To Hope Anew
Chapter Fourteen
"Everything looks beautiful, girls! Thank you so much for yourhelp this morning." Mary began passing hugs to the small gathering ofwomen in the room awaiting the start of their traditional Bride'sBreakfast. The glowing faces amid the china cups, linen napkins, andspring flowers attested to the infectious happiness of the day forthem. They'd waited so long for this particular meal. No one couldfault them if they were eager to show their exuberant feelings atlast.
Mary, of course, was the center of the group, her usual homespun,demure, and reserved manner having given way to that of an elegantand conscientious hostess intent upon her guests' comfort. Herheartfelt gratitude and relief that her beloved foster son wouldfinally be rescued from his life of lonely pain played easily overher beautifully care-worn features.
Then there was Olivia, with her soft-spoken, shy care. It had beensuch a long time since she'd been able to feel genuinely happy. Kaninhad been gone almost three years, and during that time, the onlyreason she had for getting up in the morning was that it would be oneless day she had to wait for his release from prison above. She'd lether care for her growing son, Luke, occupy the painfully long days,and she understood, deeply, what it meant for Vincent to be able tobegin again. At least she would have Kanin returned to her soon.Vincent had had to endure until his heart could gain the strength tolove once more, and to be able to love someone other thanCatherine.
Rebecca was filled with joy for the man that had been her trustedfriend since they were both children. She welcomed the opportunity toembrace Vincent's bride as a treasured friend, also. The peace andjoy Diana had finally been able to bring her beloved kindred were allthe reason Rebecca needed to extend her heart to the young policewoman. Perhaps, someday, such joy would be hers. She knew thatVincent and Diana would be there for her then, surely, to share inthe wonder with her.
Brooke and Jamie, the latter having arrived in Mary's quartersalmost late, and breathless, from her early morning excursion withthe children, were another special pair of hearts lightened withhopeful expectation this particular day. On the threshold of a sweetand deepening relationship herself, with Michael, Brooke could soeasily touch to the tender wonder of the day, looking forward to thetime when the young man she'd come to care for could return from hisstudies Above and take his place within the community, with her.
Jamie could rejoice that her own mentor, the man who had helpedher nurture her uniquely pioneering spirit without judgment, was ableto find some of the loving support and encouragement he wasconstantly offering to everyone in the community. Diana was surely asister, too, in her own independent and confident way, someone shecould look to for understanding and direction in her quest forindividuality.
And finally there was Samantha. All of thirteen, blossoming into awondrously assured, yet sensitive young woman. Her own tender heartwould forever carry the wonderful blessing and warmth that wasVincent's so special love and care. To her, Diana would always be thepatient and gentle angel who brought her beloved teacher his hopeonce again. She could treasure no one else's friendship more.
So, the uniquely characterized women of the Underworld hadgathered this morning in the comfortable and homey chamber to embraceand support another young woman they all saw as nothing less than aredemptive friend. Diana had made the impossible possible -- she hadbrought the radiance of joy back into Vincent's eyes. She had foughtfor his very soul, and won.
As a result, when Diana came around the chamber entrance she wasgreeted by a half-dozen faces glowing with welcome. If she'dexperienced any momentary confusion or pang of anxiety at separatingherself from her more familiar world up until that point, she hadnothing whatsoever to fear at the moment. The sisterhood andnurturing support she needed was being offered to her now without theslightest reservation.
It took the new arrival a moment or two to actually understand thetransformation that had occurred in Mary's chamber in the past hour-- a transformation that was undertaken in her honor, of all things.The simple, personable room was elevated into a lovely gatheringplace, complete with a linen-covered table, fine china plates onlyminimally chipped, and bunches of tulips, daffodils and crocus. Awonderfully inviting aroma permeated the air.
Diana was close to speechless.
"What on earth? . . . Everything is so lovely . . . I don't knowwhat to say."
Samantha hopped up from the high stool she'd been sitting on tooffer explanation. "Happy Wedding Day, Diana! We've been waiting foryou. Come and sit down."
The young girl led her slightly bemused companion around to thehead of the dining table and motioned to her to make herselfcomfortable. Diana surveyed the room and suddenly wasn't certain shewas still in the Underworld.
Life Below meant mismatched dishes, homespun fabrics,portion-extending stews and recycled housewares -- a simple, frugallife that placed very little emphasis on the niceties of living thatwere only civilization's frills. It was one of the things that hadimmediately endeared her to the existence and the community in thecandlelit world. At the moment, though, Mary's simple, unencumberedliving quarters could have held their own against the mostfashionable English tea rooms of the city Above.
As soon as Diana was comfortable, the rest of the women filled inthe remaining seats around the table, with Mary taking the chairopposite Diana. She bowed her head and offered grace for the meal."Father of us all, we thank you for our meal this morning, and forthe occasion we are celebrating. Shower your blessings on us alltoday, and in a most special way, on our sister, Diana, who willbegin a new life with the man she loves. Give them, and us all, yourstrength to sustain us, your faithfulness to inspire us, and yourlove to shelter us. Amen."
An echo of soft "Amen's" followed, with the guest of honor feelinga warm sense of consolation fill her at the prayerful supplicationmade on her behalf. Mary's unobtrusive nature truly disguised adeeply feeling, and articulate soul, and Diana offered her own silentthanks for the gift of the elder woman's care.
Happy sounds of comfortable conversation and generous plates beingpassed around the table were immediately forthcoming. Theappreciation was well deserved -- the meal was a sheer delight. Therewere piping hot apple-cinnamon muffins, raisin scones, and William'sbuttermilk biscuits. Several jams and marmalades glistened in acharming, eclectic collection of cut-glass serving bowls. A largepitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice stood ready to fill theglasses at each place. And in the center of the table was anunheard-of luxury -- a coffee pot offering its fragrant and richdelight.
Diana was overwhelmed. Her happy confusion drew smiles andlaughter from the rest of the women. Olivia gave her the details thatescaped her.
"Life here Below seems to require the most adaptation from thewomen of our community. But that doesn't mean we've completely givenup on the small details of civilization. Whenever we have a veryspecial, very important occasion to celebrate, we like to remember itwith a little bit of the good from the world Above."
"In other words, " Rebecca seemed to feel a further translationwas in order, "we have to give up the most from life Above, so we canindulge ourselves once in a blue moon!"
