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By Ginny Shearin Chapter 7
Vincent woke first, realizing it was morning and finding that the
softness and warmth beside him was real. He propped himself on one
elbow, left the other arm around her, and contentedly watched her sleep.
“Do you plan to open your eyes today?” she heard from her favorite
voice.
“No,” she answered. “I’m afraid if I do it might be a dream again.”
There was movement as he leaned to kiss her cheek. Her eyes finally
opened to find him watching her with a smile and a look of love that
melted her completely.
“It wasn’t a dream?” she asked.
“We weren’t dreaming,” he answered softly.
“Do I remember that we weren’t dreaming more than once?” she grinned.
He chuckled softly, gracing her with a look that left it unnecessary to
repeat the question. He loved watching her wake up.
“What?” she asked, looking up at him. “That look?”
“I’m trying to believe reality,” he answered, his hand unable to stop
moving over her back and shoulder. “Every time I woke during the night,
you were here, your soft, warm skin against mine, wanting my touch . . .
.”
“I plan to want your touch for a long time.” Running her fingers through
the hair on his back upward toward his shoulders, she asked with a
teasing smile, “Does it bother you when I move your hair in that
direction?”
“When your fingers touch my skin, Catherine, my fur cares very little
what you’ve done to reach it,” he assured her, bringing a giggle and
another grin from her.
“Can we keep this between the two of us for a while?” Catherine asked.
“We’ve waited so long to be this close . . . .”
She took a little breath and
explained, “We deserve some time to savor it just for ourselves.”
“That was my intention. I had no thought of sharing this with anyone
else. Did you think me dishonorable enough to kiss and tell?” he teased.
“It’s certainly no one else’s concern . . . but the way I look at you
might give us away.”
His hand moved slowly up and down her arm and traced small circles on
her back. “I heard Father moving around. As much as I hate to suggest
it, we should probably dress before he decides to check on me,” he told
her, and he heard Catherine’s resigned groan.
“If we have to,” then she added with the grin she couldn’t seem to
control, “and if I can just remember where to find my clothes. I think I
put them away rather indiscriminately last night.”
He looked on with amusement as she leaned across him to retrieve her
shirt, which was clinging precariously to the upper edge of the bed, and
leaned down from the other side of the bed to find her jeans and
Vincent’s shirt. She playfully threw his shirt at him before putting her
jeans on. She pulled her shirt into place, and going to the other side
of the bed, found her shoes and socks and the other two wayward
garments. She held up Vincent’s pants and threatened to make him leave
the bed to get them before finally dropping them across the covers. He
could find his own socks. She brushed her hair quickly and found soap,
towels, and clean clothes.
“I’m going to bathe, change clothes and bring breakfast,” she said,
still unable to wipe the smile from her face. I don’t think I can look
at you and Father in the same room right now and retain any of my
composure . . . and I hope you can stand to wait for breakfast, because
I plan to take my time. Maybe he’ll be gone by the time I get back.
Vincent sat quietly, chuckling at her flurry of activity.
“Come here,” he said, amazing even himself at his assertiveness, holding
his arms out to her. Unable to refuse that invitation/command, she threw
herself back into his arms and heard him whisper, “Don’t go yet.”
“Not a chance, big boy! He’s your father. You’re on your own,” she
exclaimed quietly, pushing herself away in spite of her instinct to
never leave that spot.
Picking up the shirt she had thrown at him and handing it to him again,
she commanded in a near whisper, “Put your clothes on. You look much too
satisfied sitting there naked. Father will know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled in amusement, dutifully pulling the shirt over
his head. She left just in time. Vincent was barely dressed when Father
entered his chamber, and Catherine quickly made her escape.
“Good morning, Father,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried
away.
Father was concerned that Vincent had seemed tired at dinner last night;
so he brought his medical bag, insisting on a brief check-up. He was
also concerned that the nightmares might be returning. Vincent assured
Father that he had just tried to do a little more than he should have,
but his mind strayed badly as he did his best to keep the conversation
running smoothly. Father suggested that Vincent forego morning visits
and lunch in the dining hall in favor of rest.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Father finally asked him as he put his
medical paraphernalia back in his bag. “You seem distracted this
morning.”
“Catherine has to return to work on Monday. I’m having difficulty
imagining being without her again,” he answered, moving to sit at his
desk.
“I’m sure it will be difficult for both of you,” Father answered
sympathetically. “The love you share and the obstacles you’ve had to
face to retain it inspires all of us. It’s an almost palpable presence
around the two of you when you’re together.”
Vincent smiled, thinking of Catherine’s very palpable presence in his
bed last night. Under this morning’s circumstances, maybe her flight
instincts were right. Father took Vincent’s smile as simply a sign of
appreciation for his understanding.
