Gabriel's Rapture (21 page)

In the grand scheme of things, Gabriel’s failure to mention the fact that he’d stopped going to therapy was unimportant. Or so Julia believed. They argued about it briefly, but both of them were too worried about their troubles with the university to do more than that.

Gabriel received a terse note from Jeremy the following week, indicating that he’d interviewed both Mrs. Jenkins and Paul. Other than that, he and Julia didn’t receive any communication from the university.

David Aras spent his Friday night alone in the office of his house with a bottle of Jameson whiskey. It was not unusual for him to do so. In his position as Dean of Graduate Studies he often brought work home. On this particular evening he found himself mired in a very tricky, very sensitive situation.

Miss Peterson’s harassment complaint had been challenged by the testimony of more than one witness. However, the academic fraud complaint against Miss Mitchell had alerted him to a possible case of fraternization between Julia and Professor Emerson. The problem was that the evidence was contradictory.

According to the information passed on by Professor Martin, Paul Norris had painted a glowing picture of Miss Mitchell and her character. As the whiskey burned his throat, David wondered if all women Mr. Norris came in contact with had mysteriously sprouted wings or if he simply had a weakness for young women from Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania.

(Wherever the hell that was.)

According to Mr. Norris and Mrs. Jenkins, Miss Mitchell was a timid young woman who was disliked by Professor Emerson. Mr. Norris went further to claim that the professor had fought openly with her in his seminar.

Subsequent to the confrontation in class, Emerson had approached Professor Picton to supervise Miss Mitchell’s thesis, citing the fact that she was a friend of his family as the reason why he could no longer continue to supervise her. Here is where David was puzzled.

Professor Emerson hadn’t objected to Miss Mitchell’s admission to the program, knowing that he was the only professor who directed theses on Dante. If there was such an obvious conflict of interest, why hadn’t he objected? Or declared the conflict of interest to Professor Martin at the beginning of the semester?

The files on Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell did not make sense. And David did not like it when things did not make sense. (For his universe was nothing if not sensical.)

As he pondered the evidence, he inserted a flash drive into his computer. He opened the single folder on the drive and began scanning through the emails that had been culled obligingly from Professor Emerson’s account by someone in the Information Technology office. He adjusted the parameters to include only those messages that had been sent to or received from Miss Mitchell, Miss Peterson, Mr. Norris, and Professor Picton.

In a few minutes, David found something that surprised him. On his screen, were emails that had been sent before the end of October 2009. The first email had been written by Professor Emerson to Miss Mitchell:

Dear Miss Mitchell,

I need to speak to you concerning a matter of some urgency.

Please contact me as soon as possible. You may telephone me at the following number: 416-555-0739 (cell).

Regards,

Prof. Gabriel O. Emerson,

Associate Professor

Department of Italian Studies/

Centre for Medieval Studies

University of Toronto

The second email was sent by Miss Mitchell to Professor Emerson in response to his message:

Dr. Emerson,

Stop harassing me.

I don’t want you anymore. I don’t even want to know you. If you don’t leave me alone, I will be forced to file a harassment complaint against you. And if you call my father, I will do just that. Immediately.

If you think I’m going to let an insignificant thing like this drive me from the program, then you are very much mistaken. I need a new thesis director, not a bus ticket home.

Regards,

Miss J. H. Mitchell,

Lowly Graduate Student,

On-Knees-More-Than-The-Average-Whore.

P.S. I will be returning the M. P. Emerson bursary next week. Congratulations, Professor Abelard. No one has ever made me feel as cheap as you did Sunday morning.

The Dean straightened in his chair. He read the two emails once again, examining every word.

Although he had a vague memory of who Peter Abelard was, he indulged his curiosity and Googled him. He clicked on a reputable biography and began reading.

Quod erat demonstrandum
, he thought.

Downtown, Jeremy Martin was reclining on his leather sofa, eyes closed, listening to Beethoven while his wife got ready for bed. As the Chair of Italian Studies, he was responsible for a number of people, including faculty and students. Gabriel’s revelation that he was dating a former student troubled him.

He knew that Christa Peterson’s complaint was malicious, but like any other complainant, she should be taken seriously. Given the fact that she was correct in surmising that Gabriel and Julianne were involved, it was quite possible that her allegation that Julianne had received special favors was also correct. Gabriel, his friend and colleague, had tried to keep the relationship secret. Now the Dean was asking questions, placing Jeremy in a hell of a bind.

Over the course of his career in the United States and now in Toronto, he’d seen too many bright and promising graduate students become the playthings of their professors. His wife, for example, had been a graduate student in linguistics at Columbia University, only to have her career ruined by her professor/lover after she tired of his alcoholism. It had taken years for Danielle’s wounds to heal, and even now she would have nothing to do with academia. Jeremy didn’t want to see Julianne’s career come to a similar end.

On the other hand, he would not allow the rising star of his faculty to be slandered and vilified for an infraction he hadn’t committed. If the Dean investigated Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell further, Jeremy would do his damnedest to ensure that justice was served. Failing that, he was determined to ensure that his department was protected. Which is why he was horrified to find copies of letters addressed to Professor Emerson and Miss Mitchell with his daily mail on the first Thursday in March.

