ALMOST AS IF WE ARE ONE
JoAnn Baca
Part 5
Shane finally opened his door to the insistent knocker. His amazement at seeing it was Catherine was so great that he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak; dumbfounded, he just stared until she said, “Surprise! May I come in?”
The sound of her voice shook him from his momentary paralysis. “Of...of course! My God, Catherine, it’s actually you!”
Relief coursed through her heart. After their last conversation, she hadn’t been quite sure what her reception might be. Still, it might be wise to ask.... “Then I gather you’re happy to see me?”
“You cannot know how happy!” He opened his arms to her
then and she threw herself into them, clutching him tightly, burying her
face against his neck. His heart was beating so fast, he felt sure
she could feel it as she held him. It felt so...good to hold her,
so right, so...perfect. He wanted to stop time, to hold her in this
rash embrace forever. Closing his eyes, he pulled her closer, sighing
her name so
low it was more moan than utterance.
Elated as he was, he couldn’t ignore the prickling in the back of his mind which told him that something was wrong --this woman was not ruled by impulse, popping up unexpectedly was not her style. Something was wrong. He bent his head to murmur into her ear, “Catherine, why are you here?”
Her reply was a muffled, “Do I need a reason?”
He shook his head and she felt his hold upon her loosen. “No, but...this kind of spontaneity is not like you. I hoped that you would plan a visit...but here I find you on my doorstep like a lost soul. Has something happened between you and Vincent?”
Catherine broke the embrace and stared hard at him. “God, Shane, can I at least get my coat off before you start reading my mind?!”
He started at her sharp response. He had never heard that tone in her voice before. Obviously, there was much to discuss. “I’m sorry. Forgive me -- please, come in. Sit. Tell me.”
Catherine yanked off her coat and gloves while Shane removed a stack of books from an overstuffed club chair to give her a place to sit. She fell into the chair, sighing deeply. “How did you know?”
“You are an open book, Catherine.”
Indignant at the thought that he could read her so easily, she retorted, “I am not!”
Shane gave her a quick, tight smile. “Well, perhaps just to me. Please, tell me what happened. If I can help in any way, you know I will.”
Catherine sighed heavily. “I don’t know how to start. My life’s so confused right now. I’ve taken a leave of absence from my job, hoping it would help me gain some perspective, but it’s not working. I don’t really know why I came all the way to Albany to cry on your shoulder.”
He sat on the arm of her chair and reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “We’re friends, Catherine. You can tell me anything.”
Looking up into his concerned eyes, she gave him an assessing glance. “I know. Maybe that’s why. It’s just very hard to talk about. I never talk about Vincent to...anyone. Most of my friends don’t even know about him.”
“Why not?”
Shaking her head, her reluctance apparent, she said, “I...can’t get into that. Just know that, because of promises I’ve made, I can’t talk much about him.”
“No problem. I respect a promise. I won’t press you. Just tell me what you can.” He was desperate to know more about this mystery man in Catherine’s life, but he understood about secrets -- hadn’t he been keeping his true feelings for her secret almost since the beginning?
She seemed to be marshaling her thoughts for a moment, then suddenly she took a deep breath and began a halting, hesitant narrative, as if each word were a concession, a betrayal. “We’ve...been... together...for several years. It’s been a difficult road, but through it all, I thought we had... an understanding. When...when I realized how you felt about me, I went to him, to tell him. I asked him to...I don’t know, I guess I was looking for him to...clarify our situation. He couldn’t...wouldn’t. He...sent me to you.”
Shane was startled. “Why?”
Shrugging, she responded, “I’m not really sure. I asked
him to tell me how he felt, but he said he could not give me the words.
He said that you had the words, to go to you.” She looked down at
her hands, balled up in fists on her knees. Her frustration was clear.
“I don’t understand. I just...don’t. I know he loves me,
Shane! And I love him. But...maybe that’s not enough anymore.
I don’t know.”
