INTROSPECTION
"Thank you, Peter," Catherine said, squeezing her old friend's hand warmly before she got out of the car. "I appreciate it that you took the time to come and drive me home on such a short notice."
"That's what friends are for," Peter Alcott replied with an affectionate smile. "Are you sure that you don't want me to inform Jacob for you? You could do with some rest before you go Below."
"And a shower and a change of clothes," she added, rolling her eyes resignedly. "Thank you, Peter, but no. I have to do this myself. And I need to see Amy as soon as possible, especially after what you've told me."
"I don't think it's anything serious, Cathy. It is completely normal and understandable that children react with irritability or withdrawal when they have to be apart from their parents for longer than what they have been prepared for."
"I'd better hurry to see what I can do," she said, placing a quick kiss on Peter's cheek.
On her way down to the basement Catherine was warmed by the thought of her and Vincent being regarded as Amy's parents. Of course, both of them knew that they were, in a way, but it felt good to hear somebody else say the words.
Amy had just been put down for her nap when Catherine arrived at the nursery. She stood looking down on the sleeping child for a long while, tears forming in her eyes as she thought of all that had happened within the last couple of days.
"We love you, little one," she breathed as she bent over the crib to feather a kiss between the slanted brows. Studying the familiar features, the downy nose and the cleft upper lip, she felt suffused by a jolt of longing for Vincent -- so intense that, involuntarily, she stepped back a little, lest she disturb the child's sleep by her raw emotions. The time before she would be able to see him again seemed to stretch endlessly before her, and knowing Vincent as she did, she had every reason to assume that he would brood over all that had happened between them, thus presenting an easy prey for doubts and regrets and all kinds of painfully noble intentions. Yet, deep in her heart she trusted him to have faith in their love and in their future together. What they had was too deep and too true to be denied ever again.
"Catherine!" Father's voice startled her from her musing. She turned toward him, putting one finger on her mouth and pointing at the sleeping child. He nodded and indicated for her to follow him.
On their way to the study Catherine was bombarded with a million questions, and she willingly answered every one of them as best she could.
"Catherine, we can never thank you enough that you prevented Vincent from confronting Paracelsus. God knows what he would have done to him. For all his strength and wisdom, Vincent is quite guileless in the face of spite and malice. John Pater is a master of cunning and evil, and I shudder at the thought of the means he holds in his hands to destroy everything we have created down here." Father preceded her down the narrow metal staircase and offered her a seat in front of his desk.
"If this man is as evil as you say, I wonder why he returned Amy to us after he'd gone to such length to abduct her," Catherine said, stretching out her tired legs.
"And I wonder why he took her in the first place," Father replied, busying himself with preparing tea. "I have ideas, but nothing really palpable."
"Maybe he has lost interest in her, in Vincent, and in this world in general," she offered, remembering Vincent's dream.
"If I were to believe such a thing, I would have to assume that I was just succumbing to wishful thinking," Father said with a wry smile, handing her a steaming cup.
"Have you been able to find out more about the mysterious Fairy yet?" Catherine inquired, carefully sipping the hot liquid.
He shook his head. "There is a woman living with John. Her name is Tamara, and she is a master of disguise. So perhaps it was she who came for the child. As to whether Paracelsus may have lost interest in the child, or may have found that she didn't fit his plans for some reason, all I can say is that he'd never have gone to all the trouble of returning her to us. He would simply have got rid of her another way."
Catherine flinched at his words, and he apologized instantly. "I am very sorry, Catherine. I was just thinking aloud, and sadly this is what I have come to expect from the man John Pater has become."
"Paracelsus may be such a man," Catherine mused, "but perhaps that woman did not have the heart to see the child harmed."
"How like you to always assume the best in others," Father said with a melancholy smile. "However, let us be glad and grateful that we have Amy back."
When Catherine just nodded in agreement, he added, "And you. I shudder to think of the dangers the three of you had to face of late. That Vincent and you were so close to being in the maze when it caved in..." He fell silent, and she knew that he was worrying about his son and praying for his safe return.
"I would like to go back to the nursery now," Catherine said quietly, placing one hand on his arm in empathy. "Amy should be awake soon."
Patting her hand gently, he replied, "But make sure you get some sleep after seeing the child. Doctor's orders."
"I will," she promised.
******
Usually it was the purifying power of darkness
and solitude that Vincent sought when he came here to the banks of the
nameless river to think and work through a problem. But this time everything
in him yearned for the comforting warmth and light of a fire. Stoking the
embers, he watched a cloud of tiny sparks burst upward and fall back down
into their bed of fiery ashes. Like stars, he thought, a wistful smile
tugging on the corners of his mouth. His thoughts wandered back to the
Cave of Stars where Catherine and he had loved, and his heart constricted
with longing to have her here with him, to just lift his head and see her
beloved face, to extend a hand and feel her warm presence
.
He sensed that she was tired but well
and that she must be home by now. His need to be with her again had made
him all but run the first distance from the Cave of Stars to the camp by
the river. Initially he had intended to stop only briefly for a bath and
a meal and then try to manage another day's distance before nightfall.
