The remaining hours of the weekend flew by all too quickly, filled with quiet happiness and the pleasure of knowing that – perhaps just this once – their time together might be measured in more than brief moments. Yet almost before they knew it, it was late Sunday evening and they found themselves in Father’s chamber.

"Well now, Catherine, did you enjoy your weekend Below? I trust Vincent gave you a moment or two to relax."

Catherine smiled happily. "Everything was lovely, Father. I had a wonderful time. There’s so much to see and do in your world – I’d never tire of it."

The older man watched as a fleeting but telling look passed between the woman and his son. With effort he kept hidden the flicker of concern that rippled through him.

"And Father," Catherine continued, "thank you for welcoming me here. I know the invitation was Vincent’s idea, but all the same, I want you to know that I appreciate your part in it, too."

"Not at all, my dear, not at all," he answered, ignoring a sharp twinge of guilt at her heartfelt words. "Perhaps this son of mine can convince you to come visit us more often."

"I don’t think he’ll have to try too hard," she replied with a soft laugh as she smiled up at the man standing at her side.

"You are a part of our community, Catherine. It would make all of us very happy to know you consider our world your own," Vincent answered, his carefully even voice struggling to disguise the hope that glimmered in his eyes.

Before Catherine could find the words to respond, their attention was diverted by several high-pitched voices growing in volume as they neared the chamber entrance.

"They are too still here, Kipper! Catherine wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye to us!"

"She already read us two stories. What else do you want? Don’t be such a baby!"

"You take that back right now!" Samantha’s indignant shriek was followed immediately by a surprised yelp of pain as her small foot found its mark on her antagonist’s shin. "And give that to me!"

"I will not! I’m delivering it – I said so first!"

"You did not! I did!"

"Children!" Father’s commanding voice brought the tumult to an abrupt halt. "What’s the meaning of this?"

Three now silent children stood with heads bowed at the top of the little staircase leading into Father’s chamber. Geoffrey, the only innocent member of the small party, was the first to speak.

"Samantha and Kipper are mad at each other because they were supposed to give Catherine her invitation and they both forgot. Now the other kids are mad at them," he explained patiently.

"Regardless," Father continued sternly, "there is no need for such appalling behavior."

"We’re sorry, Father," Samantha replied contritely. "We didn’t mean to be so rude."

"Yeah, sorry, Father," Kipper added, his face flushed with embarrassment. "We should’ve known better."

"Yes, you should have. Perhaps in future you will think before you act in such a manner."

An uneasy silence descended. With a glance at his father’s frowning face, Vincent quietly approached the solemn trio. "And where is this invitation?" he asked. "Perhaps now would be a good time to deliver it."

Flashing his hero a grateful smile, Kipper whisked down the stairs and handed Catherine a red paper heart. Its lacy edging was a bit the worse for wear after its rambunctious handling, but the words it held went straight to Catherine’s heart.

"Please come to our Valentine’s Day party," she read aloud. "Sunday, February 14^th at 7:00 p.m. We will have special refreshments. And everyone will find out who their Secret Valentine is! We hope you will come!"

Catherine felt her eyes moisten as she smiled at the three youngsters who stood watching her with eager anticipation. "Of course, I’d love to come to the party," she told them. "Thank you for inviting me."

"We all wanted you to come," Samantha explained. "Then Kipper and I forgot to give you the invitation. We’re sorry for acting like such babies."

Catherine nodded in understanding. "Why don’t you tell me about the Secret Valentine," she suggested. "I’m not sure I understand."

"Everyone has to pick a name out of the basket, and whoever you get, that’s your Secret Valentine. What you have to do is think of something nice to give to your Valentine as a surprise, like a promise to do their chores for the day or a little present you make just for them. But you can’t tell anybody who it is until the party."

"We got the idea from a book we found in the box Lin brought down when she came to visit last week," Kipper added. "At first I thought it was kinda goofy, but now I like it."

"That’s ‘cause you got you-know-who for your Secret Valentine," Samantha retorted.

"Did you tell?!" Kipper demanded as he turned toward Geoffrey.

"No, he didn’t," Samantha announced importantly. "You just did! I wondered why you changed your mind about the whole thing, so I just guessed. And it looks like I’m right!"