The laughter was completely unrepentant at that remark, and itsunderlying truth.
The next half hour was pleasantly occuppied with happy andhumorous reminiscences by the women gathered . . . stories of pastwedding celebrations, anectdotes of the children who had grown intoadulthood, and friendly advise on the intricacies of living below theearth. Finally, as the coffee pot emptied, the conversation took on amore serious tone, and one more directed at Diana herself. Marylooked across the table to the amber-haired woman she had come totruly love over the past nearly three years.
"In a short while, Diana, we will all gather as a community tooffer you and Vincent our support and acknowledgement, as well as ourprayers, in a formal manner. But what we've always done here at ourBride's Breakfast has been to offer a few more personal wishes to ayoung woman staring out on a new journey in life. We make you thesewishes, now, from the bottom of our hearts.
"You must know, dear, that this wedding is something everyone inthis world has been waiting to celebrate for such a long time.Vincent has given each of us so much of his life. It has been sodifficult for any of us to ever show him what he truly means to us.And it has been so difficult for him to find his own peace andfulfillment."
A quiet nodding of heads showed the agreement Mary found for herwords among the women around her. She held Diana reassuringly in hergentle-eyed gaze for a long moment. "You've made that possible forhim, despite all the pain. We will never be able to thank you enoughfor that, Diana. But, even more, we welcome you into our companybecause of the wondrous generosity of your own heart, your ownspirit. You are a so special person in your own right, and we wishyou every blessing and happiness."
Diana felt the tears suddenly well up inside her. If giving up theworld Above meant becoming a part of the lives of these women withher, Diana could only count it a blessing and not a hardship.
"We wish you love, Diana," Samantha offered, her sweetly maturingface shining.
"We wish you health and happiness," continued Rebecca, who wasseated next at the table.
"We wish you the comfort and support of friends," came Jamie'spronouncement.
Brooke's gentle eyes shone. "We wish you long, sweet nights oftenderness in each other's arms."
The tears finally did begin to flow down Diana's cheeks at that.How close, dear God, were these heartfelt entreaties to her own mostcherished hopes?
Olivia smiled softly at the future bride, and then shared herthoughts. "We wish you children, and the blessing of helping themgrow."
"We wish you years of shared memories, and the cherished wonder ofgrowing old together." Mary's face carried an almost wistful . . .sadness . . . despite her gentle smile.
Diana suddenly felt as though the older woman had just graced herwith a glimpse of her own soul unexpectedly. They all had.
She looked down at the crisply ironed and carefully mended napkinsitting in her lap for a long moment before raising her eyes to meetthe women's once again.
"I never thought I could be blessed by anything beyond thesweetness of loving Vincent, and Jacob, and being loved by them. Butwhat you have given me here this morning is so precious to me, such agift. I'll treasure it all, your words, your encouragement. Yourlove. Thank you, all."
By now, tears were flowing all around the table. It took Mary'sreturn to composure to bring them all back to the matter at hand.
"Well, ladies, we have a bride to help get ready, and time isslipping past us."
"Yes, we'd better get going, Diana, or you'll be late for your ownwedding," teased Brooke.
Many hands helped clear the remains of the meal from Mary'squarters. The anticipation of the day filled all the women withthoughts and experiences of their own lives, and the bride-to-be wasno exception. Yet, her anticipation was slowly taking on anunexpected edge of disquiet, admitting to herself that she also knewits cause -- A promise made that was becoming increasingly difficultto contemplate without the pangs of painful disappointment,especially because of the hopeful wishes just offered her. Dianasimply shook the feeling off as unfamiliar jitters. Still, shewhispered a prayer deep within her heart that the wishes shared withher would not fade into illusion.
"Oh, Father, they are grand!" Fathomless blue eyes sparkled insheer delight. "Just like the big boys wear."
Vincent smiled happily at his ecstatic son. He knew the extra timehe'd spent in hunting through the collection of children's clothesstored away was well worth the effort: A pair of brushed seude boots,hardly used before outgrown, had been his reward, the perfect touchfor a little boy's dress-up clothes for such a special day.
Jacob plopped himself down onto his father's bed and eagerlypulled the special boots up on to his feet. Unfortunately, theyweren't exactly on in the right order. Vincent came over and helpedhis little boy try again to solve the mystery of directions. Eventhough the child's mind easily worked far beyond its chronologicalreality, the concept of right and left still seemed to slip hisgrasp, the elusive fundamentals made more confusing because the childwas nearly as ambidextrous as his father.
Once the footwear was corrected, Vincent stood the child up on thefloor before him. "You must remember, though, Jacob, those boots areonly for special fine occasions, and not for any expeditions to theriver."
"Yes, Father," came the easy reply. Then, breathlessly, "May I goshow Diana?"
A quick arm swept the little boy off his booted feet just as hewas about to tear out of the room. "Just a moment, little one. Theladies are probably busy helping Diana get ready, too. You may showher later."
"Oh, please, Father . . . May I go find her now?"
There was something about the way the child's entire face waspleading that melted a father's heart instantly. Beside -- he'd beenbanished from seeing Diana before the ceremony this morning. No onehad said anything about Jacob being likewise admonished.
Vincent started inwardly with guilty amusement. Something of hisown boyhood logic, and Devin's, echoed in that last thought.
"You may go for only a few moments," Vincent conceded. "But beforethat, let me make certain you are presentable."
The little boy stood still quickly, after smoothing out his attirein anticipation of the inspection. Vincent had to marvel at how thechild had grown. He was almost three. The long boots disguised theforever-too-short length of his pant legs. But at least the darkcordouroy dress trousers he was wearing this morning fit properly, asdid the crisp cotton shirt Mary had ironed for him. A long, finelywoven wool tunic of a warm cream color was only slightly too large,and Vincent had tucked it around the child's waist with a leatherbelt the little boy thought was very grown-up looking. Shaking hishead, the mythic father realized his son was so very eager to beeight or nine years old, these days, instead of merely three. Heremembered those times, himself.
A mischevious lock of curly golden hair flipping into his faceseemed to prove, though, that Jacob was still very much a little boy,despite his impatience with nature.
"You look so very handsome, Jacob, except for that hair. It isbeing more than unruly this morning." The offending lock sprang againonto the child's fair features despite being finger-combed back.
"It likes to be unruly," came the quick reply, unphased byvocabulary.
