ALMOST AS IF WE ARE ONE
JoAnn Baca

Part 3

At first, Catherine was flattered merely by the attention Shane had lavished on her, but her fondness for Shane had quickly outpaced the first flush of fascination. She found herself incredibly drawn to him -- to his quick wit, to his disarming natural charm, to his appealing good looks, to his enormous talent. He was a rare and special man, and she felt honored that he chose to spend time with her. She relished the moments they shared, and longed to share more of them. Her time was never long enough with Shane -- it seemed to fly by.
She could understand now what Jenny’s sixth sense had revealed to her: in another life, she could see herself with Shane. She imagined that, if she wanted to, she could fall in love with him easily. And if she had met him a few years ago...but, no. First of all, she wasn’t the same person then as she was now, and the person she had been wouldn’t have attracted Shane at all.    But secondly, and by far most importantly, if she had met and fallen in love with Shane back then, she would have missed the chance to have loved Vincent -- and nothing and no one was worth missing that experience. What she felt for him was so incredibly profound and intense, she doubted she could feel that way about two men in one lifetime. Or in a thousand lifetimes.
No. Shane was a wonderful man, and maybe she preferred his company to anyone else’s but Vincent’s, but it was only a deep friendship. That’s all it was, all it really ever could be. Besides, it wasn’t like he was interested in more than friendship. She hadn’t known any man to have such a “hands off” policy and still be romantically inclined. Well...OK, so Vincent had his own very frustrating version of a “hands off” policy, but she was working on that. Sometimes it didn’t seem like she’d ever succeed in getting him to change it, but she didn’t want to give up trying.
                                                     * * *
Vincent was Catherine’s first priority, always. During Shane’s time in New York, on the nights she went out with him she made sure she was always home -- alone -- before midnight, in case Vincent was able to visit her. Also, she had spent one long Sunday afternoon attending a children’s concert and a birthday celebration Below with him, a visit which had been long-planned and much anticipated.
However, despite her efforts, recently she hadn’t seen him as much as she wanted to.
On one occasion when she’d gone Below on the spur of the moment to visit him, she found that he had just left to deliver supplies to an invalid Helper. Another time, when they had made plans to meet for a concert in the park, he had sent word that a work detail had run long and he would not be able to join her. Several other similar instances had occurred. But other than her disappointment when their plans or her impulsive visits came to naught, Catherine didn’t think anything of these developments -- things always seemed to happen to keep them apart, and if they seemed to be happening more frequently right now, well...sometimes life was that way.
While Catherine’s first priority was Vincent, during the two weeks of the publicity tour, Shane was a close second. She was looking ahead with dismay to his abrupt exit from her life when the tour finally took him away from the city. She realized that his going would leave a big gap in her life -- she’d come to look forward to their talks so much.
                                                     * * *
Shane lingered at Catherine’s door on this, their last evening together. Dinner had been at Tavern on the Green, and they had walked for hours in a light rain, talking companionably, anxious to make the evening last. Now, inevitably, the time for parting had come.
Nervously, the big man ran his thumb up and down a short expanse of door frame, seemingly absorbed in the pointless task, avoiding her eyes. “Catherine, if you would allow me, I would appreciate the opportunity to keep in touch with you. While the tour continues, perhaps...perhaps we could call each other? With the insane schedule they’ve got me on, to hear a friendly voice would be so welcome.” Finally he got the courage to look at her. She was smiling encouragingly at him. He took heart and confessed, “You have...come to mean so much to me, and...I don’t want to let you out of my life.”
Her smile widened. This was a perfect solution! “That’s a wonderful idea, Shane! I want to know that you’re well and happy. Besides, if you need help disposing of the body of an irascible critic or if you want some of Massimo’s World Famous Pizza express-mailed to you, I’m the one to call. I hope you know that!” He seemed relieved and delighted by her reply, and she felt they were parting on just the right note.
“Thank you, Catherine. You have no idea how much I...treasure your friendship. For right now, though, phone calls are all I need. I think I can feed myself and defend against all comers, but if I ever need a hand, I won’t hesitate to call!”
