"Most things in my life are."
The honesty of it caught them both off guard. Gabriel looked surprised at his own words, and Clara didn't know how to respond without breaking their newly established rules.
"I should go," she said finally. "Check on... something. Elsewhere."
"Yes. Very well. Elsewhere is good."
“Pray excuse me, as I must attend to the making of our supper.”
“I fear I shall have no stomach for it.”
"You will."
"I won't."
"You will, because Mrs. Potter will hear if you don't, and she'll come back and lecture you."
Another silence. The sun was setting outside, painting the clean morning room in shades of gold and shadow. Gabriel looked almost soft in this light, his scar less prominent, his expression less guarded.
"Clara?"
“Yes?”
“I am grateful for the room…for you staying here…”
“You pay me to remain…I am merely fulfilling the terms of our agreement.”
She wanted to talk further but thought it wiser to refrain.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour," she said instead.
"I'll be in the library."
"Brooding?"
"Reading."
“It makes no difference,”
His mouth twitched. “As you wish…I shan’t touch a morsel.”
“It remains to be seen.”
She headed for the kitchen, pausing at the door. "Gabriel?"
"Yes?"
"The rose. Mrs. Potter said it's still blooming ,even in the middle of winter.”
"Impossible things do happen, apparently."
"Is that what we are? Impossible?"
He looked at her across the room, across their invisible barrier, across eight years of hurt and silence. "Yes."
It should have sounded final. It should have sounded like an ending.
Instead, it sounded like a beginning.
