Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(98)
It wasn’t Julianne. The young woman in front of him was a little fuller in the hips and wider in the shoulders and her hair was darker. But she was beautiful, and her beauty reminded him of how much he’d lost.
The room was small and primitive, a studied contrast to the wide-open and elaborately frescoed upper Basilica. Gabriel was not alone in finding that the simplicity that was St. Francis’s life and mission was more accurately reflected in the unassuming tomb. It was with such thoughts in mind that Gabriel found himself leaning against the pew in front of him and bowing his head. Before he could form the intention to do so, he began praying.
At first they were just words—desperate utterances and whispered confessions. As time wore on, his prayers took on a more repentant shape, while unbeknownst to him, the young woman lit a candle and departed.
If Gabriel’s life had been a major motion picture, an old, weathered Franciscan brother would have stumbled across him as he knelt in prayer, and seeing his distress, would show him compassion, offering spiritual guidance. But Gabriel’s life was not a motion picture. So he prayed alone.
If you had asked Gabriel afterward about what occurred in the tomb, he would have shrugged and evaded the question. Some things cannot be put into words. Some things defy language itself.
But there was a moment in his prayers in which Gabriel was confronted with the magnitude of all his failings, both moral and spiritual, while at the same time feeling the presence of One who knew the state of his soul and embraced him anyway. He was suddenly aware of what the writer Annie Dillard once referred to as the extravagance of grace. He thought of the love and forgiveness that had been lavished on the world and more specifically, on him, through the lives of Grace and Richard.
And Julianne, my sticky little leaf.
The magnet for sin found something very unexpected underneath the floors of the upper Basilica. When he left the church, he was more determined than ever not to return to his old ways.
Chapter 36
For Julia, the rest of April was a vortex of activity. There were final revisions to be made to her thesis, meetings with Katherine Picton and Nicole, and Friday nights to be spent with Paul.
Katherine ensured that Julia’s final draft was error free and something that she could be proud of. Then she telephoned Cecilia Marinelli in Oxford to ask her to look for Julia at Harvard in the fall.
Paul secured a studio apartment in Cambridge for her to sublet. She began working through a list of texts Katherine had suggested she read in preparation for Professor Marinelli’s seminar.
At the end of April, Julia received a very official looking letter from the Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies. Dr. Aras requested her attendance at his office in a week’s time. He assured her that their appointment had nothing to do with a disciplinary matter, and he stated that Professor Martin would also be in attendance.
With great trepidation, she trudged across campus on a Monday afternoon, clutching her L.L. Bean knapsack. She took comfort in it, in the fact that it had been her companion for almost a year. Paul had offered to accompany her, but she’d declined, arguing that she needed to face the Dean alone. Still, he’d hugged her and promised to wait for her at their favorite Starbucks.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Mitchell. How was your semester?”
Julia gazed across the desk at Dean Aras in surprise. “It was—interesting.”
The Dean nodded, his eyes shifting to meet Professor Martin’s. “I know this academic year has been challenging for you. I asked to speak with you simply to find out if you have had any other problems since the hearing.”
Julia looked between the two academics, measuring them. “What kind of problems?”
“Dean Aras is wondering if Professor Emerson bothered you at all after the hearing. Did he call or email you? Did he try to meet with you?” Professor Martin appeared friendly, but there was an undertone to his demeanor that made Julia suspicious.
“Why do you care? You got what you wanted. He left the city.”
The Dean’s expression tightened. “I’m not about to retry the case with you, Miss Mitchell. This meeting is a courtesy, an attempt to ensure that you have been able to proceed with your education free of interference. We’re trying to determine if Professor Emerson kept his word and left you alone.”
“I received an email from him a few days after the hearing. He told me to stop contacting him and that we were over. That’s what you want to hear, right?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Professor Martin exchanged a meaningful look with the Dean. “I’m sure you’re glad to put this matter behind you.”
Julia sat silently, not bothering to answer.
“You’re free to go. Congratulations on a successful year and congratulations on being admitted to Harvard. We’ll see you at graduation.” The Dean nodded at her dismissively.
She picked up her knapsack and walked to the door. Just as her hand reached for the doorknob she stopped, turning to face the two professors.
How strange it is, she thought, that these two men, armed only with massive intellects and closets full of tweed, could wield so much power over her heart and her happiness.
“I don’t regret my relationship with Professor Emerson, even though it ended badly. Both of you were incredibly dismissive and patronizing to me throughout this entire process. I understand the importance of protecting someone who needs protection, but the only people I needed protection from was you.”