Beyond Beginnings 2 - Chapter 13

BEYOND BEGINNINGS - BOOK TWO
Linda Barth

Chapter Thirteen

As the sun rose in the world Above, so dawned the morning in the world Below, a secret place far beneath the city streets. But only the dimmest hint of candlelight intruded within a solemn, darkened chamber where a man rose from his bed, washed and dressed with methodical disinterest, and then made his way to the dining chamber for his morning meal. The heavy, dark circles under his eyes and the drawn, haunted look within their blue-grey depths told an unmistakable tale; and while it drew sympathy and concern from the members of his community, they found themselves at a loss as to how they might express those feelings to him. This was Jacob Wells, patriarch of the tunnel world, their leader, their Father. To him they all owed allegiance and admiration, gratitude and cooperation. Some literally owed him their lives. He was loved and feared, respected and resented, but never was he pitied. Never until now -- and the members of his vast and varied family simply did not know what to do.
Mary had heard the undercurrents stirring through their world, and when she entered the dining chamber, she found him sitting alone at a small, isolated table in a far corner. She approached him slowly, a steaming mug of tea clutched in each hand, trusting that somehow she would know what to say, what to do, to ease his terrible burden. And yet she felt a growing fear that her understanding of his pain, while greater than anyone else Below might hope to have, was not so deep and clear as she had once believed.
"Jacob? May I join you?"
Her calm, familiar voice broke into the murky cloud of his dark mood, and he looked up at her, blinking for a moment almost as if he didn't recognize her. "Yes, certainly, Mary. Please sit down."
Without asking, she slid one mug of tea toward him and pushed away the cold, untouched one that he had abandoned. There's just no other way, she told herself determinedly. No other way at all.
"Jacob, what's the matter?" she began, forcing an evenness into her voice that belied the churning force of her fears. "Is it Vincent?"
He raised his eyes to her. "When isn't it Vincent?" he asked hollowly. "His bed's not been slept in, and I've not seen nor heard from him since early last evening. I've no idea where he is, if he's safe or hurt..." His voice broke alarmingly, but he did not look away from her. "Where is he, Mary? Do you know?"
His voice was like that of a lost little boy and Mary felt her heart break at the sound. He was her oldest and dearest friend, and to her great despair she suddenly felt he might soon be lost to her, to all of them, forever.
Her voice was gentle but firm as she began. "Don't you remember, Jacob, last night he and Catherine were to celebrate their anniversary? Most likely they went Above to her apartment and lost track of the time, and now he'll have to wait for nightfall to return home."
The rage that flared in his eyes, turning their dull surface to molten stone, told Mary that her well-meaning, reasonable words had been as fuel to a barely contained wildfire. Yet any feeling at all was preferable to the numbness that had pervaded him earlier.
"Yes," he hissed. "Now I remember. Of course, that must be the answer. And they have planned to talk with me this weekend. Oh, I can assure you we'll have a great deal to discuss -- make no mistake about that!"
Then, with horrifying speed his anger vanished as if it had never been, and he reached for her hand, clutching it desperately. "But what if he's hurt, Mary? What if he needs me, but he can't let me know? He's my son...my son..."
Swallowing hard, Mary kept a tenuous hold on her composure. "Why don't you go and lie down for a while, Jacob," she suggested. "I'll find Pascal and see if he's heard anything, all right? Then I'll come and let you know. Don't you think that would be the most sensible thing to do?"
To her eternal relief, he agreed without argument and let her take his arm to guide him toward his chamber. Once there, he pulled a book at random from the closest shelf, telling her he would read for a while until she returned with her report, and then he went into his private sanctuary, drawing the tapestry behind him.
Mary waited for several minutes, half-expecting him to emerge again in search of Vincent. When all remained quiet, she hurried off in the direction of the Pipe Chamber, hoping against hope that Pascal knew where Vincent had gone.

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

Stretching lithely, Catherine savored every pleasurably tired muscle in her warm, glowing body. Her mouth was still slightly swollen from the fevered kisses her lover had offered and she had eagerly taken, and she slowly ran her tongue over the tender flesh, savoring the delicious taste of him that lingered there. Her green eyes had become heavy-lidded, but their languid look could not disguise a softly diffused luster the color of rain-kissed spring leaves. Almost purring in satisfaction, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down lazily into Vincent's half-closed eyes, delighting in the equally content and gratified expression on his remarkable face and the slowly ebbing shudders of pleasure that still tremored along his muscular frame.
