“We keep coming back here.”
Gabriel stood in front of her, shining the flashlight beam to the side.
“Yes, we do. This place reminds me of what’s important. It reminds me of you.”
Julia turned away from the concern that she saw on his face.
“I have a lot of happy memories from here.” His voice took on a wistful tone. “Our first night together, the night we made plans to consummate our love, our engagement . . .” He smiled. “That night back in the summer when we made love just over there.”
She followed his gesture to the space on which they’d lain entwined. Images and emotions crashed over her. She could almost feel his arms about her, skin against skin.
“Several months ago I was apprehensive about having a child. You persuaded me to have hope; to look forward and not to the past. Our hope was rewarded with the knowledge that my family tree is not entirely cursed.”
“God is punishing me,” she blurted.
His forehead furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“God is punishing me. I wanted to graduate from Harvard and become a professor. Now—”
“God doesn’t work that way,” Gabriel interrupted.
“How do you know?”
He removed one of his leather gloves and brought his hand to the side of her neck, just under her ear.
“Because a young woman, wise beyond her years, told me so.”
“And you believed her?” She looked up at him, eyes brimming.
“She’s never lied to me,” he whispered. “And when a brown-eyed angel speaks to you, it’s best to listen.”
Julia laughed mirthlessly. “I think your brown-eyed angel screwed up.”
Gabriel’s face grew pained before he exerted control over his features. But she saw his expression.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.” She reached for him and he moved closer, moving his other hand to cup her neck as well.
“I don’t know what to say that won’t make me look like a patriarchal, unfeeling asshole.”
“Oh, really, Professor?”
He pressed his lips together, his eyes guarded. “Really.”
“Try me.”
His thumbs stroked her jaw synchronously.
“I know this isn’t what you want. I know the timing is terrible. But I can’t help it.” His thumbs stilled. “I’m happy.”
“I’m terrified. I’m going to be a mother twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I’ll never be able to study for my general exams and research my dissertation. Not while I have to look after a baby. This is exactly what I was afraid was going to happen.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and two tears escaped, trailing down her cheeks.
Gabriel wiped them away.
“You’re speaking as if you’ll be a single parent, Julianne. But you won’t. I’ll make sure that all the responsibility for the baby doesn’t fall to you. I’ll speak to Rebecca and ask her to move in with us. Maybe I could take a paternity leave or use my sabbatical. I’ll—”
“Paternity leave? Are you serious?” Her eyes widened.
“Deadly.” He shifted his boots in the snow. “It would be a nightmare for the baby, I’m sure, to be left with me. But I’ll do whatever it takes to guarantee that you finish your program. If that means taking a paternity leave or using my sabbatical, I’ll do it.”
“You’ve never looked after a baby before.”
Gabriel gave her a look that could only be described as prim.
“I went to Princeton, Oxford, and Harvard. I can certainly learn how to look after a baby.”
“Looking after a baby is not like conquering the Ivy League.”
“I’ll do research. I’ll buy all the relevant books on newborns and study them before the baby arrives.”
“Your colleagues will ridicule you.”
“Let them.” His blue eyes grew fierce.
The edges of Julia’s mouth turned up.
“You’ll be up to your elbows in dirty diapers and burping cloths, surviving on a few hours’ sleep, and trying to soothe a cranky, colicky tyrant by reading Goodnight Moon over and over. In English. Because I don’t think Dante successfully completed his Italian translation of it.”
“To quote a common, urban saying: Bring it on.”
She grasped his wrist with her hand. “Your department will marginalize you. They’ll say you aren’t serious about your research. Their opinions might diminish the likelihood of you winning grants or further sabbaticals.”
“I’m a full professor with tenure. Fuck them.”
For one impetuous moment, Julia was seized with the urge to laugh.
But she didn’t.
“I’m serious, Julianne. Fuck them. What can they do to me? Barring anything Apocalyptic, they’re stuck with me. How I choose to order my family life is none of their business.”
“Why are you so determined to do this?” She searched his eyes.
“Because I love you. Because I love our child already, even though he or she is probably smaller than a grape.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “You are not alone. You have a husband who loves you and is happy we’re having a baby. You won’t go through this by yourself.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m standing right here. Don’t push me away.”
She closed her eyes, clutching his forearms.
“I’m frightened.”
“So am I. But I swear to God, Julianne, it will be all right. I will make it all right.”
“What if something goes wrong?”