Gabriel's Rapture Reynard, Sylvain (literature books to read TXT) 📖

of her co-workers to cover for her and walked out to the front lawn so as not to disturb anyone.

“Rachel, how are you?”

“We’re fine! I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Some bastard stole my phone and I had to get a new one. Then I had to go back through all the messages, starting with the ones about the wedding and —”

Julia gritted her teeth only slightly as she waited for Rachel to draw breath so she could steer the conversation in a completely different direction. In two or three paragraphs, her patience was rewarded.

“Gabriel quit his job.”

“What?” Rachel almost shouted. “How do you know?”

“A friend of mine was his research assistant in Toronto.”

“That explains it,” Rachel said.

“Explains what?”

“Gabriel sold his condo. He sent Dad an email saying that he was moving and that he has been staying in hotels while he looks for a house.”

Julia leaned her back up against the old, gnarled oak tree that stood in front of Peet’s.

“Did he mention where he was looking?”

“No. Just that he’d hired a company to pack up his things and put them in storage. But if he quit his job—”

“He’s in the process of quitting.”

“Then you should call him! Julia, it’s the perfect time. You have to call him.”

Julia gritted her teeth. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He broke up with me, remember? I’m not going to be the one to fix this—assuming it can be fixed.”

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 anticipated. 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, Sex, 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 Héloise, 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 illustration and a photograph marking the place where Abelard’s sixth letter was found:

But whither does my vain imagination carry me! Ah, Héloise, 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, Héloise, 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 Héloise, 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 passage five times before its message began to sink into her agitated mind.

Julia looked at the illustration closely. The title 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