Almost giddy with delight, she did not wait to carefully choose her words, as she had done so often in the past, and felt an inordinate sense of happiness in knowing that cautionary tactic would no longer be such a necessary part of their lives.
"Vincent," she began, her voice a warm, tantalizing hum that seemed to vibrate through him, "I've wanted you so much, for such a long, long time. Sometimes I thought our being together might never happen....but you were certainly well worth waiting for!"
Even in the pale warmth of the shuttered sunlight, Catherine could see the faint crimson flush that crept over his neck and reddened the skin of his face.
"Umm, thank you, Catherine," he murmured, disconcerted but clearly pleased by her candor. "What we did...what we've shared...I'd tried to imagine it, but nothing, not even my dreams, came close to this. I had no idea that…making love was so…" He shook his head in lingering amazement. "That it could be anything like what I've found with you…It was so beautiful…because of you…"
Cupping her hand along the side of his jaw, Catherine leaned closer, alternating her tender words with gentle kisses upon his warm, slightly moist skin. "It's because of who and what we are together, Vincent. Everything I've ever known or imagined has been only a poor, pale shadow of what you and I have together."
He struggled to find words to tell her all that her declaration meant to him. "Despite my lack of experience, I knew without any doubt that there could never be anyone for me but you, Catherine," he admitted quietly. "And I've known that this, our making love, is what I've wanted, the completion that I've longed for. But I feared I'd disappoint you, that it would not be all you'd hoped it would be."
Her response was immediate and gentle. "You don't believe that anymore, do you? What we have is beyond anything else I've ever experienced, more than I'd ever dared hope for. With you I feel reborn, as if I've never known love before." She shook her head gently as she blessed him with the tenderness of her smile, her touch, her words. "Nothing else matters, because now I know that all my life I’ve been waiting for love. I’ve been waiting for you. And now that we're together, I have everything."
All he could do was gather her into his arms and hold her close, full of the realization that her heart, the partner and other half to his, would hear his reply that went far beyond words. They stayed as they were for long, uncounted moments, until as one they stirred and sat up slightly, still holding each other as they relaxed against the mounded pillows.
"Catherine," Vincent began hesitantly. "There's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time."

"You know you can ask me anything," she replied immediately, hoping he would continue, but beginning to doubt as seconds passed in silence.
He took a deep breath, and although his husky voice was even lower than usual, there was a surprising lack of restraint in its deep tone. "I know that you love me. Your love is so much more than I'd ever hoped for, and even when I couldn't admit it to myself, I still knew that it was true, that you truly loved me. But what I’ve wanted to ask you is…when did you know you had…fallen in love…with me?"
Unable then to meet her eyes, he averted his head, falling back on the familiar habit of retreating behind a tousled curtain of bronze and gold. Then when she did not answer, he was unable to resist turning back to her, his heart racing with unexpected misgivings until he saw the radiant glow in her eyes.
"I've thought about that, too," she admitted almost shyly, "but I could never find a way to talk to you about it."
His heart swelled with a ripening combination of pride, relief, and expectation. "And can you find a way now?"
She nodded as her tender smile grew warmer still, sending him a heartfelt message that underscored the words he longed to hear. "I knew I loved you almost from the very first moment we were together. When you cared for me and kept me safe, when you trusted me, I knew that what I felt for you was far more than gratitude or friendship. And all those months we were apart, I thought of you, wondered about what you were doing and if you remembered me. It seemed impossible, but I knew that somehow we were connected and someday we would see each other again. And until then, not a day went by that I didn't think of you and keep the memory of your courage and compassion with me.
"Then when we were together again, there were so many times, so many little things that told me I loved you. Every time we met the feeling was deeper and clearer. And yet there was a single moment I'll never forget, the moment when I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that I was in love with you, and that it would last forever."
She paused for a moment, her smile softening with the memory, and then she went on, knowing how he needed to hear the words. "It was on Halloween when I followed Brigit O'Donnell and you into the park. You stopped along the path and stood apart from me, but then you looked back and I thought you would come to me. I waited and everything within me felt as if I were being pulled toward you -- it was so strong that it took my breath away. I wanted so much to be with you, and when you turned and walked away, it hurt so badly that I thought my heart had truly broken. I couldn't bear it, Vincent. I wanted to run after you, to stop you from leaving, but then suddenly the pain disappeared and everything was all right. I knew -- somehow I truly knew – that we'd never lose each other and that somehow, somewhere we would find a way to be together. I was filled with more joy than I'd ever known before, the joy of knowing that not only did I love you, but that I was in love with you, totally and forever."