Muttering expletives, he glanced at the contents quickly before making a discreet call to one of his contacts in the Dean’s office. Half an hour later, he was placing a call to Professor Emerson’s home.

“Have you checked your snail mail today?”

Gabriel frowned. “No. Why?”

“Because I have a letter from the Dean indicating that you and Julianne are being investigated for engaging in an inappropriate relationship while she was your student.”

“Fuck,” said Gabriel.

“Exactly. Are you sitting down?”

“No.”

“Well, take a seat. I just got off the phone with a friend who works in the Dean’s office. Julianne has filed a harassment complaint against Christa Peterson, pursuant to the allegations against her. In retaliation, Christa has threatened the university with a lawsuit over the fact that Julianne received preferential treatment because she slept with you. Christa’s allegations are now part of the investigation into you and Julianne.”

“That’s preposterous!”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Gabriel, because the university takes complaints like this very seriously. The Provost’s office has ordered the Dean and two others to form a committee and investigate the allegations. You and Julianne are being summoned to appear before them, together.”

Gabriel cursed. “Who else is on the committee?”

“My contact wouldn’t tell me. The good news is that the meeting is only an investigatory hearing. Depending upon how the hearing officers decide the matter, it could be referred to the Provost’s Office for charges to be laid, and then the two of you would have to appear before a disciplinary tribunal. I don’t need to explain to you how deep the shit would be at that point.”

“Why doesn’t the Dean simply meet with me? All of this could be laid to rest in a few minutes.”

“I doubt that. Allegations and complaints are piling up and you’re at the center of all of them.”

Gabriel’s heart almost stopped. “You think there are more allegations forthcoming?”

“I have my suspicions. But nothing has been confirmed.”

“Shit,” said Gabriel, rubbing his eyes roughly. “Just how much trouble are we in?”

“If I were you, I’d stop thinking as a
we
and focus on
I
. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

“Just answer the question, please.”

Jeremy paused, flipping through the letters on his desk. “Since there is some question about the integrity of your marking scheme with respect to Julianne, the Dean has suspended her grade in your seminar. That means that her transcript will be incomplete until the matter is resolved either with a dismissal or a tribunal and its outcome.”

“She won’t graduate,” Gabriel whispered.

“It’s University policy to withhold a final grade until all academic infractions are dealt with.”

“So depending on how long this takes, she won’t be able to go to Harvard.”

“If the matter is settled in her favor, they’ll let the grade stand and backdate her graduation. But by that time, I would assume she’d lose her place at Harvard. Unless she can persuade them to defer her admission.”

“Her admission was conditional on the satisfactory completion of her MA. She can ask, but I don’t think she’s in a position to ask for a deferral. And if Harvard catches wind of this, they might withdraw their offer.”

“Then she’d better pray this matter is settled in time for her to apply to graduate. And frankly, so should you. If you’re found guilty of academic fraud, the Provost can strip you of your tenure.”

“Fuck.” Gabriel slammed his hand down on his desk. “When will we have to appear before the committee?”

“Thursday, March twenty-fifth.”

“That leaves them less than a month to sort everything out before she needs to apply for graduation.”

“Academic procedures move at a glacial pace. You know that.” He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you the slightest bit worried about your predicament?”

“Not particularly,” Gabriel growled.

“Well, you should be. And what’s more, my primary concern is you, although I would be sorry to see Julianne’s academic future threatened.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“And I’m not about to let one of my star professors be hung out to dry.” Jeremy heaved a deep breath. “Under the policy you’re suspected of violating, you bear more responsibility than her. You’re under suspicion of evaluating a student with reference to a criterion that has nothing to do with academic merit.”

“That’s preposterous and you have the paper trail to prove it.”

“No, I don’t.” Jeremy began tapping his finger against the pages in front of him. “I have a paper trail, but it’s incomplete. You didn’t notify me until recently that you were involved with her. Now my boss is starting to ask questions. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? I look like I just fell off the turnip truck and have no idea what the hell is going on in my own department!”

Gabriel inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you fucked up, Gabriel, no matter how you look at it. And I’m not about to jeopardize everything I’ve worked for to cover your ass.”

Professor Emerson was stunned into silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating her? I hired you, for God’s sake.”

“Because I didn’t think it was anyone’s business who I was sleeping with.”

“You can’t be serious.” Jeremy muttered a curse. “You know the rules governing relationships with students. Since you kept your relationship secret from me and everyone else, you look guilty.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “Jeremy, can I count on your support or not?”

“I’ll do what I can, but that might not be much. If I were you, I’d notify the Faculty Association and make sure you bring your union representative to the hearing.”

“This is a witch hunt that was started by a disgruntled graduate student. Christa Peterson is trying to have me fired.”

“You might be right. But before you get on your soapbox, realize that you violated university policy. That makes it much easier for the administration to infer that you’re guilty of other infractions. And by the way, I received an email from the Dean asking me about the M. P. Emerson bursary. For your sake, I hope your fingerprints aren’t on it.”

