Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,377

streaming in through the open door of the tent. She was curled up under two cashmere blankets that had been lovingly tucked around her. She was alone. Were it not for the fact that she knew that the tent belonged to Gabriel, she would have thought that she’d dreamed the previous evening. Or that she’d woken up to a new dream.

As she got out of bed, she found a note next to her pillow.

Darling,

You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to disturb you. I’ll ask Rebecca to make waffles for breakfast because I know you like them. Falling asleep in your arms again reminded me that I was only half a person in your absence.

You make me whole.

With love,

Gabriel.

Julia couldn’t deny the fact that a variety of emotions came upon her as she read the note, like a symphony of different instruments. Perhaps the most dominant feeling was that of relief.

Gabriel loved her. Gabriel had returned.

But forgiveness and reconciliation were two different things, and she knew that although other forces had been at work to effect their separation, she and Gabriel each bore responsibility for the situation in which they currently found themselves. Julia didn’t want to run back into his arms only to escape the pain of their separation; that would be like taking a pill to kill a pain without investigating its root causes.

She found her shoes and slowly walked across the garden, retrieving her purse before entering the back door. Rebecca was already at work in the small kitchen, preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” She greeted Julia with a smile.

“Good morning.” Julia motioned toward the staircase that led to the second floor. “I was just going to use the bathroom.”

Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron.

“I’m afraid Gabriel is in it.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you knock on the door? He might be finished.”

The thought of running into Gabriel, damp from the shower, wrapped in a towel, made Julia’s skin grow pink.

“Um, I’ll wait. May I?” She gestured to the kitchen sink and, with Rebecca’s permission, proceeded to wash her hands. When they were dried, she removed a hair elastic from her purse and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

Rebecca invited her to sit down at the small, round kitchen table. “This house isn’t very convenient with only one bathroom. I end up having to climb those stairs several times a day. Even my little house has two bathrooms.”

Julia was surprised. “I thought that you lived here.”

Rebecca laughed as she retrieved a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from the refrigerator. “I live in Norwood. I used to live with my mother, but she passed away a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Julia gave Rebecca a sympathetic look as she poured orange juice into two wine glasses.

“She had Alzheimer’s,” said Rebecca simply before returning to her cooking.

Julia watched as she plugged in an electric waffle maker and proceeded to wash and hull a basket of fresh strawberries and whip some cream. Gabriel had planned the breakfast well.

“It’s going to be an adjustment to keep house for a professor after looking after my mother. He’s a bit particular, but I like that. Did you know that he’s lending me books? I’ve just started reading Jane Eyre. I’ve never read it before. He says that as long as I keep cooking I can keep borrowing books. Finally, I have a chance to further my education and use everything I learned from years of watching the Food Network.”

“He’s lending you books from his personal library?” Julia sounded incredulous.

“Yes. Isn’t that nice? I don’t know the professor very well, but I’m already fond of him. He reminds me of my son.”

Julia sipped her orange juice and began to eat her breakfast, urged as she was not to wait for Gabriel’s arrival.

“I don’t know why he bought this house when the kitchen is so small and there’s only one bathroom.” She spoke between bites of a cinnamon flavored waffle.

Rebecca wore a knowing smile. “He wanted to live in Harvard Square, and he liked the garden. He said that it reminded him of his parents’ place back home. He plans to renovate the house to make it more comfortable, but he refused to book a single contractor until you gave your approval.”

“My approval?” Julia’s fork clattered to the floor.

Rebecca efficiently handed her another one. “He might have said something about selling it if you didn’t like it. Although given the language I heard coming from upstairs this morning, I think he has decided to begin his renovations