As her words poured out, Catherine had watched Vincent's eyes fill with quiet tears that told of the immeasurable depths of his feelings for her. "You didn't know, you never guessed that it happened then?" she asked gently.
"No," he whispered. "I sensed such strong feelings from you that night. But my fears, my self-doubts were so deep that I could not allow myself to believe the truth in what I felt from you. But I dreamed, Catherine, oh how I dreamed."
"Of me?" she asked, her sweet smile telling him she knew the question was entirely unneeded.
"Always." He paused for a moment, needing to simply look at her beloved face. "From the very beginning, I knew there was a connection between us, and I knew that I loved you. I loved your courage and your strength as you healed in our world. I admired your fortitude and perseverance, and I enjoyed being with you, talking or reading or even simply watching over you as you slept, more than I'd ever enjoyed being with anyone. But for me, as well, there was a single moment when I knew I'd fallen in love with you, and that whether or not we would ever see each other again, I would be in love with you forever...It was when you pushed back the hood of my cloak and looked into my eyes with so much trust and warmth and acceptance. You did not turn away from me, and in your eyes I found something I had dreamed of all my life. From that second I was in love with you, Catherine, with everything that you are."
"I could never forget that moment, Vincent, and how it felt to know that you trusted me. It was almost as if I knew my life was changing forever then, going off in a beautiful new direction I had never known, never dreamed of until I found you."
He heard the clear and simple beauty of her words, he trusted them as he trusted her, and still he needed to ask. "And yet there was enough time then for you to have changed that direction, to have chosen another path, another way. You must have known that choosing to come to me would shape your life in ways you'd never wanted for yourself, and yet you did not look away, you did not turn away from this face, from me. Why, Catherine? Why did you make that choice? Was there something in you even then that somehow knew and believed that this was meant to be?"

Her answer was unhesitating. "Yes, although I didn't realize it then, I knew it was right and that I'd come home at last." Her loving smile was full of trust. "Over a year ago, I was browsing through the books in Mr. Smyth's shop and I found a poem by Edwin Muir, one I'd never read. It was amazing, it was as if I had written the poem myself just for you. I wanted to show it to you, but I couldn't because I was afraid you weren't ready to accept it. I bought the book, and I've read it so many times that now that I'll never forget the words."
Vincent felt his heart quiver, but the trust in it matched hers. "Will you tell me those words now?"
She nodded, and in the soft, lyrical voice he loved, she took the poet's words for her own.

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face,
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that's honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part,
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.

Holding his gaze as she looked up at him, she reached to cradle his face between her small hands. "Like yourself, as they were meant to be," she repeated. "As we were meant to be."
No other words were needed as they held one another in joyful contentment, reflecting upon all the wondrous pleasures that were theirs. So much had happened to them, so many dreams had come true; and although both understood there would always be other obstacles to overcome, other challenges to meet, they knew this was a unique and special moment, a gift of time when they could savor the light and turn away from the darkness.
Again a soft breeze fluttered the sheer curtains that hung open at either side of the windows. The gentle movement caught Catherine's attention, and as she glanced toward it, she noticed parallel lines of sunlight that had slowly advanced across the room from behind the slightly opened shutters.
"It must be past eight o'clock. Are you hungry? I could make breakfast, or would you rather just have some tea?"
The final innocuous word struck sudden chords of apprehension deep within them, and when their eyes met, they mirrored a forbidding and unavoidable torment. "Oh my God, Vincent, we forgot about Father! He doesn't know where you are." Catherine's voice tensed sharply as she sat up, clutching the crumpled sheet to her chest. "He must be frantic with worry!"
Vincent nodded abruptly. "He will have realized I never returned home last night. He must be terrified." Anxiety and guilt clouded the crystalline happiness in Vincent's eyes, and for a moment he looked away blindly in disbelief, not wanting to further alarm Catherine, but unable to disregard what they both knew was true. Yet he knew that brief moment of reprieve could not last.
"I have to get word to him immediately," he began, swiftly rising from the bed and pulling on his robe. "I saw pipes outside the wine cellar."
"I'm coming with you." Catherine jumped to her feet and threw on the black silk robe she'd worn earlier. "I'll show you how the mechanism works to open the hidden door."
