Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno)

by Sylvain Reynard

  Chapter Seven

  An infant’s cry split the silence.

  It took time for Gabriel to shake off his sleep, like a swimmer struggling to reach the surface. Julia rolled over next to him. He heard her fumbling with her cell phone.

  She groaned.

  “Is it time?” His voice was gravelly with sleep.

  “Not for an hour.” Julia sank back against the pillow and covered her eyes with her hands.

  “I’ll go.” Gabriel pushed back the covers.

  “No, I can do it.”

  “Just rest. I’ll check on her.”

  Gratefully, Julianne pulled the covers over her head.

  Gabriel crossed to the playpen and lifted a crying Clare into his arms. The baby quieted for a moment as he held her to his bare chest. But then she continued.

  He walked swiftly to the nursery, murmuring and jostling her gently in his arms. She continued crying, even after he switched on the light. He hadn’t discerned her different cries. Not yet. All crying sounded the same to him and so he wasn’t sure what she was communicating.

  He placed her on top of the change table and unswaddled her, carefully removing her sleeper. The baby cried louder.

  He made shushing noises as he removed her diaper, which was wet. But she cried on, even after she was clean and dry.

  Puzzled, he dressed and swaddled her, cradling her against his bare chest. Again the baby paused her crying as soon as she touched his skin. When she continued, he cleared his throat and attempted to sing.

  The baby continued to cry.

  “My singing isn’t that bad,” he protested. “I can carry a tune.”

  He sang more loudly, swaying back and forth across the carpet, like a dancer. When he ran out of verses to “You Are My Sunshine,” he made up new ones.

  He was just about to take the baby to Julianne for feeding when he placed his hand on the baby’s head, stroking her hair. Clare stopped crying.

  Not wishing to tempt fate, Gabriel kept his hand where it was and continued singing. When he removed his hand, she began crying again.

  He placed his hand back on her head and the infant quieted.

  Gabriel’s sleep-addled brain moved slowly, but eventually it occurred to him that perhaps the baby was cold. He retrieved the purple knitted cap Clare had been gifted at the hospital and placed it on her tiny head.

  The baby moved a little and closed her eyes, resting her cheek over Gabriel’s heart.

  He stopped singing but continued dancing slowly back and forth.

  He worried that if he placed Clare in the playpen, she’d start crying again. Julianne would have to feed her soon, anyway. She deserved a few more minutes of rest.

  He dimmed the nursery’s chandelier and settled himself in the large armchair in the corner, propping his feet up on the ottoman. He held Clare to his chest, the way he had the first night in the hospital.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he whispered to the sleeping infant. “But I promise to learn more songs.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gabriel stood in the master bathroom, shaving. His dark hair was damp, his blue eyes bleary behind his glasses. He was clad only in a white towel, which he’d wrapped around his hips. He paused as Julianne entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  “Where’s the baby?” he asked.

  “Rachel is changing her and then she’s going to take her downstairs.” Julia yawned.

  It was early morning, but the household was awake. Rebecca had already started breakfast and the scent of coffee and bacon wafted up the stairs.

  “Did you sleep well last night?”

  Julianne flushed a little. “Yes. Did you?”

  “Tolerably.” He took her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Is the timeline really six weeks?”

  “I’m afraid so. But the timeline is about what my body can sustain, not yours.” Julia kissed him firmly. “I’ll see that you’re well looked after.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it abruptly. His lips widened into a wolfish grin.

  She lifted her right hand and wiggled her fingers. “And thank you for this. It’s even more magnificent in daylight.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed her, his mouth lingering against hers.

  “I need a shower.” She pulled back.

  He kissed her forehead. “Now’s your chance.”

  She hugged him around the waist before crossing over to the linen closet.

  Gabriel pretended to continue shaving, regarding Julianne through the mirror.

  She retrieved a pair of thick white towels, hanging them on a hook near the walk-in shower. Then she opened the shower door.

  Gabriel turned around in anticipation.

  Julia shrieked and leapt backward, bumping into her husband. He grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her.

  “Et tu, Brute?” She gave him an accusatory look.

  “Oh come on.” He squeezed her. “That was funny.”

  Julia shook her head and crossed back to the shower. Inside, a plastic pink flamingo wearing a shower cap grinned up at her.

  “I hope you cleaned it when you pulled it from the ground.”

  “I didn’t need to.” Gabriel smirked as he returned to his shaving. “I used the one you cleaned.”

  “The shower cap was a nice touch.” Julia switched on the shower and carefully removed her nightgown.

  “I thought so.” Gabriel turned and regarded her over the rim of his glasses. “Are you going to shower with the flamingo?”

  “I get lonely in the shower.” She gave him a heated look.

  Gabriel watched as she removed her belly band and underwear, his gaze fixating on her stitches. In only a few days, her abdomen had contracted dramatically, making the slight smile of the cesarean section visible.

  She entered the shower and closed the door.

