I can’t believe it’s finally Friday night, Catherine told herself with great relief. I’ve never seen two days go by so slowly. Only a few more hours to get through this meeting, and then a whole weekend with Vincent.

Her generous mouth curved into a wide grin as wonderfully inviting images cascaded through her mind. She turned to reach for her coat, and as she did, she heard an alarmingly familiar sound behind her. It was the thud of file folders landing in the center of her recently cleared desk, and she spun back around already knowing what she would find.

"Don’t do it, Joe," she growled through tightly clenched teeth. "I mean it. You pick them up again this instant or – or – I swear to you I won’t be responsible for my actions!"

"Aw, ease up, Radcliffe," he answered with his easy grin. "These aren’t for tonight. Hey, even I know it’s Friday night and you’ve probably got a hot date. These are just a headstart on Monday morning’s docket."

Catherine relaxed and cautiously returned his smile. "Well, I suppose that’s better. But you can forget about the so-called hot date. Don’t you remember you conned me into going to that meeting for you tonight?"

"Oh, geez, Cathy, I’m sorry. I meant to tell you this afternoon, and then with all that uproar over the Melendez case getting thrown out of court, I guess it just slipped my mind. The meeting was cancelled, well, postponed anyway until the 29^th."

Joe watched as his associate’s face lit up like a thousand brilliant stars on a summer night. He smiled with satisfaction. "Can I assume you consider this good news?"

"The best! It’s so good that I think I can forgive you for the mess you just made of my desk." Catherine reached for her purse and briefcase. "And you know what?" she continued as she turned and dropped the briefcase back to its resting-place behind her desk. "I plan to celebrate by not even thinking about this place for the next forty-eight hours!"

"Boy, it doesn’t take much, does it, Radcliffe?" Joe asked with an amused chuckle. "Remind me of this next time you ask for a favor, will you?"

"Good night, Joe," she called out in a light, cheerful voice as she nearly ran from the office. In minutes she was on the street and in a cab on her way home. Soon, I’ll be with him soon, she told herself over and over. Her longing for Vincent had become so great that even the idea of having a few unexpected hours together was a gift beyond measure. She sighed happily, her face alight with growing excitement. Soon.

////////////////////

Less than an hour later, Catherine locked her apartment door behind her and dragged the last of several overstuffed shopping bags toward the waiting elevator.

"That’s the last one, Brian," she said somewhat breathlessly. "Wow, am I glad you were home when I called. I don’t think I could have managed without you."

"Oh, it’s no problem, Miss Chandler," the teenager replied, blushing in response to the praise. "You know I never mind helping out."

As the elevator began its descent to the lower basement level of their building, the two friends smiled at each other, satisfied with their accomplishment. "Will you be able to come Below for a visit soon?" Catherine asked. "I’m sure everyone would love to see you again, especially Mouse."

"Yeah, I’d really like that. I haven’t been down since Winterfest. But with exams coming up I haven’t had much free time. Maybe in a couple of weeks or so."

"Sounds good," Catherine agreed as they slid aside the crates and cartons concealing the entrance to the underground world. "Here, let me go first and then you lower the bags down to me one by one, okay?"

"Sure, Miss Chandler," he replied, turning to reach for the first of the bags.

"And stop calling me Miss Chandler," came Catherine’s voice from several feet below him. "Just Catherine will be fine."

"Okay, sorry, Miss – Catherine," Brian answered, blushing once again as he stretched to pass the first bag to her where she balanced carefully on a rung near the bottom of the ladder. He waited until she had climbed down, deposited it on the floor, and returned to her post before lowering a second bag.

In minutes everything was safely Below except for Catherine’s small suitcase. She watched as Brian nimbly brought it down to her.

"How are you going to get all this stuff down to the chambers?" he asked, glancing around the deserted area. "I thought maybe Vincent would be waiting for you."

Catherine smiled. "He doesn’t know I’m here yet. He wasn’t expecting me until much later, so this is sort of a surprise."

"But how about that connection thing you two have? Wouldn’t he just know somehow?"

Catherine shook her head. "It’s hard to explain, but sometimes if I really work at it, I can block the connection for a while. It’s the only way I can ever surprise him! What I’m planning to do is just leave all the bags here until I get down to the inhabited chambers, and then I’ll see if some of the older children will come back and get them."

"All right, then I’d better be getting back. I’m supposed to be having dinner with my dad right about now, and I shouldn’t be any later."

