To Hope Anew

Chapter Eleven

There had been nothing but utter confusion that early afternoonnearly a year and a half ago, confusion reinforced by pain, grief,and fear, and the aching need to share his heart with someone whocould understand.

Vincent had gone to great lengths to shield all those around himfrom his pain, trusting only Father and occasionally Mary with theunwelcomed task of helping him shoulder his burden. To the rest ofthe community he attempted to present his bravest front -- he wasgrieving, surely, and deeply, but he had the strength to at leastêP way through the routines of daily life: He could interacteasily with the children; he could revel in Jacob's presence; hecould consider the needs of the community and work for its continuedhopeful and flourishing existence.

But nothing had penetrated beyond that front to touch the verywellspring of his pain: His greatest joy had come at the cost of hisgreatest love. And that love had been torn from his arms before hehad ever had the courage to bring it completely within his soul.

Somehow, Diana's own spirit had managed to take hold of thoseagonizing truths within him. They touched upon his very humanity, hisdeepest fears and most profoundly sheltered dreams -- He andCatherine had been on the brink of true completeness when she hadbeen ripped from his life. Their angelic child was the embodiment oftheir hope, one they'd never dreamed possible. But even the hope thatJacob had brought to him had been extinguished like a fragilecandleflame in a windstorm, with Catherine's murder. The child, then,was only the sweetest of heaven's miracles left behind, a tiny soulleft to mirror remembrance.

Seeing Jacob happily splash about with Katy and Luke now, Vincentcouldn't bear the thought of the pain he had caused the child by hisloss of promise. Every time he had looked into the little boy's face,he had seen only Catherine's reflected back at him, all that she hadbeen to him, and all that she had never had the possibility ofbecoming. There was not only the loss of boundless grief left withinhim but the knowledge that it had been the loss of a beloved with somuch yet left to give, to reach for, to dream.

Vincent had been startled to read the truth in Catherine's heart:While she had always been so willing to accept the painful limits oftheir existences, the abbreviated hopes of their linked hearts, theirrelationship had been changing just before he'd lost her, venturinghesitantly, fearfully, wondrously, into the deeply human terms oflove.

He knew what the miracle of Jacob's birth truly meant: The littleboy would never only be simply a child bereft of a mother's sweetcomfort. He was, in reality, all that had been terrifying beautifuland impossibly beyond their dreams, the heaven-sent embodiment of avery earthly need within their love. That devastating reality wouldnever leave his tormented soul, the haunting might-have-beens tearinghis heart apart.

Then Diana had fought her way into his existence, past hiswarnings and recriminations and grief-driven rage. She had been soready to take up his pain as her own; she had been able to see pastthe fear and bitter regret to hope and posibilities. And she had lefther own generous, tender heart undefended to endure even the mostfearful of blows he'd unleashed upon her in his anguish. . . his ownfiercely held denials of any breath of rightness to their own futurestogether at some point in time.

Yet, the deepest part of his heart had acknowledged no suchdenials. It had clung to the promise of peace she had held out to himwith a force that stunned him at the outset. He'd shamed himself,berated himself, cast himself as a selfish and conscienceless fool;still his heart would not let go of the possibility -- that Dianawould somehow bring him through the dark terrors of his grief thesame way that Catherine had brought him out of the dark madness ofthe catacombs. Diana's means, however, would be very different fromCatherine's, wondrous and frightening in their total trust, theirtotal belief in his humanity.

His heart had been right about her, in spite of everything.

"I didn't realize what day it was, Vincent." Diana longed to reachher hand to him just then, actually raised it to touch his cheek, butfound every breath of courage desert her. She knew it would not beher own touch he would feel. Her hand was withdrawn at the pang thatknowledge caused in her heart. There was only one person whose tendercommunion he would have opened his soul to just then.

Vincent struggled to put his pain into terms relative to thelittle boy he cradled in his arms, but the two spirits that clung tohis essence would forever be linked in his heart, no matter how hardhe attempted to embrace them separately.

"A year with Jacob in my life," he finally managed to continue,bringing his thoughts to their heartbreaking conclusion. "I couldn'timagine my existence without his sweet soul beside mine. He hasbrought me such beauty and wonder and fulfillment. I wished toremember that with him today, with you and all the community. Iwished to find some joy to hold, to look to the future in hope, withhim... "

His voice was left trailing, as if unable to even form the wordsfor the rest of his anguish. Diana couldn't bear it any longer, andspoke the words herself, knowing instinctively that he had to hearthem and claim them, or be lost. "There was another remembranceshrouding that anniversary, though."

