Vincent awakened slowly, his muscles cramped and stiff from the hours he’d spent slumped in a chair at Catherine's bedside. As he pushed himself to his feet, he stretched his arms above his head, twisting and turning his body in an attempt to restore its usual grace and mobility. He lowered his arms and shook his head to clear away the lingering vestiges of dulling sleep before turning toward the woman resting in his bed.

Immediately, the sight of her stopped him where he stood, and he drew in a sudden, much-needed breath. The harsh sound rasped through the still air, but he did not hear it. He was aware only of the vision before him. Catherine's slender body warmed and sheltered by the quilts and blankets that nightly covered him. Catherine's hair spread in silky disarray across his pillows, her smooth-skinned cheek nestled against a pliant cushion in the very place his tawny mane and golden-stubbled face had rested. Catherine's entire being surrendering to sleep and dreams in the bed where his own slumber had been so often consumed with the fire and fantasy of his dreams of her.

Shuddering, he shook his head once again. No, he told himself, it's not a dream. She is real and she is here. And this is right...

As he took a single step closer to her, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the entrance to his chamber, and he forced himself to turn toward the quietly advancing intruder.

"Vincent? Are you awake yet?"

"Yes, Father," he answered, struggling to conceal the weariness that returned to roughen his voice. "I'm awake. What is it?"

The older man appeared in the doorway, his worried frown visible even in the dim light of the darkened chamber. "Do you know where Catherine is?" he began. "I went to check on her just now, but the guest chamber is empty and her bed has not been slept in. You didn't help her go Above already, did you?"

Moving to one side, Vincent gestured toward the figure safely nestled in his bed. "No," he whispered as he turned and began to approach his parent. "I brought her here, where she has slept comfortably through the night." Pausing, he watched Father's eyes narrow as he peered through the shadows to verify his son's words. "She has not awakened for several hours."

Jacob's searching gaze shifted to his son's face, and he felt a flickering of uneasiness at the calm, self-assurance he found there. Many years earlier he knew he would have deemed such an expression one of adolescent defiance, and yet now he realized in an instant that to fall back on such an assumption would be a grave mistake. There was no hint of youthful rebellion glittering in the depths of Vincent's eyes or revealed in the stubborn set of his jaw. Instead, there was an air of mature serenity, revealing a man who had come to recognize a certainty and strength within himself, a new sense of purpose to his life that would not be relinquished willingly.

"Father?"

Vincent's questioning voice helped the older man regain his focus, and he cleared his throat to speak. "So you brought Catherine here then, did you? Well, I suppose that was the sensible thing to do, given your determination to watch over her all night long." His veneer of confidence regained, Father continued. "Of course, that wasn't at all necessary, since the sedative alone would have kept her asleep for hours."

"It was what I wanted to do, Father," Vincent replied quietly. "And it was what I needed to do. I promised Catherine that I will take care of her and keep her safe. It is what she wants as well."

Although it was left unspoken, the implicit message in Vincent's voice clamored in Jacob's heart, pealing out a message of warning he was unable to ignore. He knew then that he could no longer pretend he did not see what was happening around him. With or without him, his world was changing, and the realization shook him to the core.

"Yes, well then, when she awakens, send word to me, won't you? I should like to reexamine her to make sure there are no complications." As if from a distance, he heard his own voice and wondered at the normalcy of it. Nothing in the calm, controlled tone betrayed even the slightest hint of his inner turmoil.

"Of course, Father," Vincent agreed. "Is there anything I should do for her in the meantime?"

Jacob shook his head as he turned toward the doorway. "No, just let her rest." He paused for a moment to look back at his son and then beyond at the woman who still slept, momentarily unaware of the turbulence beginning to ripple all around her. She seemed to be at peace, serene and comfortable despite her injuries. Before he could stop them, the words to describe the image before him burned themselves into his heart. She looks as if she were home.

He leaned heavily on his cane as he made his way down the rock-walled passageway to the refuge of his own chambers. Collapsing onto the cushions of a favorite chair, he leaned back to rest his head against its familiar contours and closed his eyes as if the simple gesture could shut out the whole confusing world. But the relentless energy of his mind soon proved his hopes were futile.

