“I’m still putting together the proposal, but I’d like to write about Guido da Montefeltro, St. Francis, and the death of Guido’s son. I’d like to do a comparison between the two death narratives.”
“I like your reading of why Francis appeared. You could bring in some of the hagiography of Francis, as well.”
Julia’s smile widened. “That’s what I was thinking. I could talk about Franciscan spirituality and contrast that with Guido’s political machinations.”
“This workshop is perfect for you.”
“It’s been great. And people have been kind. I’ve had a lot of suggestions of books and articles to look up. I feel like I’m making progress.”
“Good.” Paul turned sideways so he could see Julia better. “Did Professor Picton agree to supervise you?”
“Yes. I still have to get the approval of my chair and Katherine has to sign the form. But she can’t do that until she joins the faculty at Harvard, which happens in August. So for the time being, I’m without a supervisor.”
At that moment, Paul’s cell phone rang. The ring tone was “Guantanamera.”
Julia eyed him curiously. “Cuban music?”
Paul’s color deepened. “A friend of mine chose her own ring tone.”
“Huh.” Julia wanted to ask about Paul’s friend but decided the subject might be too delicate.
Paul seemed to read her mind. “Her name is Elizabeth. We work together.” He stopped abruptly and declined the call. “It’s complicated.”
“Sometimes complicated can turn out great.” Julia gave him an encouraging smile.
“Sometimes.” Paul put his phone back into his pocket. “Are you happy? With your life, I mean?”
“You’ve caught me at a bad moment, but in general, yes. I’ve come to the conclusion that falling in love is easy; it’s life that’s complicated. But I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, even though it hasn’t always turned out the way I hoped.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” Paul looked down at his shoes. “You deserve to be happy, Rabbit.”
“Thank you. You’ve always been a great friend.” Impulsively, Julia leaned against his shoulder.
In return, he took her hand and squeezed it.
It was an intimate exchange, to be sure, but one born of true affection and friendship. Paul knew in that moment that Julia loved him. And although her love for him was not romantic, it was affectionate and it was deep. And it was the kind of love he hoped would continue through their lives, even as he pursued a different love with someone else.
They moved apart at the same moment, smiling shyly down at their shoes.
Footsteps sounded from nearby, and Julia saw Gabriel striding toward them, pushing Clare in her stroller. She was barefoot and kicking her feet happily, a toy bunny hugged to her chest.
Paul leaned toward Julia and whispered conspiratorially. “I see my rabbit was a hit.”
“Don’t mention it in front of Gabriel, but it’s her favorite toy,” Julia whispered back. “She won’t go anywhere without it.”
“She has great taste.”
When Gabriel reached them he greeted Julianne with a kiss. Then he extended his hand to his former student. “Paul.”
“Professor Emerson.” The two men shook hands.
The Professor hesitated, his blue eyes evaluating the other man. Seemingly satisfied, he said, “You should probably call me Gabriel.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open.
Paul appeared surprised but quickly recovered himself. “Gabriel,” he repeated dutifully.
“When did you get back?” Julia asked, hugging her husband extra tightly.