Gabriel tucked the photograph Kelly had given him in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
“Yes. She’s Catholic and her faith means something to her. Certainly, she tries to live it.”
“And you?”
“I converted to Catholicism prior to our marriage. I believe, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I don’t think we have a Catholic on the foundation’s board. You’ll be the first.” Kelly signaled to the waiter to bring the check. “Wait till the cousins learn that there’s now a Catholic wing of Reform Judaism.”
“It was a mistake.” Gabriel huffed into his cell phone, as he connected with Julia’s voice mail. “I shouldn’t have come without you.
“Julianne, I wish you wouldn’t switch off your phone. It’s the best way for me to get hold of you. It’s after midnight and I’ve just gotten into my hotel room after having dinner with Kelly.
“Sorry I couldn’t call you earlier. Our conversation went longer than expected. She’s very nice. You were right, as usual. Funny how you’re almost always right. [exhaling slowly]
“The portrait Kelly painted of our father is very different from the one I remember. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the man she adored hit my mother. [sigh]
“I wish you were here. By the end of dinner I was beginning to doubt my memories. To doubt myself.
“I need you to do something for me. Can you look at the train engine on my desk and see if there is anything scratched into the bottom of it? It’s important.
“I’m going to have to extend my visit. There’s an aunt Kelly wants to introduce me to on Friday. This means I won’t be leaving until Saturday. I’m sorry about that but I think it’s best to tie up all the loose ends before I come home.
Call me when you get this message, no matter what time it is.” [another pause] “Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra. I love you.”
Gabriel tossed his cell phone on the large, empty bed.
He was still processing his conversation with his sister. Much of what she’d said surprised him. It was clear that her relationship with her father was loving and good. In this respect, as in others, it appeared that he and Kelly had two very different fathers.
It had been a relief to have some of his questions answered, even if the answers led to more questions. Certainly, the news about his grandfather was good. A warm feeling spread in his chest at the thought.
At least I have one blood relative I can be proud of, in addition to my sister.
How he wished he could have come home to a sleeping Julianne and tell her what had happened. How he wished he could crawl into her arms and erase the day. He’d made a colossal error when he determined to do things alone. And now, as usual, he was forced to live with the consequences.
Cursing himself, he strode to the shower, hoping that the hot water would clear his head. Then he was going to finish reading his mother’s diary, to see if he could discover the truth about his parents’ relationship.
Chapter Fifty-eight
December 5, 2011
Washington, D.C.
Natalie Lundy stared at the photograph in shock.
She heard a strange buzzing sound as her world suddenly came to a halt. She looked at the black-and-white picture—at the man and the young blond woman holding one another and smiling for the camera. At the large diamond solitaire glittering on the woman’s finger. At the announcement of the union of two powerful political families.
Natalie’s stomach rebelled. She heaved over the wastepaper basket, emptying herself of that morning’s breakfast. Shakily, she wiped her mouth and stumbled to the bathroom.
She drank a cup of water as her mind worked. She’d just lost everything. She’d heard the rumors, of course. But she also knew that Simon was only with Senator Hudson’s daughter for political reasons. Or so he’d said the last time he’d been in her bed, at the end of August.
She’d done what he told her to do. She’d worked for his father and kept her mouth shut. She’d emailed or called Simon on occasion, but his responses had become fewer and fewer until they ceased altogether, sometime in November.
He’d been playing her. He’d been playing her for years. Always panting after someone else while satisfying himself with her body.
And she’d done things for him. Things she hadn’t wanted to do, such as various sexual acts and pretending not to care while he f**ked other women.
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as a terrible idea took hold.
She had nothing to lose, but everything to gain. He had everything to lose and God damn it, she’d see that he lost it.
She put the water glass aside and wiped her mouth, darting into the bedroom on surer feet. She crouched on the floor and pried aside one of the floorboards underneath her bed. She withdrew a flash drive and carefully put it in her jacket pocket. Then she replaced the floorboard.
Grabbing her coat and purse, she headed to the door. As she hailed a taxi, she didn’t notice the dark car parked across the street. So she didn’t realize that it pulled into traffic behind the cab, following at a safe distance.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Gabriel, are you getting my messages? This is the third time I’ve called and gotten your voice mail.
“I left you a message this morning about the train engine. There are letters scratched into the bottom of it and they say ‘O.S.’ I don’t know what that means, do you? And how did you know to look for them? I never noticed them before.
“I’m sorry you have to extend your trip but I understand. I hope that your meeting with your aunt goes well.
“I’m at the library working on my last seminar paper. You know we’re not allowed to talk on the phone here. Text me and I’ll step outside and call you back. I love you. And I miss you.”
Julia groaned as she ended the call. Gabriel’s messages had been melancholy and sad, and growing more so. Somehow, between all his errands and her attempts at completing and submitting her lecture for publication, they’d missed one another. She worried about him.
At least if she could complete her final seminar paper, she’d be finished for the semester. Then she and Gabriel could begin their Christmas holidays.
She began typing on her laptop in earnest.
“What do you think of Giuseppe Pacciani of Florence?” Lucia Barini, chair of the Department of Italian at Columbia University, gazed at Gabriel over her desk.
He snorted. “Not much. He’s published a few things in addition to his book, but nothing of consequence, in my opinion. Why do you ask?”