"Yes."

The profound pain was spoken in that single word. Then, "I willnever be able to offer Jacob anything but the regret of a brokenheart... I could offer his mother no more than the most shackled ofloves."

Diana watched in torment of her own as she realized Vincent hadsavagely fisted his free hand, the knuckles showing white, for onebrief moment, before he pulled the hand down into the rumbled foldsof the blanket at his side. Hiding it, unconsciously...Shamefully.

Yet, beyond the pain she was feeling at his, the amber-hairedyoung woman suddenly fought with a rising anger that was alsobecoming so insistent within her, an anger of frustration andconfusion. The defeated man that she was forcing herself to sitbeside only at arms length was the soulmate her own heart wasdesperate to cling to. Every breath of his presence radiated to heronly all that was loving, good, fulfilling, tender. How could hepossibly consider himself lacking in his love for Catherine? What liehad obscured for him the wonder that had been his love for themurdered woman?

How could he believe he'd given Catherine nothing?

Diana had been overwhelmed at the evidence of the profounddevotion she'd unearthed when she'd been investigating Catherine'sdeath. She had been drawn into those pristine depths by merelyreading Vincent's simplest expressions of that love, even before shehad ever come to know him, come to realize the true wonder that hewas. His notes to Catherine, the books they'd shared, the baresttraces of their entwined existences as Diana had unraveled thereality: These had set her own tested spirit to aching, to yearningfor such... completeness... in a love.

Vincent had given Catherine his total trust, the deepest recessesof his most sheltered dreams. How could he imagine there was anythingin his existence that he had withheld from her?

Yet, that was his torment now, Diana realized, an agony that wentfar beyond the loss of a beloved.

There was little physical pain that he could not endure, she knew,little that he was truly afraid of. But the guilt-riddled grief thatwas his day to day reality was consuming him as surely as any deadlyforce of nature, threatening to permanently scar his very existence,his love for his son, his hope to live again at some point in timewith some small measure of peace.

Diana refused to let that happen, her intolerance for anythingless than the truth fueling her inner fury. She simply swore toherself an oath to the grave: She would not let him destroy himselfover a lie. No matter how much it cost her, she would see him atpeace with Catherine's memory.

Even if it meant she would never feel him draw nearer to her owndreams.

She risked everything in a single touch.

Drawing herself closely before him, Diana raised a trembling handto his lips, silencing his anguishing words with a tender breath ofrebuke. Vincent didn't pull away. For an eternity of a moment he heldher eyes with startled pleading, awestruck at the fierce, protectivehope he read there. He closed his eyes, then, slowly, and felt thathope, that promise, that aching guidance, reach deeply within hisspirit, touch his pain with so much communing understanding that itdrew the tears from his eyes. Oh, God, why did she have tounderstand?

The sound of her voice, cracking with emotion, still whisperedreassurance he knew he had no right to expect from her. "Vincent, yougave Catherine all that you were. You opened a wondrous, nurturingworld to her. You helped her find her own way in her life Above. Yougave her the strength to trust herself."

Jacob stirred in his arms just then, reaching out to Dianaunexpectedly, a questioning look clouding his sweet little face. Hemay have indeed shared an empathic link with his father's soul,grieved deeply with the loss and pain he felt there but was too youngto understand. But, Diana's essence was not unfamiliar to the child,either, the loving generosity of her heart so often reachinghesitantly out to his own.

Thus, the sensitive child felt, at this instant, that he neededvery much to be close to them both, to touch both their hearts andshare in the fearfully denied connection he could perceive so readilywith his innocent comprehension. Even though there was as muchdrawing the two souls apart, as there was holding them together.Without even thinking, Diana took the little boy's hand and envelopedit lovingly with her own.

If only his father would let her do the same with his soul.

But the floodgates of regret had burst open within Vincent'sspirit, and no matter how anguishing it was for her to listen to hisundeserved pain, she felt the need he had to voice his heartache toher or become lost within it. Even amidst her own pain, he knew shecould help him make some sense of the incomprehensible. "I couldn'teven make her simplest wishes come true, acknowledge her mostinnocent desires."

