To Hope Anew

Chapter Twenty-Two

The threads of destiny: Words spoken, or not spoken; fears voicedand shared, or left to multiply in silent torment.

Diana had cursed her loss of good sense, her usual grasp on thesubtle necessities of holding Vincent's heart within hers, that earlymorning in her loft. How she had ever broached the subject of Jacob'sconception in the heat of the discord passing between them she'dnever been able to understand.

At the time, she fully feared she'd totally thrust Vincent out ofher life, out of her hopes, with the words. Looking back at themoments, now, Diana recognized that her angry frustrations voicedthat morning were very much the words Vincent needed to hear, tobring him to this day's celebration with a sense of peacefulexpectation in his heart.

She had looked at him long and in total disbelief at that instant,her mind unable to filter through all the connotations andconclusions those words had given rise to in her heart.

"You can't remember that moment with Catherine?" She needed torepeat the concept to make certain she knew what exactly she wasfacing, what trauma she was still up against in her battle for hishope and heart.

Vincent turned from her to pace across the loft floor for severalstrides. He stopped to lean against the kitchen countertop, asuddenly tragic, mythic figure, in the incongruous confines of herfamiliar household's parameters. So distantly separated from her, heappeared so uncharacteristically lost and defeated.

Diana would have given her life just then to take back thewords.

Yet, Vincent accepted that they'd only been flung at him in searchof the truth, as all her defiance of him had proven to become overthe past three years. Her only words of challenge to him had alwaysbeen attempts to seek out the honest reality of their circumstances,hold up the truth to him, no matter how forcefully he might havefought against its revelation and acknowledgment.

"I was close to death . . . near madness. She came to me in theblackness of the catacombs Below without fear. She placed herselfwithin reach of my darkest terrors and pulled me free, somehow. WhenI came to myself finally, mercifully, I was spent, weak, and nearhelpless, with no knowledge of the agonies that had gripped me. Iawoke in her arms. With no memory of any tenderness offered me in myanguish."

Diana felt her heart reach out to the indecipherable turmoil soevident in the features of the man she loved. Only hours ago, she'dbeen faced with the same chilling realization: that there weremoments, experiences within her present existence, that she wassuddenly incapable of touching. The fearful pain of that uncertaintyhad been staggering to her tonight. How much more so had Vincent'sexperiences been?

She came to stand quietly at his side for a minute, letting herhand settle gently on his on the countertop. "You've never rememberedanything about that time, not even now?"

"The moments have remained lost to me. I couldn't even rememberher name. It took me all of a week to gather the courage to admit itto her, to ask her her name."

The cold ache that had settled itself around Diana's heart amoment ago threatened to become an indelible facet of her spirit withevery passing instant. The totality of Vincent's loss had becomeclear to her now, so heartbreakingly clear: He'd not only lostCatherine herself, but had lost even the most cherished memory ofher, one that could have helped sustain him throughout the long,black nights of solitary grief he'd endured since her murder. Thememory that could have at last laid to rest his own terrifying doubtsabout his questionable humanity and the forces at work within hissoul.

"Vincent, just because you can't remember what happened doesn'tmean you'd put Catherine at risk. You'd suffered a violentpsychological ordeal. You'd endured a physical collapse that almostcost you your life. Those are perfectly reasonable explanations foryour loss of those moments."

"Reasonable, but not likely," came the quiet reply. "I know thetruth within me, Diana. Those moments were lost to me because theywere not actually my experience."

Diana raised a silencing hand to his mouth, just then, refusing toallow him to conjure up the frightening specter that she knew hecarried in his heart. How could he possibly believe it?

Vincent simply drew her hand gently away from his face and held itprotectively within his own. What would he have given, what would hehave sacrificed, to be able always to offer her shelter, thus,tenderness so deserved?

"You can't think that you . . . were not . . . yourself . . . whenyou and Catherine . . . loved." The stumbling words were toogenerous, the tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks too ready tohope.

Drawing her close to him, Vincent sought to steady her for theburden of truth he was about to share with her. It would be the mostcrushing weight she could ever subject her heart to, he knew, and hemust be the one to lay it upon her shoulders.

