Gabriel's Inferno: Gabriel's Rapture Part 13

Very early Christmas morning, Gabriel sat in his boxer shorts and gla.s.ses, debating whether or not to wake Julianne. He could have returned to the light of the living room of their suite, where he'd played Santa Claus only an hour before. But he preferred to be near her, even in the dark.

Richard's conversation with him from the day before plagued his mind. His adoptive father had asked about Paulina, and he'd said about as much on the topic as he dared, emphasizing that Paulina was his past and Julia his future. Richard, who was a compa.s.sionate man, encouraged his son to make professional counseling a necessary condition for Paulina's continued access to her trust fund, pointing out that she clearly needed help.

Once Gabriel agreed, Richard smoothly changed the subject to Julia, asking if he was in love with her. Gabriel replied unequivocally in the affirmative, to which Richard responded by bring up the R-word, responsibility.

"I am taking responsibility for her."

"She's still a student. What if she gets pregnant?"

Gabriel's expression hardened. "That won't happen."

Richard smiled. "I thought that once. Then we had Scott."

"I've already demonstrated that I more than take care of my responsibilities." Gabriel's voice was glacial.

His adoptive father sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers reflectively.

"Julia is like Grace in several ways-not least of which is her willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loves."

"I won't allow her to sacrifice her dreams for me, you can be a.s.sured of that."

Richard's eyes flickered over to the picture of his wife that he always kept on his desk, a laughing, smiling woman with kind eyes.

"How did Julia react to Paulina's visit?"

"I haven't discussed it with her."

"If you abandon Julia, you will have a serious problem with your siblings, as well as with me."

Gabriel's eyebrows knit together like thunderous clouds. "I would never abandon her. And I won't live without her."

"Then why don't you tell her that?"

"Because we've only been together for two weeks."

Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise, but elected not to interrogate his son over the semantic ambiguity of the phrase "being together."

"You know my views on this. You should marry her. At the moment, you appear to be with her under false pretenses; your actions indicate that she is only a partner in a s.e.xual affair, when your intentions are serious."

Gabriel bristled at the characterization. "Julianne is not my mistress."

"You won't make a commitment to her."

"I am committed to her. There's no one else."

"But Paulina appears, looking for you and making a spectacle in front of Julia and your family."

"I can't help that," Gabriel snapped.

"Can't you?" Richard pursed his lips together. "It's difficult for me to believe that a woman as intelligent as Paulina would simply arrive without any hope that her overtures would be accepted."

Gabriel scowled, but didn't bother to argue.

"Why won't you make some promises to Julia? I'm sure she's anxious about what the future might hold. Marriage is a sacrament that exists partially to protect women from s.e.xual exploitation. If you take that protection away from her, then she is little more than your mistress, no matter what you choose to call her. And she has seen what happened-what is happening-to Paulina."

"That isn't going to happen to Julianne."

"How does she know that?" Richard tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. "Marriage is more than a piece of paper. It's a mystery. In fact, there's a Midrash that suggests that marriage is made in heaven between soul mates. Don't you want to be with Julia forever?"

"What I want is immaterial. I won't rush her into making a life-changing decision in the middle of the academic year," Gabriel muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "It's too soon."

"Pray that you don't wait until it's too late," Richard countered, gazing sadly at Grace's photograph.

With these words, then, ringing in his ears, Gabriel sat watching his soul mate sleep on Christmas morning.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred, a nameless anxiety wafting over her. A moment later she rolled toward him, her fingers making contact with the silk at his hip.

In the darkness of the room, Gabriel looked like a gargoyle-a gray, motionless figure that stared back at her from behind his gla.s.ses in stony silence. It took a moment for Julia to recognize him.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Her face creased in puzzlement. "But you're sitting half-naked in the dark."

He gave her a tentative smile. "I'm waiting for you to wake up."

"Why?"

"So we can open presents. But it's early. Go back to sleep."

She slid closer to him, searching for and finding his hand. She kissed the back of it and pulled it toward her heart.

He smiled and pressed his palm flat against her chest so he could feel her heart beat. His face grew serious.

"Forgive me for last night." He cleared his throat roughly. "I don't want you to think that s.e.x is all I want. It isn't."

Her smile faded. "I know that."

He moved his hand to stroke her eyebrows with his fingers. "I desire you, obviously. It's difficult for me not to touch you, not to want to be with you that way."

His hand floated across her cheek, hesitantly. "But I love you, and I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because you feel obligated."