"You protected her, loved her as you had no one else. How couldyou possibly feel that you caused Catherine pain?" Diana's slightform trembled visibly with her emotions. Vincent had to look awayfrom her, look away from the reality of her heart. When he spokeagain, he kept his attention on Jacob in his arms, running his thumbgently over the little boy's cheek.

"Because I let her dream."

Steeling herself for the revelations he was willing to share withher, Diana desperately attempted to keep her own heart in check. For,she believed he was offering her this intimate glimpse into hisexistence with Catherine not simply as a way to resurrect his ownfading soul, but as a warning to her as well, a warning to keep herheart safely beyond the reach of his star-crossed love.

It was a warning Diana refused to heed.

"We were here one day, in this very place, sharing a momenttogether away from everyone and everything else, reading. The imagesof the words set us in a beautiful pastoral scene that spoke suchpeace and contentment to us both." The memory of that incident playedacross Vincent's face with momentary tenderness. He looked up intothe light beaming mysteriously into the great cavern, surely placinghimself not only into that remembered time with Catherine, but alsointo the beguiling beauty they had been sharing.

"She began to reminice about a place from her childhood, asheltered lake in the Connecticut mountains that had become anear-magical refuge to her, and before I was aware of what washappening, she began to... dream.

"It was a simple enough vision to her -- sharing that specialplace with me. It would only take some well thought out preparationsto become a reality, preparations she could easily manage."

Turning an anxious face back to Diana, questioning with more thanonly his words, he continued with a pained defense that broke theyoung woman's heart, threatened her hold on her own besiegedemotions.

"How could I have refused her? She never asked for anything forherself, never made the slightest request of me. All she wished to dowas to bring me the pleasure of sharing this place with her,momentarily freed from the limitations of our relationship.

"Her eyes shone with the thought of her plans, with thepossibility that we could actually spend an hour or two freed fromfear, simply as lovers in a beautiful place, together. Standingtogether in the sunshine.

. . . "I let her dream that it could be possible... I letmyself... dream."

Vincent swallowed hard and turned his attention again to Jacob whowas nestled close to his chest quietly. Diana raised an unsteady handto the tears that were coming down his cheeks. He let her comfort himsilently, tolerated the painful uncertainty in her touch only becausehis own reality rested, at the moment, in the cool shelter of amountain lake.

"Of course, it was... impossible."

The fatalistic sound of that last word was jarring to her heart,the way he accepted the painful reality with only quiet, containedanguish. Diana didn't believe she could stand any more of thehopelessness in his manner, her own grip on the situation becomingtenuous. What could he ever find to hope in again?

Vincent shook his head slowly as he chastised himself, still, withthe memory. "It took an argument with Father to bring it all tolight, but I knew within myself already that it was simply tooperilous a risk to take for a tiny instant of peace. I didn't fearfor myself, really, at the time, my own safety. I feared losing whatlittle we had managed to build together, for the sake of an hour'sfreedom."

Bringing his gaze completely to settle onto the gentle, openfeatures of his quiet companion, Vincent prepared her to receive thenext burden of truth he was willing to share with her, a burden hewould have done anything to spare her from, as he had Catherine, butone he knew she must take up if she were ever to remain safely beyondthe fated reaches of his heart.

"I feared losing what little mercy Catherine and I had wrestedfrom heaven's tolerance. But more than that -- I feared the realityof what I was, what I am. We might have made the dangers of the citydisappear from around us. Still, the dangers of what I carry withinme would always shadow us, no matter where we were to go."

Vincent extended his hand before him slightly at the words,releasing Jacob for a moment to sit at his side on the blanket. Thedeadly memories of his fiercely protective capabilities knottedwithin his soul, turning his blood cold.

Diana saw only a father's gentle touch for his child, rememberedonly the tenderest of lover's caresses, barely acknowledged, in thosehands.

Vincent could see only blood.

"When she returned at the appointed time, I was unprepared to joinher." The very real pain visible on Vincent's features, along withthe regretful and guilty grief, stilled Diana's soul. For once, shecouldn't reach past it to take hold of her own hope. She couldn'tfathom what she could possible do or say to comfort him.

"The disappointment, the heartache, in her eyes was more than Icould bear. Yet, she refused to give in to sorrow, she refused to lether tears be shed. She just stated that she understood the risk andapologized for her request.

"I had broken her heart and she begged me for forgiveness."

Vincent was immersed so deeply into the feeling of utterdisillusionment of that moment that Diana wasn't even certain he wasstill actually sitting beside her. His mind, his heart, his pain,were all drawn back to that instant of reckoning.

