Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(77)

Julia deleted Paul’s second message and quickly texted him, saying she’d come down with the flu and was catching up on her sleep. She’d call him when she was feeling better, and she hoped he’d arrived home safely.

She did not tell him that she missed him.

The next message was from a local number that she didn’t recognize.

“Julianne…um, Julia. It’s Gabriel. I…Please don’t hang up. I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but I’m calling to grovel.  In fact, I’m standing outside your building in the rain. I was worried about you, and I wanted to be sure you got home safely.

“I wish we could go back to this morning, and I could tell you that I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of you in my living room, happy and dancing. That I’m incredibly lucky that you rescued me and stayed with me all night. That I’m an idiot and a f**k-up, and I don’t deserve your kindness. At all. I know I hurt you, Julia, and I’m sorry.

[Deep inhale and exhale.] “I should never have let you go this morning — not like that. I should have run after you and begged you to stay. I f**ked up, Julia. I f**ked up.

“I should have humiliated myself in person, which is what I’m trying to do now. Please come outside so I can apologize. Actual y, don’t come outside — you’l catch pneumonia. Just come to the front door and listen to me through the glass.

I’m going to stand here and wait for you. Here is my cell number…”

Julia scowled and deleted his message, not even bothering to save his number. Still wearing her rubber duckie pajamas, she opened her apartment door and walked across the hall. She had no intention of listening to Gabriel; she just wanted to find out if he was still waiting outside in the cold, dark rain.

She pressed her nose against the glass in the front door, smudging it, and peered outside into the inky blackness. It was no longer raining. And there was no Professor to be found. She wondered how long he’d waited.

She wondered if he’d walked to her apartment without an umbrella. Her spine stiffened, and she told herself that she didn’t care.

Let him catch pneumonia. Serves him right.

Before she turned to go, she noticed a large bouquet of purple hyacinths leaning up against one of the pillars on the porch. It had a large, pink bow attached to it and something that looked like a Hallmark card resting in the middle of it. The envelope read Julia.

Oh really, Professor Emerson? I didn’t know that Hallmark’s greeting cards included the “something for the girl/graduate student I cussed out after telling her I wanted to pet her and later puking on her.”  Julia turned on her heel and went back to her apartment, shaking her head and muttering.

Curling up on her bed with her laptop, she decided to perform an internet search on purple hyacinths, just in case Gabriel (or his florist) was trying to send her a subliminal message. On a horticultural website, she read the following: Purple hyacinths symbolize sorrow, the request for forgiveness, or an apology.

Yeah, well if you hadn’t been such a bastard to me, Gabriel, you wouldn’t have to buy hyacinths to beg for my forgiveness. Jackass.  Still shaking her head in irritation, Julia put her laptop aside and checked her last and final voice message. It was from Gabriel, and he’d left it a few minutes ago.

“Julia, I wanted to say this in person, but I can’t wait. I can’t wait.

“I wasn’t calling you a whore this morning. I swear. It was a terrible comparison, and I never should have said it, but I wasn’t calling you a whore.

I was objecting to seeing you on your knees. It really…upsets me. Every time.

You should be worshipped and adored and treated with dignity. Never on your knees. Never on your knees, Julia, for anyone. No matter what you think of me, that’s the truth.

“I should have apologized immediately for what Paulina said to you. I just finished setting her straight, and I want to pass on her apology. She’s sorry.

She and I have a…um…(cough)…it’s complicated. You can probably imagine why she jumped to that conclusion, and it has to do only with me and my previous — ah — behavior, and nothing to do with you. I’m really sorry she insulted you. It won’t happen again, I promise.

“Thank you for making me breakfast this morning. Um…[very long pause]

seeing the tray you prepared really did something to me. I can’t put it into words.

Julia, no one has ever done anything like that for me before. No one. Not Grace, not a friend, not a lover, no one. I…you’ve been nothing but good and kind and giving. And I’ve been nothing but selfish and cruel. [Clears throat…]

[Voice is husky now.] “Please, Julia, we need to talk about your note. I am holding your note in the palm of my hand, and I’m not going to let it go.

But there are some things I need to explain to you, serious things, and I’m not comfortable doing that over the phone. I’m sorry for what happened this morning. It’s all my fault, and I want to fix it. Please tell me how to fix this, and I’ll fix it. Call me.”

Once again, Julia deleted his message, and once again, she made no attempt to save his number. She turned her phone off, placed it with her laptop on her card table, and went back to bed, trying to put Gabriel’s sad and tortured voice out of her mind.

The next day and the day after that, Julia didn’t leave her apartment. In fact, she spent all her time in various flannel pajama sets, trying to distract herself with loud music and a series of well-worn paperbacks by Alexander McCall Smith. His Edinburgh stories were her favorite because they were cheerful, slightly mysterious, and smart. She found his writing comforting and more than soothing to her soul. The stories tended to make her hungry for Scottish things like porridge and Walker’s shortbread and Isle of Mull cheddar (not necessarily in that order).