Several minutes later they retraced their steps, slowly ascending to the bedroom once again. Vincent sat heavily on the bed and looked up at her silently, his mouth tight and his jaw hard and set with tension. "Catherine, I must return Below as soon as possible. I'm sorry."
He reached for her hand as she came to sit beside him. "I know, love. I'm sorry, too." Her sigh trembled on the still air. "I can't believe this happened -- I should have remembered."
"It's not your fault, Catherine -- "
"And it’s not yours," she protested vehemently, entwining her fingers tightly with his. "But it happened, and we still have to deal with it."
"Yes." His voice rasped low, but she knew the harshness was not directed at her. "I will explain, and maybe somehow he'll understand. He worries about me far more than he should and always expects the worst."
Her smile was slow and sad. "You'll always be a little boy to him in some ways, the son he can't bear to let go." She paused as he nodded. "And this won't help matters any when we have that meeting with him, will it?"
Vincent turned to look into her eyes, his gaze troubled but steadfast. "No, it won't. I want Father to find it in his heart to bless our union, but we both know that might be an impossible dream, at least for now. I love him and I respect him, but in the end his disapproval will not alter our dreams and our plans. Nothing and no one will change that, Catherine."
Stirrings of trepidation still wavered through her, but she made every attempt to suppress them. "I know," she said softly. "Nothing will keep us apart now."
For several all too brief minutes they stayed side by side, holding each other and gathering strength for what was to come. Then separately and in relative silence they bathed and dressed and then went Below.
At the threshold marking the place between their new world and the world in which he'd spent a lifetime, Vincent tapped out a second message on the pipes, requesting that Pascal inform Father they were Below and would be at the hub chambers soon. Almost immediately a reply clattered over the metallic pipes, asking that they stop at the Pipe Chamber before continuing on to see Father. The looks they exchanged were full of trepidation and they hurried onward. Vincent struggled to keep his long-legged strides manageable for Catherine, but she was breathless when ten minutes later they arrived at the Pipe Chamber to find Pascal waiting nervously for them.
"Pascal, what is it? Has something happened to Father?" Vincent demanded quietly, his apprehension unconsciously hardening his voice.
His old friend understood and took no offense at the disquieting tone. "He's all right, Vincent. But he's not himself. Mary came by a while ago, asking if I'd heard whether or not you'd returned from Above. I mean, we all just assumed you were Above with Catherine, it being your anniversary and all. Father knew it, too." Pascal shrugged abruptly. "Sure, it's like him to be annoyed and concerned, but Mary said it's more than that."
Even his slight pause seemed too much to bear. "What did Mary say?" Catherine asked, her voice too even.
"She said he was upset, and that his behavior was erratic. One minute he seemed angry, and the next like he was sad and lost. She said she's never seen him like this."
"Where is he now?" Vincent asked. "We will go to him immediately."
"He was in his chamber at last report," Pascal replied. "There's been no word to indicate he's gone anywhere else since breakfast a couple of hours ago. But he left a message for me to give you the minute you returned. I didn't want to send it out over the pipes, because I thought it might be kind of personal."
Vincent nodded tersely. "Thank you, Pascal. What does the message say?"
A deepening frown creased Pascal's forehead. "That I'm to let Father know when you're Below, and that he wishes to see you and Catherine in his chamber an hour after your arrival."
"Nothing more?"
Pascal shook his head. "No, that was all."
"I think I understand," Vincent replied ominously. "And I appreciate your care in keeping this from the others."
He took Catherine's hand as he turned to lead them from the cavernous chamber, the clanking of the pipes no less discordant than the jumbled, darkening images within his mind. But before they could take more than a few steps, Pascal caught up with them and reached out to lay a hand on Vincent's arm.
"Vincent, it'll be all right. You know Father. He just worries about you too much. You'll see, after you and Catherine talk with him, everything will work out fine."
Gratitude for his old friend's compassionate heart filled Vincent, and it helped to ease some of his growing pain. "Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "I hope so."
Catherine's small, sad smile underscored Vincent's words, and then they hurried from the Pipe Chamber, leaving Pascal behind to shake his head slowly in deepening concern.
Although they passed several members of the Tunnel world on their way to Vincent's chamber, they did not stop to talk or become involved in the community's everyday matters as they normally might have done. Without exchanging a word, both understood their need to be alone and apart from the others until the minutes dragged by and they could meet with Father. There was no room, nor was there a need, for anyone else.
