The evening draught that wafted through the dimly lit corridor outside Vincent's chamber carried the faint scent of damp earth and fresh grass, and he sniffed the air appreciatively. Having just returned from repairing a minor leakage in the upper tunnels, he was ready for a bath and a change of clothes, when Father's voice reached him.
"Vincent, are you planning on going Above tonight?"
Vincent paused and waited for the older man to catch up with him. "As a matter of fact, yes I am. I promised Catherine to stay with little Amy while she'll be attending some social event with her father."
Although Vincent knew that Father had long ago given up protesting against his regular visits at Catherine's apartment, he was surprised to see a smile play across the wrinkled face.
"So, you will be baby sitting," the older man commented dryly.
Smiling in return, Vincent raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I have to hurry. If you don't mind..."
"No, no, you go on and keep your appointment," Father said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
*
Amy was already tucked in and sound asleep when Vincent arrived at the apartment. There was just enough time for Catherine to give him a list of possible emergencies and how to handle them, including the phone number and address of where she could be reached if necessary. Before she left she gave his hand a small squeeze. "Thank you, Vincent. I wouldn't know what to do without you. I'll try to be back soon after midnight." And then she was gone, leaving him staring at the door speechlessly, and a little short of breath. He had never seen her in clothes like that. With him, she'd always been dressed casually, comfortably, as everyone would do at home. But the dress she wore tonight...he had never seen anyone dressed like that, at least not from such a close distance. Her hair fell in soft curls down to her shoulders, and the make up she wore enhanced her natural beauty perfectly. And the dress...
He swallowed as he tried not to think of the elegant curve of her neck, the small hollow at its base, and the soft swell of her breasts beneath. Those were pictures he had banished from his mind a long time ago, when he was still a young boy, about to realize just how different he really was. Too different to hope for all that life might offer a normal man. Too different for a woman's love.
Staring at the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand, he took a deep breath and clamped down on his dismal thoughts. After all, this evening was supposed to be a peaceful one, with the child sleeping nearby and some time on his hands to spend as he pleased. Catherine had shown him how to operate the CD player and insisted that he use it. Although, throughout the last few months, he had managed to overcome some of his inhibitions, he still felt a little awkward at the thought of touching her things, especially when she was not here.
He walked over to one of the small couches and sat down, smoothing out the list Catherine had given him, against his thigh. Frowning at the variety of possible emergencies she had come up with, he traced the telephone number and address with one pointed nail. That was where she was now, moving among people, wearing a dress that...
A sudden wail from the bedroom brought him instantly to his feet and to Amy's side. The little girl sat in her crib, sobbing and rubbing her puffy eyes. "Mama," she demanded plaintively.
What a promising start for our evening together, Vincent thought wryly, extending his arms to pick Amy up.
"Mama," she reiterated, but her little hands came up anyway, begging to be taken.
"Your mother will be back soon," he soothed, rubbing the small back reassuringly. "In the meantime my company will have to do."
"Vint," she finally acknowledged his presence, and pointing toward the living room, she suggested, "P'ay."
"No, little one, now is not the time for playing," he explained patiently, knowing very well that she would be even more wakeful after that. "Your mother wants you to be a good girl and sleep."
"Mama," Amy remembered, and from her quivering chin Vincent could tell that mentioning Catherine had not been such a good idea. He gently cradled Amy's head against his shoulder and walked over to where he'd left his emergency list.
"P'ay?" Amy offered once more, and he quickly scanned Catherine's lines in search of a possible reply to that. Obviously Catherine's interpretation of the term "emergency" didn't include a child that was just wide awake when she should be asleep, so he decided to do what he had seen Catherine do on occasions like this. He shifted Amy slightly, so that she could sit on his hip, and carried her over to the kitchen area where he switched on the bottle warmer which held a bottle with yellow tea.
"Dink," Amy observed solemnly.
"Yes, that's right," Vincent said, glancing at the clock above the sink and wondering just how long the bottle might take to be ready. While he waited, Amy drew him into a game of pointing at things which he had to name, and very much to his dismay he realized that Catherine's kitchen contained quite a few objects that were beyond his knowledge.
The orange control lamp on the bottle warmer went out, and he walked over to retrieve the tea. But Amy pushed the bottle away, making it very clear that drinking was out of the question. With a sigh Vincent put the bottle down, knowing that, if Amy did get thirsty after all, he'd have to prepare fresh tea for her. But he decided that he would worry about where to find the proper ingredients when the necessity arose.
So what was there to do next? Amy's head rested against his cheek, and he couldn't see whether her eyes were closed or not, so he decided to keep walking in the hope that the gentle sway of his gait would eventually send her to sleep. He was used to pacing, but not with such an unaccustomed weight against his neck, and so he felt a little cramped after a while. Hoping against hope that Amy was finally asleep, he headed for the sleeping area to put her back into her crib. Just at that moment she lifted her head, casting him her brightest smile.
