Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy) (28 page)

“Agreed.”

She gave him a genuine smile, and he brushed his lips against the top of her head.

“Good-bye, Paulina. Be happy.”

He released her hand and walked away.

Chapter Forty

August 2011

Cambridge, Massachusetts

G
oing for a run?” Julia glanced up from the breakfast table to see Gabriel clad in his jogging clothes and shoes. He was wearing a crimson Harvard T-shirt and black shorts that hung loosely from his hips.

“That’s right.” He crossed the room in order to kiss her.

“So—are we going to talk soon?”

Gabriel turned away and began disentangling the earphones that connected with his iPhone. “About what?”

“About what’s bothering you?”

“Not right now, no.” He removed his sunglasses from their case and quickly cleaned them with the fabric of his shirt.

Julia bit her tongue, for her patience was almost at an end.

“Have you made an appointment to see your doctor?”

“Here we go,” he muttered, placing his palms flat on the kitchen island and leaning into them, head bent and eyes closed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He didn’t move.

“No, I haven’t called the doctor.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to see him.”

She uncrossed her arms. “But what about the vasectomy reversal? You’ll need to speak with him about that.”

“No, I won’t.” He straightened, nonchalantly picking up his sunglasses and placing them on his face.

“Why not?”

“I’m not having my vasectomy reversed. I’d like us to pursue adoption. I know we can’t adopt Maria, but I’d like us to look into adopting a child when you graduate.”

“You’ve decided,” she breathed.

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“I’m protecting you.”

“But what about all our conversations? What about what we talked about in the orchard?”

“I was wrong.”

“You were
wrong
?” She scrambled to her feet. “Gabriel, what the hell is going on?”

“Can we please not do this right now?” He began walking toward the door.

“Gabriel, I—”

“When I get back,” he interrupted. “Give me thirty minutes.”

She bit back an angry response.

“Just tell me one thing.”

He paused, looking at her through his sunglasses.

“What’s that?”

“Do you still love me?”

His expression grew pained. “I’ve never loved you more.”

And with that, he opened the door and fled into the warm morning air.

“How was your run?” Julia greeted a hot and sweaty Gabriel as he entered the kitchen.

“Good. I’m just going to take a shower.”

“Care for some company?”

He gave her a half-smile. “After you.”

Julia preceded him up the stairs and they entered the master bedroom together.

He sat on a chair, pulling off his shoes and socks and peeling away his shirt.

“Did running clear your head?” She studied him intently. The sheen of perspiration was visible on his tanned skin, his muscles rippling with every movement.

“Somewhat.”

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

He sighed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. Then he nodded and she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

He placed his forearms on his knees, leaning forward. “My whole life I’ve been self-centered. I don’t know how anyone could stand to be near me.”

“Gabriel,” she reproached him. “You’re eminently lovable. That’s why women fall at your feet.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s all based on appearances. They wouldn’t care if I was selfish so long as I gave them a good fuck.”

Julia grimaced.

“I know you. I know all of you and I don’t think you’re selfish.”

“I pursued you when you were my student. I was terrible to my family and to Paulina,” he countered.

Julia looked over into darkened, tortured eyes.

“That’s in the past. We don’t need to speak of it.”

“Of course we need to speak of it.” He placed his head in his hands, gripping his hair. “Don’t you understand? I’m still being selfish. I could hurt you.”

“How?”

“What if Paulina’s miscarriage was my fault?”

Julia’s stomach lurched.

“Gabriel, we talked about this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“It was my fault I was out on a bender all weekend. If I’d been home to care for her, I could have taken her to the hospital.”

“Please don’t go down that road again. You know where it leads.”

He kept his eyes on the floor. “It leads to the conversation we had in the orchard.”

“The orchard?”

“I’ve been talking to you about having a baby. But I never stopped to think about it in light of what happened with Paulina.”

“Gabriel, please. I—”

He interrupted her. “What if her miscarriage was the result of a genetic abnormality? Something I contributed?”

Julia was stunned into silence.

“I told you I wanted a child. But I never stopped to think about the risks.”

“Miscarriages are common, Gabriel. It’s tragic, but it’s true. Have mercy on yourself. There’s a reason why you had that dream about Maia. Accept the peace she offered you and let it go.”

“What if the same thing happens to us?” His voice broke on the last word. “Look at what your father and Diane are going through.”

“It would be devastating. But this is the world we live in. There’s illness and death. We can’t pretend we’re immune.”

“We can avoid unacceptable risks.”

Julia’s eyes grew sad. “So now you don’t want a baby with me?”

He lifted his head to see tears in her eyes.

“All this talk of Paulina.” Julia swallowed hard. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I envy her. You shared a life-changing experience with her that we might not be able to have.”

“I thought you’d be relieved.”

“Nothing in what you’ve said brings relief.” She searched his eyes. “And you certainly don’t look happy.”

“That’s because I want what I can’t have. I can’t go through what I went through with Paulina again. I can’t and I won’t. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“No children,” she whispered.

“We’ll adopt.”

“So that’s it.”

He nodded.

Julia closed her eyes, letting the implication of his words wash over her. She thought of their future, of the images she’d daydreamed about. She thought about telling Gabriel that she was pregnant, about carrying his child inside her body, about holding his hand while she gave birth to a son . . .

All the images vanished as if in a puff of smoke. Julia felt the loss immediately. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to have those experiences and to share them with him. Now that he was telling her she couldn’t, she felt pain.

“No.”

“No?” His eyebrows lifted.