"Diana, she was troubled, disturbed, by some turmoil she could notbring herself to share with me during those first days when I wasslowly recovering my strength. Even with our bond lost, I could senseit within her. She was burdened with some truth she couldn't bringherself to trust to me."

"And you believe that truth was the fact that you were . . . lessthan human . . . when you'd consummated your love with her."

Coming from the soft sounds of Diana's voice, the plague of agonythat had haunted him for three years seemed somehow lessencompassing. But the reality would not be changed. No matter howmuch they willed it to be.

He couldn't respond to her; the acknowledgment would be toohellish for his besieged spirit to survive, and hers.

Still, Diana was not ready to let despair overtake her completely.Every fiber of her being railed against the impossibility of what hewas asking her to believe. She had to make him see the hope of adifferent truth in that painful past.

"Vincent, Catherine could have been troubled because she wasconcerned for you, your condition. She could have been holding ahundred different things within her heart . . ."

". . . She could have been fearful of the life she was carryingwithin her."

Releasing his gentle hold on Diana, Vincent walked slowly over tothe windows again. The sky was brightening, the promise of a new dayoffering itself once again to the teeming city. For its inhabitants,it signaled another day's possibilities. For him, it only offeredproof of his -- otherness -- once more. Daylight would force him intothe realm of shadows, a -- creature -- never to be blest by thewarmth of the sun. As he would never be blest by the tender promiseof a new life shared in hope with Diana.

He made a move to reach for his cloak, even though he longed tofeel the morning sun rest brightly on his face, just once, with agentle, sustaining heart beside him. But, it would never happen.

Diana came over to the chair where his cloak lay and picked it upbefore he did, holding it close to her with tearful possession. Itcouldn't be possible: He'd need to shroud himself within the mostagonizing of fears just as he needed to shroud himself within thefolds of the garment she clung to. This simply could not be the finaltruth between them.

And then Diana found herself thinking of the little soul that hadunwittingly been so much the center of the turmoil they had beenattempting to unravel that night . . . Jacob.

Diana's heart reeled with the devastating scenarios they'dproposed that could have surrounded the child . . . It was impossible. . . How could Catherine ever have felt less than . . . blest . . .with the knowledge of the life she carried within her?

"You can't believe Catherine wasn't overjoyed at knowing she wasbearing your child."

But, even as she spoke the reassurances, Diana found that herheart was not as compliant with her attempt at fairness andunderstanding. For all her undying devotion and commitment to the manshe loved, the fact of the matter was that Catherine had never chosento completely bind her life to his.

Samantha's words to her in the flood, "I would have given upanything, everything, to be with the one I loved," came to Diana'smind with an explanation, and a vindication she would have ratherdenied with her dying breath than acknowledge as a possibility.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Diana." The words werebleeding from a reality too painful to endure. And suddenly, Dianasaw that Vincent's pain sprang from a

fear that drove its roots even deeper within his soul than thehorrifying thought he might have in some way forced his unbridledpassions onto Catherine against her will . . .to the agony of havingto consider, even against his most fervent denials, that the woman heloved might have not welcomed the physical embodiment of that lostmoment between them . . . a child of less than human parentageconceived in the throes of a passion that was less than loving.

Diana could not let him lose even the miracle that was hischild.

"You can't possibly look into the eyes of your baby, your son,Vincent, and doubt the humanity of his conception. You can't becapable of believing such a lie as that!" When he refused to respondto her, Diana knew she would do anything to help him past such adevastating, haunting torment, even convince him of something sheherself was now too ready to discount.

"Catherine could have been troubled by the fact that she waspregnant, yes, but not because she feared that baby's possible --characteristics -- not because he could have been fathered by a being-- less than human -- in an instant of consummation that was -- lessthan loving.

"Life Above is hardly supportive of single women with children,Vincent, " she continued, attempting to persuade herself of herconclusions as much as him. "It is hardly as nurturing as your worldBelow. Catherine could have simply seen herself facing a barrage ofcircumstances ready to change her life that maybe she wasn't quiteprepared to handle just then. Any woman would have been worried aboutthem, unsure about how to deal with them.

