Chapter 6

Catherine had never attended a Winterfest and she was really looking forward to her first one. Many years ago, the teachers Below had decided that trying to teach the children anything during the month of December was futile. Classes were always suspended for the entire month, so she and the students had plenty of time to help with the preparations for all the holidays during the month of December. Although Winterfest was the high point of the month for the whole community, individuals also celebrated the other holidays in that month, Christmas and Hanukkah. Hanukkah was early in the month this year; there were only a few Jewish families Below, but William did his best to try to accommodate them and they shared their traditions with everyone every evening at dinner. Then only five days after Hanukkah ended, it was time for Winterfest.

She’d heard all the stories, and she spent the weeks before in happy anticipation like all the children. She spent most of the day before with several of the other women helping William with the baking. The men were in charge of decorating the Great Hall, so she was free to wander the corridors of the home tunnels the day of Winterfest. The children were as excited as she’d been on Christmas Eve as a child. The adults were indulgent of that excitement.

The message had gone out to the Helpers and the tunnel residents that the guides would start leading people down to the Great Hall at 6PM. So Catherine went back to her chamber early to get ready. She wanted to dress up and look her best, from the inside out. It was the first time in ages that she felt she had someone to dress up for. She bathed and washed her hair. When it was dry she brushed it out and left it loose except for pieces of hair on each side that she pulled back and secured with combs. It was just enough to keep her hair off her face. She had decided that the green velvet dress was the perfect dress for this celebration. She put it on and the ballet slippers that that went with it. She used a little make up, just enough to enhance, not look made up, added just a touch of a favorite perfume that she seldom wore anymore. She stood in front of the mirror in her room and gave herself the once over. It needed something. She added her mother’s pearl earrings and then decided that what the dress needed was her crystal. She always wore it; took it off only when she was bathing, but is was always under her clothing. Tonight she hadn’t put it back on but the wide set scooped neckline of the dress was too bare without it and to be honest, she missed the feel of it. Any of the other pieces of jewelry that she still had were too much. She slipped the chain over her head and let the crystal fall to her chest. Perfect. She tucked a few things into the pocket of the dress, threw the black velvet cape around her shoulders and went to meet the rest of the party goers.

Everyone was gathering at the top of the stairs that led down through the Chamber of the Winds to the Great Hall. Catherine saw Peter talking to Father and she joined them.

"Jacob tells me you’ve never been down to the Great Hall, Cathy," said Peter after he hugged her.

"No, I haven’t. I’m looking forward to it," she smiled at both men.

"You are in for a treat, my dear," said Father. "John discovered it over forty years ago."

"Paracelsus?" asked Catherine.

"Yes, his original intention was to make it his chamber. He even started to move his and Anna’s possessions down to it; he hung the tapestries that are still there, but then he found that it was next to impossible to get all the furniture down the stairs. Anna wasn’t particularly strong and it was a long climb for her every time they wanted to come up to the home chambers. It didn’t take long for him to abandon his plan and move back into their chambers on the level below the main chambers. We didn’t use the Great Hall much until after Anna’s death and John’s exile."

"When was the first Winterfest, Father?" asked Catherine as they made their way slowly down the winding stair in the windy cavern.

"Vincent wasn’t yet a year old, so that would make it December of 1953…forty years ago. It is hard to believe it was that long ago, and that Vincent is going to be forty one next month."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs and Father had led Catherine and Peter through the crowd to the front where Vincent was waiting for everyone.

Vincent nodded and smiled at Catherine and then leaned over toward Father. "Must you tell all my secrets, Father?" he asked.

"Secrets, what secrets?" asked Father.

"My age of course." He smiled and hugged Father before he turned away to lift the heavy plank from the door and set it aside. He pushed the heavy double doors open then turned to Catherine and offered his left hand. "Will you join me, Catherine?" he asked with a smile.

Other than the time they had crawled in and out of the hole to get to the pool and the one hug they had shared, they had pretty much avoided touching each other. Now he was standing in front of her offering to take her hand and lead her thorough the dark chamber. She gave him a warm smile, placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her to a seat at the table.

It was actually several tables set up to form a T. Father sat in the center of the top of the T. There was a system to the seating. Father in the center, as the leader, Vincent on his right as the president of the council, and Mary on his left as the vice president. Peter was on Mary’s right as the Helper who had been with them the longest and the newest helper was on his right. Then Catherine sat on Vincent’s left as the newest tunnel resident and the resident who had been with them the longest, other than Father, sat on her left.