***
Catherine had gone straight to the bathing chamber, avoiding as many
people as possible. She was afraid the look she probably wore on her
face would be hard to explain . . . or worse, need no explanation at
all; and she wanted to keep this new joy between the two of them for
now.
There were a few of the original bathing chambers like the one Father
and Vincent shared. When the tunnels were first occupied, those were
created from the chambers where there were warm natural springs. Bathing
pools were hewn from the natural rock to allow the water to roll in one
end of the bathing area and out the other. They were like hot tubs - the
water bubbling in and rolling past tired muscles. Those were now
outfitted with rails to make it easier for the elderly to soak their
arthritic joints or for those with injuries to use for therapy.
Occasionally couples slipped in after everyone else was asleep and had a
warm, soothing, romantic bath together. Vincent and Father weren’t
begrudged their own private chamber. Father was the head of the
community, as well as in need of the soothing spring for his hip; and
everyone understood Vincent’s aversion to allowing anyone else to see
his physical differences.
Most of the present bathing chambers were like the one Catherine now
intended to use. As the community grew, it had become a necessity to
create more bathing areas, and the living areas had no more natural
springs. These newer chambers had pitchers and buckets constantly
warming on grates above a low fire. That allowed bathers both
comfortable bath water and a little more warmth for the small chamber.
It was extremely bad tunnel manners not to refill whatever you used and
return it to the grate to warm while you bathed. There was an in pipe
from one stream to fill the old-fashioned tub. An out hose took the used
water into a second small stream that emptied into the abyss and served
as drainage for several bathing chambers, necessary rooms and the
kitchen.
Catherine filled the tub partially with cold water and used several
pitchers of warm water to make it comfortable. After refilling the
pitchers and returning them to the grate, she undressed and lowered
herself into the water. Leaning back she closed her eyes and allowed
herself to think about the night before - probably adding to Vincent’s
distraction as he tried to talk to Father. Their first lovemaking had
taken them by surprise. It moved more quickly than her dreams had
imagined, but it was still extraordinary. It had quickly taken the
character of impatience and need. Even in that state, Vincent had been
gentle and careful not to hurt her. She had always known he would. They
woke later to the freedom of knowing they no longer had to worry,
neither knowing nor caring which of them had initiated the contact. That
time the loving was slow and patient, experimental, tender . . . and
feeling his responses as well as her own . . .
Mmmmm . . . . Then
toward morning . . . . Her reveries broke when she suddenly realized how
long she had been there. Breakfast hour was quickly ticking away, and
she certainly didn’t want to cross William this morning.
“Come on,
She quickly finished her bath, dressed, toweled the water from her hair,
emptied and wiped the tub, and took a deep breath to steel herself to
meet the world with a straight face. She gathered breakfast as quickly
as possible. With a concerted effort she managed not to grin as she
reassured those who were concerned about Vincent after dinner the
previous night; then she hurried off as quickly as manners would allow.
To her distress, Father was still with Vincent when she returned. He was
about to leave, but stopped long enough to let her know that Vincent was
to have no visitors that morning and was to have lunch in his chamber.
“Do your best to see that he rests this morning. No sense in taking
chances,” he said. He let Catherine know he intended to check on Vincent
in the afternoon and would decide then whether he should be out again in
the evening. “He seemed a little distracted this morning. Let me know if
you notice anything unusual,” he ordered in a very medical manner as he
picked up his bag to go.
“I will, Father,” she said, turning her back to him to hide the smile
she couldn’t smother as she placed the breakfast tray on the desk.
“Alone again,” Vincent joked in a tone of disappointment.
“What a shame,” Catherine chuckled and leaned down to kiss him.
“I missed you,” he told her, enjoying the new freedom of pulling her
close to return her kiss.
“You should eat your breakfast,” she grinned. “If you persist in this
behavior and you’re going to be stuck here alone with me until this
afternoon, you may need your strength.”
He smiled and held out his plate.
Walking past Vincent’s chair after the dishes were cleared, Catherine
was surprised to be caught around the waist by a large, hairy arm and
pulled into his lap.
“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do this?” he asked with a
smile.
“As many times as I’ve wanted you to?” she answered, smiling back and
slipping her arms around his neck.
He laughed lightly, leaning his head back against the chair.
“I feel as if a weight has lifted from me and I could nearly fly.”
“So do I,” she answered, burying her face against his neck and leaving a
small kiss there.
“I’m sorry I made Father a part of last night.” He said, looking back
down at her. He paused, as if he wanted to say something else. She
searched through their bond for any hints of what might be bothering
him, then she knew.