"I’m so glad things are better now between the two of you," Catherine told him. "And thanks again, Brian, for all your help. This was great."

"Like I said…Catherine, any time. Tell everybody I said hello, okay?"

"I will," she promised as she watched him disappear through the hidden doorway and heard the scraping sound of boxes as he carefully arranged them back into place.

With a final check to make sure everything had been brought down, Catherine reached for her suitcase and shoulder bag, and with a look of anticipation lighting her face, she turned in the direction of the tunnel that would lead her to Vincent. As she walked, she continued to shield her feelings from his as best she could. Yet no amount of effort could keep her mind and heart from filling with delightful memories of their last meeting.

Catherine had found herself reliving those hours over and over, never ceasing to be amazed and elated by them. She couldn’t suppress a small, secret smile as she wondered what their coming days together might bring. And although she fully realized that Vincent’s feelings were sure to be a mixture of happiness and apprehension, she placed all her trust in the strength of their love, believing that together they would continue to banish all the doubts and fears that threatened their dream.

So immersed was she in her captivating thoughts, she did not realize her hold on blocking their bond had gradually weakened until it was totally ineffective. As she neared the home tunnels, she increased her pace. Hurrying, she rounded a corner only to run straight toward the embodiment of her lovely dreams as he stood waiting for her.

"Vincent!" she cried in surprise. "What are you doing here? I mean, how did you know I’d be here?"

Dropping her suitcase to the dusty floor, she rushed into his outstretched arms and buried her head against his chest. As he pulled her tightly to him, she felt him shake with silent laughter.

"What’s so funny?" she demanded, leaning back slightly to look up into his smiling face. "Here I was trying to surprise you – for once – with a dramatic entrance, and you’re laughing at me."

"I’m sorry, Catherine," he answered, traces of amusement lingering in his husky voice. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts. I realize that it’s not easy for you to block our bond as you must have done."

"No, it isn’t," she told him as he turned to pick up her fallen belongings. "But if I was successful at it, then how did you know I was already here? I know you weren’t expecting me for three more hours."

When he looked back at her quizzical expression, his eyes were full of suppressed mirth. "The sentries, Catherine," he replied with a gesture toward the surrounding rock walls.

In seconds Catherine’s look of chagrin had dissolved in laughter. "Then I suppose they also told you there are several bags waiting near the basement ladder and that I’ll need help getting them down to the main chambers?"

"Yes," Vincent admitted as they began walking in that direction. "And by the way, how is Brian?"

Shooting him an exasperated look from beneath her tousled bangs, she answered, "He’s fine and he hopes to come for a visit in a week or two. He’s very fond of all of you."

"As we are of him. He’s proven to be a trustworthy young man."

Vincent paused at the entrance to a series of large chambers that made up the living quarters shared by several of the children. "Let me see who I can find to go and retrieve the rest of your luggage. How many children do you think will be needed?"

Catherine looked up at him with a teasing smile. "Not luggage – shopping bags – and there are seven or eight of them. So does this mean your reporting system isn’t infallible, or did you just assume I couldn’t last two whole days Below without bringing half my wardrobe with me?"

Vincent turned quickly toward her with a stricken look. "Catherine, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings like that. I’m sorry!" He searched her face, trying to gauge her response to his apology.

Immediately contrite, Catherine reached for his free hand and raised it to her lips, brushing a quick, impulsive kiss across the amber-furred skin. The sensation sent a burst of wild light through them and it was several moments before either drew breath to speak.

"Vincent, of course I knew you were only teasing me," she reassured him. "And I loved it. I’m just sorry you misunderstood me, too."

As he twined his fingers with hers, he drew a step closer and looked down at her. "With all that we have faced in our time together, there has been little room for moments such as these. We are a part of one another and yet it seems there’s still so much for us to learn."

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, Catherine smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Then we’ll just have to put more effort into it, won’t we?"

Vincent caught his breath as his gaze dropped to her soft lips, and before he could warn himself not to, he began to lower his mouth toward hers. Tightening her grip on his hand, Catherine raised up on her toes to meet him, anxious not to let another second pass without his kiss.

"Hey, Vincent, Catherine, what are you doing here!" Eric’s cheerful yell immediately drove them apart as the young boy skidded to a stop behind Vincent. "Hey, guys," he called loudly as he turned back toward the chamber entrance. "Look! They are here! Told you I heard Vincent’s voice!"