The hall grew quiet and the only light was a single Winterfest candle that stood in a holder in front of Father. Vincent and Mary both reached over with their candles and lit them from the flame in front of Father as Father spoke: "The world above us is cold and gray, summer a distant memory. Our world too has known its winters. So each year we begin this feast in darkness, as our world began in darkness."

As Vincent took up the narrative, "Long before the city above us raised its towers to the sky, men sought shelter in these caverns," he and Mary passed their flames on down to Catherine and Peter.

They turned to light the candle of the person next to them as Mary took her turn with the story, "In those days, these tunnels were dark places, and those who dwelt here dwelt in fear and isolation."

The story returned to Vincent as the flame went from candle to candle down the table, the people under the chandeliers reached up and lit the candles in them. "This was a land of lost hope and twisted dreams, a land of despair where the sound of footsteps coming down a tunnel was a sound of terror, and men reached for knives and rocks and worse at the sound of another man’s voice."

"But at last a few people learned to put aside their fear," said Father.

"We began to trust each other; to help each other," from Mary.

"And all of us grew stronger, those who took the help and those who gave it," from Vincent.

And by the time Father finished the last lines of the Winterfest Celebration recitation, "We are all part of one another. One family, one community. Sometimes we forget that. And so each year we meet here. To thank those who have helped us, and to remember…even the greatest darkness is nothing, so long as we share the light," the chandeliers had been raised high and the room was suffused with the warm glow of candles.

There was a momentary silence then everyone was talking and laughing as another Winterfest Celebration was under way.

Catherine was still sitting with a bemused smile on her face when Vincent leaned over to her.

"Are you hungry, Catherine?" he asked softly.

Catherine’s eyes flew to his face and her smile warmed for him. "As a matter of fact, I am. I skipped lunch."

He offered his hand again, "Then I suggest that we get something quickly before the children eat all the chocolate cake."

"And we must eat our dinner, before we get our dessert, right?" she asked as she placed her hand in his again and rose.

"Exactly," he agreed as he helped her remove the velvet cape and fold it over the back of her chair.

At the buffet they filled their plates while they laughed and watched Sebastian teaching magic tricks to several children.

"I always wanted to learn to do magic tricks," commented Catherine as they made their way back to their seats with their plates.

"Sebastian would probably teach you. He is always looking for an apprentice," said Vincent as he held Catherine’s chair for her. "I’ll be right back," he said after she was seated. He returned a with two glasses of wine.

"William makes his own," he said as explanation. "There are always a couple of barrels of his wine and some of his home made ale for Winterfest."

"Thank you."

Catherine sipped the wine, "Umm, good. It tastes a lot like the sweet red table wine I drank in Italy. I bet it would be good mulled too."

"I believe he actually has some that isn’t quite ready yet. He said that it would take about another hour."

Vincent had seated himself and they kept up the light conversation as they ate.

Catherine was enjoying the attention. She had seen a lot of Vincent over the last weeks, but she had seldom had his undivided attention since the walk to the pool. If Vincent had decided to spend some time with her this evening she planned to enjoy it while it lasted, because she was sure that come tomorrow, things would go back to normal. As they talked, she noticed that his eyes occasionally strayed to the crystal. She wondered if he wore the rose or if it still lay on his night stand.

Catherine had finished eating and was sitting back sipping her wine, when Vincent suggested they go look at the tapestries.

As they walked along the upper gallery Catherine admired the hangings. "On the way down Father was saying that Paracelsus found the tapestries and hung them. They're wonderful…

but where did he find them? Who was the artist?

Vincent watched Catherine as she studied the pictures. "Those are mysteries we've never solved, Catherine. Perhaps they're enchanted…" he suggested with a small smile. "I used to imagine they were magic windows…that if I looked at them long enough and hard enough, they might open for me, so I could pass through to a different world. But when I reached out…" He reached out and gently touched the tapestry in front of them. "…it was only cloth…but that didn’t stop Devin and I me from making up all kinds of fantastic stories about them."

As the evening continued, Vincent was never far from Catherine’s side. Everyone noticed, yet no one commented, at least not to either of them.

Peter and Father were talking and Peter nodded toward the corner where Vincent and Catherine stood close together, laughing as they watched the children trying to dance to the music from the fiddle and guitar ensemble. "Have they patched things up?" he asked.