Opening eyes turned stormy grey, Father stared blankly into the candlelit gloom, focusing on nothing at all. "What shall we do now? What is to become of us?" he murmured in the cool, still room, unknowingly echoing Catherine's own fearful words. "Has everything I've taught you meant nothing at all? How can I show you how wrong this is...before it's too late?"

He knew he must find answers to the questions that tormented him, and he knew that the answers must come soon. To wait any longer would force him to become an unwilling participant in the design of his own despair and in what he believed would be his beloved son's destruction.

In a nearby chamber, the questions roiling within another heart were just as intensely felt and the answers just as passionately sought. They, too, possessed the power to change lives forever. Yet the man in whom they echoed wanted to believe they would bring nothing but happiness, a deep and abiding happiness that was meant to be.

We have made promises to each other, Vincent mused silently, promises to move forward in our love, to build a real life together. My heart tells me to believe, to trust that it can be, that it will be...Andyet we propose to change the entire framework of our very existence, to face and overcome great obstacles we've yet to even speak of. Can all the strength of our love transform the worlds we've known all our lives? Or will we find, in the end, that all we have is a dream, a dream and our unending love...and will that be enough to live on?...We cannot go on as we have, I know that’s true, but where will this new path lead us, into darkness or into light?

Lost in contemplation, Vincent remained at Catherine's side, gazing at the woman to whom he had given his heart. With infinite gentleness, he reached down to smooth the tousled hair from her forehead, and the tender caress stirred her to wakefulness. Vincent saw her eyes flutter open to look up at him, and he felt a surge of amazement and pleasure as he watched their sleepy jade depths glow with love at the mere sight of him.

"Catherine, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your rest."

"It's all right, Vincent," she murmured, her drowsy voice sending disquieting ripples of delight through him. "You didn't disturb me. I feel like I've been asleep forever."

"But you need your sleep," he protested. "Father said --"

She interrupted gently. "What I need is to be with you. And I'd just as soon be awake for that."

He returned the smile she offered him as he continued to stroke and smooth her hair, savoring the sensation of the silky strands that rippled through his fingers. The freedom to touch her, even in ways still so innocent and new, filled him with wonder.

She stretched like a contented cat, nuzzling against his stroking hand. Her movement was supple but controlled for she had no wish to startle him into self-conscious awareness that might make him withdraw from her. " I feel so safe being here with you. You’ve been watching over me, haven’t you?"

"Yes," he answered softly. "I needed to be sure that you were well, to be nearby if you called out during the night."

"But when did you sleep?" she asked, frowning in concern. "And where?" For a lightning-quick moment the wish that perhaps he had lain at her side flashed through her hopeful heart, and just as quickly she set it aside, knowing that such intimacy was still only a dream.

Unable to turn away from her for even a moment, he inclined his head in the direction of the heavy wooden chair. "I slept there, Catherine."

"Vincent, no," she protested, reaching up to press her lightly bandaged fingers to the large and gentle hand that hovered near her face. "You must have been so uncomfortable! Do you feel all right? I'm so sorry to have -- "

He stilled her unselfish words of love and concern. "You did not force me to do anything I didn't want to do. I was able to get enough sleep, and..."

"Yes, Vincent?" she encouraged softly. "And?"

His voice, when it came, was low and thick with suppressed emotion. "And it gave me great pleasure to be able to watch over you as you slept, safe and warm and content…in my bed."

Her mouth curved into a quivering smile as she reached up for him. In a heartbeat he bent over her, cradling her in his arms as if she were a delicate and fragile flower, easily crushed and bruised should she be touched by hands less knowing than his. She felt his lips move easily over her skin, brushing lightly against her forehead, soothing almost imperceptibly over the scraped skin of her cheek, hovering just above her parted lips, mingling the heat of their breath until she thought she would scream with wanting him.

Her yearning hands fluttered wildly, seeking to bury themselves in the raw silk of his hair and pull him closer. She could feel her heart speed into a frantic, throbbing beat as she breathlessly whispered his name over and over again, until at last he covered her trembling lips with his own, caressing and claiming her heart and offering his own in return.