"Yes, I've noticed," Vincent concluded with humorous exasperation.He gave up attempting to will the curl to stay put and insteadreached over to the bed and picked up the little boy's hairbrushwhere he had set it. In a moment, he was attempting to tame awondrous abundance of curling silken locks he had only moments beforethought somewhat under control.
"Perhaps it is time to get you a big boy's haircut as well as bigboy's boots," Vincent
thought aloud. No matter how angelic the hair made the little boylook, it had become more than a bit of a chore to keep it appearingsomewhat neat. Still, the thought of subjecting the child to ahaircut wasn't exactly comforting. He couldn't imagine the small boylooking any other way than he did.
The pleading words of his child were not comforting, either. "Oh,no, Father. I want my hair to grow long and beautiful, just likeyours. Please don't cut it."
Vincent felt an sudden pang at the child's entreaty, as well as anunfamiliar confusion at what was a back-handed compliment to his ownappearance. He'd never thought of himself as anything remotelypleasing in his physical reality. He kept on grooming the little boy."Well, if you'd rather not, Jacob, we'll see what we can do to keepyou looking proper and orderly."
"I promise, I'll be patient when you brush my hair. I'll try notto let it get too unruly."
A smile crept across Vincent's unique face despite his bestefforts to keep a neutral
perspective on the matter. The child could persuade anyone ofanything, he thought. God help us . . .
Finished in his attempt to control the baby curls once more,Vincent set down the brush and drew the little boy easily into hisarms. His sapphire eyes locked onto the child's equally arrestingones with an overflowing mixture of joy, pride, uncertainty, andgrateful wonder.
"Will you be getting ready soon, too?" Jacob asked.
"Yes, I will. With Grandfather, in his chamber. He has my thingsstored there in his large wardrobe."
"Do you have new boots also for today?" Vincent patiently caressedthe child's cheek at the seemingly endless series of questions he wascapable of coming up with at any given moment of the day. His littlemind was never at rest.
"I have some boots that I haven't worn too often. They should bespecial enough for today."
"Then you will look so very handsome, too, Father," came a sweetand warm observation that held the powerful man's heartunexpectedly.
"Thank you, Jacob . . . I hope that I shall be . . .presentable."
"Is Diana going to be dressing up special for today, too?"
Vincent set the child on his knee as he sat down on the bed. "Yes.She will be dressing up especially, also."
"What will she wear?"
The thought of the enigmatic young woman who'd captured his heartdrifted through his mind. Even in the comfortable, oversized clothesshe favored for warmth when Below, there was a striking . . .presence . . . about Diana that stilled his spirit momentarily eachtime he saw her. She seemed a -- fairy sprite -- caught in a mundane,human world. A sudden vision of that fae being, going to any lengthsat all because she wished to possibly please him, was difficult tocontemplate.
Vincent lowered his eyes from Jacob's as he replied. "Ladies oftenwear a beautiful white dress for their wedding day. I believe Dianaand Mary have been working on one for quite some time."
Indeed, the mysterious goings-on in a small chamber off thecentrally located tunnels had intrigued a goodly number of thecommunity for nearly a month. The sewing machine could be heardhumming for long periods, and several Helpers had gone straight tothe room with featureless parcels balanced in their arms. Mary haddirectly banished anyone else from entry into the room in recentdays. She was often humming in blissful contentment along with hermachine.
"And the ladies are helping her get dressed today?" Jacob'squestion drew Vincent's attention back from his unexpectedlyanticipating thoughts.
"Yes, they are helping her."
"Will you brush her hair, Father?"
Vincent looked down into his son's face with undisguisedastonishment. The child had an uncanny capability of tying unrelatedincidents into plausible realities.
Not unlike Diana.
A more than subtle blush of confusion -- and expectation --colored Vincent's features at the child's innocent remark. "That issomething . . . I'm certain Diana would . . . rather do . . . forherself."
"She does a good job, too, doesn't she, Father?" the childcontinued, not even noting his parent's consternation. "Her hair isalways beautiful, never unruly. It smells like --
sunshine. May I go find her now?"
Vincent admitted he needed a moment to take hold of his heartbefore he could trust his voice to respond to the child's guilelessobservations. A suddenly recalled drift of lavender overwhelmed hissenses. He set the child back down to the floor.
"She is in Mary's chamber, Jacob. But you may stay only for a fewmoments. We will need to meet Grandfather."
"Will you come?" Jacob turned at the entrance to their home beforeleaving his father.
"I'm not to see her before the ceremony. But I will come for youin a few minutes."
A "thank you, Father," echoed pleasantly off the rock walls as thelittle boy skipped down the passageways to his destination.
Remaining seated another long moment on the bed, Vincent found hisson's words repeating themselves in his mind. An ethereal visionplayed across his heart without warning -- Diana, dressed in white,her burnished hair shimmering in the candlelight. Vincent attemptedto focus on some familiar object in the room to diffuse the suddenrush of emotions that vision conjured up beguilingly. He looked tothe table across from him, but before he could close his eyes tosteady his spirit, he caught sight of an antique walnut box on thesurface.
Coming to his feet, purposefully, Vincent gathered the box up inone hand. He had planned to offer it to Diana when they returnedhere, to their chamber, later this evening, as a special gift, but hewas beginning to think better about that gesture; indeed, even aboutthe reality that this room would no longer merely be his own room,but their chamber after today. Hesitating an instant in waveringuncertainty, he opened the fine wood box and retrieved the heavy,silver hairbrush from within.
The sweet agony of fearfully colliding feelings within himassaulted his besieged heart without mercy. To have her with him,here, tonight, to draw that brush through her fiery, silken locks . .. If only imagining what it would be like to have Diana standingthere before him, expecting his love in yearning humanity . . . ifonly thinking about having to endure such a tender condemnation couldsend such welcome torment through the carefully erected defenses ofhis heart . . .
. . . How could he have even dreamed of such a moment beingpossible between them?
It shamelessly voiced all the breathless expectations his errantheart had come to harbor in the past few days. Dangerousexpectations.
Forcefully, Vincent brought back to his mind the pledge they'dmade between them when he'd miraculously found the courage to ask herto remain at his side forever. It was a pledge he knew she'd acceptedfrom him only because she'd felt certain they would never needactually to call upon its reality to keep them safe. A pledge that no-- boundaries --would be tested between them before he felt as readyto accept the risks of his uncertain humanity as she was.