"I was wondering the same thing," said Father. "This is actually the first time I’ve seen Vincent quite that attentive since he came home. They haven’t been avoiding each other, they are even working on a project together, but they’ve only been alone together once or twice that I know of."

"Cathy did look surprised when he came back and offered his hand to lead her to her seat," commented Peter.

"I noticed that too. I wonder what he is up to."

"You think he’s up to something?" asked Peter.

"I don’t know, but since he’s been back, even after he found out that Catherine had moved Below, he has been very relaxed and confident; more so than I have ever seen him. He did tell me that he had come to realize a few things about himself while he was off on his own. That probably has a lot to do with it." They both smiled as they watched Vincent lead Catherine onto the dance floor.

Catherine and Vincent were two of the last people to leave the Great Hall later that night. They lingered to supervise the children who were doing the clean up, and then they followed them up the stairs back to the hub of the community.

"Vincent, can we talk sometime soon?" she asked. "Privately?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "Certainly, Catherine. Would now be all right?"

"Now would be fine."

"We can go to my chamber or to yours," he suggested.

"Mine will probably be better. When I drop the rug down in front of the door people actually understand that I mean I want privacy. That isn’t always so in your chamber."

"That is very true," he agreed.

They had been walking for only about five minutes lagging behind the children a little, neither of them speaking when a voice called out from behind them.

"Vincent! Child! Where are you hurrying too?"

Vincent caught Catherine’s hand and pulled her to a stop. "Narcissa!" he greeted the elderly black woman who came up behind them. "We missed you at Winterfest."

She waved her hand at him and laughed. "You did not. Everyone knows that I haven’t attended Winterfest in years; not since you were a child." She patted him on the arm. "Is this your Catherine?" She turned milky eyes toward Catherine.

"Yes, Narcissa, this is Catherine," he said.

"Narcissa," said Catherine. "It is lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you."

Narcissa cackled merrily, "So they still talk about this crazy old woman?"

"Narcissa…" Vincent started.

She waved her hand at him again. "We both know what the Father thinks of me." She leaned toward Catherine and whispered conspiratorially. "He calls me an old witch, but he still uses those poultices and headache powders I send him."

Catherine glanced at Vincent and he smiled and nodded.

"But Vincent," Narcissa continued. "I saw that you left your chamber and have gone back home. That is a good thing. You were never meant to be alone."

"I was for a while, Narcissa. That separation was good for me. I came to know myself better," he glanced at Catherine as he said that.

"This one time, maybe," she agreed, "but no more. You need the people you love and who love you around you," she patted Catherine’s arm. "Isn’t that right, child?"

"I think we all do, Narcissa," Catherine agreed.

Suddenly, Narcissa gazed past them into the darkness in the tunnel ahead of them. She smiled and nodded as if agreeing with something, then she spoke. "Vincent, you must come to see me. Next time you come I need a few things." She pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand and smiled up at him vaguely, "Soon, child." Then she turned and walked back the way she’d come.

"Is she all right by herself?" whispered Catherine.

"Oh yes. She’s amazing. She knows these tunnels better than anyone, even Mouse and me. She is the one who told me how to find the Crystal Cavern. She goes there regularly; she says it energizes her." He took her hand again and started off in the opposite direction. "Come."

They reached the main hub and Vincent headed toward the dining chamber. "I thought some tea or maybe some more of William’s wine would be nice."

"Tea. I love William’s wine, but I don’t think I should drink any more of it; it's been a while since I had anything that strong; it went straight to my head."

Catherine followed Vincent through the darkened dining area and into the kitchen where things were still bustling. William and his assistants were putting away the leftovers. While Vincent dodged in and out among them making a pot of tea. William handed Catherine a plate of bite sized pastries.

"We will be eating leftovers until Christmas," he commented with a smile as Vincent came up beside Catherine with a tray containing the teapot and mugs. Catherine put the plate of pastries on the tray and followed Vincent out and down the corridor to her chamber.

Once there Vincent lit the brazier while Catherine poured the tea.

Since Vincent’s last visit to the chamber, Catherine had added a small love seat. She had placed it and the chair at right angles to each other in a corner with a table between them. She’d had an antique hurricane lamp in with her things when she moved below, and it had found a home on the table between the two chairs. It threw enough light to read by and the end of the love seat had become one of the more comfortable spots in the chamber. She sat in her favorite spot on the love seat and left the chair for Vincent.

