He and Julia had hosted a celebratory lunch with Richard, Rachel, and Katherine. Popping champagne and ginger ale, Gabriel lauded Julia’s invitation to the Oxford workshop, which she had accepted that afternoon, explaining to the family what a tremendous compliment it was.
Gabriel spent most of the afternoon in his home office, fielding phone calls and going through his files. He was supposed to announce the topic of his lectures, at least in very general terms, at the gala. The Professor, as usual, was not a person who would leave things to the last minute.
He’d tumbled into bed just after the late-night feeding. And now he snored. It appeared the Professor could sleep through Clare’s cries.
Julia could not. She swung her legs to the bare floor and winced.
Her right leg felt as if it were asleep. She flexed it, steeling herself for the pins and needles she was sure to experience as her circulation corrected itself. Instead, the pins and needles never came.
She leaned over, poking her bare leg with her thumb from knee to ankle. She could feel the pressure, but the feeling was dull. Her lower leg remained numb.
She moved her leg. She had full range of motion of leg, ankle, and foot. She could wiggle her toes. But the nagging, dull numbness persisted.
Clare’s cries had abated, but it was still time to feed her. Julia stood, putting most of her weight on her left leg, and limped over to the baby. She lifted Clare and kissed her, then moved uncertainly to the nursery, taking care to stay close to the wall in case she fell.
She did not wake Gabriel.
* * *
There was a part of the very, very early feedings Julia enjoyed. She liked the quietness of the house. She liked holding and bonding with her baby. But she found it difficult to stay awake.
Rachel had bought her a large, crescent-shaped pillow and for good reason. One day in the hospital Julia had almost dropped the baby while falling asleep during a feeding. Rachel had intervened at just the right moment. Ever since, when Julia felt especially fatigued, she situated the pillow around her waist and was sure to rest the baby securely atop it.
Clare rested comfortably against her mother, feeding, while Julia stared blankly at the breastfeeding app Gabriel had downloaded on her phone. The app charted feedings, helped her remember the side on which to begin, and so on.
Julia wondered what it would be like in a year’s time, when they were in Scotland. Clare would be weaned by then. And Julia would be taking classes.
Without a doubt Gabriel, as Sage Lecturer, would be deluged with meetings and invitations. Undergraduate and graduate students alike would clamor for his attention.
He was an attractive man with a lively, sharp intelligence. Many women found his personality sexy. And the Paulinas, Professor Pains, and Christa Petersons of the world had either seduced him or attempted a seduction.
It wasn’t that Julia didn’t trust her husband. She did. He’d been faithful to her since their relationship began in Toronto. But Julia didn’t trust the women around him. She didn’t trust the creeping separateness that came from living apart, which was why she didn’t want to stay in Boston if he was in Scotland. But the idea of him being separated from Clare for so long and at such an early age weighed on her the most.
Commuting couples were not uncommon in academia. The University of Toronto had had several. Indeed, in Julia’s department at Harvard there was a professor whose wife taught at the University of Barcelona and lived in Spain with their children. Still, a commuter marriage was not what Julia wanted; it was not what she wanted for Clare.
Julia knew the pain of being separated from Gabriel. When he’d been disciplined by the University of Toronto for violating the nonfraternization policy, he’d cut ties with her. She’d spent a long time mourning his absence, wondering if she’d ever see him again. Even now, the separation marked her. She didn’t want to go through something like that again.
Julia said a silent, spontaneous prayer of thanks for Katherine Picton’s wisdom and support. She’d become godmother to the entire family.
“Here.” Gabriel stood in front of her holding a tall glass of iced water.
Julia startled. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.” He placed the glass in her hand and collapsed in the rocking chair. “You’re supposed to drink a large glass of water every time you feed her.”
“I know.” Julia drank the water gratefully.
Gabriel yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were tired.”
“So are you, darling.” Gabriel lifted a child-sized wooden stool and placed it in front of Julia. He perched precariously atop it, his legs so long that his knees huddled awkwardly against his chest. “I just received another email from Edinburgh.”
“They’re up early.”
“Indeed. They want to schedule the announcement and gala as soon as possible.”
“Would you go by yourself?”
Gabriel breathed deeply. He touched the calf of her left leg. “No. I want you and Clare to come with me.”
He slid his hand down to her foot and lifted it with both hands. Then he began to rub the sole of her foot.
“I’m not supposed to fly until six weeks after my c-section. I don’t think Clare should be exposed to an airplane full of germs before some of her vaccinations, either.”
“But you’d come with me if we waited until the twenty-first of October?” Gabriel’s voice was low, cautious.
Julia thought for a moment. “Yes. I probably won’t be able to go to the gala or any events, unless Rebecca comes with us. But we could try to make it work. Do you think Edinburgh would be okay with me joining you?”
“They’d better be.” Gabriel’s expression grew dangerous.
Here was the Professor in his natural state, fierce and protective, proud and determined, like a dragon defending his gold.