As the lively, chattering brood surrounded them, Vincent and Catherine exchanged rueful smiles before turning their attention to their young friends.

"Catherine, are you staying Below for a few days?" Geoffrey asked, pointing at the suitcase Vincent still held. "That’d be neat!"

"Yes, I am. I’ll be here until Sunday night," Catherine answered happily.

"Will you read to us?" five-year-old Danny asked. "Tonight?"

"Well, not tonight," Catherine replied as she fondly ruffled his glossy black hair. "But definitely sometime over the weekend, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed, easily trusting her. "And can I pick out the book?"

"I think that will be all right," Vincent told him. "But right now we need some volunteers to go to the threshold in Catherine’s basement and bring back several large shopping bags. Would any of you like to help?"

The chorus of "Me, Vincent, me!" was deafening. Vincent smiled at them. "Thank you. We appreciate your help. Now Catherine has told me there are seven or eight bags altogether, so you’ll need to bring some of the other children with you. Can you go and find Kipper and Zach, and then go on to the girls’ chamber and see if Samantha and Meggie will help you, too?"

"Sure, no problem, Vincent. We can do that," Eric assured him. "Come on, guys!"

"Eric," Catherine called as the children ran down the winding corridor. "Bring everything to the kitchen chamber, will you?"

"Sure! See you later!"

Alone once more, Vincent and Catherine waked the short distance to Father’s chamber. "They’re such sweet children," Catherine commented appreciatively.

"Yes," Vincent agreed. "Most of the time. But remind me to tell you about Kipper’s skateboard ramp in the Chamber of the Winds."

"His what?" Catherine laughed as they entered Father’s chamber.

Vincent’s response was cut short as Father looked up to seem them descending the stairs toward him. "Catherine, welcome! How nice it is to see you after all this time."

Catherine’s heart lifted at the older man’s greeting. "Hello, Father," she answered as she gave him a quick spontaneous hug. "I’m so happy to have this weekend off. It seems like ages since I’ve been here."

"Well, we’re very pleased to have you with us, my dear. Come sit down. Vincent, go and put Catherine’s things in the guest chamber and then we can all have a nice long chat."

"Certainly, Father," Vincent replied, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

The three spent a pleasant half-hour in quiet conversation, disrupted only by the noisy return of Kipper and Eric.

"We did it, Catherine! All the bags are in the kitchen. William wants to know what he should do with them. Want us to go tell him?"

"No, that’s all right. I can do that much," Catherine told them. "But it was wonderful of you to help. Will you tell the others that I said thank you, too?"

"Sure. We’ll do it right now. Good night!" In a flash, they were gone again, their voices echoing down the stony corridor.

Catherine laughed as she turned back to Vincent and Father. "I’m not sure I ever had that much energy. Where does it come from?"

"I think that’s one of the childhood secrets we lose as we grow older," Vincent answered. "Would you like me to go the kitchen chamber with you?"

As Catherine nodded, Father asked, "What bags are the children talking about, Catherine? Is it something I should be aware of?"

"Well, they’re really just a hostess – or I guess I should say host – gift that I brought since I’m to be your guest for the weekend. I can go along and help William put things away. I don’t want to disturb you."

"Nonsense, my dear. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t show my appreciation properly?" he replied genially as he rose to his feet and reached for his ever-present cane. "Come now. Let’s see what surprises you have in store for us tonight."

Catherine often brought little gifts Below – a treat for the children, a medical journal for Father, a missing part Mouse had been unable to "find" for his latest invention. Knowing Father expected to find two or three small parcels at the most, she nervously hoped her gifts wouldn’t prove to be a bit too surprising.

Noting the look of concern that crossed Catherine’s face, Vincent took her hand as they followed Father down the hallway. "Is everything all right?" he whispered.

"I certainly hope so," she whispered back, clutching his hand tightly.

Moments later the three entered the vast kitchen chamber to find William surrounded by boxes, sacks, and cans of many different sizes and shapes. "Catherine!" his voice boomed out from amidst the bountiful array. "Hey, girl, you must think it’s Christmas all over again!"

Catherine gratefully returned his gleeful smile, but at the sound of Father’s voice, she tightened her hold on Vincent’s hand.

"Catherine?" the older man asked wonderingly as he gestured toward the supplies stacked before him. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Taking a deep breath, she began carefully. "It’s nothing, Father. Just a gift, like I told you."