A kiss of such passionate intensity wed to immeasurable tenderness was as unique to Vincent as was the man himself to all others in the world. Even as her senses reeled under the delicious pressure of his mouth upon hers, Catherine was acutely aware that his potent and powerful sensuality remained harnessed by the disciplined sensitivity that had shaped his entire life. And she understood without a doubt that he shared her longing for the time when all restraints would be cast aside and they would share everything that awaited them. They both knew that with his innate gentleness he could never hurt her, despite what his wild beauty might imply; nor could the superficial trappings of her birthright ever sway her eternal devotion to him. They were willingly bound to one another heart and soul, desiring only to complete the circle of their love with the inevitable joining of their bodies.

Desperately needing a gasping breath of air, Vincent reluctantly drew away. He eased Catherine back to a half-sitting position against the mounded cushions and tucked the quilts and blankets around her before sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. His hands felt horribly empty as they came to rest at his sides, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out for her again. But he knew that for now it was not to be.

As she watched the vibrant emotions play across his face, Catherine sighed. The breathy blending of contentment and anticipation immediately drew his attention, and Vincent looked down at her lovely face. With joyous relief, he found that her expression of bemusement and delight was the mirror image of the feelings in his heart.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "So very beautiful."

"Oh, Vincent, no one could ever be as beautiful as you," she answered softly.

For a moment he looked away, feeling suddenly unsettled, but her voice called him back. "You are, you know. I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you." Her voice took on a playful tone. "But you know what? I think you – and your beauty -- might be contagious."

"Contagious?" He tilted his head to one side as he awaited her response.

"Mmmm-hmmmm," she managed, feeling a shiver of delight and wondering if he knew what that gesture always did to her. "Definitely contagious. After all, here I am in an enchanted kingdom, I've been sleeping peacefully for about a century or two, and then my gallant prince comes along to awaken me with those incredible kisses. So I guess if we stretch the truth a bit, it does make me at least eligible to be the beautiful fairy tale princess, doesn't it?"

He laughed appreciatively, savoring the lighthearted humor that had been such a rare occurrence in his adult life until he had met her. "And when you fell in the tunnels last night, were you pretending to be Cinderella, losing your glass slipper while escaping from the ball?"

Although his tone was light, she heard the concern underlying his words and immediately tried to reassure him. "No, I was just being my less than graceful self. But there's really no harm done. I'm sure I'll be fine in no time at all."

His expression turned grave as his eyes darkened with guilt like a sudden storm cloud sweeping across a summer sky. "It was my fault you were injured, Catherine, and even though the injuries are, thankfully, not serious, they’ve caused you pain and fear. I have sworn repeatedly to keep you safe, yet through my own carelessness you were harmed here in my own home."

"Stop it, Vincent!" The forceful tone of her voice brought him up short and he stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Stop it right now!"

"Catherine?"

"I mean it, Vincent. Just listen to yourself. I had an accident -- an accident – if it was anyone's fault, it was my own. I didn't wait for you to come and meet me or to see if you were sending someone else. I could have tapped on the pipes and asked for an explanation, but no, I went running off like an idiot, not watching where I was going, and I slipped in some oil or grease or something on the floor. If I had used one bit of common sense, none of this would have happened at all. So stop blaming yourself for something you didn't do!" As she paused to take a breath, she looked deep into his eyes, hoping to find some sign that he believed her impassioned words.

Shaking his head, he quietly disagreed. "Perhaps what you’ve said is partly true, but I should have been at the threshold to meet you at the expected time. Then none of this would have happened."

She knew she needed to keep him off-balance if she had any hope of diverting the force of his lifelong willingness to assume responsibility and shoulder the damaging burden of guilt for the misfortunes of others.

"Then why weren't you there?" She watched as he looked even more startled than before. Her voice softened and she reached for his hand, gently stroking the lightly furred skin, hoping to feel him begin to relax. "Vincent, I know you would have been there if it were at all possible. But I realize that you have other responsibilities, other people to care about besides me. What was it -- was Samantha's fever worse?"

"How did you know?"

