Julia had dressed the baby in Rachel’s christening dress—a long, white silk-and-satin garment that was embroidered with flowers and had short sleeves—and a lace-edged bonnet, tied with a long pink ribbon.
Clare looked like a princess. Gabriel had taken hundreds of photographs of her before they left the house, posing her alone and with her family.
As the baby began to frown, Julianne held a pacifier at the ready.
“What do you ask from God’s church for Clare Grace Hope Rachel?” Father Fortin asked.
“Baptism.” Again, Gabriel and Julianne replied in unison.
The priest asked if they understood their duty as parents, and they affirmed their understanding. Then he addressed Katherine, who pledged her commitment as godmother.
Gabriel took his role as a father very seriously. Even now, as he stood before the congregation and before God asking for his child to be baptized, he meditated on the myriad promises he was obliged to make and to keep, as he sought to parent this little life.
After a few words, Father made the sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead, inviting the three adults to do the same. The family made a short procession to the dais, where the Scripture was read and the homily was delivered.
Gabriel found his mind wandering, even though his gaze was fixed on Clare.
He thought about his own spiritual journey. He thought about his struggle with addiction and the loss of his first child. His hand itched to touch the name that was inked on his skin.
He thought about Grace and her love for him—a love that gave rise to adoption and a family. A love that had been reciprocated over time.
He thought about Richard and his siblings. He thought about Rachel and her own recent struggles. He thought about how he was surrounded by family. Scott, Tammy, and Quinn sat in a pew with Richard, Rachel and Aaron, Tom and Diane Mitchell, and their son Tommy.
Gabriel’s biological sister Kelly sat with her husband in the pew across from Scott. Rebecca sat with them. A select group of friends and fellow parishioners sat farther back.
For someone who had spent a lot of his childhood alone and lonely, Gabriel was surrounded by a large family. And Katherine, one of the greatest Dante specialists of her time, who had somehow adopted him and his wife, agreeing to pass along her support and love to Clare.
The baby fussed in his arms, and Julia gave her the pacifier. She gazed up at her mother and settled, her sky blue eyes open and curious.
Gabriel hadn’t thought he’d ever have another child. In fact, he’d had a medical procedure to ensure it would never happen. Then everything changed. Everything had changed when a brown-eyed angel in jeans and sneakers had sat beside him on a back porch.
Gabriel recalled his time in Assisi, during his separation from Julianne, and how he had encountered grace and forgiveness in St. Francis’s crypt. He remembered his earnest prayers that Julianne would forgive him and marry him. That God would bless them with a child.
He held in his arms a miracle—the extravagance of grace that had been bestowed on someone who was proud and sometimes angry, intemperate and addictive, lustful and profligate.
Forgiveness was not for the sinless or the perfect. Mercy was not for the just. He had to learn to name and acknowledge his own shortcomings before he could receive the remedies. The remedies themselves challenged him to treat other needy souls with mercy and compassion. Julianne was a shining example of that.
As the priest began the homily, Gabriel glanced over at the relics that were situated at the front of the church to the right of the altar. One of the relics belonged to St. Maximilian Kolbe, a Franciscan friar who was executed at Auschwitz. He had volunteered to die in the place of another man, a man who had a family.
In the face of such bravery, such sacrificial love, Gabriel felt very small. He was no saint, nor would he ever become one. As he held his daughter in his arms, he resolved to do better. To love his daughter and his wife to the best of his ability and to become a man of character, whom his daughter would look up to and admire.
Clare dozed in his arms, still enjoying the pacifier. The priest ended his homily and led the congregation in a series of prayers.
* * *
Julia snaked her hand inside the crook of Gabriel’s elbow, leaning against him. Instinctively, he pressed his lips to her temple.
She was keeping a secret. Although she justified her silence by hoping that the numbness in her leg was temporary, her conscience rebelled.
Her heart was full. And as was usual for her during such moments, she grew very still, pondering what was happening.
She was a wife, and now a mother. She was a student and a prospective professor. She was a daughter and a sister. And, like Gabriel, she had been plagued by loneliness and alienation in her younger years but was now surrounded by a large and loving family.
She felt the responsibility of her many blessings keenly. And she resolved to love and protect her child to the best of her ability. She squeezed Gabriel’s bicep—a gesture of affection—and smiled up at him.
* * *
Gabriel returned her smile, grateful that he had a partner, a wife, as he embarked on the journey that was parenthood. And such a partner.
Julianne had always had an attractive figure, but she was even more beautiful now. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, and her chestnut hair was soft and falling in gentle waves to her shoulders.
Her curves were more pronounced on her slim frame. Her indigo-blue dress accentuated her cleavage. Gabriel tried to avert his eyes but failed. She really was magnificent.
Gabriel reflected on his hunger—a hunger not just for her body but for her. When he was tempted to feel shame for the way he desired her, he noted that God had made her beautiful. God had joined them together. An entire book of sacred Scripture was devoted to the pleasures of physical love.
“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair.” And I will never see anything on this side of Heaven more beautiful than you.
Julianne was obviously tired. He saw that she was favoring her right foot. But before he could consider the cause, he was distracted by her plain, low-heeled shoes. She had an entire closet filled with extravagant high heels, many of which were, in Gabriel’s mind, works of art. But she hadn’t worn them. Gabriel shook his head at the lost podiatric opportunity. Perhaps her feet still felt swollen.
As the baptism proceeded, the baby frowned and lifted her fists but didn’t cry. Soon the priest was anointing her head and the final aspects of the rite were completed.
There were many mysteries in faith and in life. Marriage and family had always seemed mysterious to Gabriel. Yes, the links between people existed and they were, perhaps, the strongest bonds in the known universe. But how they emerged and persisted he could not exactly say. He couldn’t describe his love for Julianne, although he’d tried. He couldn’t describe the joy and delight he had in Clare, although he would endeavor to do so. Metaphors like light and riches and laughter came to mind.