“Fibroids,” the doctor announced triumphantly. “I read the report and I saw the ultrasound. I concur with her findings.”
“What’s a fibroid?” Julia clutched Gabriel’s hand.
“A fibroid is a benign growth on or in the uterus. They’re very common. According to the report, you have two of them.”
“Two?” Julia sounded panicked. “But I thought you only found one.”
“I found the bigger one during your pelvic exam. Because it’s attached to the exterior of your uterus, I thought it was part of your ovary. There’s also a small one lower down on the front of your uterus.” Doctor Rubio quickly sketched Julia’s insides while Gabriel tried valiantly not to faint.
(One must remember that his vast knowledge of uteri was primarily experiential rather than visual.)
“The larger one is about five centimeters. The smaller one is about three centimeters.” She pointed to her drawing with a pen.
Julia felt queasy and looked away.
“Will she need surgery?” Gabriel ignored the sketch and made eye contact with the doctor.
“Not necessarily.” Dr. Rubio turned to her patient. “If they aren’t bothering you, we’re inclined to leave them. We’ll put you on birth control pills. The hormones in the pill slow the growth of the fibroid.”
“What about fertility?”
Doctor Rubio glanced at the chart. “Ah, yes. You want to try to start a family in a few years. We’ll monitor your fibroids, but since they’re located on the outside of the uterus, I don’t think fertility will be a problem. However, once you’re pregnant we’ll have to keep an eye on them. Fibroids tend to grow during pregnancy because of the rise in hormone levels. They can crowd the uterus and cause premature delivery. We’ll monitor all of that when the time comes. But for now, I take this to be good news. I’m going to ask that we schedule you for another ultrasound in about six months, simply to check the fibroids. I’ll write up a prescription for you to go on the pill. And we’ll go from there.”
Julia and Gabriel exchanged a look, then thanked the doctor and exited the office.
Later that night, Gabriel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, an inexplicable feeling of dread hanging over him.
Careful not to wake Julia, he crept out of bed and walked down the hall to the study. He switched on the light, closed the door, and went to his desk.
Within a few minutes, his laptop was on and he was Googling “fibroids.” He clicked on a page that looked promising and began viewing a few photographs of fibroids being removed during surgery.
Then he promptly passed out.
Chapter Forty-eight
Gabriel was fortunate enough to have his vasectomy reversal scheduled for the first week in October. Now it was Julia’s turn to miss a class and accompany him to the hospital.
The morning of his surgery, she awoke to the sound of Peggy Lee singing “Fever.” It wasn’t Gabriel’s normal choice of morning music, but it sounded promising. She pulled on her robe and walked to the bathroom.
Gabriel was standing in front of the vanity, shaving. His dark hair was damp from the shower, its edges curling. He was naked to the waist, a dark blue towel slung low on his hips. Julia wanted to trace the top of the V that extended below the towel.
As was his custom, he used a shaving brush to mix soap into a lather, spreading it over his face. His sapphire eyes were focused behind his glasses as he lifted the safety razor and began.
“Lurking about in doorways, Mrs. Emerson?” He spoke without turning his head.
“I came to see what was giving you a fever.”
He paused and gave her a searing look. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“I know what raises my temperature. There’s nothing sexier than watching the man you love shave.”
He rinsed his razor. “I’m glad you think that, because it’s a daily essential.” His eyes gleamed. “Unless you’ve grown attached to my stubble. As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it last night.”
His eyes darted in the direction of her thighs.
She felt her cheeks flame. The memory of lying flat on her back, Gabriel’s stubble rubbing against her . . .
He waved a hand in front of her face. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Sorry, what?”
He chuckled. “I asked how you were feeling this morning.”
“I’m fine. How about you? Are you nervous?”
“Not really. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. I’m supposed to be at the hospital at ten. That gives us plenty of time for some extracurricular activities after I’ve finished shaving. You’ll have to give me something to tide me over for the next three weeks.”
He continued his ritual, the razor moving expertly.
“I can do that.” She approached him and pressed an openmouthed kiss between his shoulder blades.
“I think we should wait until after I’ve finished. You’re distracting me.”
“Really?”
She kissed him again, this time wrapping her hands over the tops of his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers.
“I can’t help myself, Professor. I love touching you.”
She traced the lines of his biceps, moving to his forearms, admiring muscle and sinew. She pressed her lips to the hills and valley of his spine before tracing the dimples that winked at her above the edge of the towel.
He placed a heavy hand on top of the vanity.
“I can’t shave while you’re touching me.”
“Then maybe I should do it for you.”
“Oh, really?” A heated look passed between them.
“You enjoy feeding me. Perhaps I’d enjoy shaving you.”
“You’re very provocative this morning.”
“Maybe I need a sexy memory to get me through our marital celibacy.”
Gabriel put his razor aside and gestured in front of him, a look of amusement on his face.