She couldn’t help smiling as she heard the incredulous relief in his voice. She shrugged her shoulders as she answered, "I guessed. I know she's been sick and I know that you're the one she would want to sit with her until she fell asleep. Not that I blame her, of course. She loves you so much." Her smile grew as she felt his tension ebb. "You couldn't leave her alone even long enough to get a message to me, and anyway you knew that by now I could find my way to the home chambers without help. That's what happened, isn't it?"

He nodded and swallowed hard before speaking. "You are an amazing woman, Catherine...Yes, that's almost exactly what happened. I couldn't leave Samantha in time to meet you, but I did ask someone else to go in my place. There was a misunderstanding and you were left on your own. I should have made sure that -- "

"Vincent, if you say that this was your fault just one more time, I'll -- well, I'm not sure what I'll do, but I can guarantee it will be memorable!"

The smiles on their lips echoed the sensations gently murmuring through their bond. Within moments they were easily lost in the undercurrents swirling around and within them, until their attention was commanded by a pointedly polite coughing sound coming from the direction of the chamber's main entrance.

"Uh, I'm sorry to disturb you, but could I come in for a minute? I have some explanations and an apology I need to make."

Vincent rose hurriedly from his place on the bed at Catherine's side. "Good morning, Matt. It's good to see you, but I think any conversation should wait until later when Catherine is feeling better."

"Well, okay, but I'd really like to get this over with, if you don't mind. It won't take long," Matt answered, his face flushed with embarrassment as his brown-eyed gaze darted back and forth from Catherine to Vincent.

Catherine immediately guessed the cause of the younger man's discomfort. With an understanding smile, she looked up at Vincent and then turned toward Matt. "It's all right. Come on in."

Vincent tried once more with a shake of his head. "You spoke to me last night, Matt. This really isn't necessary right now."

"Yeah, it is." Matt dropped into the chair opposite Catherine, bringing his lanky frame and reddened face to her eye level. "I'm sorry, Catherine. I'm the one who was supposed to meet you at the tunnel entrance last night, and I feel really bad about what happened when I didn't show up. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's not much more than a few scrapes and bruises. If I had watched where I was going, it wouldn't have happened at all." She smiled reassuringly. "I slept like a baby all night long, and when I woke up this morning...well, I can honestly say I've never felt better." She glanced up at Vincent and her eyes twinkled as she took in the slight flush rising along his neck and the little smile he tried to suppress.

Their brief interplay had not been lost on Matt and a broad grin lightened his face. "Thanks for being so nice about everything, Catherine. You, too, Vincent. I really appreciate it." He rose from the chair as if to leave and then hesitated. "I guess if I was going to cause a problem like this, I'm lucky it was with someone as understanding as you two. And I've gotta tell you -- I owe you guys one."

Catherine raised her eyebrows as she looked up at him. "Matt, don't worry about it. Really, it's all forgotten. And you don't owe us a thing."

"I sure do," he insisted, "not just for being so nice about the whole thing, but maybe for getting me off the hook with Jamie, too. She's really mad at me! She wanted to come with me this morning, but I talked her out of it. It wasn't her fault that we got so involved in our conversation down by the Mirror Pool last night that I lost track of the time, and ended up forgetting my promise to Vincent to come and meet you." He sighed with relief. "Now that you two aren't upset about it, maybe she'll give me another chance. Thanks again, you guys."

"You're welcome," Catherine called as he bounded out of the chamber, leaving them alone once more.

"So that's how it is," she commented appraisingly. "Matt and Jamie. Did you know?"

"I had no idea. It comes as a complete surprise to me. But I wonder how Mouse feels about it. Jamie has always been a very special friend to him."

His caring touched her heart and her voice was soft as she continued. "Underneath all that bravado, Jamie has a very generous and caring spirit. I think there's enough room in her heart for her friends and for the possibilities of love, too."

He nodded his agreement. "I know you're right, Catherine. But I shudder to think of what Mouse might do when he finds his best friend might not always be available to accompany him on his adventures."

"You mean finding and taking?" Catherine quoted. "Maybe he'll ask you to be the newest member of his team."

"I don't think so," he answered with a smile. He shook his head in emphasis, and the sudden movement sent his long hair brushing across the wide expanse of his leather-clad shoulders in a rushing wave of gold and amber.

