BEYOND BEGINNINGS - BOOK I
Linda S. Barth
First Publication 1993
Revised Edition 1999Acknowledgments: Peggy Garvin – Poet and Editor
Dedication: This zine is dedicated to everyone, everywhere, who helps keep dreams alive. Our world would be a dark and empty place without you. It is also dedicated with heartfelt gratitude and affection to the members of my own "B&B family," who, each in his and her own beautiful way, truly live the dream. Thank you for helping me find my voice.
I welcome all letters of comment and will be glad to respond; my email address is LindaSCT@aol.com Take care and be well.
Chapter One
"For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins."
-Algernon Charles Swinburne
(from "Atalanta in Calydon")On winter nights darkness arrives early in New York City, sending pedestrians scurrying for shelter from freezing winds and swirling snow. This night late in January was no different from any other, and the city streets had long been abandoned by rushing commuters heading home.
For some, however, the onset of evening went unnoticed; their labor-filled daylight hours flowed without cessation into night. It had been many months since Catherine Chandler had enjoyed the luxury of a nine-to-five workday, and now the lights glowing from windows several stories above an empty street spoke of yet another long session in the District Attorney’s Office.
Grey silence had settled around Catherine so slowly that for several hours she was totally unaware of her entrapment in an environmental vacuum. Mindful only of the papers blanketing her desk, she continued to turn page after page, scan statement after statement, and make note after note. Absently she stretched the stiffened muscles of her left arm and reached for the coffee mug half-buried beneath a mound of crumpled yellow sheets torn from a legal pad. She raised the mug to her lips and swallowed deeply.
The unexpected assault of cold bitterness on her dry mouth roused Catherine from her deep concentration. She grimaced and thrust the unappealing liquid away in disgust. As she searched for a suitable resting place for the unsavory brew, she gradually became aware of the stillness that had fallen over the deserted office suite. Her co-workers had long since departed for the day, and she found herself alone. The faint buzzing of the overhead lights was the only sound she could hear, save for the loud sigh she exhaled in exhaustion.
As if suddenly noticing the attention being given it, her body cried out its needs to an overburdened mind. Just barely able to resist the powerful urge to slump onto the cluttered desk and cradle her pounding head in her arms, Catherine pulled her spine erect and stretched. Every cramped muscle in her upper body seemed to scream in protest as they were forced into renewed animation. She rotated her aching head on an uncooperative neck, as an image of wet cement heaped on a matchstick surfaced in her weary mind.
Even the garnet silk blouse and black wool suit that had seemed so fresh and crisp that morning now felt as bedraggled and worn as her spirits. Frowning, Catherine shrugged off the tight-fitting jacket and shivered slightly in the stale, cool air. Determined to bring closure to her current case, she turned back to reread her most recent notes, and her vision blurred as she tried to interpret an uncharacteristically messy scrawl. She pressed trembling fingers to her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to rub away the stinging sensation of sand lodged behind her eyelids. This time she gave in to her body’s commands and let her head sag forward to rest upon her cupped hands.
The relentless power of fatigue brought forth awareness of her most basic needs – the desire for comfort, safety, and warmth, the renewing sustenance her depleted body and mind desperately craved. For Catherine those multi-faceted needs could be expressed and answered with a single word.
"Vincent." Even murmuring his name aloud in the silent room brought comfort to her. A smile came to Catherine’s lips as she felt the glow of his presence suffuse her weary being with love and light. She knew he sensed her fatigue through the bond they shared, and that even from a distance he would do everything he could to ease the stressful demands exacted upon her by her job.
Since transferring the focus of her responsibilities to cases involving families in crisis, Catherine had come to know a greater satisfaction and fulfillment than she had ever before experienced in her professional life. However, with achievement there also came defeat, and although she fully recognized the importance of her trial and case work, there were times when she could not avoid feeling frustrated and nearly overwhelmed. She cared deeply about her clients, and in her determination to help them get the assistance they so urgently needed, their pain and desperation often became her own. Finding the right solutions for them was never simple and often proved to be impossible. Realization of that painful fact only increased the stress that threatened to devour her.
As she grumbled in agitation, she once again felt a soothing sense of love and support flowing to her through he bond. Vincent. Within a heartbeat, his essence reminded her of the rightness, the truth beyond her present distress. Her decision to alter the parameters of her job had been made not only to allow her to help many urban families in great need, but also to preserve and nurture the peace and wellbeing of her own adopted family.
More than six months had passed since she had ceased her involvement in the dangerous investigative activities that had forced Vincent to become her protector. For no matter how willingly and steadfastly he had embraced that role, it had thrust him – and his whole world – into uncompromising peril time and time again. Ultimately, Vincent’s self-imposed responsibilities to Catherine had provided Paracelsus with the inspiration the madman had needed to design the horrifying masquerade that had nearly destroyed them all. The senseless destruction inflicted by that twisted mind had condemned Vincent to long weeks of terrifying, torturous fevered dreams and his loved ones to brutal torment wrought by the uncertainty of his survival.