  Gabriel removed his glasses and leaned against the vanity as Julia stood below the spray. She brushed the water from her eyes and reached for a bottle of shower gel. Then she stopped.

  She looked down past her abdomen and appeared to be inspecting her stitches.

  “Is something wrong?” He lifted his voice above the din of the falling water.

  When she didn’t answer but remained frozen, he slid open the shower door. “Julianne?”

  She was gazing down, motionless.

  He followed her gaze and saw a swirl of red in the water that rushed about her feet.

  Gabriel panicked. “Julianne?” he repeated, more urgently.

  She lifted her gaze and made eye contact with him, her expression strangely unseeing. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Gabriel jumped into the shower, still wearing his towel, and caught her as her knees buckled.

  “Julianne!” He scooped her up, feeling her body go limp in his arms.

  Not knowing what to do, he ran to the bedroom and placed her on the bed, covering her with a sheet. “Julianne? Julianne!” When she didn’t respond, he skirted the bed and raced to his nightstand. He’d just unlocked his cell phone when he heard her murmur.

  “Gabriel?” She squinted up at him, a confused look on her face.

  He sat next to her. “How do you feel?” He touched her forehead, searching for a sign of fever, but her skin was cool.

  “I don’t know.” She looked down. “Why is my hair wet?”

  Gabriel’s expression tightened. “You fainted in the shower.”

  “Really?” She touched her forehead. “I feel like I just woke up.”

  “I’m calling the hospital.”

  “No, no hospital.” She lifted the sheet, her arm shaking. “I’m getting the bed wet.”

  “Fuck the bed.” Gabriel’s blue eyes blazed.

  She gazed at him and her fuzziness dissi
pated. “I had a dizzy spell in the shower a few days ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Gabriel’s tone was sharp.

  “I told the nurse. It’s the stitches. I have to check the incision but it makes me sick to look at it.”

  He leaned over her. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “It didn’t occur to me. I’m fine.”

  Gabriel huffed. “You are not fine. What are we supposed to be checking for with respect to the incision?”

  She grimaced. “Signs of infection or the wound reopening. The area around the incision is numb. It feels weird.”

  “We should have the numbness checked.” His grip on her hand tightened. “I saw blood in the shower, before you fainted.”

  “Blood?” Julia’s eyes widened and she began shaking.

  Gabriel wrapped his arms around her. “Stay with me.”

  After a moment, she blinked rapidly. “I feel like my blood sugar dropped. Maybe that’s why I fainted.”

  Still holding her, Gabriel opened the drawer to her nightstand. He rummaged around and retrieved a bar of chocolate.

  “How did you know about my secret chocolate?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  “I pay attention.” He opened the chocolate bar, broke off a piece, and handed it to her.

  She hummed as the sweetness spread over her tongue. “I’ve been bleeding since the surgery. The doctor said it’s normal.”

  “Again, Julianne, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did. Remember last night? I told you there was—” She stopped, confused.

  “We need to call the hospital.”

  Julia screwed her eyes shut. “Fine. Call the hospital. But I don’t want to go back.”

  While she continued to eat her chocolate bar, Gabriel called Mount Auburn Hospital and was transferred quickly to the labor and delivery unit. He wouldn’t leave Julia’s side but spoke in low, calm tones so as not to upset her. It was clear from his body language that he was not happy with what he heard.

  When he ended the call, he tossed his phone aside. “I think we should take you to the emergency room.”

  “Is that what they said?”

  “No.” He scowled. “They’re telling me bleeding is normal but to monitor the output. And to check you for fever, which I already have. They say numbness around the incision is normal and will go away. Obviously, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “Okay, but I don’t think two first-time parents know more than labor and delivery.” She lifted her hand and Gabriel took it once again. “I remember being in the shower and I remember seeing blood. That’s why I fainted.”

  Gabriel scratched his half-shaven chin. “When was the last time you fainted? I remember you feeling woozy in my study carrel back in Toronto. There wasn’t any blood.”

  “You startled me. And it was hot in there.”

  “It certainly was.” Gabriel leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You swooned in my arms, which was greatly enjoyable.”

  “Naughty professor.”

  “Absolutely. I am, in fact, a very naughty professor. But not when you’re ill.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “Now, are we going to the emergency room?”

  “I need to finish my shower.” She peered down at the sheets in dismay. “We need to wash the sheets.”

  “I’ll look after it.” He stood and paused, still holding her hand. “And I’ll help you shower.”

  She looked up at him with such relief it almost broke his heart.

  She slid to the edge of the bed. He helped her to her feet and escorted her back into the bathroom.

  The shower was still running and the shower doors were fogged. Gabriel quickly removed the pink flamingo (which had showered enough) and placed it next to the bathtub. Then he divested himself of his wet towel before helping Julia into the shower. He followed, closing the door behind him.

  She looked up at him wistfully. “It’s been a while since we showered together.”

