Gabriel's Rapture (41 page)

A few days later, Paul received an email from Julia announcing her engagement. It made him ill. Reading and re-reading her words didn’t ameliorate his situation. Not one bit. But he did so anyway, if not to torture himself then to have her new status indelibly impressed on his mind.

Dear Paul,

I hope this email finds you well. I’m sorry it took me so long to answer your last message. Grad school is kicking my butt, and I feel so behind in everything. But I’m loving it. (By the way, thank you for the recommendation of Ross King’s books. I don’t have much time to read these days, but I’m going to pick up Brunelleschi’s Dome.)

One of the reasons I don’t have much time to read is because I’m engaged. Gabriel has asked me to marry him and I said yes. We’d hoped to get married quickly, but were unable to book the basilica in Assisi until January 21st. Gabriel has personal ties with the Franciscans, which is the only reason we were able to book the basilica in so short a time.

I’m very happy. Please be happy for me.

I’m sending your invitation to your apartment in Toronto. We’re also inviting Katherine Picton.

I’ll understand if you can’t or don’t want to attend, but it was important to me to invite the people I care about. Gabriel has rented a house in Umbria for the wedding guests to stay in before and after the wedding. You’d be most welcome. I know my father would be happy to see you again too.

You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me, and I hope that someday I’ll be able to repay the favor.

With affection,

Julia.

P.S. Gabriel didn’t want me to mention this, but he’s the one who persuaded Professor Picton to supervise your dissertation. I asked her but she refused. Surely he isn’t as bad as you thought?

Paul’s gratitude for Gabriel’s generosity didn’t erase the sudden sharp pain he felt at the realization that he’d just lost Julia. Again.

Yes, he’d already lost her, but before Gabriel’s return there was the possibility that Julia would change her mind, even if that possibility was remote. Somehow the knowledge that she was going to marry
him
smarted so much more than if she had been marrying, say, some other schmuck called Gabriel. Like
Gabriel-the-plumber
or
Gabriel-the-cable-guy
.

Shortly after she emailed Paul, Julia received a package in her mailbox at Harvard. Seeing that it was postmarked in Essex Junction, Vermont, she opened it eagerly.

Paul had sent her a limited edition copy of
The Velveteen Rabbit
. He’d written a short inscription to her on the flyleaf, which tugged at her heart, and enclosed a letter.

Dear Julia,

I was surprised by your news. Congratulations.

Thanks for inviting me to your wedding but I won’t be able to attend. My father had a heart attack a few days ago and is in the hospital. I’m helping out on the farm. (My mother says hello, by the way. She is making something for you as a wedding present. Where should she send it? I’m assuming you won’t be living on campus once you’re married)

From the first time I met you, I wanted you to be happy. To be more confident. To have a good life. You deserve these things, and I’d hate to see you throw them away.

I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t ask you if Emerson is what you really want. You shouldn’t settle for less than the best. And if you have any doubt about it, you shouldn’t marry him.

I promise I’m not trying to be an asshole.

Yours,

Paul.

With sadness, Julia folded up Paul’s letter and placed it back inside the book.

Despite the fact that Tom gave his blessing to Julia and Gabriel (albeit begrudgingly), conflict ensued when the happy couple announced the destination of their wedding.

While the Clarks were only too glad to spend a week in Italy during the winter, Tom, who had never traveled outside of North America, was less than enthused. As the father of the bride, he’d intended on paying for his only daughter’s wedding even if he had to mortgage his new house in order to do so. Julia wouldn’t hear of him doing such a thing.

Though the wedding would be small, the estimated costs were high enough that they would effectively damage Tom financially if he paid for everything. Gabriel was more than comfortable covering the costs, much to Tom’s chagrin. It was more important to Gabriel that Julia have the day of her dreams than for her father to be placated.

Julia tried to smooth over the conflict between the two men by pointing out that there were things that her father could pay for, such as her wedding dress and the flowers.

In late November, she was on Newbury Street in Boston when she saw
the dress
in the window of an elegant boutique. The dress was ivory silk organza with a v-neck and little wisps of sleeves that sat high on the shoulders. While the top was covered in lace, the skirt was full and layered like a cloud.

Without further thought, she walked into the shop and asked to try it on. The shopkeeper complimented her, saying that Monique Lhuillier’s gowns were very popular.

Julia didn’t recognize the designer’s name, and she didn’t look at the price tag because there wasn’t one. When she stood in front of the mirrors in the dressing room, she knew.
This was her dress
. It was classically beautiful and would complement the color of her skin and the shape of her body. And Gabriel would adore the fact that much of her upper back would be exposed. Tastefully, of course.