In the aftermath of that devastation, Catherine had taken an extended leave of absence from her job. She had joined with Father to painstakingly help restore Vincent to health, and during that time she had carefully examined the problems her professional duties had created in the world Below. After long, very painful introspection, she had taken the steps necessary to relieve the trauma she had inadvertently yet repeatedly inflicted upon the people she so deeply loved.
Immediately upon her return to work, she had spoken to Joe. In a way that left no room for negotiation, she had calmly but very firmly outlined her proposal to redirect her responsibilities from street investigation to research and courtroom appearances. At the conclusion of her presentation, there was no doubt in Joe’s mind that Catherine would resign should her request be denied; and as he did not want to lose her, he made certain that her wishes were honored without further discussion or delay.
Now with each day that passed, Catherine felt a tremendous sense of happiness and relief that her beloved Vincent could continue to share in the joy and pain, the successes and setbacks of her job without jeopardizing his life or his world. Often they would discuss the events of their day-to-day lives, and they relished the chance to commiserate over misfortunes, examine solutions to problems, and laugh together at lighter, humorous occurrences. These opportunities delighted them both, for although they did not speak of it, they knew in their hearts that such ordinary moments were helping to bring them closer to their dream.
Yet despite being committed to her clients and understanding the value of her work, Catherine knew she would change it all instantly and willingly should Vincent ever indicate his readiness to truly begin their life together. She would not abandon her endeavors, but alter them instead. Already she had half-formed ideas and plans for continuing the important work she had begun. She simply would shift her primary focus from the world Above to the world Below. She smiled as she imagined the joy that would be magnified throughout the tunnel world if she and Vincent could combine their resources and abilities to work side by side in support of the dream Father had begun so many years ago.
"It would be wonderful," she whispered. "And it will happen, I know it will. I feel it in my heart, Vincent, and I promise you that someday all our dreams will come true."
She sighed once more. Someday. For now she knew there were other demands to be addressed, other needs to be met, other problems to be solved. The sense of fatigue reclaimed her. She looked again at the muddle of paperwork on her desk, and the very sight of it renewed the pounding behind her burning eyes. She knew she would accomplish nothing of value by trying to force a concentration that was now quite beyond her grasp.
With a great deal of effort, Catherine rose to her feet. Although she swayed and felt momentarily lightheaded, she maintained her resolve to leave the demands and problems behind for what little remained of the winter evening. As she reached for her camel’s hair coat, she could not resist a childishly satisfying impulse to direct a withering glare in the direction of the messy desk, as if the inanimate object itself were responsible for her distress.
"And unless I acquire a Fairy Godmother overnight, I know it’ll all be right here waiting for me in the morning," she muttered as she waited for the elevator.
Upon reaching the nearly deserted street, Catherine managed to hail a passing cab and finally begin her journey homeward. As she rode uptown, she felt the increasingly familiar sensation of mental and physical exhaustion deepen its hold on her. Even the lumpy cushion of the cab’s worn interior felt more comfortable than the desk chair she had left behind at last. All she wanted was to go home and sink mindlessly into the hot, steamy comfort of a perfumed bath. Eyes closed, she leaned back and let her thoughts wander.
Now if I were being perfectly honest, she told herself, I’m pretty sure I could think of something that would be even more appealing than relaxing in my own bathtub. Maybe a visit to one of the bathing pools Below, one that’s fed by a hot spring, where there’s lots of privacy…but I definitely wouldn’t want to be there alone…
An accompanying image, infinitely alluring in its appeal, surfaced in her mind’s eye. The warmth it brought far surpassed any she could hope to derive from even the steamiest bath. She smiled as she felt her body start to relax, while paradoxically her heart began to race.
Suddenly a tiny tingling at the edge of her consciousness reminded Catherine of the bond and of how attuned Vincent had been to her thoughts and feelings not so very long ago. She gasped and sat upright as she tried to reach out and obtain some sense of his current state of mind. Even after nearly three years together, Catherine was not entirely certain she understood the scope of their powerful bond. She knew Vincent often received sensations of her varying emotions, although as yet she could sense only his strongest or most urgent feelings. She had no idea if he were able to perceive specific details or images from her. It was something he had never discussed with her, and somehow she had never found the courage to ask.
Her smooth forehead creased as she frowned in growing concern. Oh, no, she worried, can he be aware of what I was just thinking?
She concentrated but felt only the soothing sensation of quiet strength that she had experienced earlier. Catherine sighed in relief. In recent weeks, she had found it increasingly difficult to mask the sensations of need and desire she had always felt for Vincent. Still, she had resolved to try as best she could to follow his lead and respect his largely unspoken yet eloquently expressed feelings in this matter.
