Professor Picton was a seventy-year-old, Oxford-educated Dante specialist who had taught at Cambridge and Yale before she was lured to the University of Toronto by an endowed chair in Italian Studies. She was known to be severe, demanding, and bril iant, and her erudition rivaled that of Mark Musa. Julia’s career would be greatly advanced if she were to write a successful thesis under Professor Picton’s supervision, and she knew it. Professor Picton could send Julia anywhere for her doctorate, Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard…
Gabriel was single-handedly giving Julia the biggest career opportunity of her life, gift-wrapped with a bright, shiny bow — an opportunity worth far more than a messenger bag or the M. P. Emerson bursary. But what were the strings attached to this gift?
Atonement, Julia thought. He’s trying to make up for every wrong he has ever done me.
Gabriel was asking Katherine Picton to do him a favor, for Julia.
Emeritus professors rarely, if ever, directed doctoral dissertations, let alone masters’ theses. This was a tremendous favor that would have required Gabriel to call in all of his markers with Katherine.
All for me.
After she contemplated this new information from all angles, Julia pushed everything aside to focus on the single question that filled her heart with shameful dread.
Gabriel is telling me good-bye?
She listened to the message three more times, and with more than a little self-criticism, she cried herself to sleep. For despite al her defiance, there was a flame in her that recognized its twin in Gabriel. And that flame could not be extinguished, unless Julia was willing to extinguish a part of herself.
Early the next morning, she called Paul under the pretence of making plans to meet him before Emerson’s seminar. She hoped that he would tell her that Emerson had gotten sick or mysteriously left for England or taken ill with swine flu and cancelled his seminar for the rest of the semester. Sadly, he had done none of those things.
Julia decided that she would continue attending the Dante seminar, just in case Gabriel had trouble finding her a reading course as a substitute.
Indeed, if Professor Picton became her thesis advisor, Julia was confident she could tolerate being in Emerson’s seminar for the five remaining weeks of the semester. So that afternoon, she wandered into the office of the department in order to check her mailbox before she was supposed to meet Paul.
She was somewhat intrigued to find a large, padded envelope in her pigeonhole. Removing it, she noticed that there wasn’t a name on it. It was not addressed to her, nor was there a return address or any marking of any kind on the envelope.
She slid her finger through the adhesive, opening it quickly. What she saw inside shocked her. Nestled inside the padded manila envelope, like the feathers of a raven, was a black lace bra. Her black lace bra. Her black lace bra that she’d left, unfortunately, on top of Gabriel’s dryer.
That bastard.
Julia was so angry her body began to shake. How dare he return it to her mailbox? Anyone, anyone, could have been standing next to her when she opened it. Is he trying to humiliate me? Or does he think this is funny?
(Julia didn’t notice that her iPod was also enclosed.)
“Hey, gorgeous.”
She jumped about a foot off the floor and shrieked.
“Whoa, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She looked up into Paul’s kind, dark eyes and saw him staring down at her with a puzzled expression.
“You’re jumpy today. What’s that?” He pointed to her envelope, hands still raised.
“Junk mail.” She stuffed the envelope into her new L. L. Bean knapsack and forced a smile. “Ready for Emerson’s seminar? I think it’s going to be a good one.”
“I don’t think so. He’s in a foul mood again. I need to warn you not to mess with him today — he’s been out of sorts for two weeks.” Paul’s face took on a very serious expression. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time he was like this.”
Julia tossed her hair and grinned. Actually, I think that you need to tell Emerson not to mess with me . I’ve got a lot of rage, a black bra, and I’m wearing a thong. He’s the one in trouble, not me.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I was really worried about you.” Paul reached out to take her hand in his, spreading wide her palm and placing something cold in it. He closed her fingers in on themselves and squeezed gently. Julia withdrew her hand and uncurled her fingers. Resting on her palm was a beautiful silver key ring, with a striped P that swung like a pendulum from the ring itself.
“Now, please don’t say you won’t accept it. I know you don’t have a nice key ring, and I wanted you to know I was thinking about you while I was gone. So please don’t give it back.”
