Page 57 of Lessons in Touch

"I discovered it when I was in graduate school. When I needed to escape the pressure, and the expectations." He’s walking beside me, our shoulders occasionally brushing. "No one ever comes here in winter."

The garden feels like a secret world, distant from reality. Snow continues to fall. It muffles the sound and creates an intimate cocoon around us. I stop beside a statue of a woman reading a book. Her marble face looks serene and timeless.

"How can someone create something like this out of stone? Look at the details…”

Gabriel turns to me, but I notice that his face is tense now. It that wasn't like that before.

"Rose, I need you to know that I brought you here because…"

"No one knows us here," I interrupt, understanding his concern. "Just for today, we're not professor and student!"

The careful distance we maintain at school dissolves. And it’s replaced by something warmer and more real.

We continue walking and pass beneath an archway covered in dormant ivy. Someone has carefully placed Christmas decorations throughout the garden. There are small wreaths on the iron gates, ribbons tied around the lamp posts. It makes everything feel magical despite the bare branches and the sleeping flowerbeds.

"Tell me, Rose. Are you going home to London for Christmas to see your family? Or has Timothy asked you to join that side of the family celebrations?”

I shake my head. "Neither. I have too many tasks to finish. Professor Williams assigned three papers that are due right after the winter break. And I'm behind on my economics reading."

The admission makes me feel guilty. But Gabriel is just laughing.

"I called my parents last night to explain. They understood, but I could hear the disappointment in my mom's voice."

Gabriel is quiet for a moment. He’s watching the snowflakes land on his gloves. "Family expectations can be complicated."

"What do you mean?"

He's silent for so long that I begin to think he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than usual.

"My relationship with my father has been strained for years. He's a powerful man. He comes from old New York money, and has strong political connections. The kind of influence that open doors before you even approach them."

I wait, sensing that he needs space to continue.

"He expected me to follow his path. Go to law school, then politics, and then the same social circles he's navigated his entire life."

“But you are going into politics. You’re running for Senate.”

“Of course. But that’s not good enough for a man like my father. It never was. When I chose academia, he hated the idea of me being a professor. When I insisted on earning my own credentials before entering the political arena, he saw it as rebellion."

“How can he think that being a professor is a bad thing?”

"He wanted a puppet. And I refused to be one."

The honesty in his voice touches something deep in my chest. Here we are, away from the classroom and the careful boundaries we maintain at school. Gabriel is showing me parts of himself I suspected but never seen.

"It sounds lonely," I reflect.

"It has been. People see the Thorn name, the success, and the political potential. And, of course, the money. They think they know who I am before we've even spoken."

"I don't."

"No," he says, his voice growing warmer. "You don't. You treat me for who I really am, not because of my position."

A comfortable silence settles between us. Snow continues to fall, gathering in soft mounds on the bench arms and our shoulders. The garden feels like it exists outside of time, far away from the complications waiting for us back at school.

"Rose," Gabriel says eventually. "There's something I need to tell you."

Before he can continue, I stand and walk to the garden's edge. There is a low stone wall that overlooks the river. He follows me, and stands close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.