She moved into the gap, facing him. In one swift moment, he lifted her to sit on the counter.
He spread her knees, pushing her robe out of the way. Then he stood between her legs.
His eyes drifted down. “No panties this morning?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Lucky for me.” He smiled while his fingers fumbled with the knot at her waist. “Lucky for us your cycle hasn’t started yet.”
She placed her hands over his, stopping him.
“Will you teach me to shave you?”
“Shaving is overrated.”
“I’d like to do this for you.”
He made a show of sighing, as if his patience were being tested. Then he picked up the razor. “Shave with the direction the hair grows, but don’t apply pressure. The blade is very sharp.”
He stepped away, looking in the mirror as he demonstrated his technique. Satisfied with his display, he rinsed the razor before placing it in her hand.
She looked at him. Then she looked at the razor, at the blade that gleamed in the halogen light.
“Stage fright, Mrs. Emerson?”
“I’m afraid I’ll make you bleed.”
His eyes bore into hers. “Then you know how I felt your first time.”
Julia’s heart rate increased at the memory. He’d been very worried that night, but very, very gentle.
He pressed his lips to her wrist, drawing on the skin. “You’ll be careful.”
He separated the edges of her robe before pushing the silk over her shoulders. Then he placed his palm between her breasts, feeling her heartbeat.
Julia arched an eyebrow. “You want me to shave you, half– naked?”
“No.” He moved his mouth to her ear and dropped his voice to a throaty whisper. “I want you to shave me completely naked.”
He took his time unfastening her belt,
as if he were unwrapping a gift. Then he stood between her knees again.
“There’s nothing sexier than having the woman you love shave you, while you enjoy her body.”
Julia shuddered as the cooler air swirled around her heated skin. She placed her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself.
He nodded and she began.
The safety razor glided simply and easily over his skin without any need for pressure. All the while, two sapphire eyes focused on her.
He placed his hands at her waist and began stroking her hip bones with his thumbs.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She rinsed the razor. “I’ll nick you.”
“Perhaps it would be an exercise in self-control for both of us.”
His fingertips traced a path up to her breasts, circling them lightly. When she moaned, he slid his hands back to her waist.
“I like the feel of your skin under my hands.”
She met his gaze. “So do I.”
She swallowed hard and returned to what she was doing, trying to ignore the feel of his fingers gliding over her abdomen and between her breasts. He began to tease her nipples, which were extremely sensitive.
“I guess you must trust me,” she ground out, trying to keep her hand steady.
He stroked a finger over the prominent peaks. “I do, Julianne. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”
His eyes were tender, their blue intensity communicating far more than his words could. “But I can’t see you and not touch you.”
He cupped her breasts, cradling them gently in deference to her forthcoming cycle.
Patiently, she worked the razor over the parts of his face that were yet unshaven while he fondled and teased her. Her breathing grew shallow.
He dropped his hands to her inner thighs, where the skin was slightly sensitive from being teased by his stubble. He moved higher, inch by tantalizing inch.
With a few last strokes of the razor, she pulled back to admire her handiwork. “I think we’re finished.”
He kissed her lightly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She put the razor aside, leaning back on her hands.
“But I don’t think we’re finished yet.” His eyes glinted as he moved to the juncture of her thighs. His thumbs tangled in her curls.
She licked her lower lip.
“Then drop the towel, Professor.”
Gabriel’s procedure was unremarkable. What was remarkable, however, was the grimness of the surgeon’s face when he came to see Julia in the waiting room.
“Mrs. Emerson.” He greeted her, moving to sit in the empty chair beside her.
She closed her laptop. “How is he?”
“The surgery went well. It was complicated, but nothing unexpected. We also retrieved some sperm and froze it, as your husband directed.”
“Gabriel said that you have a very high success rate.” Julia sounded hopeful.
“I do. Some of my patients have conceived a child as early as three months after the procedure. But every case is different.” The doctor’s expression grew serious. “During surgery, your husband had a reaction to the anesthesia.”
“A reaction? Is he all right?” Julia’s heart began to race.
“He’ll be fine, but he’s been vomiting. He’s on intravenous and I want him to stay overnight. He’s in recovery now, then they’ll move him to a room. I’ll make sure someone comes to get you so you can stay with him.”
The surgeon eyed Julia’s worried expression.
“These kinds of reactions to general anesthesia are not uncommon. We’ll monitor him as a precaution, and he’ll probably be ready to go home tomorrow.”
The doctor patted her hand and disappeared through a set of swinging doors.
“Gabriel?” Julia whispered.
He’d been moaning and thrashing a little in his hospital bed. She leaned over to take his hand.
“Sweetie? The surgery went well. You’re going to be fine.”
His eyes opened suddenly.
She pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Hi, baby.”
He closed his eyes. “I feel like a baby. I feel like hell, actually. Dizzy.”