He'd thought the pledge had been made to exact a commitment topatience and prudence that could ultimately keep Diana safe fromharm. Her desperately needful heart was so willing to believe she hadnothing to fear from him . . . that there was nothing dark within himthat could consume her, body and soul, in an instant.
Vincent never dreamed that the limits of that pledge would befirst assaulted by his own heart. He never imagined a lifetime ofrock-hard denial would crumble at the slightest touch of a tenderhand, at the imagined touch of their yearning need . . .
. . . This was insane . . . The balance, and reason, between themhad to be restored, for Diana's sake. It had been possible forCatherine and him to transcend the physical in their lovingrelationship. He must find the strength to pull away from thetantilizing possibilities Diana's unfaltering hope for him hadconjured. He had to keep her safe.
The necessary restraint, though, he knew, could still cause adevastating a wound to his beloved's dream-filled heart. They'd beenslipping past their own defenses too often, as of late, lettingthemselves forget the realities that were his true nature. It was hisresponsibility to see her past his floundering control.
A first step: He would simply forgo the gift in his hand.
At a convenient time he would just return the box to the Bride'sChest with an excuse to Mary about Diana having already had her ownbrush. There would be no need to dread the implied intimacy thatcould shatter the safe haven of their denial. Diana's determinationto remain faithful to their pledge had been more than evident, evenin her moments of unguarded, honestly revealed need. He would donothing that would hold her generosity in vain.
Yet, with reason, discretion, and fear, fueling his protectiveinstincts yet again, something kept Vincent from tucking the brushback into its box and securing that box back into the drawer of hisown wardrobe. Something warm and reaching, settling around his heart.Something unafraid to believe.
Closing his eyes, the mythic figure held uncertainly to thefeeling. It was so . . . beautiful . . . so unburdened. Itacknowledged no dark threat, called only to the -- humanity -- heknew could never be completely his. God, where was the feeling comingfrom, so free and . . . possible?
Taking a cleansing breath, Vincent suddenly decided on a course ofaction he could momentarily live with, beyond the phantom tendernessand the cold steel of denial. He walked with the box in his hand tothe side of the vanity that had just been moved into his chamber thatmorning for Diana's use. Carefully, he set the comb and hand mirroronto the polished surface of the furnishing. Sitting there, the finepieces could simply be a lovely decoration that Mary had chosen toaccent the old vanity. There was no need for any tender, dangerouslyenticing connotations to be attached to their appearance. And hewould not need to totally reject Diana's hope.
Settling the brush to the vanity top, Vincent's hand was reflectedin the mirror just as he accepted his seemingly balanced resolutionto the volatile situation. He was arrested by the sudden sight, asthough he'd only then ever seen his own hand.
The reflection was painfully mesmerizing -- the hand, strong,elegantly long-fingered. And unmistakably covered with rust-coloredhair that could only be described as fur.
The nails on the tips of those long fingers -- they could only bedescribed as talons, deadly claws. A chilling voice from withinberated him with infernal mockery: This was the hand he would expectDiana to welcome, running through her hair? Slipping over her skin?This was the hand he'd love her with, as her husband?
Vincent shut his eyes, defensively, against the reflection.
He'd been right in exacting that promise from Diana. Theboundaries, the limits: They would keep her safe. He and Catherinehad managed to find peace within those confines, for nearly threeyears.
But he and Catherine had never forced themselves to face theaching wonder of a wedding night in each other's arms.
With his heart in profound turmoil, Vincent swept through thechamber door and after Jacob. He, too, needed to find Diana.Desperately so.
Diana pushed herself up through the cool water, breaking thesurface of the pool at the shallow end, breathlessly. She ran herhands over her face and back against the heavy, wet, weight of herhair, smoothing it out of her way. Several bunches of dried herbstied together with string floated past her shoulder on the water,fragrancing it: rosemary, mint, lavender. Flower petals collected ina bit of tulle netting also lent their aromas.
The small details of luxury made Diana smile, as she recalled thesweet care she'd been showered with this morning from the women ofthe Underworld. Those luxuries had been delightfully simple enough --the welcome companionship of a shared meal, encouraging words ofsupport, a half hour in the bathing pool, all to herself, completewith scented accents. She found that she felt actually regal at thatinstant, free, unburdened, and deliciously drawn into the earthysensuality of the moment and her surroundings.
It had taken her long enough to enjoy those surroundings, sheconfessed to herself with amusement. Mouse had long ago rigged up asmall reservoir on one edge of the pool that heated a few gallons ofwater by battery and then released them into the pond. It only raisedthe temperature of the bathing water a few degrees, but it was enoughto make it bearable, even for Diana.
Ever since her exposure to the frigid waters of the flood, she hadseemed unusually sensitive to cold, finding it difficult to remaincomfortable when her body was subjected to quick fluctuations oftemperature. She never thought she'd be able to progress from basinbaths to the pool on her overnight stays in the Underground, but theinviting thought of the deep, clear waters overcame even herreluctant body metabolism at last.
Overcoming her modesty was another thing.
Community members were assured of complete privacy on trips to thepool by reason of schedules kept to and an easily visible "Occuppied"sign that could be posted in the small antechamber of the bathingarea. Still, the occasional lapse in protocol had brought about a fewfar between incidents of blushing apology among bathers, simplyaccepted in stride because of the close confines of the community. Sofar, Diana had been spared such embarassment, thank goodness.
Still, it was at first difficult for her to actually managed toshed her clothes before stepping into the deep waters, twelve yearsat St. Elizabeth's Academy having ingrained within her a verydistinct limitation as to what was actually bathing and what couldonly be considered a questionably moral swimming excursion that wasworthy fodder for weekly confession. Withdrawing from the pool wasjust as bad -- she always made certain she could reach the well-worntowels on the pool edge before venturing out.
Try as she might, despite all the reassurances, and her ownreluctant admission that she was perhaps more inhibited than she everthought she was, she couldn't quite overcome her fear of beinginterrupted in her private moments. She just knew she would one dayforget to post her presence and then find herself in an embarrassingposition she'd never let herself live down. This, from a woman whohad lived together with a man for many months without benefit ofmarriage in her life Above. Some of the sweetly innocent and reverentromanticism of the Underworld had surely rubbed off on her hardenedspirit, she conceded, ruefully. Gratefully.