"But, Catherine, so much! You needn’t have done all this. Why, when the boys said they’d brought the bags to the kitchen, I assumed they meant a few small parcels. But this – I don’t know what to say."

"Then why not just say thank you, Father," Vincent said quietly. "I’m sure we all appreciate Catherine’s generosity and thoughtfulness."

"Boy, do we!" William added. "Just look at all this stuff – walnuts, canned hams, blocks of cheese, powdered milk, raisins, chocolate chips, oatmeal –"

Wincing slightly as Father’s eyes widened even more in response to the enthusiastic inventory, Catherine quickly interrupted. "I tried to select things that would store easily and last for a while. And, anyway, you all know I’m not much of a cook. I guess I didn’t know when to stop!"

"Well, thank you, my dear," Father said, slowly regaining his composure. "I’m quite sure everything will be put to good use. But –"

"Yes," Vincent broke in, anxious to forestall any further expression of his parent’s misgivings. "William, would you like some help putting things away?"

"Nah, you two go enjoy yourselves. This isn’t work to me. And it won’t be hard finding a place for everything, what with all these empty shelves just waiting to be filled."

At that comment, Catherine shot a quick glance in Father’s direction and noticed his eyes narrow suspiciously, a look that was not lost on William or Vincent.

"And besides," the burly cook continued with a laugh. "I bet Father here would be glad to keep me company for a while, maybe even pitch in with a bag or two!"

Taking advantage of the diversion, Vincent pulled Catherine in the direction of the doorway and the two made their escape. Moments later they found themselves at the entrance to the guest chamber that Catherine would use for the weekend.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

"Peter called me last night after the Council meeting. He knew how serious it was when Father asked him to join your group to discuss the problem. I wanted to do more, but I didn’t think I could go any further without arousing even more suspicion. And I didn’t want to upset Father. I know how he feels about what he considers interference from Above."

Vincent sighed. "You’re right about Father. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate what you have done. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for him to ask for help. To him it’s as if he’s forced to admit defeat."

"But, Vincent, isn’t one of the tenets of the whole community to be willing to give and accept help?"

"Yes, it is, but…" He hesitated, searching for the words that would be truthful and yet kind.

"But not from me, is that it?" she asked, her voice subdued and saddened.

"No, Catherine, no," Vincent rasped, desperate to shield her from hurt.

"It’s all right," she answered, shaking her head slowly. "I know. I can be a Helper and I can be a friend, but that’s all I can be, isn’t it?"

"Not to me," he whispered, drawing her into his warm embrace. "You are everything to me."

She felt tears fill her eyes as she clung to him. "As you are to me."

Moments later she looked up at him. "I know it’s not very late, but maybe we should get some sleep. I want to have enough energy to enjoy all the wonderful things I’m sure you’ve got planned!"

Vincent felt his whole body relax, grateful that the tense moment had not spoiled their time together. "Yes, I do have some ideas and I’ll tell you about them in the morning…but, Catherine, if you’re not too tired, I believe I made a promise to you. A promise I’d like to keep."

"What promise?" she asked with a puzzled look.

Slightly embarrassed at his forwardness, he steeled himself to continue what he had begun. "Do you remember your wish a few nights ago, to find a warm, soothing place where you could rest?"

"Yes! And you suggested I visit one of the hot pools Below. Oh, I’d love to, Vincent. Do you mean right now?"

"Yes, if you would like. It’s late enough that you will have privacy. I doubt very much that anyone will be using the smaller pools not far from here. If you get your things, I will take you there now," he finished almost shyly.

"Great!" she replied as she bounded into the guest chamber while he waited in the doorway. "But what do I need? I see towels and I have my robe and slippers. But what do people wear there – do I need a bathing suit? I didn’t bring one."

Vincent felt his face redden as a slow-moving heat suffused his body. "No, Catherine," he replied, his voice somewhat huskier than usual. "In the private pools that is not the custom. You’ll be fine just as you are."

A delicious shiver caressed her as she heard the passion he felt he must keep hidden. Not wishing to cause him further distress, she called out, "Then I’m all set!" and joined him in the corridor. Yet as they walked the short distance to the pool Vincent had described, she found she could not resist a playful but nonetheless hopeful question.

"I don’t suppose you’ll be joining me, will you?"

She couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim light, but she heard the sharp intake of his breath as he ushered her into the small, secluded chamber. "No, Catherine…but I will be nearby should you need anything."

Catherine looked around the room in delight. It was evident that the little chamber had been carved by hand, designed to take advantage of the naturally occurring hot springs. The subdued candlelight filled the mist with a soft golden glow, and the warm air held a subtle, appealing scent of minerals and earth.

"Vincent, this is lovely!" she cried as she turned toward him. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"I’m glad you like it," he replied softly. "The pool is shallow, only about eighteen inches deep, so it is quite safe. An entrance to my chamber is only around the next curve in the tunnel, so I will hear you if you call out."

"I’m sure I’ll be fine," she answered gently. "I won’t stay long. And I’ll stop in to stay good night when I’m through."

"As you wish," he replied, avoiding her eyes as he turned and left the chamber.

Sighing wistfully as she listened to his receding footsteps, Catherine quickly shed her clothing and stepped down into the warm water. She gasped as the slight movement created silken ripples against her skin, and she leaned back to rest her head against the rounded rock wall. Within seconds she felt her tired muscles begin to relax and the tension ease itself from her exhausted spirit.

"Oh, this is wonderful," she murmured aloud as she trailed one hand through the soothing water. "I only wish…"

Stop it, she scolded herself. You’re here with him, staying Below for the whole weekend. Don’t wish for things you can’t have.

"Yet," she whispered as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream.

Not far from Catherine’s serene haven, Vincent struggled to retain his own peace of mind. He withdrew deliberately from their connection, not enough to alarm Catherine should she sense the change, but only to the extent where he could shield himself from her dreams and desires. He wondered sadly if the time would ever come when he wouldn’t feel the need for such defense.

And who am I protecting, he mused bitterly, Catherine or myself?

Perhaps Father was right, his somber thoughts continued. Catherine has been Below for only a few hours, and already there is uneasiness between us. And it is all my fault…my fault.

The words underscored his tense gait as he paced the length of his chamber. Unbidden images of Catherine rose in his mind. So clearly could he see her, it was as if he had entered the steamy chamber to join her as she bathed in the heated water, her head thrown back to rest against the curved wall, her glossy hair floating around her shoulders, her glowing skin flushed and rosy and only inches from his touch…

"No!" The rough whisper echoed through the chamber as Vincent slammed one clenched fist against his writing desk’s scarred surface. "No," he repeated harshly. "I will not do this. I will not let my dreams destroy our time together."

Desperate to find something to distract himself, Vincent reached for his journal, trusting he would find familiar comfort in the pages that received and guarded his most secret thoughts. Yet several minutes passed as he sat before it, the only words newly inscribed, The life that can never be.

Suddenly his declaration to Father came back to him in painful clarity, driving the words from his aching heart to race across the stark white pages.

This confusion is destroying me and threatens to ruin everything Catherine and I have together. I told her that one either moves toward love or away from it, that there is no other direction. And yet over and over I make a mockery of my own words.

Catherine waits for me to move toward love, toward her. She knows that I love her, yet what must it do to her when I continue to take one step forward, only to turn and run from her, or even worse, to go on as if nothing had happened. The pain I inflict on both of us is terrible and cruel. How can I do this to her? How?

The light of Catherine’s love has opened up worlds I’d never hoped to know. And yet I push away that which I want most. She told me not to be afraid to want, even if it was only for myself. But I am afraid. Not to want her love for myself, it is too late for that, but to want my love for her. I cherish every moment that we have together, but I know those moments are ones I have stolen from the life she is meant to have. Catherine loves me unconditionally. Am I so selfish that I cannot let her go, help her to return and find happiness in her own world?

This is what I must do. These two days together will be beautiful memories to keep forever. But it will not happen again. It must not.

As Vincent read over his mournful words, he reflected on their dark contrast to his earlier feelings of elation and conviction. With effort he convinced himself that the statements were the valid and honorable truth, the reality that must be recognized, even though he knew it would irrevocably damage Catherine and ultimately destroy him.

Unable to face the anguish a moment longer, Vincent rose from his chair and left the chamber. Pausing, he reopened their bond and reached out to Catherine. Minutes earlier he had heard her footsteps as she made her way back to the guest chamber, and now he sensed in her only a quiet contentment. Realizing he would need to compose himself before seeing her again, he decided to take several minutes to pace the nearby tunnels, knowing the physical exertion would help calm his tumultuous thoughts.