Many barriers had been overcome during the year just past. Especially in the months following Vincent’s horrifying illness, a new and natural closeness had developed between them. There had been many small signs of progress that would have been of little importance in Catherine’s previous relationships, but which had taken on tremendous significance because now they involved Vincent.
She smiled as warm and lovely images slipped through her mind: Vincent willing to enter her apartment to sit with her before the glowing fire; Vincent continuing to hold her hand when they unexpectedly encountered Father on a walk to the Mirror Pool; Vincent initiating a closer hug, a slightly less tentative caress of her hair and face. Even the slightest memory filled her with sensations of pleasure and desire.
Catherine had come to fully believe that Vincent did feel a passionate yearning for her just as deeply and fiercely as she did for him. She had thought of theories that might explain the fears that prevented Vincent from fully expressing his desires, but she had not yet discovered the key that would unlock their powerful grip. She longed to help him resolve his deep-rooted problems and find fulfillment in her very willing arms. Because she so loved him, she was extremely patient and sensitive toward his feelings, no matter how increasingly difficult and frustrating it had become of late.
But, she reassured herself, Vincent is definitely more at ease with me. It isn’t just my imagination or wishful thinking.
Catherine often wondered if Vincent were as aware as she of this change in their relationship. She thought perhaps that he, too, welcomed it, but while it had fueled her need for the further expression of their desires, it seemed to have had no great effect on his eternal reticence. Catherine longed to speak of this with Vincent, and yet she hesitated. At heart she was deeply fearful that he would withdraw from her, retreating once again to that fortress where he kept hidden all the secret desires he felt he should not possess. And should he pull away again, all their hard-won progress could be lost.
As the cab pulled up in front of her building, Catherine forcefully composed and calmed the turbulent emotions she knew might readily consume her. Her powerful fatigue had weakened her will considerably. She felt certain that Vincent continued to maintain their connection through the bond, and she had no desire to upset him unnecessarily.
Although, she mused not for the first time, perhaps a direct approach is just what we need…I just don’t know. And right now I’m too tired to think.
Emerging into the frigid night air, Catherine nearly crawled up the steps and into the waiting elevator. Moments later as she dragged herself toward her apartment door, she felt pure sensations of happiness and warmth pour over her, through her. She knew then without a doubt that Vincent was waiting for her, the pleasure of his welcome embrace only heartbeats away.
With gloved fingers gone suddenly numb, Catherine fumbled for her keys, dropping her purse and newspaper in the process. "Damn it!" she swore aloud, the words hissing through her tightly clenched teeth. With heartfelt awareness that Vincent was so near, Catherine’s deadening fatigue had been washed away on a wave of impatient, driving energy that urged her forward toward the man she loved. The rest of her body, however, was processing her heart’s directive far too slowly.
Upon retrieving her belongings, Catherine stripped off her leather gloves and reached up to jab the keys in the general direction of the top lock. At that same moment the door swung open, and she was quickly yet gently swept inside by a pair of strong, familiar arms. Her purse and crumpled "New York Times" once again found a resting place on the floor, this time inside the swiftly closed and relocked door.
Breathless with surprise and delight, Catherine gazed up at Vincent as he stood before her. Despite their progress, she could still count on the fingers of one hand the times he had been inside her apartment. And this was the first time he had used the key she had given him months earlier so that he might enter at least a part of her world as freely as she could enter his.
"Catherine, I’m sorry if I startled you." His voice was a husky whisper that warmed her to her toes. "You were so near, and I just couldn’t wait any longer." He watched her anxiously, suddenly shocked by his own actions. "I’m sorry…"
Catherine shivered with pleasure at his unexpected words. She quickly shed her coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair, freeing her arms to reach for him. Yet as she did, he took a step backward and turned slightly from her. He continued to murmur his apology, and although the words were muffled behind a concealing curtain of golden hair, Catherine’s heart heard every one. She knew the dawning realization of his impulsive act would quickly foster new fears and regrets. Without further thought, Catherine stepped forward and gently hugged him.
Perhaps, she told herself with a tentative smile, this is one of those times for the direct approach.
Seconds later as she felt his arms carefully encircle her slender body, she breathed a soft sigh of contentment and relaxed into his embrace. As she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, she slid her head forward, savoring the sensation of her silky hair catching slightly against the soft golden stubble of his chin. Snuggling into his warm strength, she let her mouth come to rest at the base of his neck.
"Don’t be sorry, Vincent," she murmured in low, breathy tones. "Don’t ever be sorry. If you hadn’t opened the door when you did, I just might have thrown myself straight through it." She felt rather than saw his relieved smile. "I’m so glad you’re here, holding me like this. It’s what I’ve longed for all day…every day."
She felt his arms tighten reflexively as the pulse in his throat throbbed against her moist lips. Smiling, she leaned back in his arms and raised her face toward his to gaze through half-closed eyes at that beautiful sight.