Yet, the wondrous feeling of being in the pool, beneath thesweeping rock ceiling of the chamber, bathed in candlelight as muchas the cool waters, was worth the momentary anxiety of beingcompromised. She'd be content to stay as she was for ages, especiallywith the growing ease that was enveloping her; but she only had halfan hour. Reluctantly, she came to the edge of the pool and reached upfor the towel on the rocky surface surrounding the water.
A sudden cool shiver ran through her body that had very little todo with either modesty or the temperature of the water or air. Dianaconfessed to herself the source of the feeling, guiltily: She'd lether mind slip, momentarily away, on the tide of senses and emotionsmade acutely aware of what was in her soul at the moment -- the imagethat flashed across her stumbling heart of having her bathunexpectedly interrupted by someone in particular.
Drawing the large towel around her, Diana stilled her spirit witha force of will she longed to relinquish once and for all. But thatcould never happen. Not yet. She couldn't possibly let her determinedhope be overwhelmed by her aching needs. Especially not today.
She'd made a promise, swearing it would be worth the heartache ifonly it would see Vincent through the fears and terrors that stillhaunted his compelling soul.
With a smaller towel, Diana vigorously rubbed her long hair nearlydry, defensively, ignoring the tears that threatened to mingle intothe heavy locks. A cool current of air slipped over her bareshoulders, suddenly, one of the intriguing masses of atmosphere thatcaused the Underworld to have such a mysterious range of naturalclimates. She felt the cool touch of the air brush over her skin witha heart-stopping, tangible reality, no longer an indistinct elementof nature, but seemingly possessing a decipherable form -- a lover'shand.
Diana straightened up quickly, certain she was no longer alone inthe bathing chamber. The feelings within her assailed herrelentlessly, keeping her from mastering them, and her heart, for thelongest moment. In that moment, she yearned to turn round, toacknowledge the hand that had gifted her with such a sensuallywelcoming touch.
But she was alone.
The water still beaded up on her arms and shoulders where she hadnot yet drawn the towel. She was suddenly cold, shivering actually,losing all the welcome radiance of the feeling. The wetness on hercheeks returned even after she'd buried her face into the towel.
Shakily pulling on a long tunnel robe she'd borrowed from Rebecca,Diana sat at the edge of the pool on the rocky chamber floor for aneternity of a moment.
All she wanted was to hold that sensation back to her again, thewarmth, the welcome, of Vincent's touch upon her. That was what sheknew she had felt, even though she was totally alone in the chamber.Whether she'd actually experienced it or merely conjured thesensation too mercilessly precisely in her mind, she knew that he'dextended a loving, possesive hand to her in mutual want, and thenwithdrawn it in the shame that was turning the reality of his spiritwithin her to leaden denial.
Everything else Diana knew she could endure: Giving up her homeAbove, her ties to friends and family. She could live with everythingelse: Never being able to walk in the sunlight by his side, neverbeing completely certain that he could actually love her for herselfand not for some tender dream that still clung to his heart.
Being fearful of his touch, though, despairing of ever losingthemselves to the emotional flood of passionate human need betweenthem -- these were the anguishing realities she could never bringherself to acknowledge. Never. Her total commitment to the truth andhonesty of their hearts cried out against it all.
There could be nothing they could not share, nothing they neededto fear at each other's hands. There was nothing Vincent could do tohurt her -- except ask her to accept him as less than he truly was,accept their love as less than the true gift it could become.
She'd hoped that by now they'd worked past their fears, that theirtenderly entwined hearts would help lead them past the unfoundedterrors he could not rid himself of alone.
Yet, she also knew that the love she shared with Vincent hadevolved along very different
paths than the devotion he and Catherine had shared. Theirs was ameeting very much of
equals, of similarly besieged spirits that begged to be embracedin a beguiling humanity neither was prepared to turn away from.Vincent's love for Catherine had instead been a tenderness sopainfully rooted in denial, in the quietly, insiduously devastatinglie that the woman he loved could only be a dazzling treasure he'dnever dare reach for in his uncertain worthiness.
Those very differences, that to her spoke only of hope andpossibility, she knew he considered only rife with deadly risk. She'dprayed that today would truly be a beginning for them, that tonightwould be the first of many "long, sweet nights of tenderness in eachother's arms", that bore witness, not only of the physical wonder ofsharing their love, but of his own finally embraced hope in himself,of his own belief that he was worth her love.
The possibility that such a beginning would remain ever a dreambetween them suddenly tore at her very soul.
Diana gathered up her things from the pool's edge and turned intothe antechamber, her mind racing with the flooding outrage, and pain,of her heart. There was no way she could go through with a weddingtoday, a marriage. There would be no new life together as one tocelebrate, only a lingering, aching torture of half-truths that woulddo nothing less than completely deaden both their hearts to love.Vincent was wrong in this. She knew it, believed it, with every fiberof her being, every breath of her soul.
This marriage would either be a marriage in reality, a truesharing of beliefs and hopes, a trusting commitment to each other'spromise, or she swore that she'd force herself to awaken from thesweet and tender dream, a dream that was in danger of degeneratinginto a crucifying nightmare of shackled hearts and fear.
Heading through the chamber entrance and down the tunnel, Dianawas blinded momentarily by her hot tears. She stumbled hard, almostlosing her balance as she walked, near to dropping to her knees indefeated confusion. Instead, a powerful form encompassed her softly,a strong arm reaching out to help her catch herself. Immediately, shewas drawn into a sweeping embrace that was all wool, leather, andheartbreaking, mind-reeling love. Despite her frustrating anxiety,she let herself sink into the warm shelter that was his arms, neveronce fighting her need of him as she knew he would ever battle hisown for her.
"Diana. You're . . . crying." The words close to her ear caughtmomentarily in his throat. The soft ache in their tone caught at herheart. Why couldn't he hold onto the love,
the completeness of the love, those tender words confesssed?
She pulled herself away from his arms with a supreme effort ofwill, repeatedly wiping the betraying tears from her eyes with eitherhand, never daring to look up into his face. If she did, she knew shewould lose all her resolve. Instead she just murmured something aboutbeing "a little edgy" through the fingers she still held before hereyes.
But Vincent knew her heart too well.