Suddenly Catherine swallowed hard, acutely aware of the arousal even such a slight gesture could elicit from her. In a heartbeat, her imagination caught fire. She could almost feel his bronze mane rippling through her fingers, whispering a sensual message across her naked skin as he bent low over her, caressing her with a tantalizing rustle of raw silk before his eager mouth claimed every part of her.

"Catherine, is something wrong?"

As if from a distance, she heard the worry in his voice and she struggled to answer. "What? Umm, no, nothing's wrong."

He peered at her carefully, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure? You look somewhat flushed. Are you in any pain?"

With considerable effort, she managed to stifle a betraying laugh. "No, I'm just fine."

A swift, fluid movement brought him to her side. He reached out to touch her forehead with strong, gentle fingers. "You feel very warm. Perhaps I should get Father."

"NO!"

Suddenly a new and unnerving idea rattled through her. There was every chance that he had sensed her feelings quite clearly through their bond and was now enjoying the opportunity to play, perhaps even hoping to coax a sensual confession from her. Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at him, carefully searching his expression for any clue to support her suspicions, but when she found only genuine concern, she let herself relax once again.

Still, he was not entirely reassured. His frown deepened, furrowing his wide forehead. "I don't like this, Catherine. You must let me do something to help you."

For several wildly tempting moments, Catherine considered telling him exactly what he could do to help her, until, sighing deeply, she let cooling billows of sanity carry her back to earth. "Maybe it's just that I'm still feeling a little shaky after last night. But I should get up and get dressed. Do you think Mary might be able to come and help me?"

Vincent hesitated. For just a moment he wondered if he might dare suggest that he help her himself. Then he remembered the glimpse he'd had of the lacy white lingerie clinging to her soft curves as he tucked her into his bed the night before, and the way her skin felt like warm, smooth silk when he had held her in his arms. He felt his body tighten in instinctive, aching response, and with a shudder he forced the beckoning image to a safer place in his heart. A place where dreams might someday become real.

"Vincent, do you think Mary would mind?" A slight ripple of uncertainty fluttered in her voice.

He shook his head and took a deep breath before answering. "No, not at all. I'm sure Mary would be happy to come and help you. You'll be all right while I go and find her?"

"I'll manage." Her lips curved in a gentle smile that softened the teasing tone of her voice. She leaned back against the pillows and, with a small, snuggling motion, nestled deeper into the comforting warmth of his bed. "I could easily get accustomed to staying here for a very long time."

Vincent's eyes widened as he drew in a short, sudden breath of air. Slowly backing away from her, he took several steps toward the chamber entrance, and then, moving quickly before the steely grasp of his life-long inhibitions could reach out to restrain him, he returned to her bedside. As if drawn by some irresistible enchantment, he leaned over her, bracing his arms on either side of her, and then bent forward with swift grace until his hair brushed softly against her neck and their mouths were only a breath apart.

"I would keep you here for a very long time, Catherine. For always."
With a soft, murmuring cry, Catherine closed her eyes, parting her lips to draw in the heat and scent of him. She waited eagerly for the sensation of his mouth upon hers, but to her surprise it never came. Instead, she heard him draw in a long, lingering breath and then felt the once still air tremble as his mouth moved away from hers, easing upwards, following an invisible path along the profile of her face until he reached the honey-sweet hair that feathered across the taut skin of her forehead.

For several moments he hovered there, suspending them in sweet uncertainty, until with a sigh, heated and soul-deep, he released the breath he'd held, deliberately allowing it to lift aside the silky fringe of her hair, baring the smoothness beneath. He pressed his lips to her there and savored a new sensation of simmering control. He understood in an instant that he held dominion over this moment of desire, that the balance of such delicious power might now be his, and at other times would be hers, but that it would always be a wondrous celebration meant to be shared together. The realization rushed through him, and instinctively he reached out to her through their bond, reveling in the resonating response that told him she knew and understood and rejoiced with him.