Vincent was enchanted by the love he saw glowing in Catherine’s eyes. It seemed to him that he looked upon a dream of love and light made real, and for one unguarded moment everything he felt for her flared to life within him. As natural as it was unexpected, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. Their kiss was sweet and gentle, its tenderness masking the passionate fire it sent blazing through them. They felt removed from all aspects of the world around them, their awareness entirely composed of the sensations aroused by their softly demanding mouths. Both knew in that first kiss there lived infinite promise.
As he raised his face from hers, Vincent drew in a deep, shaky breath, but did not pull away from their embrace. With eyes still closed, he felt Catherine’s hands slide up and across his chest and throat. Smiling, he allowed himself to delight in the sensation of her fingers stroking through his hair until they at last came to rest with a firm caress at the nape of his neck.
Every alarm in his emotional security system was blaring its warning, yet just this once Vincent chose to ignore their signals for one more moment of unequaled pleasure in Catherine’s arms. Finally, he sighed and slowly released her to step backwards, somewhat surprised that she did not resist. A sharp prickling of familiar fear surged through him.
Perhaps she does not want to prolong our embrace, he thought in panic. Perhaps she had been repulsed by my actions, or…
Immediately the feelings of elation and desire echoing through their bond told him his fears were totally unfounded. Yet he looked down at her, his eyes not quite disguising the anxiety that threatened to mar their happiness.
"Catherine, I –" he began.
But Catherine seemed not to be listening at all. There was a dreamy smile on her soft lips as she slowly drew her hands down the muscled length of his arms, her nails catching lightly in the rough, heavy beige wool of his outer sweater. Turning, she grasped his large hand as she led him into the living room. Vincent gave in to her guidance, following as if in a trance. With a firm push downward on his broad shoulders, Catherine settled him onto the nearest couch, and then bending forward so that their noses were almost touching, she gazed at him, her eyes sparkling with inner light.
"Oh, Vincent," she murmured, her sultry voice sending a prickling of quite another kind up his spine. "I’d gladly work late every night if I knew you were going to be here to welcome me home like this."
Somehow resisting the strong impulse to throw herself back into his arms, Catherine cradled his face in her hands and quickly but firmly kissed him, secretly reveling in the slight trembling she felt as her lips touched his. She straightened and turned toward the kitchen, only to freeze in her tracks. Throwing an anxious look over her shoulder, she said, "You won’t leave, will you? I’m just going to make us some tea."
Sheer astonishment lingered in Vincent’s expression. "No, Catherine," he replied in a hushed voice. "I won’t leave."
"Good!" she answered cheerfully, her broad smile further lighting her lovely face. "I’ll be right back."
Once alone in the kitchen, Catherine’s hands automatically busied themselves preparing the tea, while her mind and heart were swept up in a whirlwind of emotion. She was enchanted by Vincent’s actions, amazed and delighted by his new willingness to express his love for her in ways beyond words. She knew that later she would play the scene over and over again in her mind, reliving the joy in evoked, but for now she would be content simply to rejoice in the fact that it had happened at all.
Memories of earlier kisses flickered randomly through her mind. Furtive kisses she had covertly pressed against his heavily clad chest, discreet kisses he had nuzzled against her hair, his impulsive kiss to the palm of her injured hand with all its wondrous possibilities abruptly cut short, and the one kiss she had offered him, meant to convey both her loving gratitude and her commitment to their future. She treasured each moment, but this, this was so much more.
He kissed me, he really kissed me at last, she told herself. She sighed deeply with remembered pleasure. And if I have anything to say about it, she added with a grin, this is only the beginning!
Abruptly her thoughts took a more serious turn as she contemplated the courage it had taken him to step beyond the boundaries, to just once follow this path in the love they shared and allow it to take him past his fears. And with that realization she also knew it was entirely possible he might never be able to take that step again.
Clenching her hands together, she sighed deeply. Oh, please don’t let him sink into doubts and regrets. Not now! Not when we’ve come so far. I don’t think I could bear it if he became saddened by something so beautiful, so right. He deserves everything, everything!
She looked toward the closed kitchen door as a frown creased her forehead. She had purposely left him alone to give him time to cope with what had happened, to deal with it in his own way and at his own pace. During the time since they had first met, she had grown greatly in her understanding of Vincent’s needs, and she took pleasure and comfort in knowing there were times when she alone could provide that which was most vital to him.
Now as she gave him necessary moments of privacy, she hoped the results of his solitary contemplation would be happy memories and joyous anticipation, not destructive fears and bitter regrets. Catherine sighed once again. Whatever was happening within Vincent’s psyche would be made evident soon enough, and they would deal with it as need be. So full of excitement and elation herself, Catherine prayed that Vincent’s feelings mirrored her own.