As Vincent strode through the stony corridors, Catherine finished dressing in a warm nightgown and robe of soft cotton flannel. She smiled as she glanced at herself in the antique cheval mirror. She had chosen the pale rose garments not only for their warmth and comfort but for the details that had reminded her of the workmanship found in clothing made Below. Delicate smocking and satin ribbons graced the bodice of the gown and fine lace edged the opening of the ankle-length robe.

Catherine felt her heart beat a little faster as she tied the robe’s belt around her waist and wondered if Vincent would notice her small attempts to appear more a part of his world. And if he did, she asked herself with a worried frown, would he find them endearing or disturbing? Sighing, she left the pretty chamber. Her slippered feet made only the slightest scuffling sound as she covered the short distance to Vincent’s room. Pausing at the threshold, she was sharply disappointed to discover he was gone.

Knowing he expected her, she quickly presumed that his absence was only temporary, and without further hesitation she entered the candlelit room. Catherine never tired of being in Vincent’s chamber. To her it was an extension of himself, the myriad objects and eclectic furnishings a reflection of bits and pieces of his life, their presence giving her a window to people and events that she had never known except in his shared memories.

She circled the room slowly, pausing now and then to admire a sparkling geode, to stroke the smooth surface of a suede-covered pillow, to turn the pages of a favorite book. Her heart filled with happiness when she came upon gifts she had given him, a pearly shell from far-off shores, a first edition Tennyson, a small picture of herself in a Venetian glass frame.

In moments her wandering led her to his writing desk and the journal that rested upon it. The pages lay open as he had left them in his haste to escape their sting, and although she knew she should walk away, Catherine found herself joining Vincent in the prison cell created by his harsh words. Tears filled her eyes and the plaintive message blurred before her sorrowful gaze.

"Oh, Vincent," she murmured in a voice heavy with despair. "Not this, not now."

"Catherine."

So entangled in the evidence of his torment, she had not heard him return, and startled she turned to face him. Unhesitating, she held out her arms to him and in a heartbeat he came to her, all his sadly noble vows deserting him once more. He let her lead him to his bed and he sank down upon it, slowly raising his eyes to seek hers as she stood before him. He found them full of love and sorrow, wet with shared grief, and in abject remorse he started to lower his gave from that impassioned sight.

"No, Vincent." The whispered words thundered through him, stilling all thought of further flight. "Don’t turn away from me. Please. Don’t ever turn away from me again."

With gentle insistence she moved forward until she was standing between his muscled thighs. She slowly wound her hands through the rough silk of his long hair and gently urged his head forward until it rested against her breasts. With a trembling sigh, she lowered her mouth to place a single kiss on the crown of his golden head. It was that tender, loving gesture that broke the final barrier, and her eyes again filled with tears as she felt his strong arms come up to clasp her to him as he shivered against her.

Long moments passed with only the sound of their tremulous breathing and her murmured words of comfort, until at last Vincent began to relax. With a final shuddering sigh, he eased back from her, but kept his large hands clasped around her slender waist, unable to sever their physical contact. As he raised his eyes to hers once again, he found the courage to give voice to all the guilt and gratitude that lived within his great, abiding love for her.

"How brave you are, Catherine, and what you must sacrifice to love me."

Catherine reached for his hands and grasped them with surprising strength. She pulled him to turn toward her as she moved to sit beside him. Holding tight to him, she answered his heartfelt avowal with one of her own.

"There is no sacrifice in loving you, Vincent. There never has been."

Anticipating his protest, she shook her head in gentle warning and continued. "I know you think I’ve given up things in my life Above because of my relationship with you. Things that I regret losing, things that I long for. But, Vincent, you’re wrong. Maybe because you’ve never been able to live in that world, maybe because there have been so many experiences denied you, you imagine them to be far more important than they really are.

"Yes, it is wonderful to be able to stroll through a museum and see great works of art from all over the world, to be able to go to the theatre and see the finest actors perform in wonderful plays, or to go into any one of a thousand shops and buy whatever I need."

The deep-set pain transparent in his darkened eyes almost made her falter, but Catherine knew there was too much at risk to stop now.

"And, Vincent, you’re right. It is wonderful to be able to walk on the beach and taste the salt air on my mouth and feel the sand and waves beneath my feet, or go to the mountains and wake up in a cottage by the lake on crisp, cool mornings. To walk in the sunlight or starlight just because I choose to. These things are among the best the world Above can offer.