"There was no black specter of inhumanity hovering over her,Vincent. She was just unmarried, with child, and facing a dozenlifestyle decisions she wasn't ready to share with you."

Vincent found himself looking long and deeply into the emeraldeyes that held his with so much urging tenderness that it took hisbreath away. How could she be so certain of her hopes, so blessedlysure of her trust in him? How could she justify another woman's heartto him and only diminish her own?

The reality of that heart shone with aching care in those eyesnow. Catherine's motivations slipped back into the familiar pain ofgrief and loss he'd managed to learn to bear these past few months.What drew itself to the forefront of his unsettled spirit'sperception was the fact that at this moment in time, now, in thepresence of a fiercely believing, protective, amber-haired angel,love was reaching out its uncertain invitation to him, daring him totake hold of it and press it to himself with willing possession.

He had carried within his soul so much of the darkness and pain ofuncertainty, never once daring to question whether his assumptionswere based on the truth, or only simply on the truth he told himselfhe deserved to experience. There did not exist a soul in creationtoday, he knew, within his own world Below, nor across the teemingworld of the city Above, that deserved the depth and breadth andunshakable truth of the love Diana was offering him. Yet, there sheremained, staring pain in the eye and standing her ground. Tremblingwith the uncertainty that his own cursed soul might not find thecourage to take up her offer -- and bless her with itsacceptance.

Coming to stand beside Diana at last, of his own free will thatearly morning, Vincent removed his cloak from her arms and held herbefore him for a long moment, letting his gaze travel the length ofher enigmatic presence, her belovedly enigmatic presence, both fireand rain, searing his uncertainties and washing his newly found hopesin her tears.

The weary struggle they'd both been engulfed by was clearlyvisible on her drawn face, tracked by the remnants of those tears,and her defiant hope. She looked no older than Samantha at themoment, a slip of humanity that very truly believed she was capableof taking on the burden of his haunted heart and survive.

It was a beguiling hope.

He let her drift closer to him, in a gentle embrace that was warmwith intimate acceptance. He felt the weight of the turmoil she'dbeen forced to carry in her slender, fragile frame as she laid herhead on his heart in grateful comfort, not hesitating to take themercy momentarily offered them in the solace of each other'sarms.

"Diana, I love you as I never believed myself capable of everloving anyone ever again," he whispered into her hair. A hand he'dlong considered only capable of inflicting pain and terror, held heragainst him, felt the finely sculptured structure of her slim body asit fearlessly roamed over a simple cotton shirt. Her spirit camealive within him, with hope, yearning, and expectation he did notimmediately, virulently deny. "I cherish your fearless belief in whatcould be for us," he breathed, but then he let reality work its waypast the wonder in his heart.

"Yet, there is still so much standing between us. Too much. Youknow there is." He formed the next words despite the ache that hadtaken hold of him, an ache to never utter them within her hearing."What you hope for is a beautiful, sweet . . . impossible . . .dream."

She pulled herself up from his sheltering arms and reached herhand up to his wounded cheek, feeling how unwilling he truly was todeny the possibilities between them. There was no more fear hurtlingitself against her heart. It was only quiet resignation.

It was too ironic, she thought. They'd been agonizing over thethreat he could become to her in a moment of abandoned control, andshe'd been the one to cause him injury, to draw blood in an incidentof precarious sanity.

"Vincent, you said you didn't know what to believe in any more, "she began in soft conviction, certain of what she had to reach out tothe tested soul before her, certain, at last, that he could at leasthear her objectively make her case to him, and not have to listen tobeguiling arguments through a black haze of desperation.

"Let me give you something to believe in now, what I believe in:Believe that inside you beats a heart that is no different than mine.Believe that your soul is capable of no more deadly intentions thanmy own. Believe that there has come a time for you to wake from thenightmares and embrace the dreams instead, that it isn't a mistake, acruel twist of Fate -- the time is right here, now, and the dreamsare for us to reach for, you, me, and Jacob, the time is ours.

