Julia looked disgusted, and rightly so, but didn’t comment.

“When you came off the dance floor you looked as if you’d seen a ghost. Like how I imagined you would have looked the night you saw Si — ”

“Please, Rachel. Don’t. I can’t talk about that night. I can’t even think about it.”

“I could run him over with my car for what he did to you. I still might do that. Is he in Philadelphia? Give me his address.”

“Please,” Julia begged, hugging her arms protectively across her chest.

Rachel pulled her friend into a warm embrace. “Don’t you worry. You’re going to be happy someday. You’re going to fall in love with a beautiful boy, and he’s going to love you back so much it will hurt. And you’re going to get married and have a baby girl and live happily ever after. In New England, I think. At least, that’s the story I’d write for you, if I could.”

“I hope your story comes true. I’d like to believe something like that is possible, even for me. Otherwise, I just don’t know…”

Rachel smiled. “You, of all people, deserve a happy ending. Despite everything that happened to you, you aren’t bitter. You aren’t cold. You’ve just retreated a little and been shy, and that’s okay. If I were a fairy godmother, I would give you your heart’s desire in an instant. And I would wipe away your tears and tel you not to cry. I wish Gabriel had taken a page from your book, Miss Julia. He could have learned a thing or two from you about how to deal with heartbreak.”

Rachel released her friend, looking at her closely before she spoke again.

“I know that it’s a lot to ask, but will you look out for Gabriel?”

Julia leaned over the teapot on purpose, refilling their cups so that Rachel couldn’t see her face. “Gabriel has nothing but contempt for me.

He’s merely tolerating me for your sake.”

“That’s not true. Believe me, that is simply not true. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He can be…cold. But apart from his biological parents, I don’t think he’s ever hated anyone, other than himself. Not even Scott during their worst fight.”

Julia shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything, really. Just keep your eyes open.

And if you see him…starting to act strangely, or if he’s in trouble, I want you to call me. Day or night.”

Julia wore an incredulous expression.

“I’m serious, Julia. With Mom gone, I’m worried that his darkness is going to return. And I can’t lose him again. Sometimes I feel as if he’s standing on the edge of a very high cliff, and the slightest movement, the slightest breath of wind, will push him over the edge. I can’t let that happen.”

Julia’s eyebrows knitted together, and she nodded. “Al I can do, I will do.”

Rachel closed her eyes and exhaled. “I feel so much better knowing that you’re around. You can be his guardian angel.” She laughed softly. “Maybe some of your good luck will rub off on him.”

“I have nothing but bad luck, and you, of all people, should know it.”

“You’ve met Paul. He sounds nice.”

Julia smiled.

Rachel was pleased by her friend’s smile. “Paul doesn’t seem to be the type who’d mind if you were a — you know. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Julia laughed. “You can say it, Rachel — it’s not a curse word. And no, I don’t think Paul would mind that I’m a virgin. But we don’t talk about such things.”

Shortly thereafter, Rachel hugged Julia good-bye and climbed into a cab so that she could return to her brother’s apartment.

“When I final y work through the monumental pile of issues that I have to deal with, I’m planning a wedding. And I’m expecting you to be my maid of honor.”

Julia felt tears form at the corners of her eyes. “Of course. Just name the date. And I’ll help you plan it too, if you need some help.”

Rachel blew her a kiss out the open window. “I was dreading this trip, but I’m so happy I came. At least two broken pieces of my life are coming back together. And if Gabriel gives you any shit, any shit at all, you call me, and I’ll hop a plane!”

With Rachel’s departure, Julia and Gabriel were forced to part company with their solid and secure St. Lucy. But in true saint-like fashion, she had accomplished all of her tasks before she returned home, and she had planted seeds that would soon blossom, in unexpected ways.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Julia and Paul sat in the Bloor Street Starbucks enjoying their respective coffee drinks, curled up together on a purple velvet loveseat and talking. They were sitting close but not too close. Close enough that Paul could admire her beauty, far enough away that Julia could watch his large, kind eyes and not feel overly-nervous. Or crowded.

“Do you like Nine Inch Nails?” she asked, cupping her coffee in two hands.

Paul was taken aback by her question. “Uh, no. No, I don’t.” He shrugged. “Trent Reznor twists my head around. Unless he’s singing backup for Tori Amos. Why, do you?”

Julia shivered. “Absolutely not.”

He pulled a cd out of his briefcase and handed it to her. “I like this kind of stuff. Music I can write my dissertation to.”

“I’ve never heard of Hem before,” she mused, turning the jewel case over in her hand.

“They have a song I think you’ll like. It’s called Half Acre. They used to play it on an insurance ad on television, so you might have heard it before.

It’s beautiful. And no one yells at you or screams or tells you he wants to fu — ” Paul stopped suddenly and reddened. He was trying very hard to watch his language around her but having only marginal success.

She tried to hand the cd back to him, but he refused. “I bought it for you. Rabbit Songs for the Rabbit.”

“Thanks, but I can’t.”

He seemed offended. And hurt. “Why not?”

“I just can’t. But thank you anyway.”

Paul looked down at Julia’s new messenger bag, resting at her feet.

He squinted.

“You accepted a nice briefcase from someone. Early Christmas present from a boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she admitted uncomfortably. “My best friend’s mother wanted me to have the briefcase. She passed away recently.”

“I’m so sorry, Rabbit. I didn’t know.”

Paul reached over and patted Julia’s hand, placing the cd on the loveseat between them. He noticed that she didn’t move away. In fact, she rummaged in her bag to find Professor Emerson’s cd and returned it to Paul with her other hand, while still allowing him to cradle her fingers in his own.

“What can I do to persuade you to accept my gift?” He hid his face from her as he placed Emerson’s Mozart in his book bag.

“Nothing. I’ve received too many gifts in the last little while. I’m all stocked up.”

Paul straightened up and smiled. “Let me try to convince you, then.

You have such small, small hands. Smaller than the rain’s.” He moved their hands together, back and forth, holding her hand up toward the halogen light. It looked diminutive encased in his.

Julia looked at him curiously. “That’s pretty. Did you just make it up?”

Paul leaned his head back against the loveseat and held her hand more closely, his thumb fingering her lifeline, almost as if he were trying to read her palm with the tips of his fingers.

“No. I’m paraphrasing from somewhere i have never travelled, by E. E.

Cummings. You haven’t heard it before?”

“No, but I’d like to.” Julia sounded very shy all of a sudden.

“Then I’ll have to read it to you some time.” Paul gazed into her dark eyes with a hopeful smile.

“I’d like that.”

“It isn’t Dante, but it’s beautiful.” His thumb found the center of her lifeline and pressed it ever so gently. “The poem reminds me of you. You are where I’ve never traveled: your fragility and your small, small hands.”

Julia leaned forward to hide her sudden flush of color and sipped her coffee. But she allowed him to continue caressing her palm, sweetly. The movement of her coffee to her lips caused her ancient purple sweater to slip off her shoulder somewhat provocatively, revealing about two inches of a white-cotton bra strap and a rounded curve of alabaster skin.