She had had no idea of his struggle within his love for Catherineuntil that moment, his battle for his identity. Diana had believedhis other nature to be only an extension of his all encompassing needto protect those he loved, a triggered, instinctive reaction tothreats upon his beloved's safety made all the more deadly because ofhis unique strength and physiology.

But, what was he really agonizing over? Not the disappointment ofa moment's closeness lost. Diana realized with a shuddering chillthrough her soul that Vincent had been agonizing over his veryhumanity.

How, in God's name, was she going to bring him past that?

"Vincent... " He nearly started when she softly spoke his name."... Catherine loved you too much to dwell on the disappointments ofyour situation together. She knew you as she loved you: You were theman she'd give her soul to. She had no doubts about you. And she knewthat any relationship would not be easy. They never are, foranyone."

Shaking his head and turning away from her, Vincent could neverfind the courage to hope in the tender words directed at him. Shebelieved too deeply. Moreso than even he himself had believed, once,in that most fiercely denied place within his spirit that drew him toher despite the obstacles he'd thrown up defensively between them.This was selfish folly, baring his turmoil this way to her. Theaching in her heart he felt surely joining his was for more than thepain she wished to ease from a friend's tested spirit. She ached forhim, ached to free him, touch him with her love regardless of thecost to herself.

He couldn't possibly let her follow her heart. Her hope wouldmurder her, with his deadly help.

Diana would not be swayed. She drew his face back to her with afearless touch, certain that he must hear, he must hear what shewould tell him. "Catherine chose to love you because of who you were,what you carried within you, Vincent. You have to believe that. Sheloved you because of the uncompromising care you never withheld fromher, from anyone, the limitless hope you took hold of for both of youthe moment you let her become a part of your life. She loved youbecause of your dreams. Those are the realities she saw within you.They couldn't possibly be a threat to her. You couldn't possibly be athreat to her. You completed her."

The beauty in those words could never have been directed to him.He should never have dared to let his heart whisper the actuality tohim now, the words she carried in the deepest recesses of her ownsoul that he read shamelessly mirrored in her eyes: You completeme.

Still, she left her own dreams hidden within those profound placesof her heart. Her own needs were not in question now. His soul was.She continued her argument and he wondered, in amazement, at thegenerosity of her love.

"What you had to give Catherine, what you have now to give toJacob, to all those around you, is the gift of your life, Vincent. Itcan be a gift, still, nourishing, cherishing, believing in thepossibilities of tomorrow, if you'll only let it happen. You didn'toffer Catherine a shadowy life of fear that could become deadly atthe faintest provocation. That is what life is like Above, not here,not with you."

"You are a dreamer, too, Diana."

The words directed at her personally, astounded her. Had sherevealed too much of her own heart to him? She was attempting to helphim reach his peace, knew she would bleed with him until he couldfind that place within his existence. Was he as aware as she that thefinal reality of his resurrected heart would mean the restoration ofher own?

Even if he did, she would defend him, draw her own needs to thewayside, not wanting to risk his state of heart for anything, noteven her own tender visions of fulfillment. "I know the differencebetween dreaming and real life, Vincent. But that doesn't mean Iwon't open my heart to hope even if my common sense tells meotherwise. I'm too stubborn to leave my dreams up to chance orfate."

Yet, you would leave your dreams up to me.

That was something the besieged, mythic presence beside her couldnever allow himself to accept, however. He would only bring her pain,impede her dreams, and reduce them to dust.

Diana did not even flinch when he brought the full intensity ofhis unearthly blue eyes back to her. She only let her own mostcherished hopes reach out to him, despite his fervent attempt to pushthem away. His warnings would not weaken her resolve, because sheknew the truth, without question -- She was not the one endangered byhis love. Nor had Catherine been so. The only danger Vincent posed atthe moment was to himself, as he allowed himself to plunge from thebrightness of a world of possibilities to the eternal shadows offear.

She'd be damned if she would let that happen.

Vincent could feel the determination steeling her seeminglyfragile soul. She was so full of hope for him, so capable ofoverlooking the ugly realities of the truth. It would only,ultimately, bring her pain and disappointment as well. Yet, shebelieved.

"You would take the barest evidence of hope and conjure all mannerof possibilities with it." Vincent's comment was not a chastisementbut instead had been spoken in respectful wonder at the scope of hergenerosity.

