He emailed Julia about his job offer and they resumed their occasional, friendly correspondence. He was stunned when, in mid-April, she emailed him announcing that she was pregnant.
Given the fact that they’d had a gap in their correspondence, Paul didn’t feel comfortable interrogating her about the timing of her pregnancy. He certainly didn’t want to upset her, not only because he treasured their friendship but because he didn’t want Gabriel to withdraw his approval of his completed dissertation. Consequently, Paul simply sent her a congratulatory message and promised that he would send the baby a gift from Vermont.
Having successfully completed and defended his dissertation, and having survived graduation from the University of Toronto in June, Paul moved into his new office on the campus of St. Michael’s College at the end of August.
He was happy. He was going to live at home while he saved for a down payment on a house. He would help out on the farm when he could, but his father’s hired hands seemed to have everything running smoothly. And his father’s health had improved significantly.
As he unpacked his books in his new office, he found his Dante and Beatrice action figures. Alas, the company that produced them had ignored his repeated requests for a Virgil action figure.
(Once again, their official position was that Virgil was not worthy of action.)
He was just positioning Dante and Beatrice on top of his desk when he heard a knock.
“Come in,” he called over his shoulder, not turning around. “The door’s open.”
“Hi.”
Paul turned from Dante and Beatrice to see Allison standing in the doorway.
In that instant, although he’d seen her a thousand times, although he’d known her for years, Paul was struck by how pretty she was—her hair, her face, her eyes. She was beautiful.
“I thought you might be here. I wondered if you might need some help.”
“There isn’t much to do. I’m just arranging my books.” He placed the empty box on the floor.
Her face fell.
“Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll let you get back to work.”
She turned to go, and Paul’s heart plummeted into his shoes.
“Wait.”
He stood up and walked over to her, catching her hand in his.
“It’s good to see you.”
She smiled up at him. “It’s good to be seen.”
“You were gone for two weeks.”
“My sister needed help with her kids. I only planned to be gone for a week, but you know how it is.” She reached up and pushed some of his hair back from his forehead. “I missed you. I’ve been counting the days.”
“I missed you, too. A lot.”
They stared at one another for what seemed like an age before Paul found his words.
“I was going to take a break anyway. How about I take you to American Flatbread for pizza?”
“I’d like that.”
She moved to exit his office, but he tugged on her hand.
She looked up at him questioningly.
“Roses,” he whispered, stroking his work-roughened fingers over her knuckles.
“What?”
“Our first time together. Your skin smelled of roses.”
Two patches of pink appeared on her face.
“I didn’t think you’d remember.”
He looked down at her intensely.
“How could I forget? To this day, every time I smell roses I think of you.”
“I don’t wear roses anymore. I thought I grew out of them.”
He reached up to cup her face in his hand.
She leaned into it and closed her eyes.
“Would you wear roses again? For me?”
She opened her eyes, searching his.
“Only if you’re serious.”
“I am.” He tried to show her with his expression that he was telling the truth.
“Then yes.”
Allison moved into the gap between them and lightly pressed their lips together.
With a gentle push, Paul closed the door to his office and pulled her into his arms.
Chapter Eighty-two
September 9, 2012
Cambridge, Massachusetts
A strangled moan emanated from the bathroom.
Gabriel’s eyes snapped open. He was confused. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.
When he heard the moan again, he stumbled sleepily through the darkened bedroom.
“Darling? Are you all right?”
When he entered the bathroom, he found Julia almost doubled over, clutching the marble-topped vanity with white-knuckled hands. She was breathing deeply.
“Do you want me to wake Rebecca?” Gabriel turned to go, readying himself to sprint down the hall.
“No, call the hospital.”
“What should I tell them?”
“Tell them I think I’m in labor.”
Immediately, he flew into a panic, hurriedly asking her questions, fumbling back into the bedroom to find his glasses and his cell phone, and hastily dialing the maternity ward of Mount Auburn Hospital.
“Has your water broken?” he asked, after he successfully reached a nurse.
“No. Your hardwood floors are safe.”
“Very funny, Julianne. Are you in active labor?”
“I think so. The contractions are painful and regular.” Julia tried to keep her breathing deep and relaxed, a technique she had practiced over and over again with her prenatal yoga teacher, who had promised success.
(Julia was contemplating asking for her money back.)
“How far apart are your contractions?”
“Six minutes.”
She focused every ounce of her attention on her breathing and shut out the sound of his voice.
(She loved him, it was true, but he wasn’t exactly helping.)
“The nurse said I should bring you in right now. I have your bag and the bag you packed for the baby. Are you ready?” He tried to sound calm and began to rub her back through her loose-fitting T-shirt.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
Julia straightened up and took a good look at her husband.
“You can’t go like that.”