"You nurture everyone's hopes. You can see possibilities ineveryone's lives. Why can't you do the same for yourself, for us?Where are your own dreams, Vincent? Why can't you find the courage toembrace them? They can't be so much different from mine."

He had come to her that night, knowing somehow that she was indesperate need of his presence, that she was being faced with a floodof emotional and spiritual anguish she could not bear alone. He'dconfronted the very real and terrifying prospect of losing her to theheartbreaking pain and darkness threatening her mental state, hervery hold upon herself. He'd been able to pull her free from thattorment to rest in his grateful and so willing embrace, shelteredwithin the truth of his love.

And he had opened up the very depths of that love to her at last,the profound and cherished desires revealed that were no longer to bedenied: that they loved each other, were in love with each other,longed to become love for each other in every bewitchingly possibleway that was open to two hearts entwined: mind, heart, spirit, soul .. . and body.

Could it actually be within his grasp at last? The fulfillingpeace and hope held out to him in a slender, trembling hand? Takinghold of that hope would mean leaving behind him his very sense ofself, one he now no longer could accept on blind faith as being onlyfraught with terror and uncertainty.

Could heaven at last be smiling upon them? Had they truly weariedthe malicious fates and instead endured the arrival, at last, of abright destiny of hopefully intertwined lives?

Dare they accept their dreams this night?

Diana's fragile form seemed so much a part of him, resting againsthim in weary helplessness. Yet, she believed so deeply, without fearor reservation; she was willing to dare and risk and battle andconfront, knowing almost instinctively, from their very first momentstogether, that they had been meant to share their lives . . . aslovers and soulmates. The truth of that belief in her eyes was not tobe withheld.

Gently, with trembling possession, Vincent lifted both his handsto rest softly around her face. Could those deadly hands be capableof offering her nothing more threatening than a lover's sweetpassion? Could that passion find its wellspring from nowhere moreinhuman than a loving, devoted heart?

A soft kiss to her forehead took Diana's breath away as easily asany moment of total, loving abandon ever could. It took Vincent'saway, too, as he watched the steel-willed fairy sprite that hadbedeviled his convictions of himself tonight, turn into thetender-hearted Renaissance angel that had sheltered his soul fromdespair, and then from there, become the maddeningly confident, andbewitchingly beautiful young woman that had stolen his heart andstirred his humanity. He would answer her questions with his owntruth.

"Where are my dreams, Diana?" The sound of his whispered wordsrang gently within her heart. "They are intertwined with yours. Theyare the same as yours: I dream of reaching out to you in tendernessand not being haunted by the specter of death in that touch. I dreamof having you by my side in my world, waking to the warmth of yourbody next to mine every morning of every day.

"I dream of watching Jacob thrive in the welcome of your nurturinglove, as his mother in reality as well as in spirit. I dream ofholding another child in my arms . . . your child. . .

our child, born of a love that is true and right and fearless inits hope.

"I dream of watching those small souls entrusted to our care growin strength of body, mind, and spirit, seeing them one day begintheir own lives with those they love.

"I dream of growing old beside you, sharing treasured memories anddelighting in every line that the passage of time has written on ourexistences together.

"And when it comes time for me to leave this world behind, I dreamof carrying the tenderness of your eyes, the sweetness of your touch,with me beyond the grave. Those are my dreams, Diana."

She couldn't hope to find her voice to reply. The words did notexist for her to describe the feeling of unburdened promise alightwithin her very soul at the sound of such cherished, accepted,conviction, in Vincent's soft tones. Everything was now said betweenthem. Nothing else existed, only the need to hold to the truth of thewords and believe in the reality of their fulfillment. They onlyneeded to open their hearts now to the possibilities, and work tobring them to pass.