She nodded, laughing, all the while thinking -- He’s such a terrific person...such a dear friend. “Good! And maybe...after the tour...you might come back for a visit? Or maybe I’ll take a day off and come visit you in Albany? If you don’t think your self-imposed hermit’s life will be threatened by a short visit from a good friend, that is?”
Stunned by her casual offer, he recovered enough to reply, “I will...look forward to that, Catherine. That thought just may keep me sane over the next month!”
Pleased, she urged, “We’ll plan on it then! You take good care of yourself, now. Eat regularly, get enough sleep, and...call me!”
Shane permitted himself to initiate the briefest of hugs, but Catherine would not let go of him when he would have disengaged. She embraced him wholeheartedly, and he could not resist sinking into her arms. He pressed a gentle but fervent kiss against the top of her head, wishing he had the courage to ask for more.
Later...after the tour...he would tell her how he felt, and she would...what? That was what frightened him -- the thought of what Catherine would say. He believed that she cared for him, perhaps deeply, but enough? Could she love someone like him? He couldn’t offer her much, not considering what she already had. His circles were not hers. He was not happy or even especially comfortable in the
rarified atmosphere of high society in which Catherine moved so easily. But...perhaps those things didn’t really matter to Catherine. He sensed they did not. He sensed that what she really needed and wanted was the complete and faithful love and adoration of one man. He so hoped, so prayed that she would let him be that man. Someday soon, he promised himself, I will tell her.

Shane talked to Catherine every night for the remainder of his tour. She looked forward with intense excitement to their conversations, which were more often than not long and fascinating ones. He managed to bring every city he visited to life for her, filled her imagination with the people he met and the sights he saw.
During that month, her attempts to be with Vincent Below often ended in failure. Only occasionally was he available, and then usually for brief moments only. It concerned her that he was so often on an errand or otherwise occupied when she went Below, but when he did see her he assured her that all was well, and she had no reason to disbelieve him. Still, after several disappointments, she had asked him to send word to her the next time he was free for an evening, to save her from making so many treks Below to no avail. Visiting with her Tunnel family was wonderful, but it was him that she really wanted, needed to spend time with. He had readily agreed.
However, instead of sending word for her to come to him Below, Vincent came Above to visit her, unexpectedly and at odd times. And he didn’t let her know of his arrival unless he found her unengaged. Often, Catherine was on the phone when Vincent came to see her, and almost always it was with Shane. After the first few occasions, when he had waited patiently for her to conclude her conversations, Vincent ceased waiting and returned Below without letting her know that he was on her balcony.
Catherine became puzzled when it began to appear that he was neither sending word for her nor visiting very often, but she didn’t ask Vincent about it. After all, he was rarely available when she went Below anymore -- why would he be more likely to be free to make the trip Above? By the end of the month, however, she realized that Vincent had not once asked her to come Below. He had also ceased visiting her altogether, or so she thought, and she felt she had to speak to him about it.
                                                      ***
Catherine descended the ladder below her threshold and stood with her flashlight in hand, waiting for Vincent. Normally, he would sense her coming and be here awaiting her arrival, or if he was unavailable, he would send a guide. Tonight neither he nor anyone else arrived, so after waiting an interval, she began the trek to the home tunnels, assuming she’d meet someone along the way. She did not.
Approaching Vincent’s chamber, she called out a greeting. There was no reply. No soft glow of candlelight greeted her and no sounds echoed from within, so Catherine grimly concluded that she had missed him once again. She decided to leave him a note asking him to come Above at his earliest opportunity, and entered the chamber to find paper and pen. Stumbling against a table, she felt around until she located a candle and matches. The flare as she lit the wick disclosed Vincent, sitting until that moment in total darkness, slumped in a chair. The candle gently spluttered. He didn’t look up.
Catherine grew alarmed. “Vincent?”
No reply.
Her concern heightened, a spasm of fear contorting their Bond. She took a step towards him. “Vincent, what’s wrong?”
Vincent continued to stare at his hands.
Catherine began to tremble; her heart pounded in her ears. She took another step and whispered, “Vincent?”
