Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno)

by Sylvain Reynard

  “It’s good to see you, too.” She laughed and begged him to put her down.

  “Uh-oh. Is the Professor around?” He looked over her shoulder.

  “No, he’s in London until Thursday.”

  “Good. He won’t punch me for hugging you.” Paul embraced her once again before taking a large step back. “How was your trip?”

  “It was good. Clare stayed awake almost the entire flight, but we kept her entertained. I’m still jet-lagged.” Julia smoothed her hair behind her ears. “How about you?”

  “Oh, fine. I arrived yesterday. Professor Picton met me at the train station. We had dinner last night.”

  “That’s great. How are your parents?”

  Paul jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “They’re fine. Dad is doing less and less on the farm, because of his heart. I help out when I can. You look good. How’s the baby?”

  Julia retrieved her cell phone from her messenger bag. “Can I bore you with a picture?”

  “It won’t bore me. I’d like to see her.” Paul peered down at the screen. “She’s getting so big. And look at all the hair.”

  “She was born with hair. I’ve been styling it.” Julia showed him a few more pictures, including a photo of Gabriel holding Clare and smiling.

  “That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen the Professor.” Paul marveled at the sight. “Clare has her father’s eyes.”

  “She does. I thought they would change color and match mine, but they’re as blue as his.” Julia touched the screen absently and put the phone away.

  “Listen, before everyone else gets here, I’m sorry about that email I sent. I was a jerk.”

  Julia lifted her head. “I’m sorry things were so weird.”

  Paul flexed his arms self-consciously. “I take it back, okay? I want us to be friends, if we can.”

  “Of course we can.” A feeling of lightness settled over Julia’s body. “I’ve missed you, Paul. I don’t have many friends.”

  “I’m sure that isn’t true.” Paul changed the subject. “Gabriel must be pretty excited about the Sage Lectures, huh? Are you going with him?”

  Now Julia looked over her shoulder. “I want to, but Professor Marinelli hasn’t signed off on it. I’m going to ask her again sometime this week.”

  “What’s her beef?”

  Julia slung her messenger bag to the floor. “I’m still in coursework at Harvard and she doesn’t want to accept transfer credits from Edinburgh.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Why are grad students always at the mercy of their professors?”

  “Because we like pain.” Julia sighed the sigh of the underdog.

  “Do you remember her? Professor Pain?”

  “Yes. I’d like to forget her.” Julia looked around the seminar room. “Can you believe it was almost four years ago that we were in Gabriel’s seminar in Toronto?”

  “No, I can’t.” Paul appeared as if he were going to say more but lifted his chin toward the entrance. “Here come the others. Do you have plans for lunch?”

  “No.”

  “Good. We can eat together in the Refectory.” Paul grinned.

  Julia nodded and turned to greet Professor Wodehouse and the rest of the workshop attendees.

  She smiled at Cecilia but didn’t rush over to her. Julia stayed close to Paul, finding a seat next to him when Professor Wodehouse went to the lectern to inaugurate the workshop.

  Paul quietly slipped her a note.

  Julia unfolded the paper in her lap, reading it surreptitiously.

  Professor M. is an ass.

  Julia had to cover her mouth to smother her laughter.

  But she was careful to rip up the paper discreetly, lest it fall into the wrong hands.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Julia finished reading her paper and opened the floor for questions.

  “Why should we think St. Francis of Assisi traveled to the circle of the fraudulent at all?” a professor from Rome asked Julia. “Guido was a liar. He made up the story. It’s clear.”

  “It’s clear he’s fraudulent, but we know from historical sources that some of what he claims is true. He had a pact with the pope. He became a Franciscan. The problem is that Guido blames others for the fate of his soul. And he mixes truth with falsity. Sorting out the two is the challenge. So although it’s possible St. Francis never appeared and that it’s complete fabrication, given the other parts of Guido’s account, it’s more likely the story of Francis is partly true, partly false.”

  The professor nodded and Julianne moved to the next question, which was from a younger professor from Frankfurt. “I enjoyed your paper. But what about the passage at the beginning of the Inferno, where Beatrice asks Virgil to guide Dante? She does this because she can’t. So I’m wondering if the same force that prevents Beatrice from wandering through Hell would also prevent Francis from appearing in the circle of the fraudulent. In other words, Guido is lying when he says Francis appeared after his death.”

  “It’s possible he’s lying, yes,” Julia replied. “But again, the rest of his speech is a mixture of truth and falsity. The point about Beatrice and Virgil is a good one. She asks for Virgil’s help, but she also says she has no fear of Hell’s flames, and that she longs to return to Paradise. So perhaps it’s the case that she can visit Hell but only for a short while, which is why she can’t guide Dante. If St. Francis is in a similar situation, perhaps he, too, can visit Hell briefly, but cannot stay.”

  “There are a lot of perhaps in your answers,” a professor from Leeds joked, but he did so good-naturedly. “I can see why Professor Wodehouse was eager for a workshop in which to explore them. Thank you.”

