Chapter 8 - The Garden in the Snow"Why don't you ever smile, Julian?"
It was a cold, bright Tuesday afternoon in February. A rare burst of crisp winter sunlight broke through the heavy grey clouds, illuminating the high conservatory at the rear of Vance Manor.
The conservatory was a massive glass dome filled with exotic tropical ferns, blooming orchids, and miniature orange trees, kept warm by a network of brass steam pipes running beneath the stone floorboards.
Evangeline sat in her wheelchair near a blooming white jasmine bush, watching Julian as he sat on the stone bench across from her, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest.
Julian looked up from his boots. "There isn't much to smile about."
"You're making me walk again," she said gently, her voice full of tender wonder. "Yesterday, Doctor Sterling helped me stand on my own two feet for six whole seconds before my knees gave out. My father wept, Julian. I’ve never seen my father cry in my entire life."
"Your father cries for you," Julian said softly, looking around at the towering glass walls of the dome. "He doesn't cry for anyone else."
Evangeline’s smile faded slightly. She looked down at her hands, her fingers picking at the blue silk sash of her dress. "He’s hard because he's afraid," she whispered. "After the carriage flipped and my mother died... he thought he lost everything. He built these high walls to keep the world from hurting us again."
"He built these walls to keep people in cages," Julian corrected quietly.
Evangeline looked up, her blue eyes searching his face. "You feel like a prisoner here, don't you?"
Julian didn't answer right away. He reached out, touching the green leaf of a fern near his knee. He closed his eyes, releasing a tiny, invisible thread of warmth into the plant. Within seconds, the green leaf uncurled slightly, turning a richer, deeper shade of emerald.
"I lived under the Blackwood Bridge for two years," Julian murmured, his eyes still closed. "It was cold, and I was hungry almost every night. When the winter wind blew off the river, my toes felt like they were going to break off like dry twigs. But when I looked up at the stars... I knew I could walk anywhere I wanted. I could walk to the coast. I could walk to the mountains."
He opened his eyes, looking directly into hers.
"Here, I have hot stew every night and leather boots," Julian said. "But the gates are locked with brass padlocks, and there are guards with rifles standing by the fence. I'm just a different kind of beggar now, Evangeline."
Evangeline felt a sharp ache in her heart. She reached out, her hand reaching across the space between them, resting gently over his cold fingers.
"When I walk," she said, her voice filled with absolute, fierce determination, "I won't let him keep you here. I promise you, Julian. I’ll open the gates myself."
Julian looked at her small, trembling hand resting on his. For the first time in three weeks, a tiny, faint ghost of a smile touched the corner of his lips.
"You have to stand first, little heiress," he whispered.
"Then let's do it today," she said, her blue eyes flashing with sudden, daring fire. "Don't just give me a thread today, Julian. Give me a rope."
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Julian froze. "It will hurt."
"I don't care," she said, sitting up straight in her chair, her jaw locking with the exact same iron resolve her father possessed. "I want to feel the ground."
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