After the Ashes by Ginny Shearin 

Chapter 4

Two days later Peter called Charles to let him know he would be visiting Vincent the next evening, and Charles agreed to go with him. When the men arrived in the living quarters of the tunnels, they separated, Peter intending to check in with Father, and Charles hoping to visit Vincent. Both were thwarted in their initial efforts.

No one was in Father’s chamber when Peter called because Vincent had finally been allowed a bath on his own in the bathing chamber…almost. He was allowed the bath, but Father had insisted on being there “just in case,” in spite of Vincent’s insistent arguments for privacy. In the past day or two it had become evident to everyone that he was heartily tired of being treated as an invalid, in spite of the fact that he recognized an unaccustomed lack of strength. However, even in the face of the annoyance, Vincent had sunk down into the bubbling water of the bathing chamber’s natural spring and appeared to luxuriate in the soothing warmth.

While Vincent was bathing, Catherine had gone to find clean linens for his bed, and she was on her way back to his chamber to surprise him with clean sheets after his bath.  She was obviously tired, her exhaustion stemming partly from the constant worry of the past week and partly from a lack of sleep. At first she had wanted to be awake if there was any change in Vincent’s condition or if he needed anything. Now, for no good reason, she couldn’t seem to sleep.

Charles had just rounded the relatively short, curved passage between Father’s chamber and Vincent’s when he literally ran into his daughter moving quickly from the other direction.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized as the sheets tumbled to the ground, and he bent to pick them up for the young woman he had bumped into.

As she reached to accept the bed linens, Catherine realized who she had collided with.

“Dad?”

“Cathy?” he replied, surprised. “You look awful…exhausted. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Peter said Vincent had been ill. How is he? I was planning to visit if he’s up to it.” The look on her face prompted him to ask if Vincent had taken a turn for the worse, when suddenly Catherine flung herself into his arms and wept. The sheets again tumbled to the floor as Charles wrapped his arms around her.

It felt so good to Catherine to have someone there who thought of her first and would want to take care of her. It felt so good to be able to tell her father she had been afraid for Vincent. He held her in a comforting, fatherly embrace, stroking her hair as he had done when she was a child, until she calmed enough to talk to him through her tears, her breath catching now and then as she spoke.

“Oh, Daddy. He was so sick. I thought.… At first I thought I might lose him.”

“Lose who, honey?” He continued stroking her hair soothingly. “Lose Vincent? He was that sick? I’m sure his family and all his other friends were just as worried.”

Catherine knew her father didn’t understand why she was so distressed, why she was burrowing her face into his shoulder the way she did when she was desperately upset as a child.

“He was so weak. I’ve never seen him that weak. I was so scared,” she answered. “I was so afraid he wouldn’t get better. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost him.”

“What you would do if you lost…Vincent?” he asked again, this time in disbelief. He took her shoulders and held her at arm’s length from him as if she were in grade school again and he had to get to the bottom of a problem.

Catherine just sniffed and nodded, confirming what Charles had apparently just realized.

“My God, Cathy. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Another nod.

“Does he love you?”

She nodded again and wrapped her arms around her father before he knew what was happening.

He instinctively held and comforted his daughter as his thoughts ran rampant. She was in love with Vincent? Vincent? He had told Peter he wished she could find someone like Vincent Above…but exactly like Vincent wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind. In the space of less than thirty seconds of holding his daughter, his shocked senses had taken his mind from Vincent’s physical traits to those clawed hands holding his daughter, through the possibility of his daughter living here and giving up everything Above…and even the thought of grandchildren with fur.

The picture of a tearful daughter and a dazed Charles greeted Peter as he joined them just before Catherine left her father’s arms. “What’s wrong, honey? Is Vincent alright? ” he asked as he helped her collect the sheets.

“He’s much better. He’s taking a bath. I’m just tired. I haven’t slept much lately. Dad asked me the right question at the right time to set me off. That’s all,” she answered, dusting off the linens and clutching them to her chest.

Charles was staggered by another realization. He looked at Peter in anger and astonishment. “You knew. All this time, you knew, and you told me nothing,” Charles said accusingly to Peter. “This is my daughter’s life – her future we’re talking about, and you didn’t feel I had a right to be included?” He turned to Catherine with the same betrayed look. “And neither you nor Vincent thought to mention this to me? Good Lord, Cathy, I’ve never even seen the two of you together.”

“Dad, I’m sorry. We were about to tell you, but then Vincent was getting sick…it didn’t seem like the right time…and…”

“What kind of ogre must I seem, if my own child can’t tell me she’s in love, and my oldest friend doesn’t trust me?”

