ALMOST AS IF WE ARE ONE
JoAnn Baca
Part 6
When he had felt the first stirrings of passion in Catherine, Vincent had thought he would go mad. But he had sent her away, sent her to...him -- what was he to expect? For days, all he had felt from Catherine was incalculable sadness, despair, hopelessness. That was bad enough. To know he had caused her such torment was beyond conception. But this...was so much worse! He had known that it would come, and had tried to steel himself for it. Yet he had no power to control the surge of his own passion, and of his outrage that she felt this way, not for him, but for another!
The intensity -- the deep, swelling need within Catherine -- was unbearable. It seemed to go on...and on....and he was undone, bereft, driven nearly insane by the wanting and not having of her, by the feel of that man’s touch upon her -- his lips, his tongue, his mouth, his hands on Catherine. To know that she welcomed it, desired it, needed it from him was devastating.
Oh, God! Help me! I cannot endure this! Please, let me perish now, before I must submit yet again to this cruel evidence of my inability to satisfy Catherine’s need!
When it had ended so abruptly, Vincent had been confused. The relief he had felt was tempered by the knowledge that Catherine was not happy, that she felt...unfulfilled. Soon after the sudden cessation of the...intimacies...he had been an unwilling participant in, Vincent knew that she was coming back home -- to what end, he was not sure. He could not guess. He feared...and he waited.
* * *
By the time the plane set down, Catherine had thought things through...and made up her mind. She had to see Vincent...now. She had to discuss this with him. All this pain....
* * *
“Do not...distress yourself over it, Catherine. I...expected it,
and I will...deal with it.” Vincent stood quietly but stubbornly
before her, speaking to her feet. He refused to look at her, and short
of taking his face in her hands and forcing him, there was nothing she
could do about it. When Catherine had come to the culvert in
the park, he had met her at the gated entrance to the tunnels, and had
stood there, unrelenting, not allowing her further into his world. The
implication had not been lost on her.
Catherine’s frustration surfaced and she fought to keep her voice calm. “We can’t just ignore it. There’s too much already unspoken between us. That’s what’s brought us to...this. Let’s try to be rational and discuss this as adults, please!”
He shook his bowed head. “Discussion will not change anything. What I feel, I feel. I cannot...unfeel it. The bond between us will not allow it. But you must live your life, Catherine. You must. And I must live mine.”
She had known this would be a difficult conversation, but it would be almost impossible if it had to be a completely one-sided. Still, she couldn’t give up now, couldn’t take the time to regroup. He might never allow her to see him again. No...it had to be said now, all of it, come what may.
“If you won’t discuss it, will you at least listen to me while I discuss it?”
Vincent nodded and leaned against the cement wall, his face still averted.
At least he’ll listen -- I’ll take that as a hopeful sign. I could sure use one. “Thank you, Vincent. I was....” Her voice cracked, and she paused.
She couldn’t seem to stop shivering, and she pulled her coat
tighter, even knowing it had nothing to do with the temperature in the tunnel. Catherine realized she was becoming unnerved by the
implacable barrier Vincent had erected with his posture and his attitude. Her heart sank. Perhaps what she’d taken for a hopeful sign
was nothing of the sort. Perhaps he only meant to allow her to speak,
to let
her words flow over him until she was done, and then...leave.
Leave. Leave her. Please, God, no.... She took a deep
breath, then continued in what she hoped was a steadier voice. She had
to get through this, had to make him listen...and understand.
“I was very confused and upset after our last meeting. I decided to see Shane, partly because I’d promised to visit him...and partly...because you sent me to him.”
She saw the involuntary shudder which shook his frame, and she wanted so badly to reach out to him. But she couldn’t. Not until later, when she was finished saying what had to be said. She had to try to keep the narrative as dispassionate as was possible under the circumstances. And she couldn’t keep her composure if she touched him. She knew that much.
“He was very kind, very sympathetic. He allowed me to cry enough of my grief and anger out that I was able to talk about it -- as I would have talked to you if I had felt you would listen.” She began to tremble with the recollection, aware that she was flooding their Bond with a contradictory amalgam of guilt and gratification. She refused to block these feelings, though. She would not be a coward, not take the easy way out.
“Although I couldn’t tell him much, he understood far better than I could have imagined. And you were right about one thing, Vincent. He did have the words I needed to hear. They were words of love and commitment. I was so...grateful to hear them, that I...wanted more from him.”
