Rachel grew very quiet for a moment. "I'm not suggesting you sweep whatever happened under the carpet. But I hope that you two could talk about what happened. He needs to hear how you feel about all of this and what happened to you after he left. And frankly, he needs to offer some kind of explanation. He owes you that. Then you can tell him to get lost, if that's what you really want."

Julia squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of pain washed over her. The thought of seeing Gabriel-and listening to his explanation-physically hurt.

"I'm not sure my heart can survive his explanation."

Chapter 42.

Julia buried herself in busyness for the next few days, studying in preparation for her introduction to Professor Marinelli. Since the Professor was the guest of honor at the lavish reception where they met, their conversation was short, but a success. Professor Marinelli was still settling into her new home, but recognized Julia's name thanks to Professor Picton's recommendation and suggested that they meet for coffee in July.

Julia wafted home on a breeze of optimism. She was so happy, she decided it was finally time to begin the project she'd been avoiding-unpacking her books and arranging them on shelves in her small apartment. Until that evening, she'd availed herself of Harvard's libraries. But every day the collection of boxes nagged at her, and so she finally decided it was time to organize them. The process took longer than she antic.i.p.ated. She finished about a third of the boxes that evening before walking to the Thai restaurant and ordering take out.

Two days later, Julia was down to the final box. After a very enjoyable evening with Zsuzsa and a few other graduate students at Grendel's Den on June thirtieth, Julia came home determined to finish unpacking.

As had been her practice, she shelved the volumes in alphabetical order almost mindlessly. Until she came to the last book in the bottom of the last cardboard box, Marriage in the Middle Ages: Love, s.e.x, and the Sacred, published by Oxford University Press. Frowning, she turned the volume over in her hands. It took a few minutes for a distant memory to creep back to her-Paul, standing in her studio apartment, saying that he'd retrieved her mail from the department.

"A medieval history textbook," he'd said.

Out of curiosity, Julia leafed through the volume and found a business card wedged in the Table of Contents. The card was for Alan Mackenzie, the Oxford University Press textbook representative in Toronto. On the back of his card was a handwritten note that stated he'd be happy to help her with her textbook needs.

Julia was about to close the book and shelve it when her eyes alighted on one of the readings.

The Letters of Abelard and Heloise, Letter Six.

It only took an instant for Julia to recall her last conversation with Gabriel.

Gabriel turned away from Jeremy, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Read my sixth letter. Paragraph four."

Her heart racing, she turned the pages, shocked to find an ill.u.s.tration and a photograph marking the place where Abelard's sixth letter was found: But whither does my vain imagination carry me! Ah, Heloise, how far are we from such a happy temper? Your heart still burns with that fatal fire you cannot extinguish, and mine is full of trouble and unrest. Think not, Heloise, that I here enjoy a perfect peace; I will for the last time open my heart to you;-I am not yet disengaged from you, and though I fight against my excessive tenderness for you, in spite of all my endeavours I remain but too sensible of your sorrows and long to share in them. Your letters have indeed moved me; I could not read with indifference characters written by that dear hand! I sigh and weep, and all my reason is scarce sufficient to conceal my weakness from my pupils. This, unhappy Heloise, is the miserable condition of Abelard. The world, which is generally wrong in its notions, thinks I am at peace, and imagining that I loved you only for the gratification of the senses, have now forgot you. What a mistake is this!

She must have read the pa.s.sage five times before its message began to sink into her agitated mind.

Julia looked at the ill.u.s.tration closely. The t.i.tle read The Contention for Guido de Montefeltro. The name was familiar, but she couldn't quite remember its significance. She grabbed her latptop, intent on looking the image up on the internet but quickly remembered that she didn't have internet access in her apartment.

She located her phone, but the battery was dead and she had no idea where the cord was to recharge it. Undeterred, she returned to the book and picked up the photograph that had been placed next to the ill.u.s.tration. It was a picture of the apple orchard behind the Clarks' house. Gabriel's handwriting was on the back: To my Beloved,

My heart is yours and my body.

My soul, likewise.

I will be true to you, Beatrice.

I want to be your last.

Wait for me...

When she'd overcome her shock, she was desperate to speak to him. She didn't care that it was close to midnight and Mount Auburn Street was dark. She didn't care that Peet's had closed hours ago. She grabbed her laptop and fled her apartment, knowing that if she could stand just outside the door to Peet's, she'd be able to pick up a wireless signal and email Gabriel. Julia had no idea what she would say. All she could do was run.

The neighborhood was almost silent. Despite the gentle drizzle and mist of warm vespertine rain, a small group of what looked like frat boys were about a half a block away, talking and laughing. Julia stepped from the curb and began to cross the street, her flip-flops squishing against the wet asphalt. She ignored the droplets that fell from the sky, soaking through her T-shirt. She ignored the thunder that began to roll and the flash of lightning that illuminated the eastern sky.

