Page 56 of Lessons in Touch

"I... well, it was good, wasn’t it?"

"Elaborate."

"They thought... Um..." He glances around the room and realizes that he has everyone's attention. "They thought Europe was trying to control America economically. So, they invested in oil?"

“Is that a question or a statement? Are you asking me?!”

His face turns bright red.

"A statement."

"Then state it clearly. But first, perhaps you could explain why you think it's appropriate to put your hands on Miss Devereaux's arm during my lecture?"

The room goes dead silent. Every head turns toward the back row.

Liam's face goes white. "I wasn't—"

"You weren't what? Invading her personal space? Making her visibly uncomfortable?" I stop directly in front of their seats. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly what I observed."

"Professor Thorn, I didn't mean to touch her or anything."

"What you meant is irrelevant. What matters is what you did. Miss Devereaux has made it clear through her body language that your attention is unwelcome. A gentleman would respect that."

Liam shrinks into his chair, his earlier arrogance completely gone. Rose sits perfectly still, her eyes wide.

"Now," I continue, turning my attention to her, "Miss Devereaux, since you've actually been paying attention to the material, what do you think about the Rockefellers’ oil business?”

"I think the humanitarian need to rebuild after the Civil War was real. But so was the strategic value of creating stable, Western-aligned democracies. Their business succeeded because it addressed both concerns."

"Perfect analysis. That's exactly the kind of thoughtful perspective this subject deserves."

For the rest of the lecture, Liam sits quietly, no longer bothering Rose. She participates actively again and asks intelligent questions. It shows that she's actually read the assigned materials.

When the class ends and the students file out, Liam leaves quickly. He’s avoiding eye contact. Rose gathers her things more slowly. For a moment, I think she might approach my desk. Instead, she gives me a small nod. It’s an acknowledgment and a thank you wrapped into one simple gesture.

I watch her go, but Elliot's warnings are still fresh in my mind.

Funnily enough, today’s lecture was a lesson for me. Perhaps Elliot is right. I might have to protect Rose again. Even if that means stepping back from her.

Chapter 19

Rose

The snow falls in perfect, fat flakes as I wait by the entrance of the Westbrook Art Conservatory. I play with the soles of my boots, leaving small prints in the fresh layer on the sidewalk. I can feel my cheeks stinging from the December cold, but it feels good. Christmas lights are twinkling in every window of the nearby shops, and it’s enough to warm my heart.

Gabriel appears around the corner. His long, brown coat makes him look like he stepped out of a Victorian novel, and my heart starts smiling. He's carrying two steaming paper cups. When he reaches me, I can see that his cheeks are flushed from the walk.

“I got you coffee,” he says, handing me a cup. Then he leans in and kisses me softly, longer than most would when saying hello. “Figured you could use something to warm you up.”

"Thank you." I wrap my gloved hands around the cup, and let the heat seep through. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

"Never. Are you joking? I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about our date today! Come on. There's something I want to show you."

He leads me past the art conservatory’s main entrance, and down a narrow cobblestone path I never would have noticed on my own. It winds between two old brownstone buildings, and opens into a hidden garden.

Ancient marble statues stand sentinel between the snow-dusted hedges and bare rosebushes. I can see wrought iron benches that line the walkways, but they are covered in snow. Tiny white lights have been strung through the skeletal branchesof the trees. And, beyond the garden's far edge, the Hudson River glistens in its icy grandeur, reflecting the overcast sky.

"How did you find this place? It’s stunning!”