In the quiet comfort of Catherine’s living room, Vincent had begun to regain his composure, and he was grateful for her understanding of his need to be alone. As was his custom, he focused his mind on analyzing the events that had recently and unexpectedly transpired. He felt certain that his long-held practice of reviewing and assessing major occurrences in his life would, as always, help him gain the proper perspective.
Vincent leaned his tousled head back against the softly rounded couch and closed his eyes. He fully expected to begin pondering the wonders that he had shared with Catherine, but found to his surprise that he simply could not concentrate. His usually sharp wits seemed to desert him, leaving his mind entirely content to bask in the warm glow emanating from his heart.
After a few minutes, he sat up and leaned forward to rest his forearms against the hard muscles of his thighs. Sighing, he tilted his head to one side in a characteristic gesture of contemplation. His gaze settled on the large and powerful hands that rested between his knees. These hands, he mused, these are the hands she calls hers. Dazedly, he reached toward his face, pressing the pads of his slender fingers against his lips, the lips that had so recently, so welcomely caressed Catherine’s. He could still feel the heat of her mouth against his and the sensation filled him with joy.
Once again clasping his hands before him, he stared down at them as if he half-expected to find some explanation cradled in their grasp. How had all of this happened, he wondered again. I had no idea that I would kiss her, actually kiss Catherine! How could I have done such a thing! I have no right – no right to touch her so. What must Catherine think…and yet everything I feel from her, and he admitted in astonishment, from myself tells me it was not wrong. This cannot be, it must not be, and yet…and yet.
His conscious thoughts swirled and danced, confusion, hope and fear blending in a languorous dream-like state where all beautiful things might come to be.
The faint whistling of the tea kettle alerted Vincent to Catherine’s imminent return, yet the dreams surrounding him with possibilities were so vivid, so achingly yearned for, that they would not readily retreat. Their warmth held him fast, their promise as real as the kisses they had shared.
Catherine reentered the living room balancing a china tea service on a large tray. Still willingly lost in the world his heart had revealed to him, Vincent did not sense her approach and remained still and serene where he sat, quite unaware of the image he presented to his precious Catherine.
As she looked at him, she immediately recognized his feelings and knew them to be full of miraculous joy and hope, for they were the twin of her own. Somewhere in her mind she realized that it must indeed be possible to see the depths of the soul made visible on the face of one’s beloved, and what she saw in the beauty of Vincent’s face brought tears of happiness and relief to her eyes.
The impact of her sudden and unshakable insight made her gasp for breath. It was this small sound that at last roused Vincent form his blissful reverie. He looked up at her and rose quickly to take the tray from her trembling hands and bring it to safety on the nearby table. He turned back toward Catherine, and suddenly it was all too new, too deeply stirring, and he did not know what to do or say.
With understanding born of their devotion, Catherine felt his turmoil and sent reassuring waves of love and comfort to him through the bond, touching him in a way no other gesture could. He smiled and, lowering his head shyly, took her hand as he drew her to sit beside him on the couch. For several moments they remained as they were, each content in the beauty of the other’s closeness, until at last Catherine spoke.
A gentle laugh colored her voice as she gestured toward the tea tray. "As much as I love sitting here just looking at you, I have a feeling that unless we want cold tea, we’d better concentrate on other things for a few minutes."
Feeling suddenly carefree, Vincent answered her comment with a wry smile. "I suppose you are right, Catherine," he said. "But no matter how enjoyable a cup of tea might be, surely there can be no comparison with our earlier…encounter."
At his words Catherine nearly dropped the delicate Spode teapot into her lap. Was Vincent actually being playful, almost flirting with her? She glanced sharply at him as she righted the precariously tilted teapot, and was gently amused to see a blush tinge his face. He seemed to be inordinately interested in selecting a cookie from the tray, and for several seconds he did not meet her eyes.
The incredible image he presented, at once sensual and innocent, had always held a powerful attraction for Catherine, and in the light of recent events, it readily drew her desires to the surface with a fierce demand that they be met. With a slight shake of her head, she mentally scolded herself. Go easy, Cathy! Slow down or you’ll spoil everything. And at the very least, Vincent will be sitting here drinking tea by himself while you’re rushing off for a very cold shower!
"Catherine, is everything all right?" Vincent’s voice held genuine concern that perhaps he had upset her, yet it was touched as well with lingering contentment.
Casting a sideways glance at him from under lowered lashes, she replied, "I’m fine, Vincent, just fine." She handed him his tea and then deliberately waiting until he had taken a mouthful of the hot, lemony liquid, she added, "I see you’ve found the cookies. Please do help yourself to anything you might want – anything at all…"
Vincent’s decidedly inelegant sputtering and choking prompted Catherine to ask sweetly, "Are you all right? Did something go down the wrong way?"
Noting the overly innocent, wide-eyed expression on her face, Vincent warily echoed her earlier words to him. "I’m fine, Catherine, just fine."