  Julia reddened a little. She breathed a sigh of relief when there were no further questions and everyone clapped.

  She sat next to Paul as Professor Wodehouse returned to the lectern to deliver his own paper.

  “Good job,” Paul whispered, giving Julia a discreet thumbs-up.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry you’ve heard that paper before,” she whispered back.

  “It was even better the second time.” He winked and turned his attention to Professor Wodehouse.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Gabriel stood looking out the window of his room at the Goring Hotel in London.

  It was past midnight. He’d missed a FaceTime call from Julianne and Clare earlier. He’d been out for dinner and drinks with Eleanor, the BBC producer; Maite Torres, the television presenter; and the rest of the academics Eleanor had gathered for the documentary.

  Like a cross between Survivor and Antiques Roadshow, he thought, except the antiques are the academics. Save himself, of course.

  He tasted his tea dutifully, wishing it were Scotch. He wished he were crowded into the small rooms Julianne and Clare were sharing at Magdalen College, rather than the luxury of the finely appointed space at the Goring.

  He adored luxury, of course, but it was empty without them. No toys on the ground, inspiring him to call down curses when he tripped over them at night. No burping cloths.

  He sniffed the air. No diapers.

  And yet, for all the luxury that surrounded him and for all the fine dining in London and the (admittedly) interesting conversations with world-renowned Renaissance specialists, Gabriel would have eagerly traded the lot of it to be able to tuck Clare into bed at night after reading the (not terribly) profound Goodnight Moon.

  Here was the transforming grace of the family. Here was his legacy and his future.

  Nothing could replace the contentment he felt in the presence of his wife and child. Although he knew there would be times in his life when they had to be parted, he resolved to keep those times as short as possible. Because without them, his luxurious, pretentious, scholastic life was empty a
nd small.

  Perhaps it was this realization that caused Dante to pen The Divine Comedy. Having had so great a love, his life was small without it. So he had to write a magnum opus in order to describe adequately his experience.

  Gabriel put aside his tea and strode over to the writing desk that sat on the opposite wall. He picked up his cell phone and did something he’d sworn once he’d never do: He took a self-portrait. And he smiled gently in it.

  He put on his glasses and with a few flicks of his fingers across the screen, he attached the photograph to an email he addressed to Julianne. He told her about his day and evening and wrote a very specific greeting to Clare,

  Daddy loves you, Clare.

  Be a good girl for Mommy.

  I’ll see you soon.

  XO

  Gabriel pressed send. As he readied himself for bed, he thought about Julianne opening the email in a few hours. He thought about her showing the photograph to Clare, and Clare pointing to the picture and recognizing him.

  He was Clare’s father, and perhaps that was Professor Emerson’s most important title of all.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  The next couple of days were the longest of Julia’s life. Or so it seemed.

  She enjoyed the workshop and felt she was gathering lots of ideas for her dissertation, but Cecilia remained cold and distant toward her, especially when in the presence of Katherine Picton.

  Julia spent most of her time during the day with Paul and Graham, when she wasn’t running back to her rooms to feed Clare. Julia was grateful for Rebecca, who took Clare for walks and picnics and visits with her godmother, Katherine, who excused herself from a session or two in order to accompany the baby around Oxford.

  On this day, Gabriel was due to return from London on the afternoon train. They’d kept in touch via emails and FaceTime, but he’d been busy during the day and evenings.

  Gabriel described the other academics as something akin to what one might find in the British Museum. In fact, he hypothesized that a particular professor from University College London predated the Rosetta Stone.

  And Cecilia had announced suddenly during the morning coffee break that she’d be returning to America the following morning, which meant that Julia could no longer wait. She had to ask Cecilia again for approval of a semester abroad at Edinburgh. So it was with great trepidation that Julia stood outside the door of Cecilia’s temporary office in the New Building at Magdalen College on Thursday afternoon.

  Julia took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Come in,” Cecilia called.

  Julia opened the door. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Certainly.” Cecilia gestured to a nearby chair and Julia sat. The office was small but cozy, with a window that looked out onto The Grove. Nearby, a herd of deer were quietly nibbling grass. One could see the college’s white buck standing proud among them.

  Cecilia’s desk was covered with papers and books, and her laptop was open. She appeared to be in the middle of writing.

  She waited politely for Julia to speak.

  Julia rummaged in her messenger bag, which had been a gift from Rachel and Gabriel several years ago. She retrieved a piece of paper and handed it to Cecilia.

  Cecilia gave her a questioning look. “What is this?”

  “This is the list of graduate courses in Italian Studies that are being taught in the fall at Edinburgh.”

  Cecilia’s expression grew frosty. She skimmed the list and returned it to Julia. “Graham Todd’s course in Dante is fine. But I don’t see how coursework in modern Italian cinema will contribute to your program.”

  “There’s a course on the influence of the Bible on Renaissance literature,” Julia protested quietly. “There’s a course in medieval poetry.”