"They are my dreams, too, Vincent. God, they've been my dreams forso long!" She began to cry then, deep, sobbing tears, pouring theweight of her struggle out of the depths of her soul at last. Herphysical reserves vanished as the burden of the night's battle hither with full force. Vincent simply gathered her up into his arms andsat with her back onto the couch, cradling her much as he would havecomforted one of the children Below nursing a skinned knee and abruised spirit. But the kiss that he offered her in consolation wasnot one for a wounded child. It was a tender offering, full ofhesitant promise, left upon soft lips ready to believe in miraclesonce again.

Diana felt no barriers thrust against her, to collide with herfragile heart, the truth of their accepting promise sweeping aroundthe both of them at last. It was a truth that was ready to step awayfrom fear and into the warm light of hope. And even though she knewthat half a lifetime's terrors would not be washed away in an instantof gentle, sustaining expectation, she recognized the single steptowards a new destiny that they had both taken this night,together.

As easily as though he'd always been free to offer her hisunburdened heart, Vincent let himself cherish the welcome feeling ofDiana's body sheltered so willingly in his arms. He let her tears runtheir course, never once considering them anything more than evidenceof the . . . joy . . . in her heart, a joy that reached his own withboundless relief. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him tohold himself to some sort of recognizable boundaries necessary yetbetween them, the burning ache to accept all of their love suddenlytoo heady for him in its long-denied freedom. Their uncertaintiesweren't totally to be set aside this night, he knew.

Diana felt his restraint with nothing more than acceptinggratitude, this time, knowing it to be only his ingrained care andthe tender caution with which he would always treat the sweetnessbetween them. She let him raise both her hands in turn to his lips,as he attempted to keep some tenuous hold of the moment. An instantlater, he was struggling to find the words he sought to offer herwhat else was still in his heart for her.

"I could dream of no more treasured gift than to be able to keepyou in my arms just now and promise you the fulfillment of everyaching need in both our hearts, Diana. I can no longer pretend thatmy love for you does not carry within it the longing for a deepenedcommitment to one another, one that acknowledges a yearning for thesweet physical communion that is so natural and true between twohearts joined in love, a yearning that is very much alive betweenus."

With a sweet, innocent, consternation, he turned his beautifulface away from hers to steady his voice. "You have touched to . . .emotions . . . and . . . needs . . . within me I never would havebelieved possible, that burn with a warmth I never dreamed couldcomfort me. But to allow myself the . . . freedom . . . to make thatcommitment to you, to allow myself to share in the . . . depths . . .of those emotions and needs with you -- I'm not certain my heart canfathom those choices just yet."

Diana knew she was facing a risk at that moment that would eitherbring her the most longed-for treasure of love accepted and welcomedin all its wondrous facets, or the reality of a fragile hopeoverwhelmed at its very conception.

For once, she chose to pursue the truth through less direct meansthan she was accustomed to.

"Vincent, I won't force you past boundaries that you can't yetleave behind. I will accept whatever limits you place on ourrelationship, if only to bring you the peace you need to find yourdirection with certainty." Taking hold of a beyond human hand, shedrew it up to her cheek, caressing it gently, her heart leaping asshe felt his answering pressure against her skin. "I can survive halfa lifetime with a single touch."

Something in the blue depths of his eyes told her, though, that itwould be far from easy for her to hold to her offered restraint, whenevidence of a simmering heat searching out its release came to herfrom his compelling presence. Knowing it was there, having himacknowledge that it was there, and having to wait for its liberation,could prove to be more agonizing than facing its total denial.

"But, you must promise me one thing," Diana continued, certainthat she must say the following words or risk the very promise theyhad sought to take hold of tonight. "Those boundaries you need willnot remain the eternal limits to our love. There has to be some pointin time towards which I can set my hopes, a time when you will beable to move past those limits totally without fear, and see the samereality that I do right now -- that our love is to be shared,deepened, and nurtured, all of it, and not shrouded with guilt orfear."

Vincent smiled softly down at her, conceding with generoussurrender that she was still capable of astounding him with her forceof will. She would give him his limits, and let the beguilingenticements of a life beyond those limits work their way through hisheart. He knew he was vanquished, even as she let him feel in controlof his choices. Dear Lord, he thought to himself, it was a good thinghe'd never taught her how to play chess!

