Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Redemption

She shook her head. “CliffsNotes won’t cut it.”

“Julianne, it’s two o’clock in the morning. Come to bed.” His tone grew commanding.

“I have to stay up.”

“Sleep now and I’ll help you. I can go with you to the library and help you with your research. That should save you some time.”

“You’d do that?” She wiped her nose with a tissue.

He frowned. “Of course. I’ve been volunteering to help you all semester. You wouldn’t let me.”

“You’re busy with your own stuff. And then you had surgery.” She wiped her eyes hastily.

“You’re going to get sick if you don’t take care of yourself. Come on.” He placed a hand on her elbow and helped her to her feet before closing her laptop firmly.

He followed her down the hall to their bedroom.

“I’m so tired,” she sniffled, resting her head on the pillow. She was even too tired to spoon.

“All you have to do is ask. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“I’m supposed to do this by myself.”

“Bullshit.” He placed an arm around her waist. “The program is designed to be grueling. Everyone else is probably getting help from someone.”

“You didn’t need help when you did it.”

“Think about what you’re saying. I was doing coke when I was in grad school. And I had P—someone to look after me.”

He sighed, lowering his voice. “You looked after me when I came home from the hospital. That’s probably when you fell behind. Let me help you catch up. But the first thing you need is a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She was too weary to argue. Within minutes, her breathing deepened and Gabriel knew that she’d fallen asleep.

That Saturday, Julia and Gabriel planned to spend most of the day in the library, researching her seminar papers. As a way of showing her appreciation, she prepared pancakes while he sat at the kitchen table, clad in his pajama pants and glasses, reading The Boston Globe.

She poured the batter onto a hot griddle before turning to him.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“And what’s that?”

“Will you tell me what you wrote in the card that you left at my apartment, back in Toronto?”

He lowered his newspaper.

“What card?”

“The one that didn’t survive my loss of temper.”

He pretended to search his memory.

“Oh, that card.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, that card.”

He folded the newspaper and put it aside. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“But you tore it up.”

She gave him a look.

“I thought you forgave me.”

“I did.” He smiled ruefully. “It was a simple card. I apologized for being an ass.”

“That was nice,” she prompted. “What did you say?”

“I called you my Beatrice and said that I’d wished for you my whole life, even though I was convinced that you were a hallucination. I said that now that I’d found you, I’d fight to make you mine.”

Julia smiled to herself as she flipped the pancakes.

“And there might have been poetry.”

She looked over at him. “Might have been?”

“Shakespeare’s twenty-ninth sonnet. Do you know it?

“‘When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’”

Julia pressed her hand over her heart. “That’s beautiful, Gabriel. Thank you.”

“What’s even more beautiful is the fact that I don’t have to content myself with memories anymore. I have you.”

Julia quickly turned off the burner and moved the griddle from the heat.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel appeared puzzled.

She tossed the spatula aside.

“We’re having ripped-up-note-revealed sex. I’ve been waiting for this forever.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the hall. “Come on.”

He planted his feet. “What kind of sex is that?”

“You’ll find out.” She gave him a saucy look and raced toward the stairs, the Professor at her heels.

* * *

Having spent a very long day conducting research, Gabriel and Julia returned to a dark house. Julia ordered pizza for dinner while Gabriel flipped through the Saturday mail.

He came across a blue envelope that was addressed to him in a spiky, unfamiliar hand. The return address was in New York City.

Intrigued, he opened the envelope and read,

Dear Gabriel (if I may),

Recently, I was contacted by Michael Wasserstein, our family attorney, telling me that you were making inquiries about our father, Owen Davies. I was told that you wanted to learn more about his family history.

My name is Kelly Davies Schultz and I’m your half-sister. We also have a younger sister, Audrey.

I always wanted a brother. I mention this because I feel badly about how my mother and sister behaved with respect to our father’s will and I want you to know that I was not a party to contesting it. At the time, I wanted to write to you to tell you so, but my mother was being difficult and I decided not to antagonize her. I made the wrong decision.

Since my mother died this past spring, I’ve been thinking about you and wondering if I should get in touch. I think it’s Providential that you reached out when you did.

Michael tells me you live in Massachusetts, that you are a professor, and that you are recently married. I’m wondering if you and your wife would like to come to New York to meet me and my husband, Jonathan? We’d be delighted to take you to dinner. I think that would give us a chance to get to know one another.

You’re unlikely to hear from Audrey, for reasons I’ll explain in person. But I’m eager to meet you and to share what I know of our family history.

I’m enclosing my business card with my home number and email written on the back. Please don’t be alarmed by the fact that I’m a psychiatrist. I promise that I don’t practice on family members, and also my specialty is children. So even at your young age you’re far too old to be my patient . . .