As they had countless times in the past, Catherine sat upon Vincent's bed, and he dropped wearily into his oversized carved chair, for a moment burying his face in one large hand before looking up to meet her troubled eyes.
"It will be all right, Catherine," he began, echoing Pascal's words. "I promise you that."
"I know," she said quietly. "I trust you, and we'll be together in this. You won't have to face it alone."
He sighed heavily, but a small, sad smile touched his lips. "And that makes all the difference. Having you here with me means more than I could ever say. There are no words."
Her smile mirrored his as she gently shook her head. "We don't need words to understand what's in our hearts." She clasped and unclasped her hands unconsciously where they rested in her lap. "But I don't think I can stand this wait," she admitted, tension vibrating in her voice like a violin string too tightly drawn. "Maybe the time will pass quickly if we try to concentrate on other things. Let's talk about something else, okay?"
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Vincent agreed. "Or I could read to you."
She nodded and forced a small smile. "That would be even better."
He rose and began to walk toward a nearby bookcase, but as he did, a small, hard rectangular shape thudded against his thigh from within a hidden pocket of the cloak he had yet to remove. Smiling slightly, he reached for the object and paused to stare down at it with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he unfastened his cloak and swung it from his shoulders as he walked toward the chamber's main entrance.
As Catherine looked on, wondering about his unexpected actions, Vincent hung the cloak on a heavy brass hook imbedded in the stone wall and then moved to his writing desk where he placed a small wooden box on its surface. To her surprise, he turned his body just enough to hide the box from her view, although from the movement of his hands she knew that he had opened it and was arranging several objects within its interior. Forcing herself to be patient, she waited as long as she could, but the tension of the past hour had taken its toll.
"Vincent, what are you doing?" she asked. "What's in the box?"
He glanced over his shoulder toward her, his expression an enigmatic blend of expectation and enjoyment. "In a minute. You must be patient."
When he turned back to his mysterious task, Catherine raised her eyebrows in exasperation, and yet she felt relieved that he had found something to divert their attention from Father, at least for a little while. Moments later he approached her and placed the little box in her hands before sitting beside her on the bed. She looked up at him expectantly as he leaned back on one elbow, relaxing against the patchwork and tapestry-covered cushions.
"It is my anniversary gift to you, Catherine. You can open it now if you wish."
Vincent's amused smile drew a soft laugh from her as she set the box on the quilt between them and then slid back farther on the bed, making herself more comfortable before reaching for the ornately carved object once again. "You're not going to make me wait a little longer?" she asked, teasingly running a finger over the vines and roses delicately carved into the lid of the box. "Are you sure?"
He pretended to reach for it. "Well, if you'd prefer to wait -- "
She didn't give him a chance to finish before grasping the box and pulling it out of his reach. "No, I don't think so," she said, smiling as she picked it up again. "It's a beautiful box. Did someone Below make it?"
"I don't know who made it. I've had it for as long as I can remember, but I don't recall where it came from. Probably Devin and I discovered it on one of our explorations and brought it home."
"Like buried treasure," Catherine suggested. She held it up and breathed in the faint fragrance the warmth of her hands had released from the polished wood. "Mmmm…is that sandalwood?"
She held it out to him and he leaned forward, cupping his hand under hers as he sniffed at the aromatic wood. "Yes, I believe it is, although I hadn't noticed the scent of it so strongly before. It makes me think of pictures from the children's storybooks -- Tales of the Arabian Nights, or perhaps The Jungle Book."
Although her smile never faltered, the look in Catherine's eyes softened. He had lived so much of his life through the written word, she realized anew, and while it had provided magic and mystery where none would have existed, she wanted so much more for him. The small moment only strengthened her resolve that she would do everything she could to enlarge and enliven his world, knowing with all her heart that no one deserved it more than he. But for now she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to spoil the lighter mood they deeply needed. After setting the box back upon the quilt, she carefully opened its brass, flower-shaped clasp and pushed back the lid.
Her immediate gasp of surprise and delight told Vincent that his gift had been the right one. She looked up at him expectantly. "They're so beautiful! Where did they come from?"
"From many places in chambers and caverns deep below even this part of our world." He leaned forward and picked up the amethyst, holding it high enough to catch the candlelight before placing it in the palm of her hand. "There was once a waterfall in a cavern about an hour's journey from here, not as big as the Great Falls, but it must have been very powerful in its own way, for over the years it carved out a long sloping passage in the rock. It no longer exists, but in the area that was at its base, there are still many geodes. This amethyst was within the heart of one such stone."
