As the graduates filed into the hall, Julia couldn’t help but scan the audience, looking for Gabriel. With so many people it was unlikely that she would see him, even if he were present. However, when she gazed over at the faculty section she easily located Katherine Picton, dressed in her Oxonian robes. If the faculty were arranged alphabetically, and it certainly seemed as if they were, then Julia should have been able to guess where Gabriel would be seated, dressed in Harvard’s crimson. But he wasn’t.
When they called Julia’s name, it was Katherine who ascended the stage in slow but certain steps to hood Julia with the vestment of a magister. It was Katherine who shook her hand professionally, wished her well at Harvard, and handed her the diploma.
Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with Paul and Tom at a local steakhouse, Julia checked her voice mail and found a new message. It was from Rachel.
“Congratulations, Julia! We all send our love and we have presents for you. Thanks for sending me your new address in Cambridge. I’ll mail everything and make sure it arrives after you do. I’m also sending your bridesmaid’s dress.
“Dad booked your flight from Boston to Philadelphia for August twenty-first. I hope that’s okay. He wanted to pay for it, and I know that you were planning on coming a week early.
“I still haven’t heard from Gabriel. I’m hoping he was at your graduation. But if he wasn’t, maybe you two will be able to sort everything out at the wedding. I can’t imagine that he’d miss it. He’s supposed to be a groomsman, and I don’t even have his measurements for his tux!”
Chapter 39
A certain blue-eyed Dante specialist read T.S. Eliot’s poem Ash Wednesday before offering his nighttime prayers. He was alone, and yet not alone.
Looking at the photograph on his bedside table he thought about her graduation. How beautiful and proud she would have looked in her robes. With a sigh, he closed his book of poetry and turned out the light.
In the darkness of his old bedroom in the Clarks’ former house, he reflected on the past weeks. He’d left Italy and traveled to Boston and Minnesota. He’d promised the Franciscans he’d return, for they’d said (wisely) that they prized his presence more than his donations. With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes.
“Gabriel, it’s time to get up.”
Groaning, he kept his eyes shut, hoping the voice would go away. Sleep was peaceful and he needed it.
“Come on. I know you’re awake.” The voice laughed softly, and he felt the mattress dip next to his legs.
He opened his eyes and saw his adoptive mother sitting on the edge of his bed. “Is it time for school?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Grace laughed again, the sound light and airy like music. “You’re a bit old to be going to school, at least as a student.”
He looked around, confused. Then he sat up.
She smiled warmly and held out her hand. He relished the feel of her soft hand in his before squeezing it.
“What’s the matter?” She gave him a puzzled look that was not unkind, as he held her hand in both of his.
“I never said good-bye. I wasn’t able to tell you—” He paused and inhaled quickly. “That I love you.”
“A mother knows these things, Gabriel. I’ve always known.”
He was momentarily overcome with a wave of emotion as he reached over and pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t know you were sick. Rachel told me you were getting better. I should have been there.”
Grace patted him on the back. “I want you to stop blaming yourself for everything. You made the best decision you could given the information you had at the time. No one expects you to be omniscient—or perfect.”
She pulled away so she could see his face. “You shouldn’t expect it of yourself, either. I love all my children, but you were my gift from God. You’ve always been special.”
Mother and son spent a moment or two in quiet communion before she stood up, smoothing her dress.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Gabriel wiped his eyes, pulling back the blankets and swinging his flannel covered legs to the floor. He stood up, trying to comb his hair, momentarily forgetting that he was shirtless. Grace went into the hallway then came back, with her arm around a young woman.
Gabriel stared.
The woman was young, although she seemed ageless. Her hair was long and blond, her face a flawless white, and she was slender and tall. Her eyes were familiar. Striking sapphire blue eyes greeted his, accompanied by a wide, pink smile.
Gabriel gave Grace a questioning look.
“I’ll let you two talk,” she said, and disappeared.
“I’m Gabriel.” He smiled politely and extended his hand.
She shook it, grinning happily in return. “I know.” Her voice was soft and very sweet. It reminded Gabriel of a little bell.
“And you are?”
“I wanted to meet you. Grace told me what you were like as a child, about your work as a professor. I like Dante too. He’s very funny.”
Gabriel nodded, not quite understanding.
The young woman looked up at him wistfully. “Will you tell me about her?”
“Who?”
“Paulina?”
Gabriel stiffened, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“I never knew her.”
He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “She went to see her family in Minnesota, to try to reconcile with them.”
“I know. She’s happy.”
“Then why do you ask?”
“I want to know what she’s like.”