“Are you thinking that your response wasn’t human enough?” she asked
from the warmth of his neck and shoulder.
“Yes,” he admitted, quietly. The truth was gradually becoming easier to
voice, at least to Catherine, even though it still left him feeling
uncomfortable. He had kept it within himself for so many years.
“The sound was different, but wanting to make it was perfectly normal.
It made me happy,” she reassured him. As an afterthought she added in a
teasing, childish, sing-songy sort of chant near his neck, “Made you
want to growl.” She followed it with a girlish laugh and a kiss under
his chin.
Feeling the truth in her assurances, he felt confident enough to again
answer honestly.
“Yes, you did,” he agreed, kissing the side of her neck and growling
softly against it. He found that she liked that - something he would
remember.
“Don’t ever hesitate to do what pleases you when you’re with me,
Vincent,” she said, sitting up slightly to look at him. “I know there
are things about you that are different, and you should have someone to
share those things with you. If something frightens me or displeases me,
you would know; and I trust you completely. I’ve seen things that most
of the others haven’t. I’ve shared the worst of your rages, and I’ve
seen you at your most vulnerable; and you know those things haven’t
changed anything between us. Trust me with the rest. I want you to be
yourself when you’re with me.”
She snuggled back against him.
“What do you need to do that you can’t do around the rest of your
family? What do you need that you think they can’t allow you?”
He looked down at this small woman snuggled lovingly against his
shoulder, realizing that no one else had ever understood him enough to
even ask that question. She was really willing to accept, and even share
everything about him. She was right. He needed to not be alone in his
differences anymore, and those differences didn’t frighten her or turn
her away.
“Sometimes I need to use my full strength,” he answered quietly, still a
little uncomfortable about putting such thoughts into words, “for
something free, something spontaneous - not just construction projects.
In my adult life no one here had seen me in a full run until the first
time I felt you were in danger, and it frightened them. Sometimes my
voice needs the same freedom - I need to growl or roar, openly enough
that I stand among its echoes.”
“I’ll bet you have a place to go where you can do those things, don’t
you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he admitted, kissing the top of her head.
“May I go along sometime . . . and stand among the echoes with you?” she
asked, and smiled up at him.
“Catherine, I can’t begin to tell you what a miracle you have created in
my life,” he breathed against her hair and pulled her tightly to him.
***
When Father returned that afternoon, he walked into a delightfully
domestic scene. Catherine was straightening the covers on the bed,
looking very relaxed. Vincent was bathed, dressed and writing in his
journal, looking as well rested and content as Father could ever
remember seeing him.
“Let’s have a look,” Father insisted, in spite of Vincent’s protests.
“Well,” he announced, after a brief exam, “you seem fine. Catherine, has
he seemed distracted? Has anything in his manner seemed unusual?”
“No, Father,” she answered, standing beside Vincent and resting a hand
on his shoulder, “He seemed quite well focused on everything since you
were here this morning.” Vincent reached up and placed his hand over
hers, and smiled.
“Catherine has been very attentive, Father. You said I should rest, and
she insisted I spend a good bit of time in bed.”
Before he left, Father pronounced Vincent well enough to be allowed
dinner with everyone else. Catherine looked at Vincent in surprise after
he walked his father to the door.
“Vincent, you just completely misled your Father without ever stating a
single untruth,” Catherine teased, turning his own words on him.
“There’s an attorney I keep finding in my bed,” he said, offering one of
his half smiles; then he growled softly against her neck.
Before dinner the two of them walked to the nursery to visit the
children, who were delighted with their surprise visit. They played a
few games, listened to some childish chatter and read a few stories;
then they went to the dining hall for dinner and visited with the
adults, again staying longer than necessary to discourage any visits in
his chamber later. They were determined to have as much time to
themselves as they could before Catherine had to leave.
***
Sunday arrived faster than they thought possible. Catherine’s heart gave
thought to staying Sunday night and going straight to work from the
tunnels. However, knowing how much work was likely to be waiting for her
on Monday, her common sense insisted it would be best to leave after
dinner and have a good night’s sleep (something she was pretty sure she
wouldn’t get if she stayed) and a shorter commute to face the week.
Besides, if the truth were told, she and Vincent both knew her body
could use a break from the last three days activity between them. That
wasn’t likely to happen if she stayed, either, she thought with a quiet
smile as she finished packing the few things she had brought with her.
“Do you have more of those things at home?” Vincent asked, watching as
she started to pack the little basket of soap, shampoo, hairbrush, etc.
she had kept on the chest in his chamber.
“Probably. Most of them, anyway,” she answered, sounding puzzled.