The very fact that she felt an unburdened . . . freedom . . . liftitself from his strained spirit to sweep about her own, gave Dianaher answer. But, the words came, too, soft and hopeful and touchedwith wonder and . . . possibility. "Diana, that moment in time cannotcome quickly enough."

There was a sudden beam of sunlight that lengthened itself acrossthe floor of the loft, the first bright light of a wintry day thatreflected off the still-pristine snow cover of the night before. Eventhough the light held very little warmth at this time of year, it wasenough to keep the day's hopes bright, to nurture life and keep itbelieving in the promise of the moment.

The beam stretched out to spread across the couch where Vincentand Diana were sitting. Used to lowering his face away from suchlight, hiding his features in the lingering shadows, Vincent insteadturned fully into it. Drawing Diana more closely to him, he closedhis eyes and let the morning sun pour over them both inbenediction.

Diana wished never to move from the spot. She could hear his heartbeating strong, powerfully, and true, beneath her ear. Her hand hadreturned to the shelter of his, and had at last steadied itself. Shetook courage from it, from the stirring sounds of Vincent'sacceptance of their needs voiced, and raised her head enough to holdhis features in her gaze with powerful possession.

In the burnishing light playing across the exotic details of hisface, Diana saw the man she loved bathed in the hope he sodesperately deserved, certain for once that he could at last seehimself as the man she loved. She had never seen a more beautifulface, mythic, angelic, and at peace. The unearthly blue eyes openedto hold her own features with a blessed, tender acceptance she'dnever believed possible.

Vincent bent down and kissed Diana's hair softly, let his handslip gently over her shoulder and arm, leaving a path of sensitizedsweetness in its wake, that coursed as much through his body andspirit as it did her own. He felt as though they'd been togetherthus, in each other's nurturing embrace, showered by sunlight, forall eternity.

It had to have been for all eternity, he thought to himself inincredulous certainty, this feeling of . . . belonging . . . andholding to another part of himself, another depth of his soul. Thisfeeling of total, fearless . . . love. When had he begun loving her?There was no point in time he could truly touch to . . . no, that wasnot right . . . he had felt his spirit reach for it, a compassion, atenderness, a . . . love . . . slipping quietly over his devastatedheart, even before he had set eyes on the fiery-haired young woman.When his soul had been torn to shreds, when he cursed the reality ofanother day, when he had endured another haunted night of grief andpain and aloneness. He had felt it even then.

And when he'd longed to plunge into the oblivion of death, withCatherine gone, Jacob lost, his heart shattered into scabrous shredsof agony, he had seen that love in emerald eyes that shamelesslyreached into his soul and willed him to hold onto her for thestrength he could no longer find, the hope he no longer believedcould exist.

She had given him so much, offered him so much, subjected herselfto so much, dared him to dream with her, the breathtaking dream of afragile-spirited angel, sensitive, intuitive, and too human to holdherself above his pain. How does one repay another for their verysoul? Vincent could see his way to the truth now, and that way leddirectly to Diana's heart, and more than what she'd ever dreamed hecould accept.

Vincent touched his hand to Diana's chin, slipped his thumb overher soft lips. Her heart stumbled over the wealth of emotionovertaking her spirit. She could feel the unburdened possession withwhich he reached for her, held her, and for an instant she lost herbreath, uncertain she could maintain her restraint against the gentleonslaught of want her own had been drawn to with that touch. Hiswords were quiet, but so sure.

"I could dream of no more sweet fulfillment than to be able toremain here in the light with you, being warmed by both the sun'sgrace and your own heart. But that can never be our reality."

For a minute, Diana thought she felt her soul shatter, the wordscapable of robbing her of life as surely as any weapon of violenceshe had ever faced. Yet, the infinite promise in his fathomlesssapphire eyes, in his courageously tender touch, reassured herinstantly.

"My heart could find no more profound completion that to restbeside yours, for all my days. I have shared with you my dreams,Diana. The reality is that I have little to offer you, except mylove, my son, and my world. They are yours, given joyfully, and withmore hope than I ever dared think possible for me to hold within myheart."

