Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy)

by Reynard, Sylvain

  But he’d lost his temper before he had the chance to say that.

  His secrets were hurting her. He knew that. But he couldn’t unburden himself until he’d found a solution. He didn’t want to appear weak and undecided, or worse, to watch her compassion change into pity. He’d rather alienate her temporarily than lose her respect.

  And he hadn’t found a way forward. Not yet. He was caught between two extremes, both of which were unacceptable. At the moment he lacked the courage or the wisdom to find a middle path.

  He finished his cigarette and lit another one. Perhaps he lacked both courage and wisdom.

  Julianne was correct. If they adopted a child, he’d have to quit. He’d quit cigarettes before, after his stint in rehab. He could quit again.

  He thought about Tom and Diane. They’d gone from the elation of discovering they were expecting to the devastation of learning that their child had a life-threatening birth defect. He couldn’t imagine how powerless they felt. He’d had a glimpse of such impotence when Paulina—

  Gabriel forced himself to focus on the cigarette he held between his fingers. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander down that road. Not tonight.

  He gazed at the skyline of Florence, at the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, waiting until he was sure Julia was asleep.

  He visited the bathroom, brushing his teeth and dropping his clothes to the floor. He showered quickly, knowing that she’d smell the smoke on his skin.

  Naked and with damp hair, he slid between the sheets. He didn’t touch her. A quick glimpse of the bed in the lamplight revealed that she was wearing a nightgown and curled on her side, facing away from him.

  Message received, sweetheart.

  As he settled into bed he thought, perhaps, that he heard a murmur of distress emanating from her direction.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  When she didn’t respond, he switched off the light and turned his back to her.

  It only took a moment for Julia to shift so she was spooning him from behind.

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  “We promised we wouldn’t go to bed angry anymore.”

  “I’m not angry, Gabriel, I’m hurt.”

  He reached back to grasp her wrist and pulled her arm so that it draped over his waist. “You’re right about Maria. I just wanted to do something.

  “I don’t think you’re a bitch. I’d never think of you that way. You’re my beloved.”

  “Then I need you to be kind to me. I have to tell you, Gabriel, this past little while has been really difficult. I don’t want our marriage to be like this.”

  His body tightened.

  “I’ll find a way to make it up to you. I promise.”

  “I don’t want you to make it up to me. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Tell me now.” Her tone was harsh.

  “Please, Julianne,” he whispered. “I’m asking you, please, to give me a little more time.”

  “So you can come to some momentous decision without me?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything without talking to you first. But haven’t you ever been worried about something and tried to figure out how to deal with it? You can’t exactly make those decisions for me.” He shook his head. “I’m asking you, Julianne, to have a little compassion.”

  She searched his eyes and found nothing insincere in them.

  “I can give you a little more time. But I want you to call Dr. Townsend.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted.

  “I won’t accept your refusal. Either tell me what’s troubling you, or tell him. But for both our sakes, Gabriel, tell someone.”

  With a deep exhalation, he nodded.

  Gabriel was awake before sunrise and quit the suite before Julianne awoke. Though it pained him to leave the warmth of her embrace, he was on a mission. The sooner he gathered the information he needed, the closer he would be to a solution.

  (Or so he hoped.)

  That afternoon, he had an important meeting scheduled with his old friend, Dottore Vitali, the director of the Uffizi Gallery. Now Gabriel was more determined than ever to show his wife how much he loved her. And to do so publicly.

  As he exited the hotel, he reflected on the fact that he preferred Florence in the morning—the quiet of the streets before the city shook off its slumber.

  He stopped at the café at the Gucci Museum in Piazza della Signoria and bought an espresso and a sweet roll. He enjoyed his breakfast outside, along with his newspaper, La Nazione, biding his time until he could call for Elena at the orphanage.

  At ten o’clock, he rang the doorbell. Elena was surprised to see him and even more surprised when he revealed the reason for his visit.

  She thanked him for his concern for Maria and suggested that if he wanted to help, he could assist in covering the costs for the therapist she was seeing in an effort to help her recover her speech.

  When Gabriel raised the subject of adoption, Elena quickly explained that adopting a child in Italy could be difficult. Only married couples were permitted to adopt, and they must have been married for at least three years. Even if he and Julianne had decided to adopt Maria, the Italian government wouldn’t let them.

  Gabriel left the orphanage duly chastened, but not without making a substantial donation to cover Maria’s expenses. He made it clear that Elena was to contact him if any needs arose.

  Lost in thought, he wandered to a café at Santa Croce. Instead of watching the beautiful women walk by, he made a few phone calls, prevailing upon Florence’s finer families to consider supporting the orphanage through foster care or adoption.

  Reactions were mixed. Everyone was willing to part with their money for charity, but not a single couple would agree to become foster parents. Adoption was absolutely out of the question.

