailbox. She found a letter from Harvard, which she opened immediately. It was a formal offer of admission to the doctoral program, and it included the terms of her conditional acceptance and her fellowship.
She also found a business sized envelope with the University of
Toronto insignia on it. The words Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies were printed above the return address. She quickly ripped open the envelope and read its contents. Then she dragged her luggage to Bloor Street, flagging a cab to Gabriel’s condominium.
She flew into the lobby, past the security guards, and into the
elevator that would take her to his floor. Tripping down the hall, she let herself in with her key.
“Darling?” Gabriel walked to the front door with a smile. “You’re
early. I’m flattered that you couldn’t stay away from me.”
She batted away his outstretched arms and shoved one of the
letters into his hand.
“What’s this?”
He glanced down at the letter.
Gabriel’s Rapture
February 5, 2010
Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies
University of Toronto
Toronto, Canada
Dear Miss Julianne Mitchell,
A complaint has been filed in our office alleging that you have violated the University of Toronto’s Code of Behaviour on
Academic Matters. In conjunction with this complaint, you are
requested to appear in person at the Dean’s office on February 19, 2010, for a preliminary interview. The Chair of Italian Studies, Professor Jeremy Martin, will also be in attendance.
You may bring an individual with you to this meeting. This
individual may be a representative of the Graduate Student
Association, a family member or friend, or an attorney.
This meeting is for information purposes only and does not
constitute a hearing, nor has the Dean’s office taken any position on the legitimacy of the complaint.
Please confirm with this office that you have received this letter and that you will be attending this meeting. If you do not attend, an investigation into the complaint will begin automatically.
Yours very truly,
David Aras, PhD
Dean of Graduate Studies
Gabriel looked down into Julia’s
panicked eyes and tried to find
the words to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about — but he couldn’t.
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Julia saw fear flash across Gabriel’s eyes, but only for an instant. There was nothing more terrifying to her than the sight of Gabriel’s fear.
He helped her take off her coat and urged her to sit down in the
red chair next to the fireplace. Flipping a switch, which caused the flames to ignite, he walked to the other room. Julia leaned back in the chair and covered her face with her hands.
“Drink this.” He nudged her hand with a glass.
“What is it?”
“Laphroaig. Scotch.”
“You know I don’t like that stuff.”
“One swallow, just to take the edge off.”
She tipped the crystal glass to her lips and drank, feeling the
burn of the alcohol in her mouth and throat. Coughing wildly, she
handed the glass back. He downed the rest of the Scotch and sat on the sofa opposite her.
“What’s the ‘Code of Behaviour on Academic Matters’?” she asked.
“It’s the policy that governs any kind of scholastic infrac-
tion — cheating, plagiarism, fraud, etc.”
“Why would someone report me for academic fraud?”
Gabriel scrubbed at his face. “I have no idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! You think I’d keep this from you?”
“You’ve been keeping something from me. That night you were
working late in your office, you wouldn’t tell me what you were — ”
Gabriel’s Rapture
“I was working on a job application,” he interrupted. “Greg Mat-
thews called me the night that you and I went to Auberge for dinner.
He invited me to apply for an endowed chair but told me they needed my portfolio right away. Preparing it took longer than I expected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He averted his eyes. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.
The chances of me getting that job are slim. I’m not a full professor and without a doubt they’re recruiting senior people. But I had to try — for your sake.”
“I wish you’d told me. I imagined all kinds of things.”
His eyes flew to hers. “I thought you trusted me.”
“Of course I trust you. It’s the women around you I don’t trust.”
“I shouldn’t have kept my application a secret.” He shuffled his
feet. “I didn’t want to disappoint you when I don’t get the position.”