Slowly, Vincent looked up at her, and Catherine was shocked at the change in his appearance. Even in the gloom, she could see the gauntness of his cheeks, the sallowness of his complexion. Her heart leapt to her throat, wild imaginings vying for supremacy in her baffled mind. What could have caused this? “Vincent, please, talk to me. What is it? Is something wrong with Father?”
He lowered his head again, unable to bear the confusion and sympathy in her eyes. In a lifeless monotone, he responded to her query. “Everyone Below is fine.”
A small measure of relief began to overtake the anxiety in her heart, but until she understood what was happening with her beloved, her disquiet would not ease. Besides, although she hated to contradict him, he was obviously wrong. “Not everyone, Vincent. You don’t look ‘fine’ to me.”
He spoke so softly, she almost couldn’t hear his reply. “I am...well. Do not be concerned.”
She stepped closer to him, hoping he would look up at her again, stunned by what she felt through their bond -- he seemed pained by her presence. “But I am concerned! I haven’t seen you in ages. And now I find you looking so ill. Please...tell me what’s wrong?”
Vincent stood up suddenly, but he did not approach Catherine. Instead, he moved to his desk and began to light more candles. Still not making eye contact, he asked in a conversational tone, “How have you been?”
Confused, still frightened by his appearance, she responded, “I’ve been fine, except for missing you. Why haven’t you come to see me?”
She saw Vincent’s eyes flick to the side, trying to avoid her side of the chamber entirely. “I have...been occupied. It has been quite hectic and....”
Catherine cut him off, exasperation beginning to supplant her alarm. “I don’t believe you. You would have sent me a message if you’d been too busy to come Above for this long. In fact, you’ve had too many mysterious preoccupations when I’ve wanted to see you recently -- Above or Below. Tell me what’s really going on.”
Vincent stared down at the candle he held in his hands, forgetting to light it. He was uncomfortable with his prevarication. “How has your work been? Are your cases going well?”
Catherine plopped onto his bed and slammed her hands down at her sides in frustration. “Why are you trying to change the subject?”
Finally, Vincent’s eyes engaged Catherine’s. In a low, steady voice he inquired, “What would you have me say?”
“I wouldn’t have you say anything! I would appreciate a straight answer.” Choking back tears, she confided, “I’ve been very concerned about you. I’ve missed you terribly. I need to see you, Vincent. I need to talk with you. Not for any particular reason, but just because I want to be with you. I can’t talk to anyone else like I can with you.”
He sat then, abruptly. What he wanted her to face -- what both of them had to face -- was almost too painful to contemplate. “That’s not true, Catherine. You told me yourself that...” He fought to hold his face expressionless as he spoke...his name. “...that Shane Briscoe reminds you very much of me. Have you not been able to talk with him?”
Catherine’s voice reflected her puzzlement. “Well, yes, of course. But he can’t replace you.”
Vincent inclined his head to the side, as if conceding a point in a debate. “Perhaps. How often do you speak with him?”
“What? Well, I guess I’ve talked to him every night for several weeks.” Her puzzlement deepened.
Vincent forced his voice to remain level, neutral. “Does he call you every night?”
Creases furrowed her brow. Where was this leading? “No, sometimes I call him. Why?”
His slight shrug was meant more to ease the tension in his shoulders than to respond to her question. “It seems, Catherine, that if you wish to talk with someone, you are quite capable of doing so.”
She leaned forward, her body rigid with surprise and sudden anger. “What? Are you upset with me because I’ve spent a few minutes each evening talking with Shane? You are well aware that I’ve tried to see you many times recently, although you somehow were never available, so you can’t be saying you think I don’t want to talk to you.” Shaking her head in bewilderment, she asked, “You can’t seriously think that I prefer his conversation to yours? And I can’t believe you’d equate my relationship with Shane with my relationship with you!”
A tiny quaver in his voice betraying his distress, Vincent pressed on, determined that Catherine confirm what he had felt growing within their Bond. “Then what you have with Mr. Briscoe is a...relationship?”