Julia decided to lighten the mood. “I’m sure the female population of greater urban Edinburgh will be delighted to see Professor Emerson walking the streets of the city pushing a stroller. In a kilt.”
Gabriel scowled. “Nonsense. No one wants to see me in a kilt.”
Julia smothered a smile. “You’d be surprised.”
He gazed into her eyes, his blue irises piercing through her façade. “Is that worrying you? The female population?”
Julia wanted to lie. She desperately, desperately wanted to lie. “A little.”
“I’m with you—in Cambridge, Edinburgh, everywhere.” Gabriel’s thumb traced a meridian down the center of Julia’s sole. His eyes focused on hers.
“I don’t want to commute,” Julia said in a small voice. Her eyes grew watery.
“I was going to say the same thing.” Gabriel met her gaze, blinking rapidly. He tried to switch his attention to her right leg, but she waved him off.
“Clare is just finishing.” Julia turned off the breastfeeding app.
Gabriel stood and lifted the baby into his arms, kissing her cheek. He retrieved a cloth from the changing table and placed it on his shoulder. He patted the baby’s back and swayed on his bare feet, waiting for her to burp.
Julia’s heart skipped a beat.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.
Gabriel gave her a questioning look.
“Being appointed the Sage Lecturer,” she explained. “As well as being a good father and a good husband.”
“I’m far from good,” Gabriel murmured. He averted his eyes, almost as if her praise embarrassed him. “Mostly I’m selfish. I’m selfish about you and I’m selfish about Clare.”
“I wonder what the University of Edinburgh will think of having a father in residence.”
“If they say anything, I’ll sue them for discrimination.” Gabriel’s face indicated he wasn’t kidding.
Julia adjusted
her nightgown and stood on her left leg, taking great care to hide her physical trouble from her husband. Her right leg still felt numb.
Gabriel bent down and kissed her. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll rock Clare back to sleep. She likes to hear me sing.”
Julia laughed. “Who doesn’t?”
She placed their foreheads together. Then she returned to their bedroom, limping as soon as she was out of Gabriel’s sight.
Chapter Eighteen
A few days later
On the day of the baptism, Rachel and Aaron stood next to their car in the driveway, speaking with Gabriel.
“Just follow us into the parking garage and we’ll walk to the chapel together.”
“We’ll keep up.” Rachel glanced in the direction of the front lawn. “Looks like the flamingo company came to take them away. Except for one.”
“What’s that?” Gabriel moved so he could see the flower beds in the front yard. Next to a large hydrangea stood a pink plastic flamingo, wearing a pair of black sunglasses.
He turned accusatory eyes on his sister. “Did you do that?”
“I deny everything.” Rachel pushed past Aaron to open the car door.
“Will it be here when we get back?” Gabriel lifted his voice.
“Of course. And if it finds a girlfriend while we’re gone, you may have little ones all over your lawn. Again.” Rachel laughed loudly as she got into the car.
Gabriel muttered a curse as he gazed out at his beautiful front lawn. He was just about to return to his SUV when he turned his head, facing toward the street that ran perpendicular to Foster Place. A black Nissan with tinted windows was idling just beyond the intersection.
Gabriel approached the sidewalk and began walking in the direction of the car.
The driver placed the car in reverse just as Gabriel began to approach it. Breaking into a jog, he reached the intersection in time to see the car speed off.
He was not able to get the license plate number.
* * *
“What name do you give your child?” Father Fortin addressed Gabriel and Julia.
They stood at the front of St. Francis’s Chapel with Katherine Picton. Gabriel held Clare in his arms.
This was the Emersons’ parish. They could have attended church closer to their home in Cambridge, but there was something about the chapel and the Oblates of the Virgin Mary who served it that made Gabriel and Julia feel at home.
He and Julianne replied to the priest in unison, “Clare Grace Hope Rachel.”
A murmur lifted from the pews, as Gabriel and Julia’s family reacted. Richard, who sat near the front row, could barely contain his emotion, while Rachel’s solemn expression morphed into a grin.
Julia had dressed the baby in Rachel’s christening dress—a long, white silk-and-satin garment that was embroidered with flowers and had short sleeves—and a lace-edged bonnet, tied with a long pink ribbon.
Clare looked like a princess. Gabriel had taken hundreds of photographs of her before they left the house, posing her alone and with her family.
As the baby began to frown, Julianne held a pacifier at the ready.
“What do you ask from God’s church for Clare Grace Hope Rachel?” Father Fortin asked.
“Baptism.” Again, Gabriel and Julianne replied in unison.
The priest asked if they understood their duty as parents, and they affirmed their understanding. Then he addressed Katherine, who pledged her commitment as godmother.
Gabriel took his role as a father very seriously. Even now, as he stood before the congregation and before God asking for his child to be baptized, he meditated on the myriad promises he was obliged to make and to keep, as he sought to parent this little life.
After a few words, Father made the sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead, inviting the three adults to do the same. The family made a short procession to the dais, where the Scripture was read and the homily was delivered.