She sent a picture of herself in the gown to Tom via her iPhone, asking him what he thought. He called her immediately, telling her that he’d never seen a bride as absolutely beautiful as she.

Tom asked to speak to the boutique manager, and without Julia discovering the substantial price, he made arrangements to purchase the dress. Knowing that he was able to buy his only daughter the dress of her dreams enabled him to accept the fact that Gabriel would be paying for most of the wedding.

After saying good-bye to Tom, Julia spent several hours shopping for the rest of her trousseau. Among other things, she chose a veil that was almost ankle length, a pair of satin heels that she could walk in successfully, and a long, white velvet cape that would protect her and her dress from the January weather in Assisi. Then she went home.

* * *

Two weeks before the wedding, Tom called Julia to ask her an important question. “I know the invitations have been sent out but would there be room for one more?”

Julia was surprised.

“Sure. Is there a long lost cousin I wasn’t aware of?”

“Not exactly,” hedged Tom.

“Then who?”

He took a very deep breath and held it.

“Dad, spit it out. Who do you want to bring?” Julia closed her eyes and silently begged the gods of daughters whose fathers were single to intervene on her behalf and keep Deb Lundy from attending her wedding or worse—getting back together with her father.

“Um, Diane.”

Julia’s eyes flew open. “Diane who?”

“Diane Stewart.”

“Diane from Kinfolks restaurant?”

“That’s right.” Tom’s gruff reply immediately telegraphed to Julia far more than he realized.

Her jaw dropped in shock.

“Jules? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Um, sure, I’ll add her to the guest list. Uh, is Diane a—special friend of yours?”

Tom fell silent for a moment. “You could say that.”

“Huh,” said Julia.

Tom ended the conversation quickly and Julia put down her cell phone, wondering which blue plate special had precipitated her father’s new romance.

Definitely not the meatloaf
, she thought.

On January twenty-first, Tom paced nervously at the entrance to the Basilica in Assisi. He was nervous. And the fact that Julia and her bridesmaids were late didn’t help matters. He tugged at his bow tie as he waited. Then, a vision in white velvet over organza floated through the front doors like a luminescent cloud.

He was speechless.

“Dad,” Julia breathed, smiling with excitement as she walked toward him.

Tammy and Rachel helped divest her of her cape and adjust the layers of her skirt, unfolding the train that extended behind her. Then Christina, the wedding planner who was hovering nearby, handed Rachel and Tammy their bouquets, which were a mixture of irises and white roses, designed to match their iris-colored dresses.

“You look pretty,” Tom mumbled, pressing a shy peck to Julia’s cheek through her long veil.

“Thank you.” She flushed, looking down at her bouquet, which consisted of two dozen white roses and a few springs of holly.

“Could you give us a minute?” he asked the others.

“Of course.” Christina pulled Tammy and Rachel to stand at the entrance to the sanctuary, signaling to the organist that the processional was about to begin.

Tom smiled at Julia nervously. “I like your necklace,” he said.

Julia’s hands flew to the pearls that hung around her neck. “They were Grace’s.” She fingered the diamonds in her ears too but elected not to reveal their source.

“I wonder what she’d think about you marrying her son.”

“I’d like to think that she’d be happy. That she’s looking down on us and smiling.”

Tom nodded again and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. “I’m glad you asked me to walk you down the aisle.”

Julia looked puzzled. “I didn’t want to get married without you, Dad.”

He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in his rented shoes. “I should have kept you when I took you away from Sharon the first time. I never should have sent you back.” His voice cracked.

“Daddy,” she whispered, tears overflowing.

He reached over and hugged her, trying to show her with his embrace what he couldn’t say in words.

“I forgave you a long time ago. We don’t ever need to speak of it again.” She paused, looking up at him. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re my Dad.”

“Jules.” Tom gave a strangled cough, then released her with a smile. “You’re a good girl.”

He turned so he could peer down the long aisle that led to the altar, to where Gabriel was standing with his brother and brother-in-law. All three men were dressed in black Armani tuxedoes, with crisp white shirts. However, Scott and Aaron had eschewed Gabriel’s choice of bow ties in favor of regular ones because bow ties were, as Scott put it, “for old men, Young Republicans, or professors.”

“Are you sure about this?” Tom asked. “If you have any doubts, I’ll call a cab and take you home right now.”

Julia squeezed his hand. “No doubts. Gabriel might not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me. We belong together.”

“I told him that I expected him to take care of my little girl. That if he wasn’t prepared to do that, we’d have a problem. He said that if he treated you as anything less than the treasure you are, that I should come after him with my shotgun.” Tom grinned. “I said that suited me fine.”