“Don’t blame them, Charles. This is my doing, and I talked them into agreeing to it… against their wills. I thought if you knew him before you knew she loved him.… Look…if I didn’t trust you to keep an open mind and to think of her happiness first, I would never have brought you here in the first place. This isn’t Park Avenue, but you know it’s full of good people and good old-fashioned values…and it’s a lot safer than New York City. And there’s no one you can trust to take better care of her than Vincent.”

“That isn’t the problem. You know that,” Charles answered angrily. “Find someone to guide me back.”

“Don’t do this, Charles. Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you manipulated everyone into keeping me in the dark? How you kept my daughter from telling me something this important to her? How you didn’t trust me to understand?”

“Will you come with me and see Vincent before you leave?” Catherine interrupted, obviously distressed by her father’s response.

“Another time. Right now is not the best time for me to see Vincent.”

“Okay,” Peter answered, holding his hands up in temporary defeat. “I’ll get one of the boys to guide you back…but I intend to explain everything after you cool off.”

After Peter went in search of a guide, Catherine tried to talk to her father.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry. We wanted to tell you, but…”

“Cathy, what did you think I’d do? Were you afraid to tell me that you love Vincent? Embarrassed to tell me?”

“No!” she answered emphatically. “If his safety weren’t involved, I’d be perfectly willing to shout it from the rooftops to anyone listening.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me? Both of you are adults. Either of you could have come to me at any time – regardless of what Peter had you agree to.”

“Then talk to us now. Please.”

“Not now, honey. Any more secrets will have to wait. First rule of family discussions – get over the anger first, remember? We’ll talk later. Go and take care of Vincent. I’ll always love you…but I reserve the right to be angry.”

Peter reappeared with Geoffrey, who led Charles off toward home, leaving Catherine to finish the work she had intended to do before she and her father had crossed paths.

***

This wasn’t the way Catherine had imagined telling her father about Vincent’s place in her life. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her lower lip quivered as she changed Vincent’s sheets and gathered the dirty ones for the laundry. She knew her father would listen later, and probably understand; but she also knew they had hurt him, and that hurt her as well. She knew, too, that Vincent would have felt her distress during her exchange with her father in the passageway and that he would be concerned. Even without a bond, it was easy for anyone to see how tired she had been and to know it was on Vincent’s account. She hated to worry him with this when he hadn’t entirely recovered, but he would undoubtedly insist on knowing what was wrong.

As she expected, Vincent returned hurriedly to his chamber, arriving as Catherine was smoothing the last pillow case. He was dressed, but not as neatly as usual. His hair was damp, his shirt was hanging loose over his denims, and he had no belt, vest or boots.

“Catherine?”

“I’m alright,” she answered. Normally she would have been delighted at her first sight of him straight from his bath and slightly disheveled…in his sock feet, but she couldn’t find the joy in it right then.

“Tell me,” he insisted, taking her in his arms.

Catherine leaned against him, hands against his chest, and accepted his concern and the warmth and comfort of his arms – a few tears still straying down her cheeks.

“My father was here. He was told that you were sick, and he came with Peter to see you. He caught me off guard, and I said enough that he realized how we feel about each other. He was hurt and angry…and the things we feared would happen happened. He’s gone back Above.”

Vincent took a deep breath, and as he released it slowly, he brought one hand to the back of her neck. “Catherine…I wish I could make our lives normal, but I can’t.”

“What’s normal?” she asked, hugging him tightly. “Would either of us recognize it if it moved in with us? Neither of us has ever lived a normal life. Your life has been confined…secret. I lived the life of a rich girl without a mother – never having to worry about how to pay the bills – given special treatment because people knew how much money my father had. There were even periodic bouts of having to dodge the tabloids. My job takes me from that to dealing with the ugliness caused by people without conscience – some of the dregs of humanity. With or without you, there’s no ‘normal’. Just know that you make ‘abnormal’ feel happy. And I don’t want ‘normal’ if it doesn’t include you.”

“I love you.”

“See? That makes me happy.”

Vincent rested his cheek against her head as love flooded through their bond. For that small moment, it was enough for both of them.

***

After their ill-fated encounter Below, Catherine had given her father a few days to call her. When she didn’t hear from him, she called his office. His secretary, Marilyn, told her the merger he was working on had become a nearly twenty-four hour a day project that week. They finally had everything in order that morning. Negotiations started the next day, so he had left early to get some rest before facing the other company’s attorneys.

Feeling better that there was a good reason she hadn’t heard from him, she went to his apartment. She knew her father always needed a few hours to unwind after a marathon preparation like the one Marilyn had described, and she suspected he would be awake for a while longer.

She started to ring the bell, hesitated, then quickly pushed the button before she lost her nerve. When her father came to the door, he looked as exhausted as she had felt at their last meeting.

“Am I forgiven yet?”

“I’m working on it.” He motioned her into the apartment.

Catherine didn’t take her coat off. This obviously wasn’t the right time for them to talk. He was too tired, and he didn’t need to be distracted by more secrets in the middle of a big meeting the next morning.