She leaned into his hand. "I don't feel obligated. There were so many times when you could have pressured me, like the night we were in your old room and I-I took my top off. But you were patient. And when it was our first time, you were wonderful. I've been lucky to have you as my lover."

She gave him a sleepy smile. "Why don't you come over here? I think we could both use some rest."

Gabriel slid under the covers and cuddled close to his beloved. When her regular breathing indicated that she'd fallen asleep, he whispered a few promises to her in Italian.

When Julia awoke she was treated to breakfast in bed. Then she was nagged impatiently until she agreed to accompany Gabriel to the sitting room. He was so excited he was practically bouncing.

(In a very dignified and professorial way, of course, despite his lack of s.h.i.+rt.) A small, Charlie Brown Christmas tree had been conveniently "borrowed" from the bed and breakfast's parlor and was placed in the center of the room. Several brightly colored parcels rested beneath it. Two large, red stockings embroidered with the names "Julianne" and "Gabriel" were each sitting in a corner of the loveseat.

"Merry Christmas." He kissed her forehead, feeling very proud of himself.

"I've never had a stocking."

He led her to the loveseat and placed the stocking in her lap. It was filled with candy and panties that had Yuletide images on them. And in the toe was a flash drive that contained video of a certain tango against the wall at the Royal Ontario Museum.

"Why haven't you had a stocking before?"

"Sharon didn't always remember Christmas and my dad didn't think of it." She shrugged.

He shook his head. He hadn't had stockings either, before he came to live with the Clarks.

Julia pointed to a couple of presents that were wrapped in red and green plaid and sitting on the coffee table. "Why don't you open your gifts first?"

Gabriel beamed and sat on the floor by the tree, cross-legged. He picked up a small box and tore at the paper with abandon.

Julia laughed at the sight of him, this very proper professor sitting in his spectacles and underwear, attacking his presents like a four-year-old.

Gabriel opened the box and was very surprised at what he saw inside. Nestled in cream-colored silk was a pair of silver cufflinks. But these were no ordinary cufflinks. These cufflinks bore the s.h.i.+eld of the city of Florence. He gazed at them in wonder.

"Do you like them?"

"I love them, Julianne. I'm just surprised. How did you...?"

"While you were at one of your meetings, I walked over to the Ponte Vecchio and bought them. I thought they would look good with your fancy s.h.i.+rts." She looked at the floor. "I'm afraid I bought them using some of my scholars.h.i.+p money. So really, you bought them for yourself."

Gabriel rose to his knees and shuffled over to her, kissing her in grat.i.tude. "That money is yours. You earned it. And the cufflinks are perfect. Thank you."

She smiled at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. "There's another gift for you."

He grinned as he found a second small, flat present. Underneath the wrapping paper he found a framed eight-by-ten inch reproduction of Marc Chagall's painting Lovers in the Moonlight.

Inside the enclosed card Julia had written a few sweet nothings, declaring her love and her grat.i.tude at finding him again. She also added another, more important, gift.

I'd like to pose for your photographs.

All my love,

Your Julia.

XOXO.

Gabriel was speechless. His eyes met hers with a questioning look.

"I think it's time you had some photographs of us to hang on the walls of your bedroom. And I would like to do this for you. If that's all right."

He moved to join her on the love seat and kissed her deeply. "Thank you. The painting is lovely, but what is far more lovely is you." He grinned. "Your fondness for Chagall will be our inspiration. But I think we'll have to practice our poses first."

He moved his eyebrows suggestively, before leaning forward to tug her lower lip into his mouth.

"You are the greatest gift," he murmured. He felt her lips move into a smile beneath his mouth, and he pulled back to retrieve one of her gifts from under the tree.

She rewarded him with s.h.i.+ning, eager eyes. When she opened the small box, she found a compact disc that he'd recorded for her, ent.i.tled Loving Julianne.

"It's the playlist that we listened to in Florence," he explained.

"Thank you. I was going to ask you for a copy of those songs. They'll bring back happy memories."

Underneath the jewel case she found a series of gift certificates for various spa treatments at the Windsor Arms Hotel in Toronto, some of which had various exotic sounding names such as Vichy shower and seaweed and salt body wrap.

She thanked him, reading the t.i.tles aloud until she came to the last certificate.

Arrangements have been made for you to see a plastic surgeon in Toronto as soon as we return. Based upon the information I provided, he's confident that your scar can be removed completely. You don't need to worry about it anymore,

Gabriel.

He released the page from her tense fingers, smiling apologetically. "I probably shouldn't have included that in the box. Sorry."