Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno #4)(48)

They entered the woods, picking their way over fallen branches and sticks to embark on a well-trodden path.

Julia wondered about her recent issues with memory. She was still sleep-deprived, despite dropping Clare’s two-o’clock-in-the-morning feeding. Getting more sleep had aided Julia’s memory, but she still struggled to assimilate new information. Ever since coming home from the hospital, she’d found she needed to read and reread academic books and articles, in a way she never had before. Novels were different. Late at night or early in the morning, Julia would read ebooks on her cell phone.

“Careful.” Gabriel shined the flashlight over a large fallen branch. He stopped, grabbed Julia by the waist, and lifted her over it.

She laughed in surprise, although she appreciated his gallantry.

She’d been in these woods hundreds of times, most of them with Gabriel. She was fairly sure she could find her way back to the house, even under the cover of darkness. Although she remembered with horror the time she’d gotten lost. . . .

It occurred to her that perhaps the human memory was like the sea. It moved with regularity, carrying bits of things on a current. But when the tempest came, that which was long forgotten bubbled to the surface. Julia never thought about being lost in the woods, if she could help it. But the memory would bubble up unbidden or trouble her in dreams. She clasped Gabriel’s arm, moving her body closer to his as the orchard swallowed them up.

“Not far now.” His tone was comforting.

A few more steps and they stood at the edge of the clearing.

Gabriel sighed. “Paradise.”

He led Julia to the center of the clearing and spread the blanket. Then he tugged her to recline atop it, switching off the flashlight. He held her hand as they gazed up at the stars and beyond. “Katherine emailed me.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked if she could spend Christmas with us and Clare. I didn’t respond. I wanted to ask you first.”

“That’s all right with me, if it’s all right with Richard.”

“I’ll ask him.” Gabriel paused. “You know that Katherine will find out about Cecilia.”

“Not from us.”

Gabriel’s body tensed. “It’s bound to come out.”

“It’s still my decision.” Julia turned her head, examining what she could see of Gabriel’s strong profile. She elected to change the subject. “What do you like about the orchard?”

He took his time answering her question. “It’s peaceful. The woods are so thick, even in fall, you feel as if you’re in your own private world. I can think here.”

Julia lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I’ve been thinking about your lectureship.”

Now he turned his head. “What have you been thinking?”

“Everything about it is so fancy. The dinner they threw us at the castle. The announcement and reception. The media interest.” She gazed at him in admiration. “You could speak on any subject you want. And people would listen.”

“They expect me to speak about Dante.”

“Yes, because that’s your area of specialization. But you could choose any subject. Anything at all.”

Gabriel looked back at the stars. “I enjoy studying Dante. This is a chance for me to work something out.”

“What?”

“About Dante and Beatrice. I feel as if Dante is hiding something in The Divine Comedy—that he isn’t telling us the whole story.”

“The whole story about what?”

“They marry other people. He’s devastated when Beatrice dies and resolves to become a better man. He writes poems in tribute to her. But then he admits to having strayed from the right path at the middle of his life, and Beatrice tells Virgil Dante did so out of fear.”

“So far, so good.”

“Indeed. But there’s the passage in Purgatorio where Beatrice scolds him about other women. He admits his guilt, bathes in the river of forgetfulness, and then the theological virtues declare him faithful to Beatrice.”

Gabriel turned on his side to look at Julianne. “Faithless, faithful. He can’t be both at the same time.”

“No, he can’t. That was the demon’s point when he described Guido da Montefeltro’s sin.”

“So which is it, Beatrice?” Gabriel whispered. “Faithless or faithful?”

“Dante always writes with more than one meaning. I don’t think Beatrice is just talking about Dante’s devotion to her. She’s talking about God.”

“That’s right.”

“Dante admits his guilt—both at the beginning of the Inferno and when he feels shame in front of Beatrice.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand how Beatrice can be so forgiving at the beginning of the Inferno, when she says Dante is trapped by fear and she begs Virgil to help him, and then so condemning in Purgatorio.”

“I don’t, either. But I’m hoping to figure it out.”

“You’ll have to do some detective work, but it sounds like fun. You have a year to prepare your lectures.”

“Yes.” With his other hand, Gabriel reached over to touch Julia’s face. “You define love for me. And I believe Beatrice defined love for Dante, which is why I think we’re missing part of their story.”