They sipped their tea as the small chamber warmed up.

"What did you want to talk about, Catherine?" he finally asked.

She took a sip of tea then smiled at him. The smile took his breath away. As soon as he’d seen her earlier he had been struck with how beautiful she looked tonight. He had seen her almost daily since his return, and she was always lovely. She wore a combination of her clothing from Above and some things from Below, whatever the temperatures had dictated, and her hair was usually pulled back in a ponytail or a single braid down her back. Tonight was the first time he’d seen her hair loose since he had returned. It was much longer than he’d ever seen it before; down to the middle of her back, and tonight it gleamed like silk; it was a struggle to keep from touching it. He had leaned close and taken in her scent a few times; it had been intoxicating.

He almost missed what she was saying when she started to speak.

"When we spoke several weeks ago, I know I said that I would feel strange, trying to pick our relationship up where we left off over five years ago; that for me, at least, trust was an issue. I have really been enjoying your company since then. I like working with you; the children seem to respond well to us as a team. But there is one thing that bothers me…"

"What is that, Catherine?"

"Other than the one hug, then when you helped me in and out of the pool chamber and tonight when you took my hand and when we danced, you’ve never touched me."

"I thought you might prefer it that way," he said. "Touching, invading another’s personal space, has a lot to do with trust, and you said that was an issue."

"I suppose that is true sometimes," she agreed, "but thinking back to when you first brought me Below, after the assault, it was your touch that was a big part of what reassured me. That and your voice. They were what kept me anchored to the real world; kept me from succumbing to hysteria several times during those first days."

"But Catherine, I distinctly remember avoiding touching you during that time," he was puzzled and sat forward in his chair.

"Directly, yes, but you touched me indirectly a lot. I think that was when I realized that touch was really important to you. I know that if you thought that you were in danger of touching my skin directly, especially after I touched your hand while you were feeding me that time, you wore your gloves, but when you had your gloves on, you didn’t seem very hesitant about patting my hand or my shoulder. When you sat on the edge of the bed to help me eat, your thigh was always against mine through the comforter. If you sat on the end of the bed while you read to me, you would rest your hand on my foot or ankle. Even through the layers of cloth and leather, whenever you touched me I would feel waves of comfort flow through me; it was almost tangible. I realize now, that it was probably the Bond and that you may have been doing it intentionally…"

"I hadn’t really figured out the Bond yet at that time," he admitted. "I knew that there was a connection, but it took being separated from you after I took you home to make me realize just how strong it was, but I was trying to comfort you, so it was somewhat intentional," he agreed.

"Well, intentional or not, I continued to feel it after you started coming to my balcony. I would have a bad day, and you would show up and all it would take was a hug from you to make it all better," she smiled shyly, and averted her eyes. "I don’t have nearly as many bad days since I came Below, but I still miss the hugs."

Vincent sat for a moment, he tested Bond for what he could feel. The feelings were turbulent and hard to decipher. He slowly put the mug he was holding down on the table and moved to sit beside Catherine on the sofa. He held out his right arm invitingly, and with a sigh she scooted over and relaxed against his chest. As she moved her arms around him he brought his left arm up and pulled her more snugly against him and rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he admitted, "I’ve missed this too."

She was totally relaxed and if it hadn’t been for the Bond, he would have thought she was asleep. They sat like that for quite some time before he finally moved.

"I’m sorry to disturb you, Catherine but the tea is cold and it is very late."

Catherine shivered with a small chill as he removed his arms and started to rise.

"It’s so quiet. I don’t think it’s been this quiet since I’ve been here." She felt around for her shoes with her feet, but couldn’t find them.

He put their cups on the tray in preparation to take them back to the kitchen. He noticed Catherine trying to find her shoes. They had been kicked under the sofa and he retrieved them then caught a foot in one hand and put her shoe on for her. As he put the other one on he succumbed to the temptation and ran the back of one hand over her instep. It sent chills from the sole of her foot all the way up to the top of her head, and she stifled a gasp.