“Why not?” He combed his hair with his fingers, trying to make himself look like someone who’d had a full night’s sleep. Then he scratched at his stubbled face. “I don’t have time to shave.”
“Look at yourself.”
Gabriel gazed at his reflection in the mirror. To his shock and dismay, he was clad only in his underwear, a cheeky pair of boxer shorts that had the phrase Medievalists Do It in the Dark (Ages) printed all over them in phosphorescent lettering.
“Damn it! Give me a minute.”
Julia waddled after him into the bedroom, chuckling. “Scott will be very pleased that his Christmas present is coming with us to the hospital. At least if there’s a power outage we’ll be able to find you. You’ll just have to drop your pants.”
“You are the soul of comedy, Mrs. Emerson.”
She giggled, finding his fashion faux pas slightly funnier than usual.
During the past couple of weeks, she’d forgone the expensive lingerie he’d bought her at Agent Provocateur, arguing that the items weren’t warm enough. In response, Gabriel had declared that her maternity yoga pants and T-shirts “did a grave injustice to her sexiness” and suggested she rely on his body to warm her.
She hugged a body pillow instead.
“Those medieval boxer shorts do a grave injustice to your sexiness,” she goaded him, clutching at her protruding abdomen as she cackled with delight.
He cast her a withering glance as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then he took her elbow and accompanied her down the hall. They paused just outside
the nursery as another contraction seized her.
Gabriel switched on the pink-and-white chandelier so he could see her face. “Is it very bad?”
“Yes.” She tried to distract herself by leaning against the doorpost and staring into the baby’s room.
She would have been content to purchase all the furnishings for the nursery from Target, but Gabriel had insisted on Pottery Barn.
(Parenthetically, it should be noted that Julia referred to Pottery Barn as Protestant Barn, for it featured fine furnishings that were WASP-ish in the extreme. Furnishings that she was enamored of but thought were too expensive.)
Together, and with items generously given by their friends and family, they’d transformed one of the guest rooms into a tranquil space for a little girl. Julia chose sage green for the walls and a soft white for the woodwork and crown molding. A fanciful area rug that featured flowers in pink, yellow, and green pastels covered the oak floorboards.
“This is my favorite room in the whole world,” she breathed, gazing at the classic Winnie the Pooh decals they had placed over the crib and changing table, in anticipation of wide and eager little eyes.
“It’s waiting for her.” Gabriel smiled. “It’s waiting for our little Spring Roll.”
When Julia’s contraction subsided, he took her hand and helped her down the stairs and into the Volvo, in which he’d already installed the baby’s car seat. He sent a text to Rebecca, explaining what was happening, and assured her he’d be in touch.
A short while later, they arrived at the Bain Birthing Center at Mount Auburn Hospital. By the time they were settled in one of the birthing rooms, Gabriel had managed to conjure a calm exterior. He didn’t want Julia to see his anxiety or to feel the way his insides churned with unspoken fears.
But she knew. She knew what he was afraid of, and she held his hand and told him that she and Spring Roll were going to be fine.
They held hands during her internal exam, in which the obstetrician on call announced that Spring Roll was in a transverse position and that she hoped the baby would decide to turn when it was time for her to be born.
Nurse Tracy quickly distracted a nervous Gabriel from demanding a complicated, illustrated explanation of transverse positions, teaching him to read the monitor so he could tell Julia when a contraction was peaking and when it was coming to an end.
She was grateful for his distraction. But that didn’t stop him from Googling transverse positions and their attendant information on his iPhone.
(It should be noted that at that point, Julia wished he’d left the damn thing at home.)
Fortunately, the pain medication relaxed her enough to allow her to nap, and she drifted into semiconsciousness.
“Julianne?”
She opened her eyes to see her husband standing over her, a concerned expression on his face.
She smiled at him weakly, and it almost broke his heart.
“You were moaning.”
“I must have been dreaming.”
Julia reached out to him and he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss it.
“My rings,” she whispered, pressing against his wedding band. “Did I lose them?”
He stroked her naked finger. “You took them off months ago, remember? Your fingers were swelling and you were worried they’d get stuck. You started wearing them on the necklace I gave you a year ago, back in the orchard.”
She reached up to touch her neck. “I forgot. I put them in my jewelry box yesterday.”
“You had a premonition. Spring Roll is almost here.”
She closed her eyes. “I didn’t think anything would be more demanding than my program at Harvard. I was wrong.”
Gabriel’s heart clenched.
“You’ll be back at the university soon enough. Rebecca and I will help.”
Julia hummed in response.
“I know it was too soon.” He brought his mouth to her ear. “I’m sorry.”
“We talked about this. Sometimes surprises are the best things.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”
“Having a child with you isn’t a hardship. Except for the pain.” She grimaced.