But the familiar stillness of the place had drawn him in, had made him
aware of his need for introspection, had shown him that there were things
he must solve within himself before facing again the woman who was the
other half of his soul and who had become his lover at last.
He had never been more painfully aware of his physical differences that set him apart from other men than at the moment he'd stepped out of the water after his bath in the river, an hour ago, and reached for the towel to quickly dry himself. He recalled looking down at his taloned hands as he had toweled his shivering body. These hands had touched Catherine's delicate skin, this massive, hirsute body had covered her slender one. Remembering these moments made him wish more than ever before that he was a normal man.
Now, sitting here by the fire and listening to the sounds of the running river, he cast those futile thoughts aside. They would take him nowhere. That was not what he needed to contemplate in the quietude of this solitary place. What he needed to come to terms with was the question how they would continue from here, from where their love had taken them.
To Vincent, women had always been something enigmatic, a riddle that he didn't quite dare to solve. The women in his life had been sisters or friends, teachers or students. He knew many of them to be somebody's lover, mother, and wife, but those aspects he had always left out of his consideration, thinking they could never be for him. Until Catherine. She had entered his life being a mother, loving a child as unusual as himself, probably abandoned by people unable or unwilling to face what fate had thrown their way. Maybe it was that very fact that had given him dreams, that had made him audacious enough to fall in love, if secretly and without any hope that his feelings could ever be returned. Then she had become his friend, and that was more than he had ever thought possible. Now she was his lover, and the enormity of the thought sent ripples of excitement and happiness through him. And pride, he admitted shyly to himself. Yet the question remained how they would progress, how they would manage to be there for one another when the circumstances of their lives worked persistently against their need to be together, to be one.
Of course, some secret part of his mind had always pondered being a lover one day, also knowing that loving a woman meant so much more than just a sharing of dreams, a joining of bodies, a fulfilling of mutual needs. The shy fantasies of his childhood and youth had made him picture himself as a knight in shining armor who rescued the maiden of his dreams from dragons or anything else that might do her harm. Unfortunately that was where fairytales usually ended, and Vincent hadn't dared to imagine what may come beyond their pledges of eternal love. There had been no way for him to learn anything about living happily ever after. The more heated fantasies of his later youth and adolescence could in no way be regarded as an answer to that question.
So what was Catherine to expect from him? Stolen moments of passion in some secret hideaway? He shuddered at the thought of what the people in his community might think about him and Catherine sharing a bed. He knew all of them to be kind and caring souls, but he had never confronted them with a challenge like this. There was never any necessity for them to think beyond the facets of his personality that were familiar to them. It was one thing to regard him as a protector or a teacher or even a friend to whom they turned for advice, but it was something else to accept that he loved a woman not only emotionally and spiritually, but physically as well. He had always known, though, that he was accepted for what he did rather than for who he was. But now, for Catherine's sake, this was no longer enough. She deserved to be respected and loved for the warm-hearted and wonderful person that she was, and not despite the fact that she was the lover of somebody like him.
Heaving a desperate sigh, Vincent buried his face in his hands. What had he done? He was quite certain that Catherine had not contemplated any of this before she had allowed him to make love to her that night he still couldn't remember. She had undoubtedly just followed her heart and their mutual desire. As much as the thought warmed his heart, he still wondered if he would have acted differently in the Cave of Stars if he had not known about that night, that unremembered first time. Had he been acting irresponsibly by taking what she offered, by giving what she craved? Would he have been able to resist her, to deny his feelings, if he had considered all those various aspects and their implications first? A question impossible to answer, now that he had tasted the sweetness and beauty of Catherine's love.
Knowing her heart so well, he also knew that she would never conceal her feelings for him, but proudly admit to them, committing herself to him totally and unconditionally. But at what cost?
Slowly he raised his head and stared across the dying fire into the darkness beyond. He knew, because she had shown him, that it lay within his power to make her happy at least as long as she was in his arms. But how long would that be enough? Life encompassed so much more. How could he ever hope to give her a happy life, when she would have to hide in the shadows with him while she deserved a world full of sunshine? He knew her fear of the dark; had seen her struggle against the hardships of his world, and he marveled at her courage and determination. But where would a constant battle like that lead her?
What if he were to give her a child? Another child like Amy? Would she feel compelled to live with him and their children Below for the rest of her life? Wouldn't that be like caging a bird whose home was the boundless sky? Vincent's heart twisted painfully in his chest as he asked himself how much of a difference it would actually make that the cage was holding its mate.
The fire was gone and darkness had reclaimed its rightful territory, enveloping him with its shroud of impenetrable blackness, and Vincent's soul was finally overcome by a weary emptiness that he might have mistaken for peace, if not for the voice in his heart that kept calling Catherine's name, leaving him aching and incomplete. Finally it dawned on him that the answers to his countless questions could never be found here alone in the dark. He must return to Catherine, and together they would face whatever may come their way.
A tenuous ray of hope stole its way into Vincent's dreams as he allowed himself to fall asleep at last.