Kipper glowered at her as Geoffrey stepped forward and offered the ribbon-decorated basket to Catherine. "Here, take one. But maybe you shouldn’t open it until later," he advised.

"I think you’re right, Geoffrey," Catherine agreed. "Thanks! It sounds like a wonderful idea. This way everyone will have a special treat and no one will be left out."

"Did you ever do this before, Catherine?" Samantha asked. "Like when you were a little girl?"

"No, not exactly. In school we always had a Valentine’s Day party and there was a specially decorated box where everyone ‘mailed’ their Valentines to everyone else. It was lots of fun."

"I bet you got the most Valentines of anybody," Geoffrey said shyly.

Catherine smiled at him. "No, our teachers always told us to be sure everyone in the class had a valentine for everyone else. That way no one was disappointed or left out."

"And I hope you three are being just as careful with this basket of names," Father instructed.

"Oh, we are, Father," Samantha assured him, pulling a crumpled paper from the pocket of her bathrobe. "We’re keeping a list and crossing off names each time. Here, you’re almost the last one."

Geoffrey passed the container to Father who dramatically closed his eyes, reached in, and rustled the little papers until the children giggled in anticipation. Finally, he pulled one from the few remaining and made an elaborate show of turning away from the little group to unfold it in privacy.

"Father?" Vincent questioned as moments passed without any further response from the older man. "You’re not wearing your glasses. Would you like me to read the name for you?"

"No, I would not," Father replied, facing them again. "I’m perfectly capable of reading it for myself."

A suspicious blush began to redden his face as he tucked the slip of paper deep into his tunic pocket. "And it’s high time you three were in bed. Off with you now!"

Poking each other and smothering a laugh, Kipper and Geoffrey chorused their good-nights and in seconds were off down the stony corridor.

Sighing, Samantha shook her head in their direction with all the dignity she felt her feminine maturity deserved. "Good night, Father, Vincent," she said calmly before turning toward Catherine. "I’m really glad you can come to the party, Catherine. It wouldn’t be the same without you. We all think so."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Catherine replied, touched by the child’s sincerity. "I’m glad, too."

The three adults turned toward each other as Samantha departed. Shaking his head, Father dropped down onto his favorite chair. "I’m getting much too old for all this," he announced with a sigh.

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Father," Vincent answered, struggling to disguise his smile. "You seemed quite lively a few minutes ago when you had to select your Secret Valentine."

"That’s right," Catherine readily agreed. "Are you going to tell us who it is?"

"No, I most certainly am not." Father sniffed indignantly. "You heard the children. It’s to be a secret. You’ll just have to wait along with everyone else."

"Oh, well, I suppose that’s only fair." Catherine’s smile broadened as she bent to brush an impulsive kiss across Father’s still slightly flushed cheek. "Thank you again, Father, I had a wonderful time here this weekend."

"I’m glad, dear. You must try to come and see us before the party."

"I will," she promised as she turned toward Vincent. "I’ll go and get my bag. Be right back."

Catherine quickly made her way to the guest chamber to pick up her suede jacket and small tapestry bag. She glanced around the little room, checking to be sure she hadn’t left anything behind, and spotted her hairbrush where she’d left it on the small bedside table. She set down her belongings and reached for the brush with one hand, while smoothing back her hair in a habitual gesture with the other. It felt somewhat disheveled to her touch, and she took a few moments to hurriedly run the brush through it.

In seconds the hairbrush became hopelessly entangled in the silky strands at the nape of her neck. She yanked impatiently at the snarl and winced as the stiff bristles scraped her delicate skin while nearly wrenching the long hair from its roots.

"Damn it," she muttered, irritated at her own ineptness as she struggled to free herself. "Ow!"

Not far away in Father’s chamber, Vincent immediately felt her sharp pain and resulting distress. He leaped to his feet and was gone before his startled parent could say a word. In seconds he reached the entrance to the guest chamber and rushed inside.

"Catherine! What happened? Are you all right?"

She swung around to face him, her eyes widening at the alarm in his voice. "Vincent! It’s nothing – don’t worry!" She continued to work at the unwieldy snarl. "I didn’t mean to scare you." She watched him regain his composure as he took in her very uncomfortable but non-hazardous situation.