Although Vincent, as much as Catherine, was thoroughly enjoying the playfulness their times together all too rarely held, he realized that very soon he would find himself in the position of rank amateur engaged in a match with a seasoned professional. As pleasurable as that might be, he concluded that it was a wise man who knew his limitations, and he steered their conversation toward what he hoped were less potentially risky matters.
Setting down his cup, Vincent slowly turned toward Catherine. Her hand rested on the ivory cushion between them and he gently covered it with his own.
"Catherine, when you were at work tonight, I sensed in you such great fatigue. There’s nothing more, is there? You are not ill?"
"No, I’m okay, just tired I guess. Joe’s been great about not reneging on my reassignment, so I’ve been trying as hard as I can to keep up with all the paperwork. There’s just so much of it, on top of the interviews, the case studies, not to mention all the time that gets wasted sitting around during delays in court. I suppose it all gets to me after a while."
Vincent nodded in understanding. "I know there is a strong need in you to do your best for the people you help. You are not capable of offering anything less."
She smiled at him gratefully, if a bit self-consciously, and waited for him to continue.
"But despite the importance of your work, and despite your own drive, your integrity, you must not push yourself so hard. I know you, Catherine. You will continue until you become so exhausted that you’ll be unable to do this vital work at all. But far more important than that, you could become ill, perhaps seriously ill."
He hesitated, torn between his great desire to protect the woman he so loved and his vow to never control the direction of her life. For a few brief seconds, fragments of painful memories slashed at them through their bond, reminding them of the torment they had endured in love’s name.
"Please, Catherine," he continued. "Promise me that you will think about this. You must take care…I could not bear to lose you."
Catherine looked into his worried eyes, her tender smile at once conveying her understanding and reassurance, and she felt the pain in his heart slowly begin to recede. With the fingers of her free hand she gently stroked the length of the amber-furred hand holding hers.
"Vincent," she began, "it’s your concern for me, your love, that will always keep my world in balance. Never again will I allow my job, no matter how important, to cause you such worry and pain. You must believe that!"
Her gentle smile grew as she watched his face lighten with renewed hope. All at once she was fully aware of just how greatly he trusted her, and that knowledge touched her to the depths of her soul. "Oh, Vincent –" Catherine’s voice broke, and she took a deep, shuddering breath before going on. "Youare the most important part of my life. Without you nothing else matters. I promise you that I will be more careful, and I will take better care of myself."
Strong sensations of faith and love caressed their hearts through the bond and helped restore their earlier feelings of pleasure and comfort. This welcome resurgence prompted Catherine to squeeze Vincent’s hand warmly as she added, "After all, now that you’ve finally started using that key to the French doors that I gave you, I don’t want to be so tired that I can’t enjoy future homecomings!"
"Well, you did say the key was for emergencies and special occasions, Catherine," he replied, gently squeezing her hand in return.
She sniffed loudly in mock annoyance. "I only said that to get you to take the key at all."
Catherine was pleased and gratified that Vincent had not averted his eyes or turned away, as he had so many times in the past when their conversation had taken on a similar focus. This knowledge gave her the courage to continue.
"If there’s anything you want, anything I can do to make you happy, Vincent, then you must know it’s what I want, too." She paused to take a deep breath. "I know you understand how important it is for me to offer my help to others when I can, but that doesn’t mean it has to be within my present capacity at the D.A.’s Office. I have other ideas."
Suddenly she stopped, unsure if it would be wise to go on. So much had happened to them in such a short period of time, and Vincent’s past reaction to feeling emotionally overwhelmed had been to retreat far beyond her reach. There was a silence between them, and the bond began to flutter with tension. But Vincent still held her hand in his, and after a few moments he bade her continue.
"Tell me, Catherine. What are these ideas you wish to share with me?" The tenor of his voice was calm but full of caution.
She hesitated. "I do want to share my thoughts with you, but not tonight." She shook her head and smiled, deciding to opt for lightness. She would do nothing that might harm the joy they had shared. "I’m so tired, I don’t think I can get mentally organized enough to put even a few coherent sentences together, especially on a topic as serious as this one. Another time, all right?"
"Of course, Catherine. When the time is right, we’ll know it." The message in his reply was understood and appreciated by both, and with it vanished the shadow that had begun to drift over them.
Catherine returned her empty cup to the tea tray and leaned back into the soft comfort of the couch. Shivering slightly, she crossed her arms over her chest in an unconscious effort to keep warm. It was a reaction not lost on Vincent, and his first impulse was to hold her to the warmth of his own body, cuddling away any coldness that would dare touch her. And yet he hesitated, for within his deep contentment in her closeness, he felt the inner stirrings that spoke of a different kind of warmth altogether, one that he recognized with fear. One he dared not share with Catherine.