"I can live a lifetime on one promising moment, if I have to."

Diana would not back away from this battle -- It meant her hopeand his soul.

For a moment, the young woman who was struggling for her heart'sdesire thought that she might have actually broken through thequagmire of grief and guilt surrounding the man she treasured.Vincent came up to his feet with Jacob still in his arms, took a fewsteps away from her, and fixed his attention to the falls farther upthe river. Diana felt her heart quicken, though from triumph or fear,she wasn't entirely certain. Then he turned to look back over hisshoulder to her, the golden light of their surroundings burnishinghis features like a benediction. One he long deserved.

"You would believe yourself capable of turning this cavern into agarden, see flowers spring up from desolate rock."

She knew the barren landscape he was speaking of had, once again,nothing to do with their physical surroundings. The rock wallsencompassing his spirit were what called out to be so adorned, thoughhe never believed it could actually happen, never believed himselfworthy of such a miracle again in his life.

Diana looked him directly in the eye. "If I had the support ofsomeone who believed in the dream, too, yes. I would. 'Stone walls donot a prison make,' remember?"

The defiance in her was only fueled by her total commitment tohim. She had set herself up against him thus more than once in theirstormy relationship, turning him from blind vengeance with it,forcing him to realize he need not stand alone in his pain.

Vincent came back over to the blanket and sat beside her, easingJacob into her awaiting embrace. He did not withdraw his touch whenhe turned the child over to her, though, instead taking her hand inhis. It was slender, fragile, and strong enough to shelter, all inone instant. So like her.

"Then you'd have me believe that you can get roses to bloom wherethere is only rock and shadow."

Holding to her courage, despite the unsteady state of her heart athis deliberate contact, Diana responded with continued determination."Roses might take a bit of work. They need more care."

He could no longer doubt it: The russet-haired firebrand would beperfectly capable of taking on such a task, and succeeding at it,working beyond any obstacle heaven or hell might throw in her way. Helifted his hand from his child and her, to run it, with quiet, sweetacknowledgement, over her hair. She deserved her every happiness,each breath of promise she was willing to labor against the odds for.But, he was convinced beyond hope that the source of her promisecould never spring from his own battered soul.

"I'm certain that the need for more care would not deter you fromyour vision, Diana. You will always be capable of seeing it, touchingyour hope to it: At some not so distant time, you would have thiscavern abloom with beauty, nurtured by your own hand."

She turned her face into his palm, and before he could believewhat he was doing, she had let him draw his fingertips tenderly overher porcelain features. The touch was more than he'd ever riskedphysically sharing with her, suddenly intimate, and needfully...human... It took his own breath away as he realized how deeply shewas able to place herself within him, despite his vehement denials.Her words shook his heart as surely as that communing touch.

"I believe that's possible. If you allow yourself, you can berenewed by that vision, too."

Withdrawing his suddenly shaking hand from her face, Vincentwilled himself to hold to the realities of the present, the truths ofhis existence, the burdens necessary that would neverthless keep herfrom harm. "Diana, you must remember one thing: For all theirexquisite beauty, roses can cause pain. Their thorns can drawblood."

"But those same thorns serve to protect the flowers and keep themsafe."

Vincent held her lovely features for a long moment, reading onlyconviction tempered by a tender and fearless heart. It was still sodifficult for him to consider that heart for what it revealed to him,to accept what she offered in those emerald eyes. She could touch toso much more than he was willing to admit, the truth of that realitysomething that was as frightening as it was beguiling. It toleratednothing that echoed the fearful limitations he had lived with for alifetime.

Catherine had nobly borne the parameters of their sharedexistence, keeping them both safe within their boundaries. Dianawould have no part of them, he knew. She needed far more. He shouldhave been capable of offering her far more.

Even Catherine had reached that point in their relationship justbefore he had lost her, that place in their love where what couldpossibly lie ahead of them could only be perceived as precious andinviting as anything that had already transpired between them. Shehad begun to dream, too, and he had been so unexpectedly willing tolet her do so.

But, their dream had been cut short -- by madness, by death, byloss that threatened his soul. All in a short year's time. Jacob hadbeen born. Catherine had died, and with her all the tender promisethey had just begun to reach out for. That was the only reality thatcould be his, Vincent knew, the only reality he suddenly wished to behis. Anything beyond it would threaten both his memories, and thedefiant soul before him, that would see him capable of living pastthe agony with hope again.