Gabriel found his mind wandering, even though his gaze was fixed on Clare.
He thought about his own spiritual journey. He thought about his struggle with addiction and the loss of his first child. His hand itched to touch the name that was inked on his skin.
He thought about Grace and her love for him—a love that gave rise to adoption and a family. A love that had been reciprocated over time.
He thought about Richard and his siblings. He thought about Rachel and her own recent struggles. He thought about how he was surrounded by family. Scott, Tammy, and Quinn sat in a pew with Richard, Rachel and Aaron, Tom and Diane Mitchell, and their son Tommy.
Gabriel’s biological sister Kelly sat with her husband in the pew across from Scott. Rebecca sat with them. A select group of friends and fellow parishioners sat farther back.
For someone who had spent a lot of his childhood alone and lonely, Gabriel was surrounded by a large family. And Katherine, one of the greatest Dante specialists of her time, who had somehow adopted him and his wife, agreeing to pass along her support and love to Clare.
The baby fussed in his arms, and Julia gave her the pacifier. She gazed up at her mother and settled, her sky blue eyes open and curious.
Gabriel hadn’t thought he’d ever have another child. In fact, he’d had a medical procedure to ensure it would never happen. Then everything changed. Everything had changed when a brown-eyed angel in jeans and sneakers had sat beside him on a back porch.
Gabriel recalled his time in Assisi, during his separation from Julianne, and how he had encountered grace and forgiveness in St. Francis’s crypt. He remembered his earnest prayers that Julianne would forgive him and marry him. That God would bless them with a child.
He held in his arms a miracle—the extravagance of grace that had been bestowed on someone who was proud and sometimes angry, intemperate and addictive, lustful and profligate.
Forgiveness was not for the sinless or the perfect. Mercy was not for the just. He had to learn to name and acknowledge his own shortcomings before he could receive the remedies. The remedies themselves challenged him to treat other needy souls with mercy and compassion. Julianne was a shining example of that.
As the priest began the homily, Gabriel glanced over at the relics that were situated at the front of the church to the right of the altar. One of the relics belonged to St. Maximilian Kolbe, a Franciscan friar who was executed at Auschwitz. He had volunteered to die in the place of another man, a man who had a family.
In the face of such bravery, such sacrificial love, Gabriel felt very small. He was no saint, nor would he ever become one. As he held his daughter in his arms, he resolved to do better. To love his daughter and his wife to the best of his ability and to become a man of character, whom his daughter would look up to and admire.
Clare dozed in his arms, still enjoying the pacifier. The priest ended his homily and led the congregation in a series of prayers.
* * *
Julia snaked her hand inside the crook of Gabriel’s elbow, leaning against him. Instinctively, he pressed his lips to her temple.
She was keeping a secret. Although she justified her silence by hoping that the numbness in her leg was temporary, her conscience rebelled.
Her heart was full. And as was usual for her during such moments, she grew very still, pondering what was happening.
She was a wife, and now a mother. She was a student and a prospective professor. She was a daughter and a sister. And, like Gabriel, she had been plagued by loneliness and alienation in her younger years but was now surrounded by a large and loving family.
She felt the responsibility of her many blessings keenly. And she resolved to love and protect her child to the best of her ability. She squeezed Gabriel’s bicep—a gesture of affection—and smiled up at him.
* * *
Gabriel returned her smile, grateful that he had a partner, a wife, as he e
mbarked on the journey that was parenthood. And such a partner.
Julianne had always had an attractive figure, but she was even more beautiful now. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, and her chestnut hair was soft and falling in gentle waves to her shoulders.
Her curves were more pronounced on her slim frame. Her indigo-blue dress accentuated her cleavage. Gabriel tried to avert his eyes but failed. She really was magnificent.
Gabriel reflected on his hunger—a hunger not just for her body but for her. When he was tempted to feel shame for the way he desired her, he noted that God had made her beautiful. God had joined them together. An entire book of sacred Scripture was devoted to the pleasures of physical love.
“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair.” And I will never see anything on this side of Heaven more beautiful than you.
Julianne was obviously tired. He saw that she was favoring her right foot. But before he could consider the cause, he was distracted by her plain, low-heeled shoes. She had an entire closet filled with extravagant high heels, many of which were, in Gabriel’s mind, works of art. But she hadn’t worn them. Gabriel shook his head at the lost podiatric opportunity. Perhaps her feet still felt swollen.
As the baptism proceeded, the baby frowned and lifted her fists but didn’t cry. Soon the priest was anointing her head and the final aspects of the rite were completed.
There were many mysteries in faith and in life. Marriage and family had always seemed mysterious to Gabriel. Yes, the links between people existed and they were, perhaps, the strongest bonds in the known universe. But how they emerged and persisted he could not exactly say. He couldn’t describe his love for Julianne, although he’d tried. He couldn’t describe the joy and delight he had in Clare, although he would endeavor to do so. Metaphors like light and riches and laughter came to mind.
Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno) Page 8