Catherine stumbled over her words, her voice quavering again despite her best intentions. What she had to say would hurt him...but it was necessary. “So..I began to...to make love with him.”
Vincent’s head snapped back as if he had been struck, but he uttered no sound. He turned away then, leaning one shoulder against the tunnel wall as he listened to her rip his world apart. He would not let her see the tears that tracked relentlessly down his cheeks, nor know of how desperately he struggled to keep a sob from rising in his throat. To hear her say these words to him was almost unbearable. Why must she torture him with this -- was not his sharing of it through the Bond enough for her?
Tears spilled from Catherine’s eyes now, and she fought to
keep them from tightening her throat. With everything in her, she
fought the urge to reach for him, to establish some physical contact, to comfort
him -- the urge that had been growing since her words first began to wound him. This was even harder than she had thought possible.
And what she had to say sounded so...cold, so cruel, without the
modifying influence of her touch to reassure him. But she
had to stay strong, stay focused, in order to continue -- and this must
be said.
“I’m not proud of what I did, but my need was so great, I thought...I thought it might help make everything that was wrong all right again.”
Now came the hardest part -- for Catherine to tell, for Vincent to hear. Would he leave her before she finished? It was a chance she would have to take.
“Admitting this makes me even more ashamed than I can say... but I would have made love to him -- willingly, passionately, Vincent. I won’t lie to you. I knew he loved me and desired me, and at that moment, that was enough.” So, now he knew the worst. She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, endeavoring to block out the anguish of her admission. She heard a soft scuffling sound, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that Vincent had dropped to his knees, his right hand holding the wall of the culvert as if it were the only thing he could cling to in the world. Her heart twisted and tore at the sight...at what she had caused. Could anything repair the damage of what she had done, of what she was saying?
Doggedly, she went on. “But we didn’t make love. I mean, we started to...but Shane wouldn’t allow me to give myself to him while I still love you. He loves me more than anything, but he would not take me unless I loved him, too. He found the words to send me away from him; he loves me that much.”
Her tears flowing in earnest, her words coming out in halting phrases, some rushed, some barely breathed aloud, Catherine struggled to get through. She doubted her own ability -- or Vincent’s -- to take much more. But what she had to say to him now was more important than their pain. A whole future hung in the balance -- their future.
“At first I was...hurt by his rejection. But then I realized that he was doing what you had done. You...sent me to Shane because you love me...and you think...that is where my happiness best lies. I almost...made a horrible mistake because of that. How could you have done that to us, Vincent? You had the right words to...send me away, and I almost did go. I almost went too far to come back. If...if I had made love to him, I could...never have returned to you. I wouldn’t have known...how to face you. I can barely face you now. But...Shane was strong enough...for all three of us. God bless him, Vincent. Although you’ve never met him, he has been a true friend to you.”
Catherine paused for a moment to catch her breath. Vincent was as still and silent as a statue...his grief and pain palpable but quietly borne. She took a step toward him, then stopped, knowing that only by words alone could she relieve his suffering now.
“Please, Vincent. As good and kind and wonderful as Shane is, and as much as he loves me, and despite the fact that my life would be much simpler if I loved him, it’s you I love. It’s you I want.”
Now she closed the gap between them, wanting to convey by physical proximity an echo of all that her words meant. “So...I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stick this out with you. You cannot send me away anymore. And you can’t decide on your own what’s best for me. I won’t allow you to. I’m not a child. I’m a woman and I know my own heart.”
Catherine paused, trying to achieve a semblance of calm. Her whole future depended on this moment, this man, this decision. She knelt just behind him, then leaned forward and spoke directly into Vincent’s ear. “Hear my words now. You must find a way to tell me what you want from me. I cannot read your mind. I will, however, learn more patience, if that’s what you need. I will wait forever, if I need to. I hope I don’t need to, Vincent. Please, don’t make us wait.”
In a very small voice, she finished. “That’s all.” She leaned back on her heels, prepared to rise quickly if he began to leave, although how she could stop him, she didn’t know. Silently she prayed that he would believe her, that he would finally accept her decision about what she wanted her future to hold, finally reach out to claim all that was his.
Vincent didn’t move for a full minute. Catherine held her peace, but she was in agony, her heart jolting, her emotions in tumult. The longer he was silent, the more it was likely that he would once again deny her. And even if he wanted her, after what had happened with Shane, could he ever trust her again? Please, she prayed fervently. Pleasepleaseplease....