Straightening slowly, he looked down into her eyes, some small part of him needing one final tangible proof that he had not allowed his yearning heart to imagine the moments that had just passed. And before he left her to return to the common stability of everyday things, he found what he sought in the light of love illuminating her face. It was all there for him, as certain as the endless warmth of a summer sunrise or the eternal starlight of a crystalline winter night. As it always had been, as it always would be.

He rose and moved away from her, and as his footsteps receded in the distance, Catherine felt the feverish pounding of her heart gradually calm to a slow, steady beat. A bemused smile slowly eased the tension that had drawn her face into the taut ivory beauty of a carved cameo.

My God, Vincent, she mused wonderingly, if you can say something so beautiful just by kissing me on the forehead, what will happen to us when we actually make love?

Vaguely mindful of her injured ankle, she carefully rolled onto her side and cuddled a pillow in her arms, wishing it were him. "We might not even survive, but then I'm not sure I can survive waiting much longer either," she murmured aloud, and then her joyful laughter rippled through the quiet chamber. "Whoever said patience is a virtue evidently never met Vincent!"

Catherine closed her eyes again and let herself drift in the seductive currents that flowed through her imagination. Again she felt the heat of him drifting over and enclosing her in a secret place where she felt safe and cherished and adored. She imagined that he had kissed her lips then, touching her first with the moist warmth of his mouth and then with the controlled strength of his body as he lowered himself to her eager embrace. She longed to feel the welcome weight of him, pressing her down into the softness of his bed even as she reached upwards, fitting her body's soft curves to the hard planes of his, knowing instinctively that they would merge and meld in perfect symmetry.

Sighing, she turned over onto her back, still clutching the pillow in her arms. She snuggled her face into it and smiled. Its worn, patched cotton covering and soft feather filling offered only a slight scented hint of Vincent, and it was an extremely poor substitute for the real thing. Raising up slightly, she took the pillow and pushed it under her head before snuggling back down and then stretching languidly.

As her arms burrowed into the mounds of pillows behind her, her fingers caught hold of something concealed there and she immediately extricated it from its hiding place. She sat up in bed and cradled the little object in her hands, gently trailing a finger along its lacy curves, smiling even as sudden tears filled her eyes. It was the little pillow she had made for Vincent as a Valentine gift and had filled with a specially blended potpourri of flowers and herbs that mimicked the fragrance of her perfume and shampoo. It touched her heart that he kept it secreted under his pillows, knowing he did so to hold the scented essence of her close even in sleep. Perhaps, she hoped, it helped to inspire in him the same increasingly vivid dreams his every evening visit inspired in her.

Catherine's thoughts turned toward Giselle Delacroix, the elderly woman whose shop in Soho and insightful appreciation of such things had yielded the ingredients for that special gift. I'll go and visit her soon, she promised herself. I'd like to talk with her again and to see that she's well. And I'm sure she would enjoy knowing what has become of this gift.

She carefully returned the small token to its special place and then leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes once again. The realization arose within her that she had not felt such a sense of lighthearted pleasure in a very long time. And it felt good, it felt very good.

"Better than good," she murmured aloud. "Better than better."

"What was that, dear?"

Catherine's eyes snapped open to meet Mary's gently concerned gaze. "What was what?" she asked, stalling for time in her embarrassment.

"I thought you were saying something as I came in," Mary answered. "But you were probably just talking in your sleep."

Catherine pushed herself to a sitting position. "Yes, that must have been it," she agreed quickly. "Maybe the medication Father gave me last night is still having an effect on me."

Mary fluffed and straightened the pillows behind Catherine and then stood back to look down at the younger woman with an appraising eye, taking in at a glance her unmistakable air of peaceful and pleased contentment. "Something certainly is having an effect on you, or maybe I should say someone," she remarked cheerfully.

"Is it that obvious?" Catherine felt her cheeks warming to a rosy blush.

Mary chuckled as the sun in Catherine's smile grew brighter. "Only to anyone with any sense in their heads -- or in their hearts. But really, dear, it's wonderful to see the two of you finally giving yourselves the chance to just enjoy being in love. You've gone through so much together. Why, you deserve every bit of happiness that comes your way."

"Oh, Mary, thank you for saying that," Catherine answered. "And I must say I agree with you!"