Vincent’s lifelong suppression of his physical desires had produced in him an automatic reaction to any situation that might cause such yearnings to surface. This profound sense of control, deeply ingrained over the years, had stood him in good stead until the night he’d found Catherine. Since then it was as if something else entirely could manifest its control over him, and although it was an almost constant struggle for him to deny his desire for her, he had always succeeded, one way or another. Now, tonight, he was not so certain success was within his reach.
As Vincent wrestled with his well-intentioned but totally misguided inhibitions, Catherine closed her eyes and continued to maintain an air of calmness. Yet within she could feel a turmoil she knew was not her own. Although the sudden onslaught of emotions at first confused and disoriented her, she soon understood that she was experiencing a sharing of Vincent’s feelings, a phenomenon that had occurred only at rare and critical times in the past.
The bond, she realized. Tonight I’ve been sensing Vincent’s emotions just as he has been able to sense mine!
Her mind reeled with the impact of such intimate awareness. Is this what it has been like for Vincent, she wondered dazedly. How has he been able to deal with such a force for so long? And why has it happened now? Is it because he has begun to free his emotions, to express his love for me as he did tonight?
Remaining motionless, Catherine concentrated on Vincent’s feelings in an attempt to identify the swirling emotions and determine their origin. Moments passed, but she could discern nothing specific, experiencing only a clouded reflection of his inner conflict.
Vincent stood abruptly and paced rapidly to the glass doors leading to the balcony. Catherine caught her breath in fear that he would leave without a word, yet she waited in silence. She watched him as he stood staring out into the dark night, the muscles of his broad shoulders and back heaving with his labored breathing. She did not know how to ease his distress and feared that now any action she might take would only make things worse.
Slowly, gradually, his breathing became more even, and as it did, the powerful emotions coursing through their bond also calmed and ebbed. Cautiously, Catherine approached and tentatively reached out to lay her hand on his arm.
"Vincent, what is it? Are you all right?" Her voice was low and full of concern.
He continued to stare out into the darkness. "It’s nothing, Catherine," he whispered. "Do not worry about me."
"I do worry about you. I love you. And the things you’re feeling –" With effort Catherine paused. She knew instinctively this was not the time to reveal her discovery about the capacity of their bond, and she quickly tried to block her reactions to it. Without warning, he swung around toward her, and she knew she had not been quick enough.
"Catherine?" The tone of his voice revealed everything, and when she remained silent, he went on. "Something has disturbed you, disturbed you very much, even more so than my actions. What is it? Will you tell me?"
In the span of seconds, she justified her response, knowing it would not be a lie, but rather a withholding of the complete truth. And she knew she did it for him.
"No, you’re wrong. It was your actions that scared me!" She made no attempt to hide the fear pouring from her heart. "What happened? You seemed so happy, and then suddenly – I don’t know – I thought you might just leave, and – oh, Vincent, you don’t regret what we’ve shared, do you? Everything about tonight has brought us closer. Please tell me you’re as happy about it as I am!"
"Catherine, Catherine," he whispered as he gathered her into his cherished embrace. "How could I ever regret such beauty, such joy? You must never doubt that you have made me happier than I have ever dreamed possible…you always have."
"And I always will, if you’ll let me," she promised him. "Always, Vincent." Nestling comfortably against his chest, she waited for him to continue.
"I owe you an explanation for my actions just now," he told her, his voice low but steady. "All at once I was overcome with my feelings about tonight, about being here in your home, waiting for you…kissing you. Know that it is what I’ve longed for, but suddenly it was overwhelming and I was confused and afraid. But, Catherine, never for an instant did I regret any of it. It is a memory I will cherish forever…And now, I think it’s best that I leave."
She knew he was right, but that knowledge did not make the parting easier for either to bear. Sighing, she stepped back from their embrace, making the move that would sacrifice their closeness so that he would not be forced to do so. Her arms felt brutally empty, and all at once she found her earlier fatigue returning, triggered by the sadness his leaving would bring.
Immediately aware of her reaction, Vincent searched for a way to ease the pain they both felt, the pain he fully understood was an outgrowth of his self-limiting fears. He knew he could not stay, but he could leave her – and himself – with hope.
"Catherine, Friday is only two days away. Will you be working over the weekend?" he asked, an enigmatic smile slowly curving his unique mouth as a wonderful, enticing idea began to take shape in his mind. He knew he must tell her quickly before he lost his courage altogether.
"There’s always work to do," she answered wearily. "But why do you ask?" Her voice lightened as she became aware of his growing excitement. "Do you have something better in mind, I hope?"
"Yes, I believe I do," he replied, his voice more rapid than usual. "Earlier tonight while I was waiting for you to come home, it seemed I could sense you so clearly through the connection that we share, and I thought you were dreaming of a place where you could rest and relax, somewhere warm and soothing. Were you thinking of such a place?"