Finally, slowly, he rose from his knees, braced still by one arm against the tunnel wall. She rose too, still at his back, close, but not touching him. He looked over his shoulder at her, and for the first time she saw the tears streaming unchecked down his face.
In a ragged voice, he attempted to speak. “Cath....” A wrenching sob tore from his throat, swallowing the rest of her name. But the instant he had begun to speak, Catherine’s resistance broke. If he didn’t let her hold him now, she would die.
She reached up and grasped his shoulder, turning him, unresisting, toward her, then collapsed against him, hugging him to her in a fierce embrace. Vincent’s arms encircled her, gingerly at first, then suddenly pressing her very close. His maned head, the mass of curls tickling her cheek, bent to her shoulder as his sobs tore through him. As painful as any birth, the bitter tears -- which had begun over the terror of impending loss, the devastation of having to let go that which was most precious -- began now to purge his soul of the torment of the past weeks. Catherine clung to him, stroking his back, pressing kisses against his hair, murmuring over and over, “Forgive me. Forgive me.”
They held each other in this way for a small eternity, until Vincent was again able to speak. And with a voice hoarse and low with emotion, he finally spoke the words. “Catherine. You are my heart, my world. I love you. I...need you. Stay with me.”
Catherine sighed his name as she lifted her face to claim a kiss from the dear anguished soul she loved. “Thank you, my love. Thank you!”
* * *
Although he had been expecting the call, when it came, Shane was still unprepared.
“Hello, Catherine. You made it home all right?” Even to his own ears, his tone sounded forced, too light.
Catherine’s response was hesitant, her voice faltering. “Yes, thank you, Shane. And...thank you for...everything else.”
She sounded as if she was afraid to tell him something. His heart knew even before he asked, “You’ve...patched things up, then...with...Vincent?”
Relief was evident in her voice. The words that had been so difficult to find would not need to be said now. He knew.... “Oh, Shane....yes. He finally found the right words. Shane...I’m so sorry....”
The conversation had suddenly become unbearable to him. But first he needed to make her understand that he was truly glad for her. He loved her, and if her fulfillment lay in...another place than in his own heart, so be it. He interrupted her apology with his fervent declaration. “No, Catherine. I want you to be happy. You are now, and I can ask for no greater blessing for you.”
“Thank you.” Tears filled Catherine’s eyes, but she would not break down on the telephone. He deserved more, and she wouldn’t let him make this easier for her. “I...can never apologize enough for what I put you through. You, of all people, did not deserve that. I am so ashamed.”
In a soft voice, he sought to take away the pain of this moment for her. “No. Don’t be. Remember, I will always be here for you. You...always have a friend in me.”
How can he be so brave? So kind? “You’ve proven that as no one else ever has. I’ll take that truth to my grave.”
He smiled with infinite sadness at her words. She was the dearest thing between Heaven and Earth to him. And now...he had to let her go. “Catherine...be happy? Tell Vincent...tell him thank you for sharing you with me...for a little while. Those seven days -- they were...enough. They will last for always. For always, Catherine.”
“Oh, God, Shane...I....”
“Goodbye, Catherine.” He broke off the connection.
For a moment, Catherine listened to the flat buzz of the dead line. As she replaced the receiver, she let the tears flow. Her happiness had been bought at a great price. She felt inadequate to Shane’s sacrifice -- humbled, unworthy.
Vincent was waiting on the balcony. They would help each other find a way to get beyond the heartbreak of recent weeks, to make peace again. As far as the peace she had to make within herself for the pain she had caused Shane, if she could not find it...so be it. She would carry the remorse with her always, as a tribute to the man whose love, in another lifetime, she might have honored.
* * *
Shane Briscoe’s next book was the biggest sensation of what would become a long and luminous career. To Speak the Words became the must-have book of the year. At weddings, as couples renewed their vows, anywhere men and women scaled the battlements of love, his words were held before them as declaration and promise, as avowal and proclamation.
A copy arrived at Catherine’s apartment shortly after publication -- a first edition, signed by the author. Inscribed on the flyleaf was the following sentiment:
To Vincent and Catherine,
Who are my guiding spirits, and have shown me
the power of words --
Always, Catherine, Always
Shane Briscoe
The End . . .