"I feel so foolish," she said, smiling with embarrassment. "I’ve managed to get my hair completely tangled around this brush. And not only will I probably have to cut it out at the roots, it feels like I’ve scraped half the skin off the back of my neck."

In an instant he was at her side. "Here, let me help you."

Gratefully, she felt his large hands cover hers and take the brush from her grip. In moments he had extricated the strands of hair from the bristles, and although he felt her relief, he hesitated uncertainly.

"Vincent, what is it?"

"Your hair, Catherine," he answered, his husky voice almost a whisper. "It’s still snarled. If you allow me, I will brush it for you."

"Oh, I’d love it," she agreed quickly. "That would be wonderful."

With tantalizing slowness, he began to glide the brush through the glossy tresses, easily smoothing out the few remaining tangles. The tingling sensation of the firm bristles against her scalp faded in comparison to the feelings aroused in her by his enticing nearness. She was acutely aware of his exquisitely sensitive touch as he moved the brush over and over again with slow, downward strokes, and she trembled as his warm breath gently ruffled the fine hair at the top of her head. Even through her thick wooly sweater, she could feel the seductive heat of his body so close behind her, and it was only with the greatest effort that she was able to resist the urge to lean back against him, knowing that to ask for his embrace would be to risk his sudden flight.

Vincent was so caught up in the sensations swirling through him that for many moments he simply allowed himself to be lost in the glorious pleasure offered him by his beloved Catherine. The feel of her silky hair trailing against his hands as he followed the path of the brush with his long, tapered fingers. The scent of her hair and skin – lush summer flowers, morning sunlight, and her own elusive honey-sweet essence. The sound of her rapid breathing, its hushed rhythm keeping perfect time to his own racing pulse.

At last with fearful anticipation he slowly opened himself to their bond and at once was consumed by the onslaught of Catherine’s emotions, the unbelievably beautiful mirror image of his own. Reeling under the impact, he scarcely felt the hairbrush fall from his fingers to land with a thud on the old, worn carpet at their feet. As one they moved together, Vincent’s arms coming up to cradle her as she lay back against him. And when he nestled his face into her hair, his sweet kiss teased them both with taste and touch.

Sighing deeply, Catherine slowly tilted her head to one side. With the languid motion, her hair slid slowly over her shoulders, leaving bare the satiny skin at the nape of her neck. Vincent gasped as his gaze took in the raw red scratches left in the ivory perfection by the brush’s harsh bristles. Without pausing to think, he leaned closer and touched his mouth to her taut skin.

Catherine moaned softly as his warm, moist lips caressed her. The tender, sensual sound was more enthralling than any music he had ever heard, and Vincent shuddered deliciously as it echoed through him. She turned slowly in his arms and titled her head back, inviting his kiss to the delicate softness of her throat. The moment throbbed between them as Vincent hesitated, drawing deep, trembling breaths until at last Catherine opened her eyes and looked up at him. The desire and joy Vincent found in their smoky jade depths drew an answering radiance from his sapphire gaze, but still he stepped back a pace, dropping his arms and raising between them the calming barrier he still believed they must uphold.

Yet in a heartbeat, Vincent found he was unable to resist touching her just once more. She sighed has his slender fingers rested for a moment against her forehead before sliding along her flushed skin and through her sleek hair with such delicate pressure that she felt she might dissolve in a blending of arousal and contentment.

Although she regretted it with all her heart, she knew it was not yet their time to truly be together. With a little sigh, she forced her hands to release their grip on his arms and she reached instead for her jacket and the discarded hairbrush. Grateful for her understanding and patience, Vincent picked up the small suitcase, involving both of them with ordinary concerns until their turbulent emotions had once again been tamed.

Someday, he promised himself with sudden conviction. Someday, Catherine.

Instantly her eyes met his and he knew she had heard his pledge through the language of their bond.

"It’s time to go now, isn’t it?" she asked, a hint of longing still edging her voice.

"Yes," he whispered. "For now."

Together they walked the familiar route to the threshold of her building, and felt the warm glow of their love soothe and nurture them with its unshakable strength. They knew their trust in one another would undoubtedly see them through any emotional storms they had yet to face.

As they strolled along, Vincent watched Catherine reach into the pocket of her jacket and pull out the children’s invitation and the small slip of paper that held the name of her Secret Valentine.