  “We need to remedy that. And I need to buy more chocolate body paint.” Gabriel hazarded a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was scrutinizing Julia like a mother hen.

  He lifted her hand and placed it on his hip. “So you don’t fall over,” he explained.

  Julia rubbed her thumb over his damp skin.

  He positioned her so she was under the spray, wetting her hair once again. His thumb gently stroked her forehead, as light as a blessing, before his fingers sifted through her dark brown strands. Then he squeezed shampoo into his palm and began to apply it to the crown of her head.

  “Roses,” he breathed.

  “It’s new.” Julia spoke with her eyes closed, leaning into him.

  “I miss the vanilla.”

  “The shower gel is vanilla.”

  “Excellent.” Gabriel’s gaze darted to the tiles beneath their feet, looking for blood. He was relieved when he didn’t see any.

  He was leisurely in his movements. He massaged her scalp and lovingly worked the shampoo to the ends of her hair.

  Julia lifted her other hand and placed it on his hip, clutching him for balance. Her nose came in contact with his pectorals and the delicate strands of hair that covered them. She nuzzled him.

  After he rinsed her hair, he used her vanilla-scented soap to gently caress her shoulders, her swanlike neck, and her swollen breasts.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Are you still sore?” His thumbs hovered a respectful distance from her nipples.

  “A little.”

  Gabriel withdrew his hands to her waist, allowing the water to stream down her front, rinsing her breasts. He bent forward and kissed across her collarbone and down to her chest, studiously avoiding her nipples.

  He poured more soap into his hands and lathered them, then washed her abdomen before examining her stitches. “They’re holding. I don’t see any problems.”

  His hand drifted down to her tangle of curls, but he didn’t move between her legs. “And here?”

  “Just be very gentle.”

  Delicately, he washed in between her legs, staring watchfully into her eyes.

  “This reminds me of Umbria,” she whispered. “On our first trip to Italy, you washed me in the shower.”

  Gabriel’s eyes smoldered. “I remember.”

  “I was awkward.”

  Gabriel frowned and withdrew his hand. “I never thought of you as awkward. You’d been hurt, Julianne. It took time for you to get used to me.”

  “I don’t know how you put up with me.”

  Gabriel looked pained. He washed his hands quickly before taking hers. “It’s you who put up with me, Beatrice. Never forget that.”

  He pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “I’m the one who left you in the orchard by yourself. I’m the one who forgot you and treated you abominably until I remembered. And still, you think . . .” He shook his head. “I was haunted by my share of ghosts our first trip, and then after, when we returned to Selinsgrove.”

  Julia winced, remembering a particularly painful conversation they’d had in the woods behind Richard’s house.

  “You’re still here.” Gabriel’s eyes met hers. “And so am I, which is why you have to let me take you to the hospital. You burst into tears yesterday and you fainted this morning. It may be postpartum hormones, but it may be something more.”

  “I just got home.” She pressed her cheek to his chest. “Don’t make me go back.”

  He placed his hand at her lower spine. “Will you at least speak to Rebecca? She’s a mother. I want to hear what she thinks.”

  “All right.”

  “Also, I’d like you to consider taking a maternity leave from Harvard, effective immediately.”

  Julia stepped back. “No. I’m starting my maternity leave in January.”
r />   Gabriel gazed down at her intently. His jaw clenched.

  She removed her hands from his hips. “I’ve already missed a week of classes. I told Greg Matthews I’d be back as soon as possible.”

  “Julianne,” he murmured. He was trying hard, desperately hard, not to tell her what to do. It was obvious she should begin her maternity leave immediately. She would be in no shape to take classes.

  But he was trying to convince her to go to the hospital, which was more important at the moment than the timing of her maternity leave.

  Julia looked at his somewhat grim expression. She knew he was biting his tongue. “If you take me to the hospital, who will look after Clare?”

  “I’ll ask Rachel to look after her while we’re gone.”

  “I haven’t pumped any milk.”

  “You can feed her again before we go and if we aren’t home in time, we’ll have Rachel and Richard bring Clare to the hospital.”

  Julia gripped his arm. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Gabriel arched his eyebrows. He began formulating a series of arguments calculated to convince his wife of the foolishness of her demand but abruptly stopped. “Fine. We’ll take her with us.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” Gabriel repeated, rather woodenly. He reached for the soap and carefully turned Julia around. Then he continued to care for his wife, trying as hard as he could to mask his anxiety.

  Chapter Nine

  You should see a doctor.” Rebecca’s face was creased with concern. She and Julia were speaking privately in the kitchen.

  “Gabriel is overprotective.” Julia peered across the room at her husband, who was holding Clare.

  “In this case, with good reason.” Rebecca placed a pair of oven mitts on the counter, next to the stove. Her Bostonian accent became more pronounced as the creases of worry in her face deepened. “Fainting isn’t normal postpregnancy. You don’t want to be holding the baby and pass out.”

  Julia went very still. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.