When she looked up at him again, he saw the vulnerability in her
eyes. “I’m so confused...and frightened. I feel as if my whole
world has suddenly shifted beneath my feet. I probably shouldn’t
have come here at all. This isn’t something I should burden you with, especially after.... I’m sorry.” Her lower lip began
to quiver, and Shane knew that she was at the limits of her emotional control.
“No, Catherine. You did the right thing. I’m glad you came.” Although the feeling shamed him, Shane’s heart leapt to his throat. For whatever reason, Vincent had sent her to him! How the man could willingly let such a treasure slip through his fingers, he didn’t know. Was it that he didn’t love Catherine enough to make a lifetime commitment to her? Or perhaps these difficulties she spoke of were, in the final analysis, obstacles too high to overcome? Or maybe...maybe, despite Vincent’s love for her, he believed Catherine would be better off in a basement in Albany than...wherever, with him? Well, if it was the last, he vowed to honor that sacrifice. He would cherish the gift always...if she would let him. And...perhaps...some day...he would find a way to thank this Vincent.
“Please, let me hold you.” Shane pulled Catherine against his chest as she began a hard, deep, wrenching sobbing that went on for a long, long time. When at last she calmed a bit, Shane pulled back and regarded her. “You look like you could use some tea.”
For some reason, this suggestion started her crying again.
* * *
The afternoon had faded to evening, and Catherine had haltingly
related what she could of her time with Vincent, of their special connection, of her growing frustration and despair. Now the
flow of words had stopped, and they sat together on the couch in front
of a crackling fire, Catherine curled up tightly against Shane.
As he stared into the flames, he began unconsciously stroking her hair.
She
nuzzled against his neck with her nose, and he turned to look down
at her.
Her smile was warm and tender. “You are a wonderful man, Shane. I don’t know many people who would have put up with this whole situation. But you’ve been nothing but kind. I can’t tell you how much comfort you’ve given me.”
He kissed her once, lightly, on the top of her head, then said, “I would do anything for you, Catherine. Surely you must know that. You just need a sympathetic shoulder. I have broad ones.”
“Um...yes...broad ones!” A wicked grin appeared on her face, and when he looked at her in surprise, she winked at him.
Shane arched his eyebrows dramatically, replying in kind. “You like them, do you?”
But instead of laughing as he had expected, she stopped smiling and replied, “Very much. I like the man who owns them very much, too.”
Not sure if she was still gently joking with him, he answered carefully, “And he likes you.”
Very serious now, she asked, “Is that all?”
“Is that...all...?” She couldn’t be asking him....?
Catherine clarified. “You just...like me?”
Shane was stunned at the sudden turn in the conversation. This wasn’t the right time, but he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “No. I...also...love you, Catherine. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone. I...shouldn’t tell you that, at least, not tonight. But I promise I won’t ever use those words to pressure you into anything you’re not....ready for.”
She nodded, her green eyes piercing his soul. “I know that. I just needed to...hear the words.”
* * *
Catherine reflected on all that had happened over the past week as she stared out the window on the flight home. She wondered if she had known before she went to Albany what was going to happen between them. She had to be honest and admit that she had.
Shane had insisted that she spend the night at his place.
He had tucked her into his bed as if she were a child. Then he had
taken a comforter and stretched out to sleep on the sofa. Catherine
had been sure she wouldn’t sleep a wink, but had surprised herself by sleeping long and deeply. The next morning, Shane had awakened her
with coffee and bagels, and they had talked companionably --
about his book sales, his ideas for his next series of poems, anything
and everything but what he had said to her the night before.
As he made lunch, she had asked what he’d been doing when her arrival had interrupted him. He had reluctantly admitted that he’d been in the middle of a particularly productive day of writing. Instantly apologetic, she had suggested she could entertain herself, and he had finally agreed to return to his writing. Late in the evening, she foraged in the kitchen and managed to pull together a light dinner, and he had come in when the smell of soup simmering reminded him he hadn’t eaten in many hours. They had taken their meal in front of the fireplace, and had talked long into the night.