The tempting visions that had arisen in her imagination during the cab ride immediately flashed into her mind, bringing a swift recurrence of the arousal that had accompanied them. In unconscious imitation of Vincent’s habit, she tipped her head downward, seeming to study the setting of her amethyst ring, as she tried to compose a suitable reply.
Although her gleaming hair covered the rosy blush of her cheeks, Vincent was well aware of Catherine’s response and it both scared and delighted him to know he could affect her so. On impulse he reached out and with the slightest pressure of his fingertips beneath her chin, he raised her face toward his. Lightly trailing his fingers upward along the curve of her jaw, he tucked the silky fall of hair behind her ear and gazed thoughtfully into her smoky green eyes.
"Catherine," he prompted teasingly, as he slowly dropped his hand to his side. "Were you thinking of such a place?"
There was a long pause as Catherine almost had to remind herself to breathe. "Yes, I think I was," she finally answered tremulously. "But it wasn’t very interesting," she added as a precaution. "Just a hot bath and a long nap. That’s all." Suddenly more than a bit suspicious, she looked at him appraisingly. "Why?"
Nearly losing his nerve as the abrupt question hit the mark, Vincent took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. He knew there was too much at stake to quit now.
"I thought perhaps if you were not too busy, that is, if you do not have too much work to do, you might like to come Below for the weekend. You could see your friends – everyone always welcomes your visits. Perhaps you could read the children a bedtime story. You know how they love you. And they will want to tell you of their plans for a Valentine’s Day celebration. Or you might play chess with Father, whatever you’d like to do. We could go for a walk to the Chamber of the Falls and read together. We haven’t had time to do that lately and –"
Catherine’s trill of laughter made him pause. "What is it, Catherine? Have I said something funny?" Her unexpected response confused him and threatened to undermine his newfound daring.
"Oh, no, Vincent," she reassured him warmly. "It’s just that you needn’t try so hard to convince me. It all sounds wonderful, and, yes, I’d love to come Below for two whole days." Her smile brightened as he relaxed, and she found she could not resist adding, "But what does all this have to do with my getting some rest, especially the part about the warm, soothing place?"
Now it was Vincent’s turn to look abashed, but he went on steadfastly. "That daydream of yours, I couldn’t see it clearly, but that’s what gave me the idea. I thought if you would like, you could bathe in one of the hot pools Below. They’re fed by mineral springs and can be extremely refreshing. Perhaps it’s just what you need."
"Well, maybe not just what I need," she murmured.
"What was that?" he questioned, the twinkling light in his blue eyes proving he had heard every word.
"Oh, nothing at all. Just thinking out loud," she replied casually. "It sounds like a great idea! I can’t wait to try it – and I only wish I could leave with you right now. But are you sure a weekend visit will be acceptable to everyone else?"
"You mean acceptable to Father, don’t you?" Vincent answered. "I’m sure he will be happy to see you. He’s changed, Catherine, surely you know that." He watched carefully as she nodded slowly. "I’m not denying the misgivings he has had about us in the past, but since that time – my illness – he has put all doubts behind him."
"Are you certain? It’s what I want to believe, but…"
"I’m as certain as is possible. But even if I’m wrong, ultimately all that really matters is how you and I feel about each other. Of course, there will always be a place in our lives for the others we care about, but not to the extent where someone can try to diminish what we have. We will never let that happen."
Catherine gazed up at him, her eyes soft with tears and love. She had no words and understood that none were needed, not when Vincent knew her heart.
"When will you come Below, Catherine? Friday evening?" His painstaking attempts to hide his eagerness were not successful in the least.
"Yes, but it will be late, after ten o’clock. I have a dinner meeting that I promised Joe I’d attend, and I can’t back out of it, as much as I’d like to now! And then I’ll have to pack a few things. Will you be able to meet me in the sub-basement?"
"I will be there at ten," he promised, as with a final lingering look, he turned to reach for his cloak and pull open the glass doors. He knew if he touched her again, he could never leave, although his heart in helpless longing willed him to do just that.
The winter’s night caught at his cloak as he swirled it around himself and stepped out into the shadows.
"Until then, Catherine, be well."
In a heartbeat he was gone, merging with the cold velvet darkness, leaving her with all his words of promise resonating in her heart.
Our First Kiss
Peggy Garvin
The lovelight glowing in her eyes
Revealed the dream to me,
A dream of love and light made real
As we wished it could be.
And slowly as my lips met hers,
The gentle sweetness masked
The fires of passion deep within
The questions left unasked.
He’s shaken to his very core
And yet he does not flee.
My hands are gliding through his hair,
He’s not resisting me.
A sigh, a step – the moment’s gone,
His fears begin to rise,
Until he sees my dreamy smile,
The lovelight in my eyes.
It’s what I’ve wished for oh so long,
Your loving lips on mine.
Our first kiss is a promise of
The most important kind.
Your willingness to open up,
To drop your stern reserve,
A chance for us to grow into
The life we both deserve.