"But you are not keeping me from enjoying any of them. Don’t you think I could be Above right now, having a late dinner in an elegant restaurant or attending a performance at the Met if that was what I chose to do?"

Unable to hold back another moment, Vincent answered her, his voice rough and heavy with emotion. "But you do give up those choices, Catherine, to be here in this place…with me."

A sad smile shadowed Catherine’s face as she released her tight grip on his right hand and reached up to press a gentle palm to the side of his beloved face. For a moment he leaned into her tender caress and although he soon forced himself to pull away, he could not resist joining their hands once again.

"Oh, Vincent," she continued. "The simple truth, the truth you have never been able to accept, is that I am perfectly free to do all those things, but what I choose to do is be with you. There is no force involved, no sacrifice. It is what I choose to do. And all the wonders of that other world, everything Above is nothing at all compared to your love…compared to you."

She watched him carefully, measuring his reaction to the words of her heart and was elated to find the tiniest bit of hope begin to appear in his eyes.

"You think you steal my chances to enjoy life Above, but that just isn’t true. It has never been true. The only way you can take away my freedom is by denying me the privilege of choosing a life with you. Don’t do it, Vincent. Don’t do it to either of us."

"But, Catherine," he began anew, torn to the soul by desire and denial. "You must be free to have what’s best in life. To have what you deserve."

"Then let me have just that. I know you feel that by trying to make me return to that world, you’re giving me my freedom, a chance to have the life you imagine I was meant to have – the best of all possible lives. But don’t you know that every time you try to push me away, you’re breaking my heart – and you are refusing me all chances to have what truly is the best. I won’t find that Above, Vincent. I’ve already found it here. All I want, all I’ll ever want is you."

For a few breathless moments they gazed at one another in silent communion, until with one strong, fluid movement Vincent gathered Catherine into his arms. She could feel his heart pounding against hers and when he lowered his head to touch his lips to the delicate skin at her temple, she trembled at the velvety caress. His warm, shuddering breath ruffled her hair and sent ripples of joy fluttering through her.

"Oh, my Catherine," he whispered, his voice hushed with feeling. "My beloved Catherine."

"Yes, Vincent, your Catherine," she whispered in return. "For always."

Slowly, achingly, she felt his mouth move upon her skin with tantalizing tenderness as he trailed the softest of kisses from her forehead to her flushed cheeks until he finally neared her trembling lips. A tiny whimper quivered from her throat when he went no farther and her arms tightened convulsively around his neck. Once more she felt his heated breath against her skin.

"I love you, Catherine," he whispered. "I will love you forever."

In a heartbeat, his mouth was pressed to hers, declaring all his heartfelt devotion and faith.

All too soon they parted and gazed wonderingly at one another. Catherine sighed as she offered him a glowing smile. "Vincent, I hope this means you finally believe me."

He returned her tender smile, his eyes alight as he looked upon the treasure he had never dared to reach for until now.

"Yes, Catherine, I believe you." His voice was low and husky. "And now, because of you, because of everything you are, I think that at last I can begin to…"

"Believe in yourself," Catherine finished for him.

"Yes, to believe in myself." Her answering smile was radiant as, with reluctance, she slid from her place on the wide bed and then turned back toward him. "Will you come and wake me in the morning?"

"Yes," he answered, rising to stand next to her. "I thought we might have breakfast with Father and some of the others at eight-thirty. Will that be all right?"

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, her eyes soft and smoky as her gaze caressed his face. "Sounds fine."

Willingly, helplessly drawn by their as yet unspoken desires, she took a step toward him. For a moment she hesitated and then raised one slightly trembling hand and rested it against the patched leather of his vest. Immediately he covered her hand with his own.

"It must be late," she told him with effort. "We should try to sleep." Involuntarily her green eyes glanced for a moment toward the big, comfortable bed. "And I think it’s time for me to say good night."

"Good night, my dearest Catherine," he answered, slowly releasing her hand. "Sleep well."

////////////////////
  For a long time after Catherine had returned to the guest chamber, Vincent had lain in his bed unable to sleep. He was lost in the enchantment of a world spread out before him, shining and new and at last within his reach. He saw the way lie open before them, not without its obstacles but brilliant and beckoning nonetheless. And he knew that for the first time in nearly three years, the hope in his heart was finally and irrevocably stronger than the fears.