“Are you ready?”

Julia took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Then let’s do this.” He offered Julia his arm, and they nodded to the bridesmaids to begin the processional to J. S. Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze.”

When Julia and Tom entered the Basilica, to the melody of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” Gabriel’s eyes caught hers and a wide smile spread across his features. The January sun peeked through the doors, illuminating the bride from behind and making her look as if a halo shone around her veiled head.

Gabriel couldn’t stop smiling. He smiled through the entire Mass, including his vows to worship his wife and the performance of selections from Bach’s
Sleepers Awake
and Mozart’s
Exsultate, jubilate
by a solo soprano.

After the ceremony, he placed trembling fingers on Julia’s veil and lifted it carefully. He swiped his thumbs underneath her eyes, wiping away the happy tears that had trickled down, and kissed her. The kiss was soft and chaste, but full of promise. Then they walked to the lower church and down to the crypt.

They hadn’t planned to do so. Somehow, hands entwined, they found themselves approaching the tomb of St. Francis. In the quiet darkness where Gabriel had his ineffable experience months earlier, they knelt in prayer. Each silently thanked God for the other, for the many blessings He had given them, for Grace and Maia, for their fathers and siblings.

When Gabriel finally stood and lit a single candle, each of them asked God for one more blessing. One small miracle out of the lavishness of his grace. As they ended their prayers, a strange but comforting feeling wrapped around them like a blanket.

“Don’t cry, sweet girl.” Gabriel took her hand to help her to her feet. He wiped her tears away, kissing her. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m so happy,” she said, smiling up at him. “I love you so much.”

“It’s the same for me. I keep wondering how this happened. How did I ever find you again and convince you to become my wife?”

“Heaven smiled on us.”

She reached up to kiss her husband next to St. Francis’s tomb without shame, knowing that her words were truly spoken.

Later that evening, they changed into their honeymoon clothes, a dark suit for Gabriel and a purple dress for Julia, and sat side by side in a chauffeured car that he’d hired.

Soon the car was pulling up the drive that led to a villa near Todi. The very same villa that Gabriel had rented when they visited Italy the year before.

“Our house,” she whispered, as soon as she caught sight of it.

“Yes.” He kissed the back of her hand as he helped her out of the car. Then he was taking her in his arms and carrying her across the threshold.

“Are you disappointed? I thought you’d prefer some quiet time to ourselves, but if not, we can go to Venice or Rome. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” He placed her on her feet.

“This is perfect. I’m so glad you decided to bring us here.” She threw her arms around his neck.

At length, he pulled away. “I think I should carry our luggage upstairs. Are you hungry?”

Julia grinned. “I could eat.”

“Why don’t you see if there’s anything tempting in the kitchen, and I’ll join you soon.”

She leaned forward with a devilish look on her face. “The only thing in the kitchen that would tempt me would be you on top of the kitchen table.”

Her sultry suggestion hearkened back to their previous visit, when they’d christened that table several times. With a deep groan, he quickly carried their suitcases upstairs as if someone was chasing him.

In the kitchen, Julia found the pantry to be fully stocked, as was the refrigerator. She laughed when she saw several bottles of cranberry juice lined up on the counter, as if they were waiting for her. She’d just opened a bottle of Perrier and finished preparing a cheese plate when Gabriel returned. He seemed years younger as he raced into the kitchen, boyish even, his eyes bright and his expression cheerful.

“This looks delicious. Thank you.” He sat at her side, glancing at the kitchen table significantly. “But I have to say that I’d rather our first few times occur in bed.”

Julia felt her skin flush. “This table has happy memories for me.”

“For me too. But we have plenty of time to make new ones. Better ones.” He gave her a heated look.

She felt the flutterings of desire increase.

“Was the wedding everything you hoped for?” He gazed at her eagerly, pouring two glasses of sparkling water.

“It was better. The Mass, the music—having the wedding in the Basilica was incredible. I felt so at peace there.”

Gabriel nodded, for he’d felt that way too.

“I’m glad we only invited family and close friends. I’m sorry I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to Katherine Picton, although I saw you dancing with her
twice.”
Julia pretended to be offended.

He eyed her in mock surprise. “Really? I danced with her twice? That’s pretty impressive for a septuagenarian. I’m surprised she could keep up with me.”

Julia rolled her eyes at his pretentious choice of adjectives.

“You danced with Richard twice, Mrs. Emerson. I suppose we’re even.”

“He’s my father now too. And he’s an excellent dancer. Very elegant.”