Catherine imitated his earlier action as she held the translucent violet-colored stone between two fingers and turned it back and forth in the light. "It's amazing, the way the light seems to glisten through it. Someday I'd love to go and see the place where you found it. Do you think we could?"
Each time she voiced such interest in his world was a gift beyond measure to Vincent. "Yes," he answered, his voice soft and warm. "We can do that." Then as she started to place the stone back into the velvet-lined interior of the box, he stopped her, gently closing his hand around hers so that the small, smooth stone was held within their shared grasp. "There was another reason for choosing the amethyst. Some believe there are special meanings, various powers and significance, ascribed to stones such as these."
"Like the flowers and herbs?" she asked, smiling up at him. "I didn't know."
"Nor did I until I mentioned your flower book to Elizabeth and learned of this from her. She gave me a book similar to that one, except that it lists interpretations of gems and minerals rather than flowers and herbs." He paused for a moment, unconsciously cupping his hand more firmly around hers and gently rubbing his thumb over her curved fingers. "The amethyst is said to guide and protect those who are embarking on a journey or time of transition in their lives. It is also believed to heal and strengthen the spirit and heighten one's natural intuition."
"Like our bond," Catherine suggested with growing delight. "It's perfect for us, Vincent. For all the changes we've gone through during the past three years, this surely must be the most important one of all. At last we're beginning the journey we've longed for. Maybe the amethyst will help protect us along the way."
Deeply pleased that she had so eagerly entered into the enchantment and beauty of his heartfelt gift, Vincent gently released her hand so that she could return the amethyst to its place and choose another stone. She hesitated for only a moment and then withdrew a small, translucent crystal the color of pale sherry.
"That's topaz," he told her. "For helping to calm turbulent emotions and protect against external stress."
Catherine could not resist a wry comment, but she softened it with a smile. "Good choice," she murmured. "I think I'll keep this one in my pocket for the rest of the day."
Vincent smothered a short laugh as he watched her place the stone in the pocket of her moss green wool sweater, and then he reached for a crystal similar in size to the one Catherine had held. Its coloring was a shade of deep taupe that seemed to swirl within its depths. "Then perhaps I should hold onto this piece of smoky quartz and hope that it really does have the ability to purify negative energy."
"Definitely," Catherine agreed. "Does it have any other meanings?"
"Yes," he answered, his voice warm and tender, "the ones that made me choose it for your gift. It is a symbol of energy and light, an inspiration to remind us of the joy in our lives. To reach for our most beautiful and wondrous dreams, knowing that each of us has the right to try and make them real."
Catherine's eyes misted with tears. "That's so beautiful, Vincent, and so right for us. We will make our dreams come true, I know we will."
"Yes," he murmured softly. "We will."
Wrapped in the warmth of their faith in one another, they spent long, uncounted moments examining the remaining stones, savoring their physical beauty and the far greater value of their enticing messages, each one representing a facet of their love. One after another he placed them in Catherine's hand, telling her of the garnet's pledge of profound and faithful love; the nourishing intensity and deep healing powers of love symbolized by the lustrous pale pink crystals of rose quartz; and the legend ascribed to jade which told of eternal commitment and abiding love found by those whose hearts and souls were truly a part of one another. Each word Vincent spoke resonated within Catherine's heart, and although it seemed impossible, every moment that passed between them only deepened the love they shared.
All too soon they knew the time they'd sought to hold at bay was creeping inexorably closer, yet that realization only served to make each minute left to them more precious still. With great care Catherine returned the stones to the velvet-lined box, and as she did, she discovered one that had slipped unnoticed into the folds of the quilt. It was a large, multi-faceted, sky blue crystal and as she raised it to the light, its translucent depths glittered with tiny sparkling starbursts.
"This is gorgeous, Vincent! What is it called?"
"It's celestite," he answered. "I couldn't find a meaning for it in the book." He tilted his head, watching as she turned it back and forth in the candlelight. "But it was too beautiful to leave behind."