  Once again, Gabriel was confronted with the lavishness of grace as he contemplated all the reasons why Richard and Grace could have said no to adopting him, but didn’t.

  Julianne awoke to an empty bed and a quiet hotel room. But Gabriel had left a glass of water on the nightstand, along with a note,

  Darling,

  I’ve gone to run errands.

  I’ll be back in time to get ready for the exhibition opening tonight.

  I love you,

  And I like my body when it is with your body,

  G.

  On the back of the note, Gabriel had transcribed a poem by e. e. cummings: “i like my body when it is with your.”

  Julia read and reread the poem, wondering what Gabriel’s errands were.

  In truth, she felt guilty. Gabriel was correct—Maria needed a family to love and care for her. Julia could see why Gabriel was drawn to her.

  As all the anxiety about graduate school and her career washed over her, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that she was being selfish by valuing her education over the welfare of a child.

  Still, it didn’t seem right to take Maria from the only country she’d ever known and place her in a house with strangers. Especially since Julia didn’t know what Gabriel was troubled about.

  Maybe he wants children right away and he’s gearing himself up to tell me so.

  Julia entertained the thought but put it aside. Gabriel recognized her anxiety about grad school. He wasn’t going to add to it.

  She’d worked so hard to get herself to this point. His remarks the evening before about “the Julianne he knew” had cut her deeply. She’d tried to be compassionate her whole life. Surely being a good person didn’t entail the abandonment of one’s dreams.

  Much as she wanted to help Maria, she simply couldn’t agree to adopt her. Not now. Perhaps in two years when they were better acquainted with her, and Julia was in her fourth year of graduate school. The fourth year was devoted
to preparing her dissertation prospectus and then writing her dissertation. Julia could simply work on her research and be a mother, at the same time.

  (Or so she thought.)

  Still, she worried about her husband—about what secret demons tormented him and why he was so determined to be secretive.

  She lifted her iPhone from the nightstand and quickly sent him a text.

  G,

  I missed waking up with you this morning.

  Thank you for your note and the poem.

  Looking forward to the opening tonight.

  I love you too,

  J.

  xo

  Then, in an effort to exercise her compassion, she dressed and spent the day on her own quest—trying to find the homeless man she’d given money to during her first visit to Florence with Gabriel.

  She searched the city center, but no one seemed to know the man she was referring to, and certainly none of the people she asked had seen a man answering his description.

  While Julianne was burying her sorrows in a lemon gelato at Bar Perseo, Gabriel was finishing his meeting with Dottore Massimo Vitali at the Uffizi. He returned to the hotel to find an empty suite, but the scent of orange blossoms filled the air, remnants of her perfume.

  He had happy memories of their first visit to Florence. There was a wall in the suite that he would have liked to enshrine. He thought back to the early days of their relationship and how he’d worked so hard to earn Julianne’s trust. He was seized of a sudden by a glimpse of what his life would be like without her—empty, naked, cold.

  He had to deal with his problems head on, or the gap between them would grow ever wider until eventually, he lost her.

  He picked up his phone and dialed the number for his therapist’s office. Then he left a long message.

  After he’d hung up the phone, he opened his laptop and pulled up the Google search engine. He typed the following search phrase: “Owen Davies.”

  A few hours later, Julia was standing in the bathroom, applying makeup, while Gabriel stood at the sink next to her, shaving. As her fingers stroked over part of her throat, she found herself wincing. She could no longer see where Simon had bitten her. But every time she touched the spot, she felt his teeth.

  A gentle hand caressed the back of her neck. “He won’t hurt you again.”

  She met Gabriel’s eyes in the mirror. “I wish I could believe that. Somehow I suspect he and Natalie aren’t finished with me.”

  “They wouldn’t dare.” He kissed her forehead.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Something flickered across his features, but it was eclipsed by his smile.

  “Trust me.”

  “I heard from my dad today.” She traced the marble topped vanity with her finger.

  “What did he say?”

  “They want to get married Labor Day weekend. It will be a small wedding. Dad feels more comfortable with Diane at his place and Diane doesn’t want to move in with him without being married.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Nothing has changed. Diane seems to be doing well, and the baby is about as good as could be expected. They’re keeping an eye on both of them.” She shook her head. “Dad feels pretty helpless.”

  “Of course he does. He wants to protect them and there’s nothing he can do.”

  She nodded, looking down at the marble with a fascination unwarranted by its appearance. “I’m sorry about Maria.”

  “So am I.” He leaned against the vanity, contemplating his bare feet. “But at least I tried to help her.”

  “Maybe one of the families you contacted will change their mind. If they could just meet her, I’m sure they’d fall in love with her.”

  He nodded, wriggling his toes.

  “I won’t say that I understand, Gabriel, because I don’t. I wasn’t adopted and so I don’t share that special affinity you have with the children at the orphanage. But if you could just give me until my fourth year, I—”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that. There’s no rush.” He smiled at her gently.