He took a moment to carefully construct what to say. “She’s attractive and smart. She’s stubborn. She speaks several languages and she cooks well.” He chuckled. “But she’s not especially musical. She can’t carry a tune in a basket.”
The young woman giggled. “So I’ve heard.” She eyed Gabriel curiously. “Did you love her?”
He looked away. “I think I love her now, in a way. We were friends in the beginning, when I met her at Oxford.”
The young woman nodded and turned her head as if someone was calling her from the hallway. She quickly shifted her gaze back to Gabriel.
“I’m glad I met you. It wasn’t possible before. But I’ll see you again.” She smiled and turned toward the door.
Gabriel followed her. “I didn’t catch your name.”
She looked up at him expectantly. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry. Although there’s something familiar about your eyes…”
She laughed and Gabriel smiled in spite of himself, for her laughter was infectious. “Of course my eyes are familiar; they’re yours.”
Gabriel’s smile slid off his face.
“Don’t you know me?” She seemed puzzled.
He shook his head.
“I’m Maia.”
His expression froze. Then, as the moments passed, it ranged through several different emotions, like clouds floating across the sky on a summer’s day.
She pointed to the tattoo he wore on his left pectoral. “You didn’t have to do that.” She leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. “I know that you loved me.
“I’m happy here. It’s filled with light and hope and love. And it’s so beautiful.”
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, her touch lingering for only a second, before she left him to walk to the hallway.
Chapter 40
Tom stood at Julia’s front door the day after her graduation, wearing a gray T-shirt with the word Harvard emblazoned across the chest.
“Dad?” Julia’s tone was a question.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said gruffly, pulling her into a hug.
Father and daughter shared a quiet moment on the porch of Julia’s building before they heard someone coming up the steps behind them.
“Uh, good morning. I brought breakfast.” Paul held a tray containing three coffees and some doughnuts from Tim Horton’s. He seemed somewhat embarrassed at having intruded on the Mitchells, but he was greeted with a handshake from Tom and a hug from Julia.
The trio shared breakfast at Julia’s card table, then the two men began planning how best to pack up all of her things and move them. Luckily, Paul had persuaded Sarah, who was subletting to Julia, to allow her to move into the Cambridge apartment on June fifteenth.
“Um, Katherine Picton invited me to lunch today. But I don’t have to go.” Julia spoke quickly. She didn’t want to leave Tom and Paul working while she went on a social call.
“You don’t have a lot of stuff, Jules.” Tom quickly appraised her studio’s contents. “We’ll let you pack your clothes while we start on the books. I’m sure we’ll be close to finished by the time you have to see your professor.” He smiled and tousled her hair with his hand before disappearing into the washroom, leaving Paul and Julia alone.
“You don’t have to do this. Dad and I will be fine.”
Paul frowned. “When are you going to accept the fact that I’m here because I want to be? I don’t leave, Julia, not when I have a reason to stay.”
Julia stiffened uncomfortably, and her eyes quickly fixated on the half-finished coffee in front of her.
“If Professor Picton summoned you, it’s because she wants to talk to you. You’d better go.” Paul squeezed Julia’s hand lightly. “Your old man and I can handle things around here.”
Julia exhaled slowly and smiled.
There were a few intimate things that Julia did not want her father or Paul to see so she hid them in her L. L. Bean knapsack. The items were not what one might expect a young woman to hide from her father—a journal, diamond earrings, and a few items related to her counseling sessions.
Nicole had been pleased by Julia’s progress, and when they concluded their final session, gave her the name and contact information of a counselor near Harvard. Nicole had not only helped Julia cope, she was passing her into another set of capable hands that would help her take the next steps in her journey.
Julia wore a dress and modest sandals to Professor Picton’s house, thinking that an invitation to lunch warranted attractive garb. She carried her knapsack on one of her shoulders and clutched a tin of what she was told was a very fine loose Darjeeling tea, which she’d purchased as a hostess gift. She and her Darjeeling were received with typical Pictonian restraint and immediately ushered into the dining room where they enjoyed a very pleasant lunch of prawn salad, cold cucumber soup, and a fine Sauvignon blanc.
“How is your reading list coming along?” Katherine asked, eying Julia over her soup.
“Slowly but surely. I’m reading the texts you’ve suggested, but I’ve only started.”
“Professor Marinelli is looking forward to meeting you. It would be good for you to introduce yourself to her when she arrives in Cambridge.”
“I’ll do that. And thank you.”
“It would be beneficial for you to meet the other Dante specialists in the area, especially at Boston University.” Katherine smiled sagely. “Although I’m sure circumstances will arrange themselves so you end up being introduced to them eventually. But if they don’t, promise me that you will you drop by the Department of Romance Studies at BU before September.”