He watched uncertainly as Catherine brought the stone close to his face and then dropped it into her palm, stroking it lightly with the fingers of her other hand as she looked up and held his gaze. "Then I'll give it a meaning of its own," she said, her voice smoky and soft. "This stone, this celestite, is my favorite shade of blue. It's like the color of the summer sky, and once I thought that was the most beautiful kind of blue that there could ever be. I'd love to look up at it, clear and strong above the noisy, dirty city streets. But I was wrong about it, because the most beautiful shade of blue isn't above me. It's right here in the color of your eyes, and I'd rather look into them than at any summer sky. Your eyes are always full of courage and compassion and trust, and when you look at me, I feel so blessed because then they're full of the love you feel for me." She paused for only a moment and held the crystalline stone out toward him. "And that's what the celestite will mean to me, Vincent. It will symbolize what's best and beautiful in all the world. It will symbolize you."
Made speechless by the unexpected gift she had offered him, Vincent could only look into her eyes, trusting she would find an even greater expression of the love that always shone there for her. Then, leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers in a kiss that for all its gentleness spoke of needs as deep and primal as the earth itself.
For long moments Catherine lost herself in the kiss, tenderly giving and taking what they both desired. Then realization of their surroundings invaded the moment and with a regretful sigh she eased away from him, returning her attention to the brilliant blue stone she still clutched in her hand, turning it over and over before setting it back in the box and reclasping the lid.
When she looked up at him again, a misty smile curved her mouth. "Thank you for this gift, Vincent. It is such a beautiful part of your world -- and of you."
"I thought you would like to keep it with you when you're Above, to remind you of the world Below." Aching to reach for her, to hold her and touch her, he forced himself to caress her only with the warmth of his voice. "And as a symbol of the love and the worlds we'll share."
Almost afraid to hope, Catherine seized upon his words and began to push him gently but resolutely in another direction. "Yes, I'll have to find the perfect place for them," she answered carefully as she sat up and looked down at him, waiting for a moment as he straightened and moved to sit beside her once again. "When you were waiting for me to finish getting dressed this morning, I noticed you were looking at some of the books on the shelves over the desk. Was there something special you hoped to find?"
Vincent found himself somewhat perplexed by the flow of her thoughts. "No, nothing in particular, although I noticed that many of your favorites were not there, and earlier you'd said that you intended to keep those volumes close at hand in your bedroom."
"Yes," she agreed, her voice full of secrets. "That is what I said."
"Then where are they?" Even without the bond, Vincent easily sensed Catherine's growing turmoil, a swirling of excitement and apprehension. "Have you not yet unpacked them?"
She nodded, staring down at her hands as she plucked nervously at the loose threads of a patchwork pillow. "Most of my favorite books are still in cartons in the basement," she answered, hearing the vagueness in her words but still unable to give them focus.
"Then would you like me to help you move them?" he offered, feeling more and more confused with each answer she gave him. "I would be glad to do that the next time I can come Above. When we left this morning, I saw several boxes marked 'B' -- does that letter indicate they contain your books?"
Shaking her head, Catherine raised her eyes to his. She knew this was the opportunity she had sought, but now that it was being given to her, she was suddenly and deeply afraid. This time had come to them twice before, and twice Vincent had disowned its possibilities. If he chose to do that once again, she knew her heart would surely break, and all the bright promises they had made to one another would be forever clouded and dulled.
"Catherine?" he prompted, growing concerned at her silence. "What is it -- what's wrong?"
For a moment she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, holding his gaze with hers, their vulnerable depths were full of tenderness and trust. "They all say 'B'," she began, her voice growing calm and full of purpose. "All the boxes down there have a 'B' written on them -- you just didn't have a chance to look at every one. And it doesn't stand for books or brownstone or basement. It stands for Below. All those boxes contain things I want to bring with me to my new life, to my new world, here with you." She paused for a long moment, gathering the remains of this twice-denied hope. "I want to live here, Vincent, with you."
Somewhere within him, he had half-expected her words, had even longed for them, and yet he found himself stunned beyond belief. "But I thought, your new house, surely that is where you want to live?"
"Where I want to live is with you," she said, repeating the words with the strength of slowly flowering hope. "I only bought the house with Peter so that you and I would still have somewhere to go Above, a place where we could be together safely in the sunlight and fresh air. We can go there whenever we want, but I know your life is here. And, Vincent, there can no longer be any doubt within you that this, too, is where I want my life to be. Living and working with you Below, supporting all the wonderful qualities of life your community embraces. Here with my family, but most of all with you, my love, here with you."
He hesitated but did not avert his head, instead letting the intensity of his gaze move over her face as if trying to probe into her heart and mind. He had known the depth of her love for him, but this commitment that she offered to him now and all that she had done to make it possible, combined to an almost overwhelming force inside him. It was all that he had dreamed, more than he had believed possible.