"Catherine loved roses." The gentle caress in that short sentencesent a shockwave of reality coursing through Diana as well, afirestorm of emotion that quickly succeeded in scorching her beliefin the moment She had accomplished what she had set out to do,aparently too well, it would seem -- She had, in some small measure,been able to guide Vincent beyond the regret of Catherine's loss andback into the warmth and wonder and sweetness of her memory, at leastfor one minute of one day.

That was what she had set out to do, wasn't it? Help him findpeace in the remembrances that held him hostage to their insistentpain? She'd been determined to help him shed the crushing weight ofguilt clinging to those memories, even if those moments of treasuredsharing would prove far more fulfilling and cherished for him thananything she could possibly offer him now.

Just the manner of his speaking the name, "Catherine" had aheart-wrenching awe of profound devotion that Diana doubted wouldever be uttered with her own name. It cut her deeply, unerringly, torealize that perhaps the only way to guide him past the anguish ofhis pain could be to remove herself from his existence entirely. Sheknew, with a guilty conscience, that so much of his turmoil of latehad to do with herself, with his reactions to having another personcare about him, reaching towards him in love. His momentaryacknowledgement of her this afternoon, in his searching turmoil ofspirit, would not be allowed to surface again, she believed withoutquestion. He would not let it surface again.

To see him save his soul, then, she would have to lose any claimon his heart.

If that was to be her fate, so be it. It didn't matter any more,her own hope for a life blessed in his love, as long as she was ableto free him from his terrors.

The gentle, soft remembrance visible on the remarkable features ofthe man beside her told her she had indeed brought him some smallbreath of solace. He'd pulled himself past the confusion her ownrevealed emotions had drawn him into. The truth was that she ached toshare in that solace, have him believe that it sprang only from herlove and not from his unburdened memories. Instead, she fiercelywilled herself merely to listen to his pain, let him remember his wayout of it at last this day. If there was a merciful God, then shemight be able to stand it.

"I watched her plant a rosebush once, one evening on her terrace.She was carefully placing it into a pot; her concentration on herefforts was so complete she didn't even sense my presence there withher."

Another pang of guilt struck Diana forcefully. The all-but-deadrosebush she had retrieved from Catherine's balcony at the onset ofher investigation: It had to be the very same plant Vincent was nowspeaking of. She had brought it to her own home in the hope thatthrough it she could gain some sense of the mysterious bond Catherineand the then unknown and shadowy figure of Vincent had shared.

When the bush had responded to her care, Diana had seemedstrangely drawn to it, as if it truly did have some deep secret toconvey to her about the wonder and pain it had beheld in its silentvigil of beauty. Even now, the plant was safely tucked into a cornerof her loft, gracing her home with its profusion of vitality. She'dnever told Vincent that it was in her possession, explaining herreluctance with the dubious observation that the tested soul besideher would hardly have been interested in a resurrected rosebush nomatter where it came from.

Now, Diana was certain she understood the pull that the beautifulplant had exerted on her heart, she understood it, shamefully, in theaching tenderness she watched deepen Vincent's eyes.

"I watched her work. She was so free of the limits closing inaround us. I felt something draw my heart to her as never before, aneed to simply rest beside her, an ache to share the freedom in hersoul. There was a tender glow about her that had very little to dowith the city's lights that evening."

To be loved like that... Diana's mind halted on those words thatechoed within it, from the time Vincent had been recuperating in herloft, his body healing, his soul lying ravaged within her sight. He'dbeen explaining, or trying to explain, the bond, the connection heshared with the woman he loved, how they'd felt themselves -- one --despite the painful realities of their lives. Diana herself haddescribed it thus... "To be loved like that. I could only dream ofloving someone like that, of being loved like that... "

"... And I can only remember."

Her heart had lurched at the grief his reply had voiced. And now,those cherished evidences of love had to include that rosebush, Dianaknew, because the plant was blossoming in her home, covered in awondrous profusion of flowers, red and white, eloquently speaking ofthat love. Her heart had indeed been drawn to its beauty: she'dworked diligently to save the plant, bring it back to life. She neverwould have dreamed how treasured a memory it truly was for thedesolate soul before her.

Vincent settled his gaze back on the falls far down in the cavern,unaware of the conscience-stricken state of Diana's spirit just then.He took in the sweeping power of the falls, plunging over the cliffswith raw, natural, wonder. Yet, that same forceful elementtransformed itself into the ethereal mist that gently clouded theriver below it.