She looked up at him and smiled teasingly. "You already have your Secret Valentine, don’t you, Vincent?" At his nod, she added, "If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine."

"Catherine," he admonished, "you know it’s supposed to be a secret until the night of the party."

"Well, if we don’t tell anyone else, it still will be! Come on, aren’t you curious at all?"

"I suppose I am," he admitted.

"Great!" she answered, knowing success was hers. "I’ll even tell you mine first. It’s Samantha. It’ll be fun finding a special treat for her. I think the only problem I’ll have is trying to decide what she’d like best! Okay, now tell me who you have."

He hesitated. "What do you think you might bring for Samantha? I know she will treasure whatever you choose for her."

"Don’t try to distract me by talking about shopping, Vincent! That might have worked a few years ago when wearing out credit cards was my favorite hobby, but not anymore. Come on, you have to tell me who your Secret Valentine is."

"Catherine, please don’t hold me to that promise," he answered. "We really should wait."

He felt the green fire flashing from her eyes as she stopped and glared at him. "Vincent, stop it! I want to know whose name you have and I want to know now."

He tilted his head and looked at her appraisingly. "Why is this so important, Catherine?"

"It just is," she hissed. "Tell me."

Hesitating just a few moments more, Vincent savored the teasing humor and the mysterious undercurrents that flowed between them. For two whole days and nights their time together had been free of any life-threatening disaster or jeopardy, and he knew with all his heart that he didn’t want it to end.

"It’s William," he finally told her. "William is my Secret Valentine."

Catherine’s laughter surrounded him until he could not resist joining in. When she finally caught her breath, he glared at her in mock annoyance. "And why do you find that so funny?" he asked.

Catherine’s lower lip trembled as she tried to maintain her regained composure, but the mental image of Vincent and William exchanging lacy Valentine gifts was too much for her. Giggling, she tried to explain. "Actually, Vincent, I think I’m laughing more out of relief than anything else."

Before he had a chance to question her enigmatic response, they both realized they’d reached the entrance to her building, and all lingering traces of laughter vanished in the cool blue light.

She turned to him and took her bag from his grasp. "Vincent," she said softly, gazing up at him, "if I don’t go right away, I’m going to spoil what we’ve had together with a long, sad good-bye, and I don’t think either of us want that to happen."

"No," he murmured, "but –"

With her free hand Catherine reached up and stilled the words that threatened to escape him. "Be well, love," she whispered as she drew her fingers away from his lips and then touched them to her own mouth before turning away and vanishing into the light.

Vincent waited, listening until she’d safely reached the hidden doorway and had entered the world he’d never know. Resolutely, he began the journey back to his own home. He had taken no more than one step before he head Catherine’s voice calling to him, and he whirled around, covering the slight distance to the base of the ladder in mere seconds.

"Vincent? Are you still there?" Her hushed tones floated down to him.

"Yes," he called back softly. "I’m here."

"About William…"

"Yes, Catherine? What about him?"

"I want you to know why I was so relieved that he’s your Secret Valentine, Vincent. It’s because I was jealous and I didn’t want it to be Lena or Rebecca or any other woman, Above or Below. I hope the only Valentine you’ll ever want is me."

Vincent stood transfixed as he heard the door click shut several feet above him. When many minutes later he walked slowly toward the home chambers, he was aware of nothing but Catherine’s words filling his heart with wonder.

I Live for the Night
Peggy Garvin

I live for the night – the setting sun –
The rising of the moon –
For darkness allows my love to come;
It cannot fall too soon.
In the daylight I can feel his love
Through the bond that we share.
Even though I am alone, Above,
My heart is well aware
When night descends that he will appear
And tap upon my door,
Bringing the sound that I long to hear,
One I’ve been waiting for.
I rush to fling the doors open wide
And fall into his arms.
I will my rising desire subside
To save him from alarm.
As we sink to the balcony floor
To read our time away,
I long for a life where there is more
Than he’ll allow today.
Even though I suppress inner needs
And feel we are denied,
I’ll cherish this time, hoping it leads
To avenues untried.
And never a single thought would I
Give to letting him go.
He is my life and I’d surely die
Without that special glow
That emanates from his unique love
Filling my life as none
Before had done in this world Above –
He is my only one.