  A feeling of relief mixed with dread washed over her.

  Gabriel returned to his shaving, while she watched with rapt fascination.

  “This reminds me of our first trip to Florence. We were getting ready together before going to the Uffizi.” She seemed wistful. “I was just your girlfriend, then.”

  Gabriel stopped.

  “You were never just my girlfriend, Julianne. You were my lover. And we’re still lovers.”

  “How could I forget?” She gestured in the direction of the bedroom, pausing for a moment to remember their first time together. “I was so happy here.

  “But tonight I’m going to accompany you to the Uffizi as your wife. We get to open the exhibition of your illustrations together.”

  “They’re our illustrations. And I love you even more now than I did before. I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “I love you more, too.” She peered down at her toes, admiring the way the red nail polish shimmered in the light. “I think your love has healed me, in many ways.”

  Gabriel placed his razor on the counter.

  “I don’t know why you persist in being sweet when I’m shaving.” He tried not to get shaving cream on her silk robe, but failed. “We’re going to have to have sex now.”

  She laughed. “We can’t. We’re due at the Uffizi at seven. The guests of honor can’t be late.”

  “It wouldn’t do for one of the guests of honor to be cross all evening because he’s hard and wanting. We had a fight. We made up. You owe me makeup sex.”

  Julia reached out a hand to test his arousal.

  “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, Professor. But I really need to get ready. Look at my hair.”

  He pulled back to see the dark strands, which were now streaked with shaving cream on one side.

  “Fine,” he huffed. “But don’t be surprised if I spirit you off to a corridor and have my way with you.”

  “I’m counting on it, Superman.” She nipped his ear with her teeth before escaping his arms. “And just for the record, I like my body when it’s with yours, as well.”

  A short while later, Julia exited the washroom, walking over to where Gabriel was seated in the living area of their suite.

  “What do you think?”

  He stood up and removed his glasses, tossing aside the book he’d been reading.

  He took her hand, spinning her in a circle. Her Valentino dress was very feminine, with a boat neckline, cap sleeves, a slim bodice, and a full skirt. The fabric was a rich red taffeta.

  She pulled at the hemline, which sat above her knees. “I think I should have bought something black, instead.”

  “No.” His eyes traveled from her exposed collarbones, across her breasts and down to her long and shapely legs. “Red is perfect.”

  He peered down at her black Prada peep-toe stilettos.

  “You’ve been holding out on me, Mrs. Emerson. I don’t recall seeing those before.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him.

  “You aren’t the only one with secrets, Professor.”

  Gabriel’s smile slid off his face.

  She looked down at her shoes.

  “But I can arrange a private viewing.”

  “In a dark corner at the Uffizi?”

  Their eyes met and she nodded.

  He kissed her cheek. “You look lovely. The guests won’t be looking at Botticelli. They’ll be looking at you.”

  “Oh, don’t say that, Gabriel. I’m nervous enough.” She brushed imaginary lint from his shoulders and then straightened his black bow tie. “You’re handsome. I don’t have the pleasure of seeing you in a tuxedo very often.”

  “I can arrange a private viewing.” He
pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent.

  “Roses.” He opened his eyes. “You’ve changed your perfume.”

  “The Noble Rose of Afghanistan. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s fair trade and it encourages development in that country.”

  “Only you would choose your perfume because of the company’s commitment to fair trade. What did I do to deserve you?” Gabriel whispered, his eyes dark and searching.

  “You deserve happiness. Why can’t you let yourself believe that?”

  He gave her a long look, then took her hand in his and led her to the door.

  All the while, Julia’s heart nearly cracked under the weight of her realization that her love had not healed him.

  “Professore. Signora.” Lorenzo, Dottore Vitali’s assistant, greeted them at the entrance to the Uffizi.

  “We shall gather with the media. You will be invited to open the exhibition. Then we will view the collection, enjoy a reception and later, dinner.”

  Gabriel acquiesced in Italian, squeezing Julia’s hand.

  Lorenzo led them to a hallway where a crowd of about a hundred people were gathered. Julia recognized many familiar faces from Gabriel’s lecture a year and a half ago. All the men were in tuxedos, save the members of the press; all the women were wearing gowns, many of which swept the floor.

  Julia looked down at her bare legs self-consciously.

  Soon they were surrounded. Gabriel shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, introducing Julia as his beautiful wife. She watched as he greeted guests in Italian, French, and German, working the room fluidly and comfortably. But he never let her leave his side; his arm remained wrapped around her waist.

  They were just about to follow Dottore Vitali to the doorway to the exhibition when Julia stopped short. Staring at her, not fifty feet away, was Professor Pacciani, with a tall, dark-haired woman on his arm.

  Julia’s eyes widened.

  For a moment, she thought the woman was Christa Peterson. But on sustained inspection, she realized that although there was a resemblance, Pacciani’s companion was older than Christa by about ten years.