The waiting was unendurable and as she watched his lips compress into a tight line, Catherine felt everything within her tighten and freeze, like a brittle tree limb about to snap.
"Vincent, once you asked if I needed to hear the words before I could trust you. I've given you my words, my heart, everything I am. There's no part of me that I won't share with you. But if you can't trust me when I tell you that this is truly what I want my life to be, then I'm not sure we can go on."
He closed his eyes for a moment, shutting away the needles of guilt and disappointment her words had pierced through him, knowing that the pain of his own dark, misguided beliefs had forged them. When he looked down at her again, he found her waiting and knew with crystal clarity that this was the moment he had always sought, a gift that had been offered once more, but would never come again.
His voice was low and thick with emotion. "I do trust you with all my heart, with all that I am. Forgive me for all the times I kept us apart because of doubts and fears I could not conquer. Even now I cannot promise you a life entirely free of them. But I can promise you a life full of love, now and always." He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss across the tender skin as he held her gaze with his. "Twice you have asked to live Below and twice I've denied what we both wanted. I will not make this mistake again."
He brought their clasped hands toward his heart, urging her closer. "Catherine, will you come Below and live with me, here in my world, for as long as you wish to stay?"
Her answer was almost smothered by a tremulous sob as she surged into his arms. "Yes, Vincent, yes. And I'll wish to stay forever! I'll never leave you."
They held each other harder and tighter as if they truly sought to meld themselves into one unbreakable entity. He rocked her back and forth tenderly in his arms, feeling her warm tears spill onto the wrinkled linen of his shirt where she'd buried her head against his chest, knowing that his own tears fell gently upon the honeyed softness of her hair. His heart felt so full that the sensation was almost painful and yet it was the sweetest pleasure he had ever known. She would come and live with him in his world, and never again would he suffer the excruciating torture of his aloneness. From this moment on, they would truly be a part of each other in every way. They would bring a beautiful sense of unity to each day and each night of their lives, just as they had long ago wedded their hearts and souls.
Within their ever-strengthening bond Catherine felt the intensity of Vincent's vows supporting her on waves of faith and love. This time, she knew, he did not doubt the rightness of their being together. At last their worlds were truly one, Above and Below, and they would never be parted again. She felt that belief strengthen within her until it was as real and immutable as the very air she breathed, and through the extraordinary connection they shared, she knew he felt it and believed it, too.
Raising her head, she met his lips in a depthless kiss, sealing their pledge, promising everything. Smiling against his mouth, she felt him begin to lower her back onto the quilted surface of his bed, the joy within them craving the voice of desire to further celebrate this wondrous moment. But just as he moved to cover her body with his, they heard the metallic clamor of the pipes invade their private world, and they pulled apart, desperately trying to withstand the need to kiss and touch and hold one another, as instead they rose to their feet to stand facing the chamber entrance.
Vincent put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against the side of his body, offering his shelter, taking her support. "It's time, Catherine," he said quietly. "We must go."
"I know," she answered, her voice soft but strong. She looked up at him for a moment, conveying without words all that was in her heart and rejoicing in his reply.
Together they walked toward the entryway, but just at the threshold Vincent turned his head for a moment, scanning the interior of the chamber that had always been his sanctuary, once a happy place where young boys had played and planned, and later a solitary haven where a man had tried not to dream. Now it would be theirs, Catherine's and his, and he smiled as he caught sight of the chalk marks on the far wall. Later when this is over, he promised, we'll come back and I'll tell her about the plans for this chamber....for our chamber.
He started to turn back toward the passageway, not wanting his hesitation to contribute to the apprehension they shared. As he did, his gaze paused for just a moment on the small wooden box still resting on his bed. He remembered another stone he'd discovered on his underground journey, a translucent green and rose tourmaline that was now wrapped in a scrap of worn velvet and set aside for safekeeping in a smaller, battered tin box in a drawer of his wardrobe. Tourmaline, a symbol of the most beautiful and enduring aspects of love in its deepest and fullest sense, a piece of eternity. He had saved the stone in the hope that on some distant day it might serve as a formal, tangible symbol of their unity.
Suddenly in his joyful heart he knew that day was not far away. The thought strengthened him further, and with Catherine he turned and walked away from that safe place, hoping they could offer solace and healing to another who needed him almost as much as Catherine and he needed each other.

from "Songs of Experience"

William Blake

Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.