FLAT NOSE EMORY YARNS A YARN
Chapter 5
As the long winter wore on with the constant closeness of another human being, little things began to irritate them: such as her tuneless humming and the constant drumming of his claws on any convenient surface. Finally, he had taken all he could, and he rounded on her one day. "Will . . . you . . . stop that?" he growled.
"What?" Totally unaware of what had upset him, she stared at him with round, green eyes.
He almost faltered but declared, "That . . . that humming!"
"What humming?" She was confused.
"You don’t even know that you do it."
"Hum?"
"Yes," he exploded. "It’s driving me mad."
"A little humming?" She was amazed that such a little thing could upset him so. She had never lived in as close quarters with another person as she did with him and had yet to learn that it was the little, repetitious acts that could become so irritating. She fought back. "Well, what about your nail drumming? That’s becoming quite annoying."
He looked at her blankly.
"See. You aren’t even aware that you do it!" She pointed at his rapidly moving fingers.
Abashed, he quickly moved his hands to his lap. "I’m sorry," he mumbled.
"So am I," she said. "Let’s make a pact. When something is bothering one of us, we’ll tell the other. And the other will not get angry or upset. Can we agree on that?" In all seriousness, she held out her hand. His larger hand engulfed hers as they solemnly shook hands. Suddenly it struck her funny and she began to smirk. In a matter of seconds, she was doubled over with laughter. Vincent stared at her thinking that she had lost her mind when the comical nature of their disagreement came to him also, and he rapidly joined her, laughing until tears were streaming down his face. Every time they tried to stop, one of them would glance at the other and would start all over. Finally, Catherine gasped, "Oh, no more, my sides hurt." Vincent, who had collapsed into a chair, weakly nodded his head.
Not daring to look at him, she said breathlessly, "And, Vincent, I know it’s a dreadful habit of mine, but I hum when I’m happy." Quickly leaving the room–she had not meant to make that confession–she failed to see the confused joy that came to his eyes.
***
Slowly and inexorably, they came to love each other deeply. So deeply that they could not imagine not being in love. But neither one openly admitted it. They expressed their love with soft, lingering touches and long, smoldering glances when the other wasn’t looking. Then one intensely cold night Catherine awoke in the dark of the night, shivering uncontrollably. She didn’t know whether she was shaking from the frigidity of the air or the terror of her dream. Wondering how she could get warmer, the thought of Vincent’s huge, warm body came to mind. Suddenly she wanted to be next to him, safe and comfortable in his arms. Would he think her too bold if she went to his bed? She didn’t care. The only thing she wanted was to be lying next to him. Slipping from her cold, solitary bed, she padded into the other room to stand over him, gazing with love-filled eyes at his face, ruddy-hued in the firelight. Carefully, she slid in beside him and snuggled closely against him. He grunted as her ice-cold body rubbed against him. Without waking, he tightened his arms around her and relaxed back into a deep sleep. Sighing contentedly, she placed a small hand on his flannel-covered chest, closed her eyes, and as she warmed from the heat of Vincent’s body, drifted slowly back to sleep. She was warm; she was safe; and she was where she wanted to be, in the arms of the man she loved.
She awoke abruptly; nature was calling. Only half-awake, she struggled to get out of bed. Something was preventing her from getting up. Startled, she realized it was a pair of red flannel-covered arms that were wrapped around her, pinning her to the bed. Squirming around, she came face to face with the bemused, sleepy blue eyes of Vincent. As she struggled, he held her ever tighter.
"Please, Vincent, I’ve got to use the chamber pot." He looked at her with a questioning eye.
"I’ll be right back; I promise. It’s cold out there," she said. He loosened his hold on her, and she was out of bed and back in no time. Shivering, she cuddled next to him, wrapping her arms around him.
"Catherine?" he rumbled, his nose buried in her hair. "What are you doing here?" he asked, fascinated by her presence.
"I was cold; I had to get warm," she answered guilelessly.
"And I was available," he responded with a chuckle.
"Umm, yes," she answered, a smile in her voice. "And you feel so good." She kissed him on the neck, feathering kisses everywhere she could reach.
"Don’t start something you can’t stop, Catherine," he warned her.
"Like what?" she asked, wickedly innocent.
"This," he hissed as he captured her mouth in a demanding, dominating kiss.
"Oh, is that all?" she asked mischievously as they broke apart for air.
"You want more?" he asked, not daring to believe that one of his dreams was about to come true.
Slowly she nodded; her eyes heavy-lidded with passion.
"Oh . . . Catherine," he breathed. Then he gently and lovingly brought them to the heights of glory and to the release they both craved.
Lying in blissful satiation, Catherine gazed up into Vincent’s contented blue eyes. "I love you, Vincent," she said.
"And I love you," he replied. Tenderly they kissed, pledging themselves for all time, and as they did, the connection that he had felt once before when she needed him, grew into a river of devotion and trust. From that night on the fire burned in an empty room. Vincent was snuggled warmly in the rush filled bed with his Catherine.