Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel's Redemption

“Oh, yes we can.” His blue eyes glinted dangerously. “I’ll show you.”

“Last night was terrible.” Gabriel lay on his back, one of his arms behind his head. He hadn’t bothered to cover himself. Their bedroom was warm and his beloved wife was lying next to him on her stomach, equally naked. In moments like this he wished they could spend their days in bed, unclothed.

“It was.” Julia lifted herself on her forearms so she could see his eyes. “Why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

“I wanted to read your paper again. And I thought you needed space.”

“I don’t like fighting with you.” Julia ducked her head, the strands of her hair skimming the tops of her breasts. “I hate it.”

“I don’t like it either, which is surprising, really. I used to love to fight.” His lips curled into a pout. “You’re turning me into a pacifist.”

“I’m not sure you’ll ever be a pacifist, Gabriel.” Julia’s voice wobbled. “Being a grad student is hard enough. I need your support.”

“You have it,” he whispered fiercely.

“I didn’t set out to disagree with you in my paper. It just sort of—happened.”

“Come here.”

Julia stretched out on top of him and he placed his arms around her.

“We need to figure out a way to disagree without having a repeat of yesterday. My heart can’t take it.”

“Neither can mine,” she whispered.

“I promise not to be a selfish bastard, if you promise not to lock yourself in the bathroom.” His eyes bore into hers.

“I promise not to lock myself in the bathroom, if you can give me space. I was trying to get away from you while things were escalating. You wouldn’t let me go.”

“Point taken. We can take a break during an argument, but we have to promise to talk later on. And not the next morning. I’m not letting you, or myself, sleep on the couch again.”

“Agreed. The couch is very uncomfortable. And lonely.”

“I didn’t express myself very well when we talked about your paper. I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t worried about you disagreeing with me. In fact, it’s probably better if you’re on record as disagreeing with me because it will show everyone that you think for yourself.”

“I don’t disagree with you for the sake of being contrary.” A wrinkle appeared between Julia’s delicately arched eyebrows.

Gabriel tried to kiss the wrinkle away, but without success. “Of course not. Much as it may surprise you, I can be wrong, on occasion.”

“My Professor? Wrong? Inconceivable.” She laughed.

“Yes, it really is surprising, isn’t it?” He shook his head wryly. “But by the time I finished your paper the second time, you’d convinced me that the standard interpretation was wrong.”

“What?” Julia couldn’t believe her ears.

“You heard me. Your paper changed my mind. Although I have some suggestions for how you can strengthen the last part. You didn’t quite convince me there.”

“I could use a few pointers. I’ll give you credit in the footnotes.”

His hands slid to her backside. “I’d be honored to appear in one of your footnotes.”

She hesitated for a moment. “You don’t think the paper is terrible? That I’ll make a fool of myself?”

“No. Once I got over my knee-jerk reaction and paid closer attention to your argument, I realized that Professor Marinelli is right. Your paper is good.”

“Thank you.” Julia pressed her cheek against his chest. “It’s hard for me to be a student in the same field as you. I always feel as if I’m trying to catch up.”

Gabriel’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“I can work harder at being more supportive. We aren’t in competition. In fact, I’d like to co-author an article with you, someday.”

Julia lifted her head. “Really?”

“I think it would be good for us to create something together, out of our shared love of Dante. And I’m proud of you for having the courage of your convictions. When you defend your paper at Oxford, I’ll be sitting in the front row thinking, ‘ That’s my girl. ’”

“It’s a dream come true, to hear you say that.”

“Then I’ll keep saying it.”

The Emersons’ relatives wisely refrained from commenting on how relaxed and happy they appeared when they finally exited their bedroom, just before lunch.

Gabriel’s brother, Scott, arrived that afternoon with his wife, Tammy, and their son, Quinn. Everyone, including Julia’s father, Tom, and his girlfriend, Diane, sat down to an early dinner.

Diane Stewart was an attractive African American woman, with flawless skin, large dark eyes, and shoulder-length curls. At forty, she was almost ten years younger than her boyfriend. She’d known him a long time, having lived in Selinsgrove her entire life.

As dessert was supposed to be served, Diane happened upon the Emersons dancing in the kitchen. Gabriel had wired the house with a central sound system, and the strains of soft Latin jazz filled the air.

The newlyweds were wrapped around one another, swaying softly to the music. Gabriel whispered something in Julia’s ear. She seemed embarrassed and turned away, but he chuckled and pulled her close, kissing her.

Diane backed away, intending to return to the living room, but the aging hardwood creaked beneath her feet. The Emersons stopped abruptly and turned to face her.

She grinned.

“Somethin’s cookin’. And it ain’t the apple pie.”

Gabriel laughed, a loud and happy sound, while Julia smiled and rested her forehead against him.

Diane nodded approvingly. “You took so long to make coffee, I thought you’d forgotten how.”

Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair, which was mussed because of his wife’s earlier explorations. “Darling?” He looked down at her.

“The coffee is ready and the pie is cooling. It won’t take a minute.” Julia reluctantly stepped away from her husband, who surreptitiously patted her backside.

At that moment, Rachel and Tammy joined them. Tammy was the newest member of the family, having married Gabriel’s younger brother Scott a month previous. At five feet eleven inches, she was tall and curvaceous, with long strawberry blond hair and pale blue eyes.

“What’s the holdup?” Rachel looked suspiciously at her brother, as if he were the sole cause of the delay.

“We were just making coffee.” Julia hid her embarrassment by pouring the beverage into a series of mugs.

“I bet you were.” Tammy winked slyly.

“I don’t think it was coffee they were making. Mm-hmm.” Diane wagged a finger in their direction.

“Right. I’ll leave you ladies to it.” Gabriel kissed Julia chastely before escaping to the living room.

Rachel examined the apple pies on the center island, testing their temperature with her finger. “Grab a knife, Jules. Let’s sample these pies.”

“Now you’re talking.” Diane declined Julia’s offer of coffee and parked herself on one of the kitchen stools.

“So what was cooking out here? And please tell me you didn’t use the counters.” Rachel eyed the granite upgrades that Gabriel had insisted on purchasing.

“Too cold.”

Julia clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

The women burst into peals of laughter and began to tease her unmercifully.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Diane fanned herself with a paper napkin. “I’m going to start calling this the house of love .”

“My parents were like that.” Rachel looked around the room. “Not on the counters that I know of. But they were very affectionate. It must be something about the kitchen.”