As he drifted on the edges of sleep, Vincent rejoiced in the miracles the night had held, and treasured in his heart the knowledge that one secret and beautiful dream had at last come true for him through the power of Catherine’s love. In the early months of their relationship, he had written to her of his deep and almost desperate longing to be gently held close against a woman’s breast, to feel her stroke his head and murmur to him soothing words of comfort and love, to know that at last he would be safe. His words spoke, too, of the hunger that accompanied his yearning, the hunger he so feared because it was an undeniable part of his dream and because all of it – the great, tender longing and the wild, consuming hunger – was for her.

Catherine had never read the letter, for although Vincent had found the words that would convey everything he wished she could know, he had not yet found the courage to reveal them to her. The letter, and so many more like it, lay hidden away until some longed-for future day when he dreamed he might finally share them with her.

Yet somehow Catherine had known, and this night she had drawn him to her breast, to calm and reassure him, to take away his pain and fear, to hold him safe and warm within her arms and within her heart. Vincent smiled as he felt a little more of the darkness recede from deep within him, vanquished forever by Catherine’s love.

As he slipped farther into a peaceful slumber, Vincent’s dreams were beautiful. The shame they might have inflicted upon his awakening was, at least for now, forgotten. His mind showed him images of himself cradled in Catherine’s arms, his tawny head pressed against the pale pink beribboned fabric that covered her, and he felt more cherished and beloved than he had believed possible.

Slowly, teasingly, as dreams often do, the images dissolved, swirling and floating until at last they coalesced into a vision so vivid and clear that even in his sleep Vincent moaned aloud. He saw himself still held in Catherine’s arms, safe and loved, and yet now it was very different. In his dream Catherine wore only a translucent silken nightgown, the blush rose garment not quite concealing the softly curving body he longed to caress. Her eyes were closed as she leaned forward to nuzzle her face against the top of his head, their hair entwining, mingling gleaming amber with dark honey.

Vincent moved restlessly in his bed as the dream continued to reveal itself to him. Gone were the layers of wool and leather that had covered his wide chest, freeing an expanse of golden hair and hard muscle to Catherine’s gentle, eager hands. And while his head still lay nestled against her breasts, now his face rested not upon soft flannel and lace, but instead was firmly pressed against her warm, supple flesh.

Turning his head back and forth upon the pillows, Vincent saw himself begin to trail heated kisses across Catherine’s flushed skin as she arched against his mouth. He heard her moan with delight as he slowly started to ease the silky garment away from her and felt his own heart pound with excitement as her hands clutched at the back of his head, drawing him even closer.

From somewhere far above him in the dim, dirty light of a New York City subway tunnel, a late night train screeched to an earsplitting halt, ripping apart the uneasy quiet of the nearly deserted platform and the tantalizing splendor of Vincent’s beautiful dream. Groaning deep in his throat, his eyes flickered open slowly, but the lovely images remained in his heart. Several minutes passed as he lay quietly reliving the moments of his dream, until suddenly his eyes opened wide.

How many times in the past, he asked himself, have I dreamed of such things, only to awaken consumed with shame, repulsed for having compromised Catherine by my desires? I hated myself for letting down my guard and daring to love her in ways that must be forbidden for us. But now I do not feel this shame, this revulsion. I feel only joy and peace. How can this be?

The answer came to him in the space of a heartbeat and its undeniable truth stunned him to the very core of his being.

I know, he told himself, deeply shocked yet ecstatic at finally seeing what had always existed, even when he had refused to acknowledge its reality. My dreams of Catherine have no room for shame because at last I truly believe in the rightness of our love, in everything our love might be. We belong together…in every way. Catherine has always known and believed it. I dreamed but was afraid to believe, afraid that if I did, the dream would vanish and its loss – her loss – would kill me.

"But, my dearest Catherine," he whispered aloud just before drifting back to sleep. "You have shown me how to believe. And now even I can dare to dream."

All I Need is You
Peggy Garvin

In dreams we do as we desire,
We set aside the rules.
Our wildest fantasies transpire –
While waking, passions cool.
You are the woman of my heart,
I never hoped to find.
And though our lives are set apart,
We have a link that binds
Us in a special atmosphere
Only love can provide.
And when our passions start to stir,
I fight the urge to hide.
I need not face the night alone,
And now I know it’s true.
Oh, how I wish I’d always known
That all I need is you.