Mary patted her hand gently. "Everyone does, you know. We're all very happy with the way things are going for both of you."

Immediately a sobering image invaded Catherine's thoughts. It chilled the warm conviction of her friend's words as swiftly as storm clouds consume the promise of a spring day. "Everyone?" she asked quietly.

With a quick, cautious glance toward the chamber entrance, Mary seated herself in the chair near Catherine. "You mean Father, don't you? And as much as I regret having to say it, I'm afraid that in some ways you may be right."

Catherine's quizzical look brought a sad smile to Mary's face. "I know that's not what you expected to hear from me. But I'm not as oblivious to Father's faults as everyone assumes I am. For a long time, I've been concerned about his reaction to the relationship you and Vincent have. I guess I hoped that he would come to his senses and that things would change over time."

"They have changed," Catherine interrupted, not trying to hide the bitterness that gave a sharp edge to her voice. "They're much worse now."

Again Mary reached forward to pat Catherine's hand in an instinctively soothing gesture. "I know," she continued solemnly. "And it worries me a great deal, not only for Vincent and for you, but for Jacob, too. I'm not sure just yet what I can do for him, but there must be something. And you must know that you're not alone in this. I want to help you, and if we all work through the problems together, things really can change. You'll see."

Catherine had underestimated her need for the sympathetic comfort Mary offered. It was almost more than she could bear, and she felt the inner walls she had believed to be so strong and steadfast begin to crumble under the power of an understanding heart. "Mary, I just don't know what to do anymore. I've tried and tried, but it's as if he'll only let me get so close and then he locks me out. Doesn't he know that I don't want to come between Vincent and him? I only want him to accept me, too." Her voice was heavy with unshed tears and she hesitated, uncertain she had the words to continue.

"Have you been able to talk to Vincent about this?"

"Not really," Catherine admitted. "We've never really withheld anything important from each other, but this...It's just so difficult. I'm afraid if I push too hard, he might withdraw from me again and we'll lose everything we've gained." She paused again in a struggle to order her tormented thoughts. "We've come so far in the past few months. And now it seems within our reach to have everything we've hoped for...a complete and happy life together. There have been so many obstacles in our way, but we've come through all of them together. Until now."

"But, Catherine, how do you know you can't see this through together, too, unless you talk about it with Vincent? Open your heart to him. He loves you so much. I can't believe there is anything that could keep you apart now."

Catherine managed a teary smile. "Not even Father?"

"Not even that stubborn old fool!" Mary answered emphatically.

Her brave declaration drew a small but genuine laugh from the younger woman. "Mary, I'm shocked," she teased. "I never thought I'd hear that from you! The last few hours certainly have had their share of surprises."

Mary rose briskly to her feet and smiled back at Catherine. "And I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them. Now let's see. Eric and Kipper went and found your suitcase, so shall I help you run a bath and then get dressed, or would you like some breakfast first?"

"I'd love a bath first, if you can help me get into the bathing pool and out again without spraining my other ankle," Catherine replied. "But first I want to thank you, Mary. It means a lot to me to have your support and to know there’s someone Below I can talk to about this."

"Well, of course, you can come to me anytime at all," Mary assured her. "You'll hurt my feelings if you don't!"

With a last grateful smile, Catherine threw back the covers so that Mary could help her struggle to her feet. She looked downward as she carefully balanced on one foot, trying to avoid any further injury to her ankle. With her face averted, Catherine did not see the flickering of doubt and fear that shadowed the older woman's face like wisps of smoke warning of the danger that lingers in a smoldering fire.
 

Catherine’s Prayer
  Katrina Relf

In the shelter of your arms
I find the only peace this world has to offer,
And in the very presence of you
I know my only joy, my only strength.
Just to hear you speak my name,
Just to feel your hand in mine,
Is the sweetest gift that God could give.
I am complete,
I could never want for more,
As long as you are near,
As long as you are mine.
I find more love in the touch of your hands
Than in a thousand lips,
I see more beauty in the message of your eyes
Than in a thousand sunsets.
What we have, what we share
Is beyond all words.
If this is but a dream,
Forever let me sleep,
Forever let me stay,
In the shelter of your arms.