“Are you going to be sick?”
He shook his head. “Tired.”
“Then go to sleep, darling. I’m here.”
“Pretty baby,” he mumbled, before drifting into sleep.
Julia pressed her lips to his forehead.
I love this man with all my heart. I’d give my life for him. I’d give anything for him.
It was unusual to see Gabriel as he appeared in the hospital bed. He rarely, if ever, got sick. When he wasn’t asleep, the strength of his presence dominated his surroundings.
Now his personality was muted. Quiet. Vulnerable.
She thought back to the time when she’d cared for the Professor while he was drunk. She’d helped him to his apartment and he’d vomited all over her.
(And his British racing green cashmere sweater.)
She remembered dragging him to the bathroom and cleaning him up. She ran her fingers through his hair, wondering what it would be like to have a baby to care for. At the time, such musings seemed so remote, so unattainable.
Gazing down on the handsome face of her beloved husband, she knew that something inside her was shifting. Something had changed.
“How is he?” Rebecca eyed Julia with concern as she entered the kitchen the following afternoon.
Julia placed a tray on the counter. “He’s asleep. He says he’s uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t take his pain pills until I threatened him.”
Rebecca laughed. “How did you do that?”
Julia placed the dirty dishes in the sink. “I reminded him that the longer he took to heal, the longer he’d have to wait for sex. He grabbed the pill bottle out of my hand. I don’t think we’ll have trouble getting him to take his medication anymore.”
Rebecca shook her head, smothering a smile.
“Chicken soup for dinner with homemade rolls. How does that sound?” She moved to the stove, where she was simmering an entire chicken in a stockpot.
“Delicious. Thank you.”
“Will you need me to stay this weekend?”
“No. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Julia looked at Rebecca with interest. “Would you do that?”
Rebecca placed the lid back on the stockpot. “Of course. I can be here whenever you need me, except during the holidays. And even then, if I had advance notice, I could work something out. It might sound silly, but I think of you two as family.”
“It isn’t silly. We think the same.” Julia leaned against the counter. “It’s so much easier when you’re here. Dirty clothing disappears and clean clothing appears in its place. There’s always food in the fridge or freezer and the house is immaculate. I’d never be able to do what you do.”
“Sure, you could. But you couldn’t be a student, too. You’d have to choose one or the other. Are your brother-in-law and his family still coming to visit?”
Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and moved to the kitchen island. An iPad was propped up on a stand, like a cookbook. She opened the iCalendar application and scrolled through it, looking at the Emersons’ appointments.
“No. Between my ultrasound and Gabriel’s surgery, we decided it would be best if they came after Christmas. We’ll be going home for Thanksgiving, anyway.” Julia winced in remembrance. “I thought I mentioned it. I’m sorry.”
Rebecca waved her hand in the air. “No problem. I’ll adjust the calendar.”
“I didn’t expect Gabriel to be so weak after his procedure. He insists he’s going to work tomorrow, but I don’t see how he can. He’s in pain.”
“Men make the worst patients. They don’t take their medication, they don’t do what t
hey’re told, and they never, ever admit they’re sick. They’re like cats.”
Julia chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”
“In fact, it’s probably easier to give a pill to a cat than to a man. Then again, a man can’t scratch you.”
Now Julia was laughing.
“It’s a good thing he’s upstairs. He’d be cross with us for comparing him to a cat.”
Rebecca winked. “Meow.”
Chapter Forty-nine
The week following Gabriel’s surgery, he was almost back to his old self. Except that he was grumpy and cross because of the lack of sex.
(One might observe that being grumpy and cross was precisely his old self.)
Julia bore his grumpiness as she usually did, with saintlike good humor. Of course, the fact that she was getting regular orgasms courtesy of her husband might have had something to do with her mood.
“There’s a letter from Katherine.” Gabriel waved in the direction of the kitchen table, where the day’s mail was stacked.
Julia picked up the small white envelope. Sure enough, the letter was from Professor Katherine Picton of All Souls College, Oxford.
“She’s still in England. I would have thought she’d be back in Toronto by now.”
Gabriel pulled up a chair and began going through the rest of the mail, hoping that there wouldn’t be any surprises among it.
“She’s a fellow at All Souls for the year. Open it and see what she says.”
Julia put on her glasses, opened the envelope, and began to read.
Dear Gabriel and Julianne,
I hope that this letter finds you both well.
Oxford is enjoyable and I’m pleased with the research I’ve been able to accomplish. I look back fondly to the conference this past summer and hope to see you soon.
I mentioned this before, but Greg Matthews has invited me to give a series of lectures at Harvard at the end of January. I’m told he’s also invited Jeremy Martin to give a paper.
I’m hoping to see you both during my visit.
I’m also hoping you’ll save me from Greg’s dreadful culinary predilections.
As ever,