He mentally berated himself for taking liberties and turned to pick up the tray. "I should take these back to the kitchen and wash up. William will still be up much earlier than anyone else is in the morning, and he will set out a ‘brunch buffet’ that will consist mostly of fruit, pastries, bread, cold cuts and assorted leftovers from tonight; the next hot meal will be dinner tomorrow night. I will stop to see if you are up when I go eat in the morning," he promised. He dropped a light kiss on her cheek before he turned and left the chamber.

The kiss took Catherine by surprise and she wasn’t able to squelch the feeling of pleasure that surged through her. She was still smiling ten minutes later when she crawled into bed and blew out the candle on the night stand.

She woke the next morning feeling refreshed and rested. She was surprised to hear the 9:00am time announcement on the pipes as she was gathering her things in preparation for a trip to the bathing chamber. Maybe she was lucky and hadn’t missed Vincent on his way to breakfast. She made a quick trip to the bathing chamber and was back in her chamber and just getting ready to put the elastic band around the pony tail she had pulled her hair back into when she heard Vincent quietly call her name.

"Come in Vincent. I’m almost ready."

As Vincent came in she dropped the elastic band she was going to use to put up her hair. Vincent bent to pick it up for her. "Your hair was lovely down, last night," he commented. "Why don’t you wear it like that more often?"

She took the band from him, but dropped her handful of hair and ran her fingers through it to straighten it out. "It tends to get in the way when I’m working, but I suppose I can leave it down, I won’t be dipping candles or changing diapers today."

Vincent smiled, and Catherine caught it even though he tried to hide it. "I’m surprised to find you up and dressed already. You didn’t sleep long."

"I was surprised I woke so early too." She headed out of the chamber and turned toward the dining chamber, Vincent followed. "I didn’t sleep long, but I slept like a rock, and in spite of all I ate last night, I’m hungry again."

Once in the dining chamber they greeted a few people and joined the growing line at the buffet table. They ate a few minutes in silence before they started discussing their next project.

Now that Winterfest was over the next big holiday was Christmas on Saturday, but before that, they had the play that they had been working on with the older children. Taming of the Shrew was planned for Christmas Eve at 7:00. Originally they had planned their production for the dining chamber, but as more and more Helpers heard about it and asked if they could come they knew they had outgrown the capacity of the dining chamber and had moved it to the Great Hall. Vincent was to take a crew down later that afternoon to set up a stage and the chairs and benches for the audience. Mouse had even come up with a way to provide light to the stage while leaving the audience in darkness. Vincent just hoped he wouldn’t set something on fire while doing it. While he was doing that, Catherine was supposed to get everyone into costume for a dress rehearsal then meet Vincent in the Great Hall after his work crew left.

Since there would be no place for the actors to change costumes they had decided that one costume for each actor would suffice. They would change things by adding cloaks, scarves or hats, and the actors not on stage would sit quietly along a side wall while the scenes they weren’t in were played out on the stage.

They spent the afternoon doing final fittings and alterations on the costumes, and making sure they had everything, then after dinner Catherine had the actors wait for her as she went back into the kitchen to get William to pack some dinner for Vincent. It only took a few minutes, but Catherine still had to recruit help from her troop of actors to carry the basket.

Vincent was just putting the finishing touches on the audience seating when they arrived in the Great Hall. They started their dress rehearsal while Vincent ate his dinner. It was a very ragged rehearsal, but Catherine assured everyone that theater tradition said that if the dress rehearsal went well, then the opening night of the play would go badly, so since the rehearsal was rough, she was sure that the play would be wonderful.

They sent the teens off with the food basket, while Catherine and Vincent stayed behind to extinguish the lights. "What you said about the rehearsal, you didn’t just make that up to make them feel better did you?" asked Vincent, as they went up the stairs to the door on the upper gallery.

"Of course not! That was one of the things I learned when I took drama in college. And it usually seemed work out that way. I was involved in quite a few productions in the four years I was there, and every time a dress rehearsal went well, our opening night stunk, but if our dress rehearsal didn’t go well, our opening night would be virtually flawless. I guess we would get all the bad out of our systems with a bad dress rehearsal. It is one of those theater superstitions like not wishing someone ‘good luck’ but telling them to ‘break a leg’ or never mentioning the play ‘Macbeth’ back stage," she told him as they walked along.

"You mean they never mention ‘? What if they are presenting ‘Macbeth’?" he asked.