  “The coursework offered at Harvard is more extensive, and more appropriate for your research. I’ll be teaching a comparative course on Virgil and Dante that you should take.” Cecilia’s demeanor was implacable.

  Julia looked down at the list of courses and slowly stroked a finger across one of the titles. “You won’t approve a semester abroad for me?”

  “No.”

  Julia searched Cecilia’s expression, looking for any hint of equivocation. There was none. Resignedly, she placed the list back in her messenger bag and closed it.

  “Thank you for your time.” Julia stood and approached the door. “I enjoyed working with you.”

  “It will be all right.” Cecilia proffered a small smile. “Many academic couples commute. You and Gabriel will be fine commuting for a year.”

  Julia looked at the doorknob, which was well within reach. She turned back to face her supervisor. “I’m not going to commute with my husband. Professor Todd’s course looks interesting and he has invited me to be a teaching assistant for one of his undergraduate classes.”

  Cecilia removed her spectacles. She looked angry. “I’ve just told you I won’t approve the transfer of those courses. They won’t count toward your program, which means you won’t be able to take your general exams in the winter.”

  “I understand. I’m going to call Professor Matthews and file paperwork to switch supervisors.”

  Cecilia blinked, as if Julia’s response was unexpected. “Who will you work with?”

  “Professor Picton. She looked at the Edinburgh coursework and agreed to supervise me. Her appointment at Harvard begins in August.”

  “You went behind my back.” Cecilia’s tone was accusatory.

  “Only as a last resort.”

  “I won’t serve on your committee.” Cecilia switched to Italian. “You’re short-changing yourself by forgoing the courses we are offering in the fall for the paltry offerings at Edinburgh. I won’t read your dissertation, and I won’t write a letter of recommendation for you when you try to get a job.”

  Julia recoiled. In the air, Cecilia’s words were just sounds strung together. In Julia’s world, they were arrows designed first to threaten and then to harm. Prospective employers would notice Cecilia’s nonappearance on Julia’s dissertation committee. They would notice the absence of her letter of recommendation in Julia’s dossier. Beyond prospective employers, scholarship committees and grant-awarding agencies would also notice Professor Marinelli’s lack of endorsement.

  As Julia analyzed her professor, it became obvious Cecilia wasn’t bluffing. Her arrows would find their target and their target was Julia’s reputation.

  She felt attacked. She felt wounded. She and Cecilia had previously enjoyed a very collegial relationship. Cecilia was the one who’d encouraged her to take a maternity leave. Now everything was unraveling.

  There was a time when Julia had been the target of another professor’s censure. Before Gabriel knew who she was, he’d met with her in his office in Toronto and told her their professor-student relationship wasn’t working. She’d left the office humiliated. (And she’d left him an unintentional surprise under his desk.)

  But Julianne was not that shy, awkward young woman anymore. And she would not allow herself to be a pawn in someone else’s chess game of academic egoism.

  She and Gabriel had survived months of separation and no contact before they were married. As long as they lived, Julia would do everything in her power to ensure that they were never separated again.

  She would do anything to protect Gabriel from himself, so that he wouldn’t feel the need to reject the lectureship just to stay with her in Massachusetts. She would assert herself to Professor Marinelli, even if it meant accepting her unjust censure.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Cecilia. I wish you the best.” Julia held her head high and exited the office. She would not let Professor Marinelli see her dismay.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The Cloisters of Magdalen College were incredibly picturesque.

  Julia leaned through one of the open archways into
the airy space, searching for the small stone carvings that ran along the walls. C. S. Lewis, the professor and author, had been inspired to incorporate those same carvings in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, one of Julia’s favorite books.

  On her first visit to Oxford, she and Gabriel had stayed in the college. And she’d sneaked out of bed late at night to look at the carvings. But she wouldn’t dare set foot on the exceptionally manicured lawn in daylight, for fear of being evicted.

  Her conversation with Cecilia replayed in her mind, over and over. Julia wondered if she could have handled it differently. She wondered if she hadn’t broached the subject earlier, if Cecilia would have been more amenable.

  Working with Professor Picton was an honor, of course, but Julia had enjoyed working with Cecilia. She had considered her a friend. Their acrimonious parting was sure to haunt the rest of her graduate studies, and now her career. Even the power of Katherine’s magic couldn’t prevent Cecilia from speaking derisively about Julia and her project, if she so chose.

  Academia was a good deal like a fiefdom.

  “Looking for Aslan?” a cheerful voice called to her.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man approached her from the side. Julia looked up into the face of Paul Norris and instantly felt gratitude. “I wish.”

  Paul’s cheery demeanor changed when he saw her watery eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Cecilia wouldn’t approve my semester abroad in Edinburgh. When I told her I was going to switch supervisors, she said she wouldn’t serve on my dissertation committee and that she wouldn’t write a letter of recommendation for me for the job market.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” Paul moved so that he was leaning into the same archway as Julia. He stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans and produced a tissue. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She took it gratefully and wiped her nose.

  “I don’t suppose Cecilia will change her mind?”

  “She was pretty adamant.”