Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno #3)(60)

“I don’t think I give up what I want so easily. I didn’t give up on you, did I? And you were pretty awful in the beginning.” Julia peered up at him out of the corner of her eye.

He shifted his feet.

“I had in mind how much you wanted to stay at Magdalen College and how you were willing to leave when I insisted.”

She turned back to what she was doing.

“Sometimes I don’t have the energy to fight with you. You were upset about the room. I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Gabriel pressed his lips to her neck.

“I think you need a party.”

“I do.” She reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair. “I need a private party that involves me peeling my handsome husband out of his favorite pair of jeans.”

She moved her mouth to his ear. “But your glasses stay on.”

He chuckled and pulled their lower bodies flush. “I didn’t know you had a thing for men in glasses.”

“Oh, I do. The way you feel about my high heels? That’s how I feel about you in glasses. But first I have to call Fra Silvestro’s assistant to see if she can rent a pony.”

Gabriel straightened.

“A pony?”

“Is that a bad idea?”

“Can you rent ponies? In Florence?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure none of the children have ever seen a pony, let alone had the chance to ride one. I thought it would be fun.”

Gabriel observed his wife’s excitement with no little amount of joy.

“If you look after the gifts for the children, I’ll find a pony.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a saucy wink. “Oh, and while you’re at it, see if you can rent a petting zoo.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Julia didn’t respond to Paul’s email. He’d asked her not to contact him, and she decided to honor his request. She knew that eventually their paths would cross at a conference or a colloquium. She thought that once he became used to the idea that she’d married Gabriel, he’d be able to be friends with her again.

Or so she hoped.

But his request and the way he’d done it—via email—had hurt. So she avoided her email for a couple of days. When she finally checked her account, she found a message from her father.

Jules,

Call me on my cell phone as soon as you get this message,

Dad.

Tom’s emails and telephone messages were usually terse. He was not a man of many words. But the tone of this particular email was so ominous, Julia didn’t bother to alert Gabriel as to what was happening. She simply picked up the telephone in the kitchen and dialed her father’s cell phone.

He picked it up on the first ring. “Jules.”

“Hi, Dad. What’s going on?”

Her father paused as if he were struggling to find the words. “We’re at the hospital.”

“The hospital? Why? What’s wrong?”

At that moment, Gabriel walked into the kitchen. Julia pointed to the telephone and mouthed the words My dad.

“Yesterday we went to have an ultrasound. We were supposed to find out the sex of the baby. But something was wrong.”

“What?”

“His heart.”

“His?”

“My son.” Tom’s voice broke on the last word.

“Dad.” Julia sniffled and her eyes filled with tears.

Gabriel stood very close to his wife, so that he could hear both sides of the conversation.

“Where are you now?” she asked.

“At the Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia. They agreed to see us right away.”

Julia heard a muffled noise in the background, then heard her father whisper, “It’s going to be all right, honey. It’s going to be all right. Don’t cry.”

“Is that Diane?”

“Yes.” Tom sounded strained.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. What did the doctor say?”

“We just met with the cardiologist. He says that the baby has hypoplastic left heart syndrome.”

“I’ve never heard of that before. What is it?”

“It means he only has half a heart.” He inhaled slowly. “It’s fatal, Jules.”

“Oh my God.” A tear spilled onto her cheek.

“He won’t survive without surgery. So they’ll have to operate after he’s born. That is, if Diane can carry him to term. Sometimes . . .” Tom’s voice trailed off.

“Can they fix it?”

“The surgery can make his heart do what it needs to do, but it can’t give him a normal heart. They say it will take three different surgeries and a lifetime of medication. No one knows how well he’ll do or if he’ll—” Tom began to cough.

“What can I do?”

“There’s nothing anyone can do. Except pray.”

Julia began to cry, and Gabriel gently removed the telephone from her hand.

“Tom? It’s Gabriel. I’m sorry about the baby. Let me book you a hotel near the hospital.”

“We don’t need—” Tom stopped abruptly, and Gabriel could hear Diane speaking in the background.

Tom sighed. “Okay. That would be good.”

“I’ll make the arrangements and email you the information. Do you want to go to New York for a second opinion? I can make airline reservations for both of you. We can get you a referral to another hospital.”