"Oh, it’s OK to mention it on stage, during the play, whether you are doing ‘Macbeth’ or another play where it is mentioned. But if you want to refer to it back stage it is either ‘the play’ or ‘the Scottish play’, but unless they are doing the play they don’t quote any lines from it, especially the witches lines. I took one class in theater history that was a lot of fun. That was where I learned all this. If an actor speaks the name 'Macbeth' in a theater, he is required to leave the building, spin around three times, spit, curse, and then knock to be allowed back in. The professor said that there are several possible origins for this superstition. One is the assumption that the song of the Weird Sisters was an actual spell that could call evil spirits. Another is that there is more swordplay in 'Macbeth' than most other Shakespearian plays, and the more swordplay must be rehearsed and performed, the more chances there are for someone to get injured. There is also a legend that the play itself was cursed because the first time it was ever performed, the actor playing 'Macbeth' died shortly before or after the production. It is also said that the original production of the play used actual witches and witchcraft, and so the play is cursed…I’m really surprised that you never read any of this."

"I’m surprised too. I’ve heard about a lot of theater superstitions, but never that one. It will be something I can share with the actors in future productions."

As they passed the hospital chamber they met Father coming out.

"I hope no one required medical treatment," commented Vincent as they joined him.

"No, only me. I was getting some aspirin for a headache. I fear I overindulged on Williams home made ale the other night. I still have a headache."

They walked with Father back toward their chambers. They had stopped in front of Vincent’s chamber and watched as Father made his way further down the corridor to his chamber.

Catherine turned to Vincent, "I’ll see you in the morning then. Did you want to run through the play one more time?"

"No, I told them to try to relax and then to eat an early dinner and meet in the great hall no later than 6:00pm…Catherine, would you like to come in? It’s still early. I thought you could tell me some more stories about when you were in college."

Catherine hesitated for a split second. "I suppose I could." Vincent stepped back to allow her to precede him through the door. She smiled slightly when she saw the warm light glowing from the stained glass window over the bed. Much better than the time I was here looking for those notebooks, she thought as she walked across the room and sat in the smaller of the two chairs next to the table. Vincent followed her in and dropped his copy of the play on the table before he sat in his chair across the table from Catherine.

"You sound like you enjoyed your time in college," he prompted.

"Oh I did. It was my first time living away from home. I loved my father, but he was very protective. I don’t think he would have gone along with me going away to school, except that Radcliffe was my mother’s alma mater. He tried to talk me into going to a school closer to home."

"But he didn’t have much to worry about, isn’t Radcliffe an all girls school and pretty strict?"

"It was, but it went coed in 1977, two years after I started there. But for my first two years it was still all women. More than half my classes were on the Harvard Campus anyway, especially my pre-law classes. I met Jenny and Nancy at Radcliffe. Jenny was my roommate during my Freshman year and Nancy was right across the hall."

"And you’ve been good friends ever since," he mused.

"The best," she agreed. "Especially Jenny. Every woman needs a friend or two that she can laugh and cry with; who understands what makes her tick. Mine are Nancy and Jenny."

"Catherine, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, Vincent, what is it?"

"Did you ever tell either one of them about us?" he had to admit he was curious.

"Not in so many words," she admitted with a smile. "Nancy knows your name. She came and stayed with me for a few days when I finally accepted that you weren’t going to come back. I told her everything I could tell her without giving away any secrets. She gave me some good advice. She said that anything worth having is worth fighting for. Only I didn’t know how to fight."

"And you tried to come back to me, but I wouldn’t let you." Vincent leaned his head on the high back of his chair and closed his eyes. "God, I was such a fool; I’ve wasted so much time."

Catherine reached across the table and put her hand over his where it lay on the table. "We always see things much more clearly when we look back on them," she observed. "I have a little more understanding, now, of your reasons."

"Maybe you do, but I don’t think so, Catherine. I didn’t even understand them until quite some time afterward. At the time, I told myself and you that it was for your own good, and I truly believed that was the reason. But now, I realize that it was only a very small part of the reason. The bigger part was my fear. Yes, I was scared of what might happen if I allowed myself to love you; of what I might do if I let myself go in passion, but more than that, I was afraid of what might happen to me, if I did hurt you," He rolled his head on the back of the chair so he could look at her. "And I’m not even talking about major injury. I agreed with you to a point on that; I didn’t think that the Bond would allow me to do you any great harm. But I think that even a minor scratch or bite would have been just as devastating to me. Or even if I failed to give you something equal to the pleasure that I knew I would derive out of the physical act of loving you. I was so sure that anything I would do would be inadequate that rather than take that chance I pushed you away." His eyes closed again.