“Will you talk to me after the negotiations are complete? You can come and have dinner at my apartment.”

“So now you’re trying to poison me?” Charles responded. His manner still held some of the hurt she had seen in the tunnels, but his answer held enough humor to give her hope. Her cooking skills – or lack thereof – had often been fodder for her father’s jokes; and when he teased her, it meant he wasn’t too angry.

“I could have it catered,” she answered with a little smile.

“In that case, I might agree.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want it to be this way. Neither of us did.”

“I know that, honey.”

He held out his arms and Catherine rushed into them, wrapping hers around his neck in relief. She knew she was forgiven.

“There are things you should know,” she said, her voice slightly muffled at his shoulder, “but I don’t want to distract you from the negotiations. It’s waited this long. Another few days won’t matter. Call me when you have time to spend an evening with me.”

“Catered?” Charles kidded.

“I promise,” she grinned, extricating herself from her father’s arms. “I’ll let you get some rest now. You look like you need it.” She stopped in the doorway as she was leaving and turned toward him. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, Princess.”

***

It had been more than a week since that little exchange, and Catherine was nervously waiting for her father, hoping he was still ready to listen. He had promised to be at her apartment at eight that evening. It was summer, and Vincent couldn’t chance being there until later. Hearing a knock at the door, she took a deep breath and opened the door for her father to come in.

“It smells good,” he said with a teasing smile.

“And it’s ready.”

Well, they were at least off to a pleasant start.

Charles followed her to the kitchen door, where Catherine was taking something from the oven.

“Did you make it yourself?”

Catherine rolled her eyes dramatically in her father’s direction, knowing how likely it was that he believed such a thing. “It came from a little Italian place owned by a helper. I hope you like it. He sent enough for a small army. Sit down. Everything else is on the table.”

By mutual, unspoken agreement, they postponed “the talk” until after their meal, but then Charles expected to have some questions answered.

Catherine broke the ice by saying, “Dad, we intended to tell you everything right after you got back from D.C., but Vincent was getting sick. He wasn’t himself. It wasn’t that we intended to keep you in the dark for so long. It just didn’t seem to be the right time.”

“I’ve talked to Peter. You made your own choices, but he assures me that it was under pressure.”

“I love Vincent more than I know how to tell you. I’ve never known anyone who makes me feel more that I can be exactly who I am. He only wants me – no specters of social climbing or interest in my money. No demands, no pretensions, no expectations that I’ll change. We accept each other as is – the good and the bad.”

“Seems to me you have to do most of the accepting. Do you honestly understand the extent of what you’re giving up if you commit yourself to him?”

“After more than two years? Yes. I think I do. It’s been hard for us – for both of us. He’s sent me away before, trying to offer me a normal life; but, Dad, I don’t want it – not if he can’t be a part of it. After he was feeling better, we faced some things we hadn’t faced before. He finally accepted that I need him as much as he needs me.”

“This has nothing to do with gratitude for saving your life?”

“No. Nothing to do with that at all,” she answered, looking down with a dreamy smile, which wasn’t lost on her father.

“Do you intend to live with him – closed in the earth for the rest of your life?”

“I thought you enjoyed the tunnels,” she said, her head snapping back up to look at him.

“I do – to visit. I don’t know that I could live there permanently…and I hate to think of you living there permanently. What does Vincent say about having you confine yourself to that?”

“We haven’t exactly talked about it yet.”

“More than two years, you’re both as in love as you and Peter make it seem, and you haven’t exactly talked about it yet?!” Charles was losing patience.

“It’s complicated.” 

“I should think so. I can’t imagine that being in love with someone whose existence can’t be explained…someone who doesn’t even legally exist, would be anything other than complicated.”

“He doesn’t want to confine me, doesn’t want to…”

“Will you have children? I know how you love them. Can the two of you have children? What kind of children would they be?”

“We haven’t talked about that, either…not really.”

“What exactly have you talked about? Don’t you think you should talk about these things? They’re important,” he fired back.

“I know you don’t understand. There are a lot of important things Vincent and I haven’t talked about. Things we’re just now able to discuss. We do know that they’re important. We know.…” She stopped to take a deep breath and exhale quickly. She was looking and sounding a little testy, too. “We don’t exactly have role models or handy references for this relationship, you know. We just know we need to find a way to make it work.”

From the open door in the dark bedroom, they heard a tapping that was very familiar to Catherine.

“Vincent,” Catherine said suddenly as if she expected to see him any second.

“Vincent is here? Has he been here all this time? Why.…”

“He just got here. Come out to the balcony with me,” she said, pulling him along with her.

“Just got here? How?”

“You don’t want to know,” she answered, guiding him through the dark bedroom to the balcony doors.