Then came what Diana never believed she would hear, the wordsmirroring the tenderest recesses of her soul with the only truth thatcould possibly exist between them. The words Vincent had never hadthe courage to voice before, not even to Catherine, echoing a gift henever felt he deserved to reach out for.

"Stay Below with me, Diana. As my love, my partner and soulmate,my . . . wife. My life would not be complete without you at my side."A graceful, indescribable, beyond human hand slipped gently over hercheek with bewitching familiarity.

"I've never before yearned to pledge my heart, never beforethought it possible to dream such a dream, and believe in the truthof its possibility. You are a part of me I had no idea I had beenexisting without." A soft kiss to burnished amber locks held her inpromise.

"I want nothing more than to love you, cherish, honor, and protectyou, share with you all that I am, such as I am, all that I couldever hope to become."

Diana pulled herself up to look at Vincent, her emerald eyesmelding to his now so tender and questioning azure ones. There wassuch hope, such possibility, brightening his long-haunted features.Even his description of himself to her just now, "such as I am." Itwas no longer weighted down with the regret and shame he'd usedearlier that night. He'd amended it with words alight withbeginnings, "all that I could ever hope to become."

It was so tempting to believe her own pain would soon come to anend with the freedom he would embrace between them. Yet, her racingheart would not lead her astray, not if she could help it, this time.He'd spent too many years in stifling denial, a denial that hadrobbed him of his humanity and his own sense of worth. But like aprisoner who'd been set free of his bounds after a lifetime oflimitations, would he find his new sense of liberation a blessing oronly another form of pain?

Diana couldn't imagine that she had truly heard what she hadheard, understood the gift he was holding out to her in apparentlytotal, expectant trust. He was willing to not only accept her love,their love, but he was asking her to become his bride? To live withhim in his world? He'd even denied Catherine such a gift, more thanonce, from what he and Father and Mary had shared with her of hispast pain. And Catherine had been his ideal, the woman who was lifeand breath and light to him. Now she was reading a pleading hope inVincent's eyes for her to share his life in his world?

She couldn't believe it . . . she wanted to believe it . . . she'dnever dreamed it . . . she'd always known it . . . that their lovewould not be an elevated binding of souls beyond the limits ofhumanity . . . only that their love was meant to be earthbound andreal and made of the things of ordinary souls, a lifestyle accepted,a child to be nurtured, a bed to be shared, a dream of home andhearth and love grounded in the here and now of life.

The tender possession in Vincent's touch, the welcome embrace ofhis eyes, told her she was looking at the truth of love . . . hislove . . . their love. Free to thrive in blessed mercy.

Almost.

"I don't know how long I can last, accepting that love from youfrom the foot of your bed, Vincent." The words should have been flungin challenge and defiance, would have been so, had she had any remotehold on her runaway spirit and hopes. Instead, they were only softlyspoken and questioning, a minor detail that needed to be worked outbetween two consenting adults.

He should not have had the faintest glimmer of humor in his eyesas he responded to her words, either, her fears having been very muchhis own terror up until the previous two seconds of his life. Humorhad no place at this point of their discussion, there was no way hecould possibly make light of what they were proposing.

But, it was there, the spark of his own defiance radiating out ather, daring her to believe. Using her own tactics against her. Shewas shocked beyond recovery to come to that conclusion, hardly ableto accept the words that followed.

"There will be no need for you to find yourself at the foot of mybed."

Something of her own defiant Celtic nature broke free from thewonder of the moment to toss reality into their midst. They'd bothbeen celibate too long; they both ached to embrace every expressionof love between them. How long, in God's name, were they going tohave to wait before Vincent could see his way past the lingeringuncertainties he carried in his spirit, before they could trulybecome husband and wife? Or even more maddening . . . how could theypledge themselves as husband and wife and then deny themselves thevery gift that would bind them to each other in total, trusting,commitment?