"I never completely discounted your fears, Vincent," she told him. "I hope you realize that. It is just that I somehow knew that with the Bond I just wouldn't be in any danger. Even if you'd done something that frightened me or was vaguely unpleasant, you would have had the feedback from the Bond and you would have known immediately. And always before, when you were lost in rage, or that drug induced confusion I was able to get through to you; when no one else could."

She was watching his face closely. His expression didn’t change, he still looked as if he was in pain.

"Vincent, you've always been able to read me like a book; I missed not having to explain my feelings. No one ever understood me like you do. I think that is why I couldn't bring myself to get involved with anyone else; I haven’t even dated anyone since I last saw you…I just couldn’t." He turned his hand turned over and met hers palm to palm and his fingers curled around hers. "I dreamed of you nearly every night," she said quietly.

They were both quiet for long minutes. Catherine quit watching him and closed her eyes and tried to relax. Just as her muscles were starting to let go, her hand was released and before she could open her eyes she felt herself pulled to her feet and into his arms.

In spite of all the things that had happened, it was still the only place she ever truly felt at home, she wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered a quick prayer of thanks.

"I was such a fool!" he repeated. "You told me that you would find it very hard to ever trust me again, but Catherine, I want you to know that no matter what happens, whether you ever trust me again or not, I love you and I will work till I draw my last breath to earn back your love and trust."

He drew back to look at her. She had buried her face in his vest and was sobbing as if her heart would break.

"Catherine, what is it?"

"You never said that before," came her muffled reply.

"What? That I want to earn your trust?"

"No," she leaned back so she could look up at him, "that you love me."

"Oh, Catherine," he groaned. "Can I start all over? I might get something right on the second try."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she observed with a sniffle.

"Since you are willing to give me a second chance there is one thing that I want to rectify as soon as I can."

At her nod, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. There was nothing tentative about it. He kissed her with passion from the first touch; as if he’d been kissing women all of his adult life. It made her knees go weak, he caught her as she wobbled and sat in his chair with her in his lap; his right hand buried in her hair and supporting her head and his left hand caressing her cheek. When he finally broke the kiss they were both gasping for air. He trailed kisses across her chin to her neck and down to her collarbone.

He started to pull away and she whimpered softly and burrowed back into his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Catherine, as much as I would like to do this a little longer, or better yet, carry it to its logical conclusion, I have to regretfully say that I think we need to go slowly. We’ve both been through a lot, you especially, and I want you to be able to think before every step." He raised her head to look at her face. "I just want you to know that I love you, and I need you in my life, and God knows I want you with me all the time, but I think we both need a little time to think about what comes next. I know I do."

Catherine could feel the truth of his words. His body was transmitting his arousal to hers in the time honored tradition, and she loved the feel of him, but he was right. They had to slow down and not let their hormones take over.

"I don’t want to say ‘good night’ right now," she admitted, "but you’re right; we need some time. Why don’t we get through the play tomorrow and then talk as soon as we can after the holiday festivities are over?"

"That’s a good plan Catherine," he stood and placed her back on her feet. "Let me walk you to your chamber."

"No," she placed her hand in the center of his chest and nudged him back toward the chair. "No, you stay here. If you walk me to my chamber, I’m liable to rethink my good intentions. It is best you stay here. I’ll see you tomorrow," she stretched up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly, grabbed her cape, then literally ran out of his chamber and down the corridor to her own.

She was breathless by the time she reached her chamber, but not from the short sprint through the corridor. He was right, she had to slow down and get out of his presence before she quit thinking and started acting. What her brain was telling her she should do, and what her heart and body wanted were two different things entirely. She changed into her nightclothes and picked up her stuff and went to the bathing chamber to wash her face and brush her teeth. She tried not to think about everything that had happened until she was safely back in her chamber and in bed with the candles out. Then she let the feelings engulf her. They left her trembling, but she kept asking herself "Do I trust him?" she could honestly answer that she did, but then that little voice in the back of her head would pipe up with "Why should I trust anyone?"

"Funny," she thought, "I trust him implicitly, but I’m still hesitant." She rolled over on her side and stared into the darkness, "I have to be sure." She groaned. "He’s finally ready and it’s me who is undecided…What a mess!"