“Would you leave them here? And a change of clothes?”
Vincent suggested. “I’ve come to enjoy finding your things in my
chamber. I’ll put them away and you’ll have them any time you want to
stay.” She smiled, then
pulled some clean clothes from her bag and handed them to him.
“I would be honored to have a place in your chamber,” she answered, with
an accompanying kiss.
“May I come in, children?” they heard Father call from the other side of
the screen.
“Come in, Father. I was about to come to you to say ‘Good-bye’.”
“I shall miss you, Catherine,” he said, hobbling toward her, “and I
shall be forever in your debt for your part in my son’s recovery.”
“No thanks are necessary, Father.” she told him, giving him a warm hug.
“I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”
“No, I don’t believe you would,” he answered, lovingly patting her arm.
Vincent watched this exchange between two of the people he loved most in
the world with a deep feeling of warmth. It hadn’t been so long ago that
they had been at odds with one another and he had been caught in the
middle. Now it seemed he was temporarily on the outside. His father had
really learned to love and appreciate Catherine.
“I know you aren’t happy at the idea,” he said, turning toward Vincent,
“but Kanin should be here shortly to see Catherine back to her
threshold.”
He wasn’t happy about it, but both Father and Catherine had insisted he
shouldn’t try to travel that far yet. Father argued that Catherine would
probably worry about him until she heard from someone that he had
returned safely, and that if anything happened to him, she would never
forgive herself. He said she would have a busy week ahead of her and
didn’t need the added stress of worrying about Vincent. As always,
Catherine’s best interests came first; and Vincent gave in to their
demands, but not without a feeling of exasperation. He was now tired of
being treated like an invalid, and it was his place to see Catherine
safely home. With Catherine’s departure, he was about to become the
difficult patient Father had expected to see before now.
Father gave Catherine a hug and kissed her cheek.
“I’ll go now. The two of you don’t need an old man hanging about while
you say ‘Good-bye.’ ”
Catherine took Vincent’s hands in hers and kissed them.
“I’ll be back on Friday . . . probably very late on Friday night. I’ll
be counting the minutes until I can be in your arms again.”
“I shall count as well,” he smiled sadly.
“Hey, you two. Can I come in?” Kanin called from the passage.
“Come in Kanin,” Vincent answered in resignation.
“Hey,” Kanin said, entering with hands held up in front of him, “Don’t
shoot the messenger. I didn’t apply for the job. I was drafted. We both
know she’d rather have you.”
“I do appreciate your help. I understand there have been some minor
changes made near Catherine’s building, and I’ll rest easier knowing
that someone will be with her. I just find it very frustrating to be
this confined.”
“Are you ready, Catherine? Is this one bag all you have?” Kanin asked.
“That’s all,” she answered. “Would you mind giving us a minute or two
alone before we go?”
“Sure,” he answered, smiling sympathetically as he picked up her bag.
“Take your time. I’ll wait outside.”
Catherine turned to Vincent, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks
at the slightest provocation. He gathered her into his arms and held her
tight, then kissed her as if he might never see her again and pulled her
back against him.
“I already miss you,” he told her.
“Friday night.” she promised, holding him just as tightly. “Only five
days.”
She backed away reluctantly, still holding his hand. He held her hand to
his face and kissed the palm, unwilling to let go.
“I shouldn’t keep Kanin waiting too long,” she said softly, gently
sliding her hand away. “I love you.”
“Only five days,” he thought. After having her with him every day for
several weeks, it might as well have been eternity.
Kanin was waiting patiently, and Catherine unnecessarily apologized for
keeping him waiting. He understood. They walked for a while in silence,
giving Catherine time to salvage her spirit.
“So, with all that time together did you get him to talk about some of
the things that clutter his mind?” Kanin asked when he thought she was
ready to talk.
“Yes,” she answered, “We talked a lot. How do you know about his
cluttered mind?” she smiled.
“He talks to me sometimes,” Kanin answered. “He never says too much,
just enough to give me a little insight. I’ve never seen a man so in
love . . . or so tormented about it,” he smiled.
“I think I left him less tormented,” Catherine grinned back. “He’s
finally accepted a few things I was beginning to think we might never
resolve. We have a few more hurdles, but we’ll get past them.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he answered.
“Kanin, will you keep an eye on him? Don’t let him over exert himself.”
“Don’t worry,” he answered. The whole community loves him. He’ll be
fine. We’ll all gang up on him if necessary.”
“As stubborn as he can be, it may be necessary,” she laughed. A few more minutes of small talk brought them to the threshold below her building. She thanked Kanin, took her bag, gave him a quick hug and reluctantly climbed the ladder back into her world.
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