I look forward to hearing from you and hopefully, to meeting you. Please don’t hesitate to call or to write.

Your sister,

Kelly

Gabriel lowered himself into a chair and sat, staring at the pages.

After dinner, Julia reread the letter from Kelly Davies Schultz.

“What do you think?” She folded it neatly and handed it back to Gabriel.

“I’m skeptical.”

“She sounds nice. And funny, too. Why are you skeptical?”

“They tried to have me disinherited. How do I know this isn’t a ploy?”

“A ploy for what? The money was distributed years ago.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Information.”

“Sweetie, she’s the one with information. You wanted the opportunity to find out more about your family history, especially your parents’ health. Now you have it. I thought you’d be happy.” She sat on the chair next to him. “When would we go?”

Gabriel’s expression tightened.

“The sooner I put all of this behind me, the better.”

“We’re supposed to be in Selinsgrove for Christmas and New Year’s. I’ll want to go earlier if Diane has the baby.”

Gabriel looked at her closely.

“You have a lot going on right now. I’ve tried to help you catch up, and I promise I’ll do more.”

Julia gave him a half-smile. “I feel as if there’s a ‘but’ coming up.”

“Would it hurt you if I said this was something I wanted to do right away? Maybe after classes are finished the second week in December? I can have a graduate student deal with the exams.”

Julia scratched at the surface of the kitchen table with her fingernail.

“That’s when I have to submit my lecture for publication. I’ll be finishing up my seminar papers and turning them in. That’s the worst time for me to go away.”

“I was thinking this might be something I should do on my own.”

Julia examined her fingernails as if they were fascinating.

“You have no idea what you’re going to find out. I think you’ll need me.”

Gabriel smiled slowly.

“I will always need you, Julianne. But I think the first time I meet Kelly it should be the two of us. Then if there’s anything unpleasant, I’ll deal with it.”

“If that’s what you want. Can’t we visit her over Christmas or something?”

“I don’t think it’s wise to put this off. She might change her mind. Certainly, the sooner I know about my medical history, the better.” He gazed at her significantly. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that would put your program in jeopardy.”

“Okay.” She did not sound enthusiastic.

“We can ask Rebecca to stay while I’m gone. Then you won’t be alone. It will be a short trip. Two or three days, tops. I’ll see if I can schedule an appointment with the lawyer who handled my father’s estate and I’ll meet Kelly. Then I’ll come home.”

He took her hand, tracing her lifeline with his thumb.

“I can’t bring myself to call her my sister.”

“I think I should come with you.”

“You just said that you don’t have time. You need to get some work done. And I know that I’m distracting.” He gave her what he hoped might be a provocative look.

“You can be very distracting.”

“Good.” He lifted her into his arms and walked toward the stairs. “Prepare for some extensive distracting.”

She placed her hands on his biceps, stilling him.

“Put me down.”

“I’ll put you down when we get to bed.”

“I have something to say that you aren’t going to want to hear.”

“Then say it quickly and get it over with.” He tensed.

She wriggled in his arms, so he set her down on the stairs.

“Your trip to New York is going to open up a lot of memories. Of course I’ll do whatever I can to help. But one thing we haven’t talked about is forgiveness.”

“Forgive my parents?” he spat. “That’s a laugh.”

“Forgiveness frees you. It’s for you, as much as for them.”

He pulled away from her. “I can’t forgive them. They don’t deserve it.”

“Who deserves forgiveness, Gabriel? You? Me?”

“You, for one.”

“Apart from God, the only person who can forgive me is the one I’ve wronged. That’s the power we have. We can use that power for good—to forgive someone. Or we can use it to hold on to old wrongs and hurts so that they never heal.”

She reached out to him, grasping his hand.

“I’m not saying they deserve it. I’m certainly not asking you to forget or to pretend nothing ever happened. Just think about it.”

“I’ve already thought about it. The answer is no.”

“How can you ask Paulina to forgive you if you aren’t willing to forgive your parents?”

Air escaped Gabriel’s lungs as if she’d struck him.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“Just think about it, my love. Think about your reconciliation with Maia and what that meant to you. And imagine what it would mean to your father to hear that you forgive him.”

Gabriel led her upstairs but did not speak.

While Julia finished her seminar papers and revised her lecture for publication, Gabriel met with his urologist for a checkup on December fifth, then flew to New York.

As soon as he’d checked into his room at the Ritz-Carlton, he realized his mistake. He should have brought Julia with him. The large and beautiful bed would be cold that evening. He hated sleeping alone. It always reminded him of their separation, a memory he loathed.

He placed a few phone calls—to Lucia Barini at Columbia, to his father’s lawyer, and to Julia. He was disappointed when his call went to voice mail.