He lifted one of his hands to her face, and gently, but firmlypulled hers away, holding them both in his large palm. With the otherhand he touched a finger to her chin and lifted her gaze up to him.His eyes were an intensely azure depth that drew her in, in spite ofher
outraged spirit. Or because of it.
"I felt that you might be . . . troubled . . . by something. Whatis it, Diana?"
All she wanted to do, at that instant, was to lose herself withinthose eyes, let her cold, wet body melt against his, and be at peace,know him to be at peace. She could feel the love enveloping her, asit always did. And all the defiant accumulation of pain poured out ofher.
"I'm just a little nervous this morning. I'll be fine." Thehard-muscled arms drew her back against his chest as she cursed hercowardice, knowing she would only welcome the shelter of his embraceand never force herself to refuse it, no matter how limiting he wouldkeep its truth.
"Are you certain that is all?" came the soft inquiry, stillinsisting, for he knew her to be as anguished in heart at the momentas he was.
He'd followed Jacob to Mary's chamber after an agonizing intervalof turmoil, needing to see Diana at that very moment, look into hereyes, feel her hand in his, and acknowledge once and for all thehalf-life of aching barriers he was actually allowing her to condemnherself to.
They would be wed today, yes. She desperately needed the solaceand refuge of his love, indeed his world, for her own peace of mind.Her existence in the world Above had long grown dark and fearful,full of unspoken agonies that were sucking the lifeblood out of hersoul moment by moment. She had to come Below to safety, to refuge, tohis love, or risk losing herself totally to the madness Above. He hadto know she was within reach of his own battered soul.
But what was she committing herself to with that longed-for peace?An existence on the fringe of the reality of their souls? A meldingof hearts and minds and spirits that lived in terror of the certainmelding of their humanity?
Yet, the terror was only his.
Diana harbored no such fears. Her blessedly confidant heartoffered her only a promise of complete fulfillment at the cost ofonly a bearable amount of transitory adjustments. They'd simply begintheir life together, share their dreams and hopes in equal freedom.Then they'd meet on the mutual sanctuary of their profound love forone another and embrace that love in all its expressions without fearor anguish of heart.
Love would conquer all.
Vincent believed otherwise, though, with the black despair of hisinhumanity haunting his most treasured dreams, his most tenuoushopes. He and Catherine had been able to transcend the temptation torisk all they had managed to forge together for a breath of fleetingcompletion, a fragile instant of unpredictable passion that couldsurely only drown them in the overwhelming darkness he feared as histrue essence. Nothing could erase that truth, no matter the tearsshed nor the dreams reached for. He'd been able to accept himself forwhat he believed himself to be. Catherine had been able to accepthim.
Diana would not. Still.
Her dreams were made of more earthbound fabric; she refused togive up her faith in his own total, earthly, humanity, seeking only atruth she believed in without wavering. She was willing to risk herheart, her soul, her very life, to convince him of it.
And he would let her try.
The sudden realization, though, that she was deeply troubled thismorning, pulled him back from the brink of his own confuseduncertainties, his own near-abandoned defenses. He had never evenhinted to her the astonishing fact that over the months, as theirhearts drew ever closer, he'd felt that his spirit had somehowmiraculously also become linked with hers, not so much as he andCatherine had become as one in an elevated binding of souls, but verymuch in an indescribably shared consciousness. He was awed that hecould not only sense what she was feeling, but why, the workings ofher incredible intellect and spirit as open to him as her heart,making him a part of her as he never dreamed was possible.
In that shared spiritual essence, he had read her formidablecapacity to hope, the generosity of her dreams that kept him morethan once from willingly losing himself to the blackness that forevershadowed him. She had never stumbled in her hope for him.
Until this morning.
And he had felt her pain as if it were his own, not only knownthat she was struggling in anguish but sensed the searingdisappointment deep within himself. Her pain was, in fact, hisown.
At that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to set his testedsoul forever beside hers, let her capacity to dream draw him into theselfless wonder in her heart, too. She could envision his completeand total humanity, touch to it with an overwhelming power that yetwas breathlessly innocent in its total trust.
He'd almost let himself believe.
But the startling reality of their differences had overcome him inthe reflection of a mirror. The knowledge that she was so willing tocondemn herself to those differences, giving up her dreams forlife-sapping limits, was suddenly more than he could stand.
He had grieved for Catherine regretfully because he had let herdream alone. Now, he confessed in shame to himself, he was guilty ofa far greater crime in his relationship with Diana -- He had let herdraw him into her dreams only to reduce them to barely recognizableshadows unworthy of acknowledgement. All in the name of the greatergood. All in the attempt to protect her from what he truly believedto be only illusions of peace and completion.
She was standing before him now, begging for mercy from the stormydepths of her green eyes. She would willingly embrace even thoseshadowy reductions of her dreams, he knew, if only he would hand themback to her with the faintest trace of promise holding them togethersomehow.
Seeking her out for his own desperately needed reassurance, hopingto let her powerful honesty of spirit lead him to the truth they bothsought with such struggle, he now realized that it was she who was inneed of support and hope, her vulnerable certainty of soul suddenlyrevealed and incapable of surviving any longer, alone.
Diana rested her head wearily on the heavy wool fabric of hisdoublet, shaking it slowly in denial of what she herself wasn'texactly certain. She had told herself she could give up even this --the bound and limited expressions of their hearts that they'd allowedthemselves up to that moment, if he were not willing to attempt topull himself free of the torment he carried within him with too muchready resignation. She'd been wrong.
Her heart told her she would accept the slightest acknowledgementhe could bring himself to offer her as a parched soul would accept adrop of water; seeing it as a cherished treasure whose refusal wouldcost her very survival. If that phantom expression of their sharedhearts was distined to be her only gift of his unburdened humanity,so be it. She would accept it with gratitude.
If the love in his eyes was fated to forever be tinged withuncertainty, she would find the strength to look past it and clingonly to what he could be sure of.
She could no sooner give up his troubled heart than she could giveup her own.
Something of her indominable spirit broke free then and helped herfind her way through the doubt, urging her to accept what was offeredwith the wonder it deserved, and not reach for the unattainable.
"I'm sorry, Vincent. I guess I was just overwhelmed at what couldlie ahead for us."