When they had parted for the night, she had gone to bed and dreamed disturbing dreams -- dreams in which she ran through heavy, swirling fog following an illusive, shadowy figure, trying frantically but never quite catching up to the phantom she was seeking.
The next several days had been spent in a relaxed atmosphere of quiet conversation and contemplation. Neither of them spoke of when she would leave -- Shane because having her near was his heart’s dream fulfilled, Catherine because she was not looking that far ahead.
A comfortable routine was quickly established. They would
rise at about the same time and breakfast together, then Shane would work at his desk, writing in longhand using a beautiful old fountain
pen that had belonged to his great grandfather. She would read, or
take long walks, or just sit and reflect. In the late morning she
would do a bit of shopping, enough to get them through the day, then call
him
after she had set out their midday meal. After lunch, they
would sit together for a while, sometimes talking, sometimes not speaking
at all. At some point, Shane would make them a pot of tea, then
sit beside her and read his poetry to her. Her emotions often overwhelmed her as she listened to his gentle voice repeat the words
which meant so much to her. Shane would offer his quiet, solid comfort, holding her but not asking for any explanations, not really
needing any. They would eventually move to the kitchen and fix dinner together, then take a long walk in the moonlight before retiring
to their separate beds.
Today, after lunch, they had found themselves again before
the fireplace, cuddled together beneath an afghan his grandmother had made for him. A comfortable silence had descended between them,
and they both were caught up in their own introspections. Suddenly, almost as if it had been fated, they had turned to each other, their
lips meeting. The kiss was incredible -- vibrant, deep, passionate.
Catherine had melted into the smoldering power of his kiss, her
mind spinning with the possibilities that spread out before her.
Here was a man she trusted, who she cared for and who cared deeply for her,
who wanted to be with her, who had found the words to tell her so.
Shane had been so gentle with her, afraid to push, but she
had wanted more. They had continued their passionate explorations
until she felt as if she would expire if he didn’t quench the fire he had
ignited within her. Then, suddenly, surprisingly, he had pulled away.
With regret shining in his eyes, he had whispered of his profound desire
for her, and then tenderly refused her. She would always remember
his words...
“Catherine, know that I love you. You are the other half of my soul...the sum of all my hopes and desires. I want nothing more than to take you to my bed and express to you with my body how much you mean to me. I would love you so deeply, you would become a part of me, and I of you. If you were truly free, I would never -- could never -- have stopped until I had given you...everything I have to give. But we cannot make love, not now, even as much as we both desire it. You are not free. You love another, and you do not...yet...love me. Perhaps you will one day. I hope beyond dreams you will. But until then, I cannot allow you to give yourself to me less than totally, completely. For that is how I come to you. Please, Catherine, you must leave me now. I pray that you’ll come back to me...for the right reasons. Then...I promise, I will love you with so much joy and give you so much pleasure that you would never wish to leave me again.”
She had been stunned. She had studied his face for a long time, then nodded silently. As she rose and went into the bedroom to pack, Shane had called the airport for flight information.
Shane had wanted her desperately, she knew that. Every fiber of his being strained toward her. She had felt it in him. Yet he had the courage, the nobility and strength to deny them both what, in retrospect, she knew would have been a life-altering mistake. She cared deeply for Shane, and believed that in time she could develop a true and lasting love for him. But this afternoon what he had sensed, and what she had only later realized, was that she was desperate to feel desired because she had been spurned by the man she truly loved. And Shane would not make love to her under those conditions. His forbearance was humbling, and she knew she was not worthy of it, of him.
Oh, Shane! Please forgive me. I promised never to hurt you, and I ended up...using you...shamefully. I didn’t consciously intend to, but that doesn’t really matter -- the result was the same. I hurt you so badly...one of the gentlest, kindest men I know. And I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I’m sorry...so, so sorry....