In the very center of the road, she stopped because straight ahead of her, she glimpsed a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness behind the oak tree in front of Peet's. Another flash of lightning revealed that the figure was a man.

He was half-hidden by the tree and in the absence of light, she couldn't make out his features. She knew better than to approach a stranger in the shadows, so she stayed where she was, craning her neck to see him.

As if in response to her movements, he came around the edge of the tree and slowly walked into the pool of light that cascaded onto the sidewalk from the street lamp. Another bolt of lightning shimmered overhead, and for one brief instant Julia thought he looked like an angel.

Gabriel.

Chapter 43.

Gabriel saw the pain in her eyes. That was the first thing he noticed. Somehow, she looked older. But her beauty, her goodness made visible, was even more breathtaking than it had been before.

Standing in front of her, he was overwhelmed by how much he loved her. All his trials fell away. He'd been working up the nerve to go to her, to ring the doorbell and beg entrance. When he thought he couldn't wait a minute more, the door to her apartment building opened and she scampered like a deer into the road.

He'd fantasized about their reunion. On some days, it was the only thought that sustained him. But the longer she stood, statue still, making no move to come to him, the more a feeling of despair grew. Several different scenarios coursed through his consciousness, few of them ending happily.

Don't send me away, he begged her silently. Running an uneasy hand through his hair, he tried to smooth the rain dampened strands.

"Julianne." He couldn't disguise the tremor in his voice. She was staring through him as if he were a ghost.

Before Gabriel could give voice to that idea, he heard something approach. He turned in the direction of an approaching vehicle. Julia was still standing in the road.

He shouted to her wildly, "Julia, move!"

Frozen, she ignored his warning, and the car whipped past, narrowly missing her. Gabriel began walking toward her, arms and hands waving.

"Julia, get out of the road. Now!"

Chapter 44.

Julia's eyes were shut tightly. She could hear noises and the distant hum of his voice, but she couldn't make out any words. Droplets of rain fell on her bare arms and legs, and a solid chest pressed against her face as a warm, masculine body wrapped around her like a blanket.

She opened her eyes.

Gabriel's handsome face was lined with worry, his eyes shimmering with hope. He placed a hesitant hand against the curve of her cheek, brushing under her eye with the pad of his thumb.

For a few moments, at least, they said nothing.

"Are you all right?" he breathed.

She stared up at him, speechless.

"I didn't mean to shock you. I came as soon as I could."

His words broke through the haze that froze her. Julia wriggled out of his grasp. "What are you doing here?"

He frowned. "I would have thought it was obvious."

"Not to me."

Gabriel huffed in frustration. "It's July first. I came as soon as I could."

Julia shook her head, taking a cautious step back. "What?"

His voice took on a conciliatory tone. "I wish I could have returned earlier."

Her expression said it all-the narrowed, suspicious eyes, the ruby lips pressed tightly together, the clenched jaw.

"You knew I resigned. Surely you must have known I'd come back."

Julia clutched her laptop to her chest. "Why would I think that?"

His eyes widened. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

"Did you think that I wouldn't come back, even after I'd resigned?"

"That's what a person tends to think when her lover flees the city without so much as a phone call. And sends her an impersonal email saying that it's over."

Gabriel's expression hardened. "Sarcasm does not become you, Julianne."

"Lying does not become you, Professor." Her eyes flashed.

He took a step toward her, then stopped. "So we're back to that, are we? Julianne and the Professor?"

"According to what you told the hearing officers, we never got past it. You're the professor, I'm the student. You seduced and dumped me. The hearing officers didn't tell me if you said that you enjoyed it."

He swore under his breath. "I sent you messages. You simply chose not to believe them."

"What messages? The telephone calls you never made? The letters you never wrote? Apart from that email, I've heard nothing from you since you called me Heloise. Absolutely nothing.

"And what about the messages I left you? Maybe you deleted them without bothering to listen-just like you left without bothering to tell me. Do you know how humiliating that was? That the man who was supposed to love me fled the city in order to break up with me?"

Gabriel pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to help his mind focus. "What about the letter from Abelard to Heloise and the photograph of our orchard? I put the book in your mailbox myself."

"I didn't know the textbook was from you. I only looked at it a few minutes ago."

"But I told you to read Abelard's letter! I told you myself," he sputtered, a horrified expression on his face.

Julia clutched her laptop more tightly. "No, you said read my sixth letter. I did. You told me to choose a sweater because the weather had turned cold." She eyed him furiously. "You were right."

"I called you Heloise. Wasn't it obvious?"

"It was crushingly obvious," she snapped. "Heloise was seduced and abandoned by her professor. Your message was crystal clear!"

"But the textbook..." he began. He searched her eyes. "The photograph."

"I found it tonight when I was unpacking my books." Her expression softened. "Before this, I thought you were telling me that you'd tired of me."

"Forgive me," he managed. His words were woefully inadequate, but they came from the heart. "I...Julianne, I need to expl-"

"We should go inside," she interrupted, peering up at the windows of her apartment.