“You want to protect me, and that’s admirable. But let’s be clear, there’s something else.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“It goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? It’s wrapped up in what happened between your father and your mother.”

Gabriel stood up, dropping his shorts to the floor. He turned away, standing naked before her.

She cleared her throat. “Sweetheart, I know that you have scars. You can’t even look at the things in your desk drawer.”

“This isn’t about that. This is about choosing the risks I’m willing to take. Your father could lose Diane and the baby. I’m not prepared to take that risk.”

“Life is risk. I could get cancer. Or get hit by a car. You could wrap me in bubble wrap and keep me indoors and I could still get sick. I know that I could lose you too. And as much as I don’t want to say it, someday you’re going to die.” Her voice broke on the last word. “But I choose to love you now and I choose to build a life with you knowing I could lose you. I’m asking you to make that same choice. I’m asking you to take the risk, with me.”

She moved to him and took his hand in hers.

He looked down at their entwined fingers. “We don’t know what the risks might be. I have no idea what’s in my medical history.”

“We can be tested.”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it.

“That isn’t enough.”

“Some of your relatives are still alive. You could try to speak with them, find out about the medical history of your parents and grandparents.”

He scowled. “Do you think I would give them the satisfaction of crawling after them, begging for information? I’d rather burn in Hell.”

“Listen to yourself. You’re right back where you started—thinking that you aren’t good enough to reproduce. And refusing to find out if there are any obvious issues in your family tree. What about your dream about Maia? What about Assisi? What about me, Gabriel? We prayed for a child. We’ve been praying that God would give us our own child. Are you taking back that prayer?”

He clenched his fists at his sides but didn’t respond.

“All because you don’t think you’re good enough,” she whispered. “My beautiful, broken angel.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Gabriel let out an anguished sound as he returned her embrace.

“I’m making you dirty,” he whispered, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against her blouse.

“You’ve never been cleaner.” She tenderly kissed his stubbled jaw.

They held one another before Julia led him to the bathroom. Without words, she turned on the shower and quickly divested herself of her clothing.

He followed her inside the shower.

The water was warm and it fell like rain, bouncing and dancing over their bodies and down to the floor. Julia poured soap into her hands and began to wash Gabriel’s chest, her palms gliding lightly over his pectorals.

He wrapped a hand around her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to show you how much I love you.” She pressed her lips to his tattoo and then continued, lathering his abdomen with her hands. “I seem to remember a beautiful man doing this for me once. It was like a baptism.”

They were silent as she explored the steel and sinew of his arms and legs, the firmness of his backside and the bumps of his spine. She took her time, gently touching him until all the suds had rinsed away.

His eyes pierced hers. “I’ve hurt you, again and again. Yet you’re so giving. Why?”

“Because I love you. Because I have compassion for you. Because I forgive you.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Julia began washing his hair, coaxing him to lean forward so she could reach every dark strand.

“God hasn’t punished me yet,” he murmured.

“What are you talking about?”

“I keep waiting for him to take you away.”

She brushed the shampoo from his eyes so he could open them.

“That isn’t how God works.”

“I’ve lived an arrogant, selfish life. Why shouldn’t he punish me?”

“God isn’t hovering above us waiting to punish us.”

“No?” His eyes were tortured.

“No. Did you ever once feel that way when we were in Assisi? When we were sitting near St. Francis’s crypt?”

He shook his head.

“God wants to rescue us, not destroy us. You don’t have to be afraid of being happy, thinking that he wants to take that happiness away from you. That’s not who he is.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because when you’ve had a taste of goodness, it helps you recognize the difference between good and evil. I believe that people like Grace and St. Francis and a whole host of other kind, loving people show us what God is like. He isn’t waiting to punish you and he doesn’t give you blessings just to strip them away.”

She slid her hands up his chest until they rested on either side of his face.

“I’m not going to let you delay having your vasectomy reversed. Whatever you discover, whatever happened, you’re my husband. I want a family with you and I don’t care what your DNA says.”

His fingers encircled her forearms.

“I thought you weren’t ready to have a baby.”

“I’m not. But I agree with what you said in the orchard. If we want to have a baby, we need to start discussing it with the doctors.”

“What about adoption?”

“We can do both. But please, Gabriel, you need to have the procedure reversed if only to show that you believe you will be a good father. And that you aren’t a prisoner of your history. I believe in you, sweetheart. How I wish you believed in yourself.”

He stood under the spray of the shower, closing his eyes and letting the water run over his head. He released her, running his hands through his hair before stepping aside.

Julia took his hands in hers.

“These hands are yours. You can use them for good, or for evil. And no amount of nature, biology, or DNA determines those decisions for you.”

“I’m an alcoholic because my mother was. That wasn’t a choice.”

“You chose to go into recovery. Every day, you choose not to drink or to use drugs. It isn’t your mother or AA that’s making that choice—it’s you.”

“But what will I pass on to our children?” His voice sounded desperate. “I have no idea what’s in my family tree.”

“My mother was an alcoholic. If you’re going to focus on family history, you should ask what I’m going to pass on.”

“The only things you could pass on would be beauty and kindness and love.”

She smiled sadly. “That’s what I was going to say to you. I saw how the children at the orphanage reacted to you. I saw you laughing and playing with them. And taking Maria for a pony ride. You will give our children love, protection, and care. You will give them a home and a family. And you won’t cast them out when they make a mistake, or stop loving them when they sin. You will love them so desperately you’d die for them. That’s what a father does. And that’s what you will do.”