He had felt just such a power overwhelm him that night.

"Catherine caught her finger on a thorn unexpectedly and criedout. I came to her side, then, seeking to help her, comfort her, butshe reassured me with a laugh that she was indeed safe. We spoke amoment or two about her plans for the plant. She even doubted aloudher ability to keep it growing adequately, citing her questionablegardening expertise. And then I noticed that her hand was indeedinjured from the thorn she had caught it on. She was bleeding."

Without warning, Diana watched Vincent's gaze cloud with unabatedpain. He pulled his attention from the river back to his hands,resting on his thighs, seeming to consider them as some foreignobject he had only now come across. The shudder of turmoil, andwonder, that worked its ways through him was clearly visible to heras he fought to continue speaking.

"I took her hand in mine, wanting only to stop the hurt, thebleeding. I raised the small wound to my lips, without even athought... and I... kissed... her."

The pounding of her heart in her ears was the only evidence Dianahad that it was still beating and keeping her alive at that instant.Vincent's last words had been shared with her in a broken voice nolouder than a sanctuary whisper. They were tinged with guilt,remorse, and pain, but through the anguish there was a desperatestrain of tender amazement in the memory, too.

A wave of sensual communion washed over Diana, coming directly ather precarious defenses from the power of Vincent's memories. Sheunderstood, undeniably, that she must be feeling what Catherine hadfelt that night, her reaction to the tender sweetness that hadunexpectedly been offered her. Diana realized, too, that Vincent musthave been overwhelmed by the same indescribable sensation, and thathe now remembered the fearless communion through the distortion ofguilt and remorse.

Unable to continue baring his heart to her with words, theburdened soul before her instead locked his intense gaze ontoDiana's, questioning, willing her to understand what she could notlet herself believe: That instant when he had let his love claim atruly human and physical direction, momentarily freed from theconstraints of years of self-imposed denial, had startled him,shaking his very soul to its core. It had been totally unplanned, aspontaneous acknowledgement of the depths of his love for Catherine,the very real and sudden need to probe those depths lovingly, in wayshe had only considered forbidden him... in the ways of physicaldevotion between a man and a woman.

It had been the same sort of unfettered acknowledgement Dianaherself had been blessed by last week in the hospital chambers -- aninnocent, heart-stopping collapse of his inner defenses, whichoffered them both the briefest glimpse of what love could be trulylike between them -- a communion of heart, soul, mind, and body. Hehad been totally unprepared for its revelation to Catherine thatnight. The fact that the very same yearning had become a reachingneed to Diana, too, was terrifying to him.

Yet, the gentle comfort touching his heart from the young womanwho was his companion now, spoke no terror or shame. "It must havebrought Catherine so much sweet promise."

The conclusion seemed at once so foreign and yet so right toVincent, as he slowly brought himself out of the anguishingtenderness of his memory. He looked at Diana with unexpecteddisbelief, wondering how this enigmatic soul before him could socompletely understand his confused heart.

"I was despaired at my lack of control, Diana," he confessed withmisery. "I expected Catherine to be, too. But the... longing... inher eyes when I finally had the courage to hold them again... It wasas if our bond to one another was hovering just above another levelof communion, drawing us there. Catherine seemed almost to -- expectit. It was as though she had been awaiting it."

"She was."

The even reply silenced his unsteady words. Vincent read the sameaching expectation in the clear green eyes before him now, with aclarity that he'd refused to believe in until then. When had thatyearning appeared? How long had it been since the fragile soul beforehim had opened itself up to the unwhispered, unacknowledged,desperately needful hopes of his own spirit? He couldn't let herdream. His feelings for her were only the pale reflection of promisesshared with another heart. They must be.

"She deserves to be loved, Livy," he had confessed when they hadrescued Diana from the flooded chamber what seemed years ago. She wasworthy of her own realities of love, not be simply a vesselsheltering another's soul, another's hopes for a happy life.

It had suddenly overwhelmed him that night on Catherine's terrace-- that she could be willing, even longing, to carry their love intoa deeper plane of shared communion, human and beguiling. She hadn'teven questioned the possibility, hadn't even acknowledged theblackness of the risk involved. Only a knock at her door had keptthem from taking those first terrifying steps. Mercifully so... Andthen he had lost her.

And Diana had found him.