Vincent took in the vulnerable and unsteady light in her eyes. Itfervantly sought to brighten her fragilely beautiful features. Whenthat light was at its greatest point of power, it had always let herspirit shine through her as an unfettered force of nature.
Wavering as it was now, her essence seemed to lose itself in thetorchlight around them.
He knew exactly what he needed to do at that moment, some proddingangel of Providence urging him past the fear. He had to bring thatshining spirit back into her weary features, as though he'd alwaysbeen free in his heart to accept her hope. Anything less would denyall they meant to each other, all she'd given him.
The seconds slipping past them ticked off lifetimes. He couldeither open his heart to her completely, or shatter her very essenceto dust. It had come to that point between them. One either movestowards love, or away from it. There was no other way. He'd toldCatherine that once, but never had found the strength to take up thattruth completely
with her. Perhaps that had been meant to be. Perhaps his soul'srestoration was held within the fragile possibilities only ared-headed fairy sprite could see.
Setting both his hands around her face gently, Vincent whisperedsimply, "Diana, I love you." And in a moment of tenderest compassionhe brushed her cool lips with a gentle, breathless kiss that wasanything but phantom.
When he pulled slowly away from the sweetness of her mouth thatseemed suddenly so familiar, he let his hands drift softly down herarms over the robe, finally clasping each of her hands in his,entwining them in his. They were so cold that his heart ached for herpain.
Diana held his face with incredulous eyes, for the longest momentof her life, uncertain if she was even breathing still. There was somuch . . . promise . . . in that kiss, so much that was open andwilling to believe, a gentle sensuality that had gone far beyondanything they'd ever shared, anything they'd ever confessed they'dneeded from one another. Too afraid that she was projecting only herown expectations onto the radiant gift, she dropped her head againsthis chest, closing her eyes and attempting to somehow set the momentto her memory as the one instance of freely touched passion he'doffered her that she'd have to live on for the rest of her life.
"I love you," she responded softly at last, with every gratefulbreath in her heart. It would be enough. She would live a lifetime onthat one breath. There was no need to battle his defenses for aninstant more.
But heaven smiled down upon her just then,too, when she wouldnever have imagined she needed it to, planting a seed of certaintywithin Vincent's heart that suddenly offered her a promise of morethan just that one whisper of humanity reaching out from him to her.Fearlessly he released her hands to instead draw her back to himselfagain, letting his hold of her slip around her waist, his longfingers lightly stroking over the small of her back in gentlepossession as though it were a familiar thing for him to do.
The unexpected contact of their bodies, held in expectant intimacyfrom shoulders to thighs, was immediately incandescent between them,bewitchingly . . . right. Diana almost didn't hear his words over thepounding of their hearts, whispered into her hair in tones that
fanned embers into heat. "Today is about what can be for us,Diana, not about what is denied us. Believe in that. And we will findour way, somehow."
The shining warmth in her rekindled spirit easily found its way tohis.
Finally able to trust her heart, and her body, once more, Dianaeased back from his loving embrace. There should have been somevisible change that she could read in his face, giving evidence ofthe leap of faith he'd just drawn her into. Yet, should she haveactually read something -- different -- about him, she'd have beenhard-pressed to believe she was still in the arms of the same man whohad steadied her faltering steps a few minutes ago. Who, exactly, wasshe committing herself to in a few hours' time today?
A haunted soul who could never trust himself with her? Or the manshe loved, loving her
freely, at last? Could she truly believe she'd need to distinguishbetween them now?
The light in sapphire eyes that betrayed nothing unfamiliar beyonda bewitching --
certainty -- suddenly shone in gentle humor. Diana couldn'tbelieve it, and couldn't not.
She smiled in return, from the heart, relieved of every breath ofdoubt. At that instant, she knew the day would indeed be aboutpossibility and not denial. Every possibility.
"Have I rendered you speechless, my love?" came the softchallenge.
"Not speechless as much as senseless."
A brush of his lips across her forehead was both patientlyreassuring and sparkling with bright acceptance. Diana felt theshiver slip through her as it had when she'd been in the bathing poolearlier, an unburdened release of expectation that threatened herequilibrium.
Reassured within his own spirit that she was indeed relieved ofher turmoil, Vincent reluctantly loosened his hold on her now sosweetly beguiling body. The sensation of having her so welcominglynear was unlike anything he'd ever believed himself capable ofaccepting. The true joy that glowed from her ethereal face was worthany struggle he'd need to face.
Perhaps he could hold onto the truth of his words to her himselfthis day, allowing himself to believe.
"We'd better get you back to Mary," Vincent said. "I'm afraid Igave her quite a start when I came looking for you."
Diana raised a hand to his high cheek, brushing her thumb gentlyacross his lips, touching her spirit again to the wonder of themoment. She wouldn't need to live a lifetime on that single,liberating instant. Only survive the chaos of a wedding day unlikeany other.
"I hope you realize that we've risked all manner of bad luck herethis morning," she teased accusingly.
Drawing her palm to his mouth, Vincent breathed a caress across itwith astonishing ease. "At this point in our lives, I think we areresponsible for making our own luck."
With a welcome arm around her shoulders, Diana let herself be leddown the corridor towards Mary's chamber, no longer doubting theexistence of miracles in her life.
"When will Diana return?" Jacob's sweet voice seemed to echojarringly in Mary's quarters, probably because everyone else in theroom had been forced into stunned silence for the last half hour. Ithung over the earlier so easily hopeful atmosphere like a pall.
Mary was the first to respond to the child. "She'll be back in afew moments, Jacob, I'm sure."
"But Father said he wasn't to see her today until theceremony."
"I know, dear, but he needed to speak to her about somethingimportant."
Jacob slipped off Olivia's lap and came to stand beside Mary whowas sitting on the larger parlor chair near the wall. The little boymay have been bound to his father in spirit and could easily touchhis heart because of it, but he could also sense very readily thesudden turmoil everyone else in the room had been plunged into.
"Mary, will Diana not become my mother today?"
The gentle older woman drew the little boy into her armsprotectively. How she had hoped for him, for his father! How she hadprayed that the light and warmth of a renewed life filled withpromise might shelter their hearts again. The Fates had been toocruel up to that point. It was time for them to relinquish theirshadowing hold on Vincent's life.
But, apparently, her prayers would not be answered this time. Thedesperate ache of uncertainty that Vincent's entire presence hadseemed to mirror in the tunnel beyond the chamber door had beenenough to chill her own soul.