"What about if you lay down in your bed and I read
to you?" he offered, remembering that this was what Father had done with
him when he had been little. Amy watched with great interest as he laid
her down, tucked her in, and went to fetch a book. By the time he returned,
Amy stood in her crib, merrily bouncing up and down and waving eager little
hands at him.
"Look," she demanded, indicating the colorful picture
on the cover.
"On second thought," he said, "maybe we should listen to some music."
*
A warm weight was lifted from his chest and he awoke. "Catherine?" he breathed.
"It's all right, Vincent," Catherine whispered. "I'm just going to put her to bed."
Embarrassed, he sat up and watched as Catherine carried the sleeping child over to her crib. So music was the proper remedy after all. He would have to remember that.
"I'm sorry," he murmured when Catherine returned, but she just smiled at him warmly and sat down next to him.
"Thank you, Vincent," she said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I hope she didn't give you too hard a time?"
Catherine still wore that dress, and suddenly her warm body so close to his was more than his drowsy mind could bear. "I should go now," he managed and rose to his feet in order to retrieve his cloak. She followed him across the room, and when he turned around to face her, a fleeting image flashed through his head. Of the two of them standing together in a tight embrace. His huge body dwarfing her slender one. His furred hands mocking her beauty as he caressed her face. Her face...
He pivoted and fled into the night.
*
A little while later, when Catherine was preparing for bed, she was still puzzled at Vincent's sudden departure. He'd probably just been tired, she mused. Amy had a way of wearing you out, if she put her mind to it. With a smile she remembered the picture the two of them had presented on her return. Both fast asleep on the couch, Amy's head tucked beneath Vincent's chin, his large hands holding her securely against his softly heaving chest. Their hair was almost the same shade of russet and gold, Amy's silky curls just slightly brighter than his coarser strands. Never before had Catherine seen his features so relaxed, so unguarded, and suddenly a rush of tenderness engulfed her heart. She would have loved to touch him then, to run a gentle hand over his cheek and through his hair, but didn't dare. At last she had just picked up the sleeping child, returning her to her crib, and when she'd come back he'd been awake, sleep tousled and a little confused. She wished he'd stayed a little longer. The whole evening she'd been looking forward to coming home, knowing he'd be there, her heart even beating a little faster at the thought of him. It almost felt like...She put down the hairbrush and stared at the mirror image before her. It felt like being in love.
The thought was surprising and even a little disquieting. But why? What had she been thinking all these months they had been seeing each other once or twice a week, growing closer, becoming friends? Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she hadn't been thinking too much, soon taking his comforting presence for granted. She thought she'd come to know him quite well, and yet she had been completely ignoring the fact that he was...a man.
She rose from the dressing table and walked over to the window, looking out into the night and wondering just how many more complications her life could take.
*
Finally arriving at his chamber, Vincent fought for breath. He had run the whole distance through the park and back to the Home Tunnels as fast as he could in the hope of wearing himself out and be finally too tired to think. Bracing his hands against his thighs, he leaned slightly forward and drew some much needed air into his aching lungs. He doubted that he would find any sleep tonight, but physical exertion at least increased the possibility. When the pain subsided at last and his breathing calmed, he freed himself from his cloak and dropped into a chair.
He was deeply disturbed -- and ashamed. Thoughts and feelings that should never have surfaced had touched Catherine in a way he had been helpless to suppress. Was his self control crumbling? Was he -- he shuddered at the thought -- gradually losing himself? That must not happen. Never.
With great effort he forced all thoughts from his mind and imagined the quiet surface of a pond which reflected a full moon. This was an exercise that always helped to calm him in times of distress. Every time a thought would threaten to ripple across the water and distort the perfection of the picture, he concentrated on his even breathing, waiting for the image to restore itself. After some time of practicing he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was beginning to change. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. A faint tune floated across the water and wove itself around his heart. Or was it a fragrance? Something incredibly soft and tender reached for his nerves and made them tingle with anticipation. There was a whisper inside his soul, a small voice asking a question he could not understand, but the answer was exceedingly sweet.
Vincent's hands clenched around the armrests of the chair and his eyes flew open.
Catherine! That was how it felt when he was with her and she looked at him, casually touched him, smiled at him. He could feel her then within himself, but only when she was physically close. Never before had it occurred across such a great distance. His mind reeled as he struggled to grasp the implications of his discovery. She must have been thinking of him. No -- more than thinking -- she must have been feeling something. For him!
It was still there. He could feel it like a faint caress from within. Moaning softly, Vincent leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes again.
"Oh, Catherine," he breathed, "I never meant to tie you to me like this. I never thought that this could ever happen." For in his heart he knew that a bond, like the one forming between them at this very moment, was something that went both ways, something that was irrevocable...and forever.
Catherine was a fragrant breeze within his heart, stirring his soul in a joyful way, but he shuddered to think how he would appear to her, once she became aware of him inside herself. That must never happen, he resolved. He must find a way to protect her. To shield her from himself.
A quiet sob shook his body, and he hid his face in his hands.