Julia’s cheeks ripened into a rosy pink. “I’m not going to give it back,”
she said. “I don’t want to be the kind of person who flings kindness back in someone’s face. I know what that feels like.” She looked around quickly, making sure that they were alone. “Thank you, Paul. I missed you too.”
She stepped closer to him and hesitantly put her arms around his barrel chest, clutching the key ring in between her fingers. She pressed her cheek against the buttons of his shirt and hugged him.
“Thank you,” she sighed, as his long, muscular arms engulfed her.
He brought his lips to the top of her head and pressed them cautiously to her hair. “You’re welcome, Rabbit.”
Unbeknownst to them, a certain temperamental blue-eyed Dante specialist had just walked through the door, eager to discover if a certain item had been received by its owner. He froze as he witnessed the young couple in front of him, murmuring to each other and locked in an embrace.
And the Angelfucker makes his move.
“But who has been flinging kindness back in your face?” Paul asked, oblivious to the dragon who was standing behind him, silently breathing fire.
Julia was mute and unconsciously hugged him more tightly.
“Tell me, Rabbit, and I’ll fix him. Her. Whomever.” Paul’s lips moved against Julia’s hair. “You know that you’re special to me, right? If you ever need anything, you just have to ask. Anything at all. Okay?”
She sighed against his chest. “I know.”
The blue-eyed dragon turned on his heel and abruptly departed, cursing about a Rabbitfucker as he disappeared down the hallway.
Julia broke free first. “Thanks, Paul. And thanks for this.” She held the key ring up and smiled.
I could look at that smile forever, he thought. “You’re welcome. My pleasure.”
Shortly thereafter, they entered the seminar room. Julia studiously avoided making eye contact with Gabriel, laughing softly at one of Paul’s jokes. His hand pressed familiarly to her lower back as he guided her to their seats. At the front of the seminar room, Gabriel seethed, his long white fingers gripping the edge of the lectern and not letting go.
Hands off her back, Rabbitfucker.
The Professor stared with hostility at Paul until he was suddenly distracted by Julia’s book bag. He wondered how she’d been able to transform it so effectively from its previous putrid state and why she wasn’t using his gift, instead. The thought tortured him.
Did Rachel tell her the bag was from me?
He fidgeted slightly with his bow tie, purposefully drawing attention to it. He’d worn it as a sign of his own self-mortification. He’d worn it to attract her attention. But she didn’t seem to notice, and she certainly wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was whispering and laughing with Paul, her dark hair long and flowing, her cheeks slightly pink and her mouth…Julia was even more beautiful now than in his memory.
“Miss Mitchell, I need to speak with you after class, please.” Gabriel smiled in her direction and looked down at his shiny shoes, shuffling his feet. He was about to begin his seminar when a small but determined voice from the back of the classroom interrupted him.
“I’m sorry, Professor, I can’t. I have an urgent appointment afterward that cannot be delayed.” Julia looked over at Paul and winked.
Gabriel slowly raised his head and stared at her. Ten graduate students inhaled as one and began to move backward in their chairs, fearful that he might explode, or that a dagger from his eye might fly out and gut them.
She was baiting him. And he knew it. Her tone, her physical proximity to Paul, the way she flicked her hair behind her shoulder with one hand…
Gabriel was distracted momentarily by the curve of her neck, her delicate skin, the scent of vanilla that either wafted toward him or came to him only in memory. He wanted to say something, to demand that she speak with him, but he knew that he couldn’t. If he lost his temper now, she would only retreat further from his grasp, and he would lose her. He could not let that happen.
Gabriel blinked. Rapidly.
“Of course, Miss Mitchell. These things happen. Please e-mail me to set up an appointment.” He tried to smile, but found that he couldn’t; only one-half of his mouth would curl up, making him look as if he’d been stricken with palsy.
Julia shifted her gaze to stare back at him, her eyes empty. She did not blush. She did not blink. She just looked…vacant.
Gabriel noticed her expression, which he’d never seen before, and began to panic. I’m trying to be nice to her, and she looks at me as if I wasn’t there. Is it really so surprising that I can be cordial? That I can keep my temper?