Charles took in the incongruous picture of Vincent standing on his daughter’s balcony, right there in the middle of the city, and tried to imagine how he must have gotten there. Eighteen stories up…and the front door definitely wasn’t involved. Amazing. He wanted to ask, but there were more important things to talk about tonight. Another time.

“Vincent.” The word was a greeting.  It sounded a bit cool, but not exactly angry.

“It’s good to see you, Charles. I need to apologize.”

“Accepted.”

He still sounded less open than usual, but Vincent understood. This was his daughter’s life Vincent was complicating. Charles was establishing his territory, his negotiating space. He needed to be firm and protective. At least he wasn’t openly hostile, railing against the very thought of Catherine with such a being.

“We should have spoken to you sooner. I should have spoken to you sooner.” He looked down at Catherine, who stood next to him now. “I am the problem, not Catherine.”

It was the first time Charles had seen the two of them together. When Catherine looked back up at Vincent, Charles saw what Peter had tried to describe to him. The connection between his Cathy and this man/beast/whatever-he-was seemed to hang in the air around them like an aura. The look on both their faces…. Each of them seemed to be more alive than they were the moment before.

“Dad, I’m happy when I’m with him,” she stated simply, willing herself to look back at her father, rather than at Vincent. “I feel more than love. I feel whole. I feel confident. I feel I’m where I belong. I intend to be in his life in whatever way he allows it…unless I’m sure he doesn’t want me there anymore.”

“That day will never come,” Vincent answered softly to Catherine. He looked up at Charles, not issuing a challenge, simply stating a truth. “Catherine and I…still have much to decide. A life together will be difficult, especially for Catherine, but.…” He hesitated, his carefully prepared words failing him.

“It won’t be easy for either of us,” Catherine interrupted, moving closer to Vincent and taking his hand in both of hers. “We still have as many questions as answers, but there’s a bond between us that binds us…as if we were meant to be together. It won’t be ignored. Right now we don’t even ask for your blessings – just your acceptance that we intend to have a life together…somehow…however we can.”

“I have no choice than to accept the truth, but I don’t have to accept that it’s wise.” Charles was becoming angry at the prospect of what Catherine was willing to relinquish. Giving Vincent a challenging look, he asked, “How can you take her from a world that offers her so much and confine her to a world that never even sees the sun, take her from her friends into your secrets, take the possibilities of a normal family....” He paused to collect himself before his anger took complete control. “She has the means to do anything she wants, travel the world when she wants…but she doesn’t even want to leave the city now. In the past two years, her life has become more and more limited…for you, apparently. She.…”

“Stop!” Catherine raised her voice to her father, something she hadn’t done often since her teenaged rebellious streak. “He hasn’t taken me from my world. He’s finally accepted me into his. I’m not confined. In case you haven’t noticed, I still go to work every day. I’m wearing a new outfit. I went shopping with Jenny to find it. I went to a benefit concert last week.… And I won’t have you.…”

“Catherine,” Vincent said calmly, “your father is only concerned about your best interests…as mine has been for me. I understand his anger.”

All of them could see that any progress that would be made that night had probably already happened. Charles backed away from his accusing manner toward Vincent. Catherine leaned against Vincent, and he instinctively put his arm around her shoulders to calm her. She rested her head against his shoulder, one hand against his chest, and his hand squeezed her upper arm lightly.

Vincent suddenly realized that he was standing in front of Charles Chandler with one arm around his daughter. It would be a small thing for any other man, but for Vincent it was a major, and quite unexpected, step. He automatically started to remove his arm from her shoulder, but he reconsidered. He had accepted that Catherine would share his life, and this small show of comfort would be a part of that life. Somehow it seemed important that her father know that.

As angry as he was, her father didn’t miss the gentle, loving gesture or the concern that showed in Vincent’s eyes. Nor could he miss the immediate change in Catherine. It was as if the woman who lashed out so sharply no more than a moment ago had simply disappeared, replaced by this quiet woman cradled in Vincent’s arm. On top of those observations he had to admit the reality of the connection Peter had talked about...the bond between them. Another fact to deal with.

“I should go. I know when negotiations are at a standstill. We can talk another time.”

“Charles.…” Vincent started.

“I haven’t dismissed this, Vincent. I just.… We’ll talk another time.”

Catherine left the comfort of Vincent’s closeness and hugged her father. “Daddy, I love you,” she said, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“I know that, honey,” he answered, returning her embrace reassuringly. “I’ll let myself out.” Looking back at Vincent before he left, he added, with a hint of apology, “I’m her father. I have to think of her first. I have to think of....” His voice trailed away at that point and he kissed Catherine’s cheek before he left them on the balcony.

When she heard the door close, she went back to the comfort of Vincent’s arms.

Vincent held her close. It was all he could do for now.

Chapter Five (final)