Gabriel let loose with a string of curses. Jeremy interrupted him.

“If you don’t have a lawyer, my friend, now would be the time to hire one.”

Gabriel muttered something and hung up the phone, walking swiftly to his dining room to pour himself a drink.

* * *

Although Gabriel notified the Faculty Association of his situation, he declined their offer to accompany him to the hearing. John was of the opinion that his legal acumen was far more threatening than that of the union, but he was willing to admit that should the matter result in charges, it would be appropriate at that point to involve them.

John’s advice was to stonewall, although he urged Gabriel to coach Julianne on what
not
to say. Failing that, he had every intention of arguing that she was an unstable, impressionable student who had become fixated on Gabriel at a young age and had seduced him.

Hoping that his client would follow instructions, John didn’t bother to explain this strategy.

Soraya’s advice paralleled that of John. She told Julia to say nothing and if pressed, to blame Gabriel for everything. Soraya almost cackled with glee at the prospect of arguing that he was the older, rakish professor who had seduced an innocent young woman with promises of a long and happy future. When Julia declared that she wanted to tell the truth, Soraya told her that that was a very bad idea. She planned to bring up Gabriel’s promiscuous reputation and brushes with law enforcement.

Like John, she anticipated a cooperative client and thus didn’t bother articulating the details of her strategy.

The night before the hearing, Julia was awakened mid-dream by the sound of something tapping against her apartment window. At first, she thought she was still dreaming. When the sound repeated, this time more loudly, she exited her bed and pulled aside the curtain. There, standing with his nose almost pressed against the glass, was Gabriel. He looked slightly wild, eyes frantic, wearing his beret and his winter coat, standing knee-deep in a snowdrift.

She quickly unlocked the window and stood aside as a gust of frozen air whooshed past him with his entrance into the room. He closed the window soundly, locked it, and drew the curtain.

“Gabriel, what are you—”

She wasn’t given the chance to finish her question as he wrapped her in his arms. She smelled the Scotch before she tasted it, as he pressed his lips to hers. His lips were freezing, it was true, but his mouth and tongue were warm and inviting. And the heat of his kiss, which was deep and sensual, began to blossom across her skin.

“Are you drunk? What happened?”

He pulled away, but only for a moment, so he could divest himself of his hat and coat. Then he was embracing her once again, tracing icy fingers up and down her arms, unbuttoning her pajama top and slipping a hand inside to cradle her breast.

He moved her to the bed as he pulled his shirt out of his trousers, watching her slip off her pajamas as he carelessly dropped everything to the floor. Within an eye blink they were naked and he was pulling her into his arms, tugging her legs around his hips. They’d never been this quick to undress and to love.

As he walked her to the closed door and pressed her back against it, his movements grew frantic and desperate. His cold fingers teased her while his mouth trapped her breast, sucking and nipping.

She was crying out already, still shocked at his speechless fervor.

A few moments later she was distracted by the difference in temperature between their bodies: the taut, hard coldness of his chest pressing against her soft, warm curves. When he felt with thawing fingertips that she was ready, he thrust up into her, grunting into the crook of her neck in preliminary satisfaction, his upper body relaxing slightly at the feel of her. There was no space between their bodies or air between their skin.

Julia moaned appreciatively at the sensation of being one with her beloved. Her hands immediately slid from his shoulders to his hips, and she pulled at his lower back to encourage him forward. It was a cacophony of unembarrassed sounds and noises, made far more animalistic by its lack of language and of course, the rhythmic bumping of Julia’s back against the heavy wooden door.

Their coupling was loud and fast, perhaps the most intense physical connection they’d ever had, topping even their sex against the wall in Florence. Soon they were exploding jointly into bliss, hearts racing and blood pumping, clutching one another and crying out. Then finally, finally, they collapsed into a tangle of flesh and limb in limpid satisfaction on Julia’s narrow bed.

Gabriel was on top of her, but she would not let him move. He shifted slightly to distribute his weight to the mattress, but he too was unwilling to break the contact of skin against skin.

She petted his hair and told him how much she loved him as he buried his nose in the hollow of her throat, inhaling her scent. She told him that he didn’t need to drink, that he could talk to her, instead.

Gabriel sighed against her neck. “I am talking to you,” he whispered, pressing insistent kisses across her shoulder. “You aren’t listening.”

Before Julia could argue, he began exploring her mouth. Further discussion was silenced as he enticed her to join with his body once more.

When she awoke the next morning the apartment was quiet. In fact, there was no sign of her evening visitor apart from an unlocked window and the scent of Gabriel and sex that clung to her body and the bed.

She searched the studio expecting a note, a message,
something
. But there was nothing, not even an email. A creeping sense of dread spread over her.

* * *

Julia wore her hair long the next morning, following Soraya’s instructions, for it made her look sweet and innocent. At eleven o’ clock sharp she met her lawyer in the hallway outside the boardroom.

Gabriel and John were already there, huddled next to the wall and talking in low, hurried tones. They were both dressed in dark suits and white shirts. But the similarity ended there. Gabriel wore a bow tie. The green of his tie contrasted sharply with the blue of his eyes.