He pressed his lips to her brow. “I called my dad. He’s going to speak to your dad and Diane. I doubt they’ll be able to drive up with Tommy, but he’s going to offer.”
She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. “Good.”
While Julia was sleeping, the obstetrician attempted to reassure Gabriel that the transverse positioning of babies was not uncommon. A baby would sometimes reposition herself during labor or the obstetrician would simply turn her. It was nothing to worry about.
Gabriel was grateful for the doctor’s encouragement but still anxious. What gave him strength was his hope for the future—the knowledge that soon he would meet his daughter and he could begin being a father.
As Julia lay in her bed half-asleep and dreaming, he paced the room. She looked so small in the big hospital bed, so fragile.
So young.
Chapter Eighty-three
Julia?” Gabriel held her hand as the next contraction gripped her. He kept a watchful eye on the monitor so he could announce when the contraction was beginning to subside, and then afterward he would gently stroke her knuckles or her forehead, praising her.
“You’re doing so well.”
Gabriel was not. He was disheveled and nervous and, if he were to take the time to think about it, extremely concerned. Despite the fact that they were in a well-respected hospital in Boston and enjoying excellent medical care, he was terrified.
He kept his fears to himself, silently praying over and over that Julia and Spring Roll would be all right.
Shortly before nine o’clock in the evening, Julia began to run a fever. By that time, Dr. Rubio was on call. She examined Julia and ordered an antibiotic added to her intravenous drip.
Gabriel chewed at his lip as he watched the nurse hang the bag next to the other fluids that slowly dripped into his wife’s arm.
Dr. Rubio broke Julia’s water and encouraged her to begin pushing. Her epidural succeeded in taking only some of the pain away, and much of it remained. Julia still had feeling in the lower half of her body.
Nurse Susan held one of Julia’s legs while Gabriel held the other. She pushed with each contraction, and although Dr. Rubio and Gabriel cheered her on, very little happened. Eventually the obstetrician admitted what Gabriel had been afraid of—Spring Roll was stubbornly maintaining her transverse position, and she was situated too high up to be delivered with forceps.
Julia groaned weakly at the news, collapsing back on the bed in near exhaustion.
“What does that mean?” asked Gabriel quietly, his hands folding into fists.
Dr. Rubio pursed her lips.
“It means we need to do an emergency cesarean section. The baby’s heart rate is beginning to increase, your wife is running a fever, and it’s possible there’s an infection. I’ll assemble my surgical team, but we need to do this right away.”
“That’s fine with me,” said Julia. She was tired. Oh, so tired. The idea of having an end to labor brought welcome relief.
“Are you sure?” Gabriel nervously clutched her hand.
“There really aren’t any other options, Mr. Emerson. I can’t deliver this baby in the position she’s in.” Dr. Rubio’s voice was firm.
“As I told you before, it’s Professor Emerson,” he snapped, his frazzled emotions getting the best of him.
“Sweetie, relax. We’re going to be fine.” Julia smiled thinly and closed her eyes, willing herself to outlast the contractions that continued wracking her body.
Gabriel poured his apology into a chaste kiss and a few whispered words of comfort before Julia’s room became an epicenter of activity. The anesthesiologist arrived and as
ked a series of questions. The nurse asked Gabriel to follow her so that he could change into surgical scrubs.
He did not want to be separated from Julia, not even for an instant. He’d spent hours at her side, feeding her ice chips and holding her hand. But since he wanted to be with her in the operating room and it was a sterile environment, he agreed to go.
Before he left, Julia extended her hand. He took it, pressing his lips to her palm.
“I don’t regret this,” she whispered.
He pulled back. The pain medication seemed to be affecting her thought processes.
“What don’t you regret, darling?”
“Getting pregnant. After this is over, we’re going to have a little girl. We’ll be a family. Forever.”
He gave her a tight smile and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. You stay strong.”
She returned his smile and closed her eyes, adjusting her breathing in order to deal with the next contraction.
Chapter Eighty-four
In his absence, Julia simply closed her eyes and focused on her breathing—that is, until she was lying in the obstetric operating room and Dr. Rubio began touching the area that had been prepped for incision.
“I can feel that,” said Julia, clearly alarmed.
“Does it feel like pressure?”
“No. I can feel you pinching the skin.”
Gabriel sat at Julia’s side, above the screen that blocked her lower body from his view.
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” she said, sounding panicked. “But I can still feel pain. I’m afraid that I’ll feel the incision.”
Dr. Rubio repeated her test, pinching and twisting at Julia’s skin, and Julia insisted with increasing anxiety that she could feel every pinch.
“We have to put her out,” announced the anesthesiologist, moving swiftly to prepare a general anesthetic.
“It’s hard on the baby. Give her something else,” Dr. Rubio objected.
“I can’t give her any more. She’s had an epidural and a top-up. I’m putting her out.”
Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy) Page 46