Mary had heard the anxious edge in the distinctive voiceimmediately, calling to her. She had smiled back at Jacob who wassitting on Olivia's lap, in automatic reassurance, grateful for thefact the child was watching in rapt attention as Rebecca braidedSamantha's dark hair expertly. Something was wrong, something shewished to instinctively keep the child protected from.
Turning into the tunnel, the matriarch of the Underworld communityhad been stricken with maternal anguish at the sight of blue eyesawash in visible uncertainty and defeat. "What's wrong, Vincent?" shehad asked in concern, her heart constricting at the possibilty ofpain making its way into what should have been a joyous day.
"I must speak with Diana, Mary. It is important. Please."
The words were quietly pleading. It never even occured to her notto tell Vincent where Diana was. "She's at the bathing pool."
He was sweeping down the length of the tunnel even before she'dfinished her sentence.
What in God's name had caused the sudden threat to Vincent'shappiness this day? He had seemed so at peace with his decision,Diana had seemed so blessed. What specter of
catastrophe had decided to enter the picture and distort it yetagain?
Mary was intimately aware of Diana's struggle to love Vincent inspite of his near-mortally wounded heart. She'd watched the ebb andflow of their stormy relationship since the moment she first met theyoung police woman at Jacob's naming ceremony. Vincent's pride andgratitude as he held his child had been so evident to all, sowelcome. But the light of fulfillment had gone out of his eyes; thestruggle he endured day by day to simply exist without Catherine hadetched a profound sorrow in his beautiful face that never wasrelieved.
Still, Diana had reached out to him, quietly, assuredly, with thepatience and generosity of heart that would become his ultimatesalvation.
They had struggled towards one another with guilty hearts for thepast three years, had managed to share their painful dreams on theneutral ground of trusted friendship. And that friendship had evolvedto a depth of love that was profound in its own right -- a binding ofhearts and souls so startlingly alike that it seemed at times as ifeach were an actual element, a part , of the other's veryessence.
In her care for them both, Mary had prayed to be able to guide andsupport them, wonderously hopeful of their eventual triumph overpain. Their need for one another had obviously grown as powerfully astheir love, too, despite their startled attempts to disavow it. Mary,herself, long loving from afar, knew how sweet the most innocent ofshared moments could become to two denied hearts. Diana's soul wasalways completely in her face whenever she'd been near him. Vincenthad visibly fought with emotions that Mary knew were becoming soeasily cherished and welcomed.
Somehow, they'd found their way to the hope of this day, and thejoy within a mother's heart could not have been any less than the joythat two like souls could share in finally accepted promise.
But now it was all threatened with some unknown force of divineretribution. Mary couldn't bear the thought of it ending this way.She knew it simply could not end this way.
Running a maternal caress over the little boy's soft curls, sheattempted to reassure him. Jacob would be suffering the pain of lossthis time, too. It was all so devastatingly unfair.
"Diana is wondrously happy to become your mother, Jacob. Yourfather loves her very much, and she loves him, and you, with all herheart."
Samantha, who'd come beside the elder woman and child, was nowalso on the verge of tears. She had heard the unvoiced, "but" inMary's reassurance, and it tore at her heart as well. As it did toeveryone else in the room. The anxiety flowing in the chamber was sothick it was almost suffocating.
"I understand there is a handsome young man in here that simplycan't wait to show me something special."
The bright and easy sound of those words, coming from the chamberdoorway, nearly startled the women present out of their respectiveseats. But relieved smiles, and a few tears that could not be urgedback from falling immediately transformed the mood of the room.
Diana came fully into the doorway, wrapped in her tunnel robe, heramber hair still damp and pulled away from her face. She'd obviouslybeen crying -- her soft green eyes seemed misted still -- but agentle color of emotion illuminated her pearly skin. The reason forthat was also made quickly obvious to the nearly-stricken women:Vincent was standing behind his bride-to-be, one strong,indescribable hand resting with ease on Diana's thinly-clad shoulder,holding her against him warmly.
Jacob rushed to her side in an instant. "Diana! Diana! You'reback!"
The object of his affection came down to her knees, and without ahesitation, she enclosed the litle boy with the most welcome hug he'dever been blessed by from her.
"I'm sorry we kept you all waiting." Vincent's deep voice was bothapologetic and
unrepentant. Olivia brushed an errant tear quickly away from hercheek at the sound of it.
"We have plenty of time. Don't worry," she noted happily.
Rebecca, though, was not so tolerant with her childhood friend."Surely we do! Thanks to you, Vincent, we have less than an hour toget your bride ready for this wedding!"
When a rising blush made its way over mythic features in endearingconsternation, everyone burst into heartfelt laughter. Mary thankedheaven at the joy she felt radiating again within the room. Vincentlifted eyes full of gratitude to her.
"See my new boots, Diana?" Jacob turned the attention back to theimportant details at hand.
"Yes, Jacob. They are wonderful. You look so handsome in them,too." A kiss to a soft little cheek was rewarded by another sweetembrace of chubby arms around her neck.
Diana felt renewed.
"We had better leave the ladies to their important work, then.We've kept them long enough." Vincent reached his hand down to hisson who took it eagerly.
"Don't worry, Diana. You'll be ready in time. You look sobeautiful even without your special dress."
Diana was the one that blushed at the child's words this time. Sheturned to his father, shyly, but with a newly-found ease of heart,she reached her arms around his neck and offered him a soft kiss shefelt him leaning into with welcome. "Till the ceremony, then," shequietly greeted him.
Vincent brushed his hand over her drying hair with a lingeringtouch. Then he swept Jacob up off his feet amid giggles of delight,urging the child back to their own chamber.
Reluctantly, Diana finally turned her attention back to the womenof the room, knowing they were about to burst with questions andstartled amazement at the abrupt turn of circumstances of themorning. She simply deflected their wordless appeals for details withcasual observations about what needed yet to be done in theirbusiness of preparation for a wedding. Her heart was alight with amischevious turn of spirit.
Finally, Brooke bravely accepted her silent election asspokesperson for the group, taking hold of Diana's hand and fairlydragging her to sit on the side of Mary's bed. "All right, Diana,"she conceeded. "We won't ask you what happened just now. But, you'llcarry the guilt of abandoning us to our imaginations this entireday."