“Better than me?” Gabriel feigned jealousy.

“No one is better than you, darling.” She leaned over to kiss away his pout. “Do you think that he will ever marry again?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He took her hand in his and caressed her knuckles gently, one by one.

“Because Grace was his Beatrice. When you’ve experienced a love such as that, anything less would seem like only a shadow.” He smiled sadly. “Strangely enough, it was the same in Grace’s favorite book,
A Severe Mercy
. Sheldon Vanauken never remarried after his wife died.

“Dante lost Beatrice when she was just twenty-four. He spent the rest of his life mourning her. If I were to lose you, it would be the same for me. There will never be anyone else. Never,” he emphasized, a fierce but loving look in his eyes.

“I wonder if my father will marry again.”

“Would it trouble you if he did?”

She shrugged. “No. It would take some getting used to, but I’m glad he’s dating someone kind. I’d like him to be happy. I’d like him to have someone kind to grow old with.”

“I’m looking forward to growing old with you,” said Gabriel. “And you are certainly kind.”

“I’m looking forward to growing old with you too.”

Husband and wife exchanged a look then finished their food in relaxed quietness. Afterward, Gabriel stood and stretched out his hand. “I haven’t given you your wedding gifts, yet.”

She took his hand and her fingers touched his wedding band. “I thought our gifts were our rings and the inscriptions inside them:
I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine.”

“There’s more.” He led her to the fireplace and paused.

When they entered the house, Julia hadn’t noticed that the artwork that hung over the fireplace previously had been removed. In its place was a large and impressive oil painting of a man and a woman in a passionate embrace.

She took a step closer to the painting, transfixed by the stirring image.

The male and female figures were wrapped around each other, the male naked to the waist and slightly underneath the female as if he were kneeling at her feet, his head resting on her lap. The female figure was bent forward, naked and wrapped carelessly in what appeared to be a bed sheet, clutching the male’s back and sides and resting her head between his shoulder blades. In truth, it was difficult to tell where his body began and her body ended, so entwined they were, almost like a circle. Need and desperation leapt off the canvas, as if the couple had just made up after a fight or found each other after an extended absence.

“It’s us,” breathed Julia as she blinked in shock.

The male’s face was partially hidden by the woman’s lap, his mouth pressed against her naked thigh. But it was Gabriel’s face, of that there could be no doubt. The female’s face was Julia’s, eyes closed in bliss, a small smile playing at the edge of her full lips as she faced the viewer. She looked happy.

“But how?”

Gabriel stood behind her and placed his arms around her shoulders. “I posed for the artist and provided photographs of you.”

“Photographs?”

He leaned forward to kiss the side of her neck. “Don’t you recognize your posture? It’s a study of some of the pictures I took of you in Belize. Do you remember the morning after you wore your corset for the first time? You were lying in bed…”

Julia’s eyes widened in remembrance.

“Do you like it?” Gabriel’s usually sure tone sounded surprisingly uncertain. “I wanted something—ah—
personal
to commemorate our wedding.”

“I love it. I’m just surprised.”

His body relaxed.

“Thank you.” She took his hand and gently pressed her lips to his palm. “It’s a lovely gift.”

“I’m glad you like it. But there’s one more small thing.”

He walked over to the mantelpiece of the fireplace in order to retrieve a familiar looking golden apple.

“How did that get here?” Julia smiled.

“Open it, Mrs. Emerson.”

She lifted the lid and found a large, old-fashioned key inside. She met Gabriel’s eyes quizzically. “A magic key? To a secret garden? Or to a wardrobe that leads to Narnia?”

“Very funny. Come with me.” He caught her wrist and brought it to his lips, hesitating against her skin.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He led her out the front door, closing it behind them. They stood on the porch, surrounded by darkness that was illuminated only by the lights that hung on the stone walls.

“Try the key.”

“What? Here?”

“Just try it.” Gabriel rocked back on his heels, trying to hide his sudden anxiety.

Julia put the key in the lock and twisted. She heard the lock click and with a flick of her wrist, it unlocked and the door swung open.

“Thank you for becoming my wife,” he whispered. “Welcome home.”

She looked over at him incredulously.

“We were happy here,” he said softly. “I wanted us to have a place that we could escape to, somewhere with fond memories.”

He reached out to lightly touch her arm. “We can spend our holidays here when we aren’t in Selinsgrove. You could write your dissertation here, if you want. Although I couldn’t bear to be separated from you for more than a day.”

Julia kissed him, thanking him over and over again for his lavish gift. They stood there for several minutes, reveling in one another’s touch, their heartbeats quickening.