Diana reluctantly pulled herself from his sheltering embrace andpaced impatiently before Vincent, attempting to find the words sheneeded to say without risking her heart's completion. Oh, the nuns atSt. Elizabeth would have thought it heavenly justice for her to haveto find herself in such a plight! But, beyond the specter of divineretribution for adolescent indiscretions looming before her, she tookcourage from the brightness still unbelievably visible within hisgaze.

"Then you have no idea what being close to you is capable of doingto me, do you?"

she responded, shaking already with emotion at the very thought ofwhat they needed, or might have to yet deny, between them, to setthis all finally to rest.

Vincent came to his feet -- and halted her anxious movements bydrawing her closely within his arms again, his hand softly grazingover her face, tracing her finely sculpted features, slipping,lingering his fingertips over her lips. Her reaction was preciselywhat he, and she, knew it would be: She felt her heart leap into herthroat, her limbs giving way beneath her.

"I know exactly what it does to you, Diana," came the husky answerto her plea. "My own heart reacts in just the same way by having you. . . near. You've felt it."

"So, how is this going to resolve itself, my love?" came the shakyinquiry.

A kiss that was a fraction less chaste than she expected it to bestartled Diana to complete speechlessness, even as it warmed her bodyfrom its depths with breathless expectation. "The limits necessaryaround our love at the present time need only to address myexperiences, not yours. I will gratefully offer you whatever you needfor your fulfillment until we are able to move past thoselimits."

"Without touching to your needs?" She'd felt the enticing heat inhis kiss, the need to learn more, the bewitching innocence in himthat sent coursing want into every cell of her body. And she'd feltthe aching urgency in his own flesh responding to hers. It wastorment, sweet torment, surely, but agony nonetheless. But, knowinghim as she did, Diana understood full well that Vincent was capableof just such generosity in his love. "What sort of fulfillment couldthat possibly be for you?"

"The only kind I can accept . . . for the moment."

There were never more contradictory, hopeful, insane words spokenbetween two battered hearts reaching out to one another indisbelieving communion. The guys in her division at the NYPD wouldhave been taking bets on the outcome of this situation, if they couldever believe it. But, she was never one to shrink from a battle whenshe understood what was truly at stake. And the reality of thisnight's circumstances would mean the release of a wondrous,mythically blessed soul into the world of promise and freedom it hadbeen too-long denied. She was up for the challenge.

This time, a slender, long-fingered hand slipped in loving outlineover cleft lips that had drawn a powerful, sensually staggeringresponse from her body. She would not bury that feeling, the promiseof that intoxicating feeling, willingly again, force it to untruthbecause of limits that should never even be dreamed of, let aloneconsidered and accepted as a necessary experience of love.

"I will never take from you a touch, Vincent, a caress, a kiss,unless I can return it to you in kind. You can't deny me that. Youcan't do that to our experience of one another and expect love tosurvive, no matter how caring and protective your motives."

Taking in a long, ragged breath that revealed more of his state ofheart than he might have wanted to at the moment, Vincent pressed atender kiss to the bandaged palm of her hand. "I will attempt, withall my heart, not to deny you that."

Just hearing those words sent a shiver of long-confounded desirethrough Diana she was helpless to hold in check. She seriouslyquestioned now whose torment was going to be whose in the days tocome, but such anguish could be as sweet as her most deeply treasuredhopes, she suddenly realized. The only thing that mattered was thefact that they were both standing in the sunlight together, theirspirits entwined in a gentle solace that offered only the mostpromising of endings . . . beginnings

The next night, Jacob's little angel was joined by two others inthe snow, left in a sheltered bank untouched by the imprint of thecity's reality, a reality that was so often cold, unfeeling, andunforgiving. There was nothing but warmth, hope, and possibilitysurrounding the three souls whose earthly impressions were leftwithin those snowy works of art, three souls finally blessed with thefreedom to dream past their limits.

That evening came to a close over simple gifts untroubled byharrowing terrors: Cups of hot chocolate, and a walk through theHundred Acre Wood, an evening of baby giggles shared, cold fingertipskissed warm, and tender hopes nurtured with newfound confidence, intothe wee hours of the candlelit night.