Catherine threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Aaghhh! You are so aggravating sometimes, Vincent! That word can mean many things, and you know it! I have a relationship with John Moreno -- he is my boss. I have a relationship with Shane -- he is my friend. I have a relationship with you -- you are my other half! Do you understand me?”
He rose from his chair and began to pace. As difficult as this was, he had to force Catherine to acknowledge the truth -- that she was, in many subtle ways, moving in another direction...away from him. “I understand that you have spoken to Mr. Briscoe every night for a month. Do you know how many times we’ve talked in the past month, Catherine?”
Struggling to recall, she finally admitted, “N-n-no...I don’t remember.”
He stopped pacing and faced her. “Six times. Six. You have spoken with Mr. Briscoe approximately thirty times, and with me six.”
She bolted up, her tiny form stretched to its full height, her outrage boiling over. “You are jealous of my conversations with a lonely man who reaches out for a few minutes of quiet friendship over the telephone?! What do you want -- do I have to justify my actions to you?”
Vincent hesitantly reached out to her, as if by physical contact alone he could somehow soothe her, remove the sting of what he had to say. He wanted to beg her to...to what? But it would be useless. Better to continue as he was. And so he replied in a quiet tone, “Of course you don’t, Catherine. But I heard you sometimes when you talked with...Mr. Briscoe. Your voice was very animated -- you laughed with him, teased him, comforted him -- you came alive when you spoke to him. Lately, when you are with me...you are very guarded, very quiet, or, like now, very angry.”   He raised his hand to forestall her objections and continued. “I do not ask you to justify yourself, only to consider the differences.” He sighed and looked down at the patterned carpet beneath his feet. “Perhaps what you want lies in another direction, Catherine. Perhaps our...‘relationship’...is no longer enough for you.”
Stunned, Catherine reached out to him, catching his arm, trying to draw his eyes back to hers. “How can you say that, Vincent? After all we’ve been through together? After everything we’ve shared?”
As his eyes met hers, she saw the ineffable sadness he could no longer hide. Something deep within her twisted hard.
“I say it...because it’s true, Catherine. Perhaps we have reached the limits of what our...relationship...is to be. That is not to say that we cannot continue to be friends.” His voice grew soft and wistful. “I shall always cherish you, Catherine, as I know you will me. But life goes on...all around us. People come into our lives all the time -- good people, worthy people. We would be foolish to withdraw from the world and fail to experience what life offers us.”
Seeing the tears begin to well in his beloved’s eyes, he reached out to caress her cheek...one last time. “Do not struggle against the tide, Catherine. This...relationship you are developing with Shane is something which...excites you. It makes you feel more alive. I know this better than anyone. It is something which must be pursued. He wants that, and you do, too. If you are truthful with yourself, you know that.”
As he spoke, Catherine shook her head more and more emphatically. “I still don’t understand why I can’t have both, Vincent. Why must I make a choice between Shane and you? He’s just a friend, after all. He could never come between us, any more than Joe or Jenny could!”
He hesitated a moment before replying. “Perhaps not.”
Her anger replaced now by contrition, Catherine sought to dissipate the tension between them. His words had shocked, even frightened her. How could he imagine she wanted another man when she was committed to him? “Vincent, I...I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel neglected these past few weeks. I should have tried harder to see you.”
The tears that had threatened before, fell now. She let them flow -- they didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was convincing Vincent not to send her away. “I got so caught up in other things, and I just assumed you’d come Above or send me a note to come Below when you were free.” That had been the arrangement, hadn’t it? So why hadn’t he.... A sudden thought struck her. More as a statement than a question, she observed, “During the past weeks, there have been times you’ve come Above and left without letting me know you were there. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Her gentle chiding stung him. He wasn’t being entirely fair and they both knew it. He nodded, and she went on. “So perhaps both of us should try harder in the future.” She smiled hopefully at him, a smile that broke his heart. “Still, that doesn’t excuse me for not making more of an effort. Forgive me?”
Vincent graced her with one of his infrequent half-smiles and, tilting his head to the side in acknowledgment of her request, offered her what she wanted so desperately to hear. “Of course, Catherine.”