CHAPTER 6

It had been raining almost the entire week since Catherine had left, and this Friday afternoon was no different. Vincent stood on the porch and gazed out at the mists that drifted across the lake, thinking how well the weather fit his mood, when he saw a van like the one Catherine had rented months earlier coming up the driveway. Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out in the rain and walked down the path to welcome her. The van stopped and she got out, slamming the door shut. Before he could reach her, she came running toward him, throwing herself into his arms. Quickly he placed the cloak across her shoulders and pulled up the hood to prevent her from getting wet.

Her breath was hot as she whispered his name against his neck, and he felt a shiver run through her as their bodies touched fully. He was trembling, too, and his hand shook as he rubbed her shoulders and back beneath the heavy fabric of his cloak.

"I missed you so," she confessed quietly.

Words deserted him as he tried to express what he was feeling, so he just pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. She smiled up at him, and he wasn't sure if what he saw glittering on her face were raindrops or tears. Gently he brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.

"We'd better go inside," he suggested softly, and she nodded.

Catherine shed the cloak and hung it on a hook next to the door. "It's grown cold," she observed. "It seems that summer is over."

"Shall I start a fire?" he offered, retrieving a dry shirt from the back of a chair.

"It's not that cold," she replied, and he trembled with anticipation as she crossed the space between them and reached up to undo the buttons of his wet shirt. She slid it down his arms and pressed her lips on his bare chest.

"Catherine," he moaned, pulling her against him. Her lips when they finally met his, were even softer than he remembered, and he reveled in the intimacy of the kiss they shared. With reluctance he drew away at last. "I didn't expect you back so soon," he said breathlessly, "although I had hoped that you would come tomorrow."

Catherine sighed and stooped to pick up the dry shirt that he had dropped during their kiss. He pulled it on and looked at her expectantly.

"Rao called me this morning," she began. "He told me that Mary is severely ill and that your father is very upset about her."

Vincent gasped as a stab of fear and worry went through his heart. Immediately Catherine's arms came up to hold him and rock him gently.

"Rao said that under these circumstances you might want to return to the tunnels," she added in a hushed voice.

Vincent nodded. "I must go back, Catherine. They may need me now."

"I'm sure they do," she replied. "We'll drive back to New York tonight. I'll take you home, Vincent."

He heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Catherine. But you should rest now. You must be tired from the long drive."

"As a matter of fact, I am," she said, "although I got away from the office early today." She paused and Vincent noted with surprise that she blushed. "I told my boss that it was a family matter," she confessed quietly.

Touched, Vincent cradled her close again. "That's the truth, isn't it?" he asked gently.

Catherine nodded against his chest. "I believe it is."

He kissed the top of her head, whispering, "Rest now. In the meantime I will go pack my things."

"Do you have much to pack?" she inquired softly.

Sensing her need to have him with her, he shook his head. "We can do that later."

They lay down together on the sofa, and she snuggled against his shoulder, sighing with contentment as he drew her close. He held her while she slept, his thoughts preceding him to the tunnels and the people he loved and missed so much.

*

It was almost 3:00 a.m. when Catherine finally parked the van at the address Vincent had given her. All the while since they'd reached New York and she'd driven through the streets of Manhattan, Vincent had stared out the window, transfixed by the view of the city as if he were starved for the sight of it.

Now his attention was riveted on her and she wondered about the thoughtful expression on his face.

"Are you tired?" he asked all of a sudden, and she shook her head. It was a good thing that she'd slept so long in the afternoon, although she could think of something she would have preferred doing instead of sleeping. He arched his brow and she knew that he had sensed the emotions that accompanied her train of thought. Flashing him a smile, she bent over to him and kissed him gently.

"I hate to let you go," she confessed breathily.

"You don't have to," he replied, and when she looked at him in puzzlement, he continued, "If you don't have any other obligations, I would love for you to come with me, Catherine."

She felt a twinge of excitement in the pit of her stomach. "Are you sure?" she asked, delighted and a bit apprehensive at the same time.

He nodded solemnly and she hugged him enthusiastically.

"Let's go then," he said and unsnapped the seat belt. "If you leave your keys with Julio, he'll park the van in the lot. It will be safer there."

"That's great," Catherine responded as she got out of the van. Vincent reached inside to pull out his suitcase and a totebag. Then he motioned for Catherine to follow him. They entered a dark doorway and Vincent stopped, knocking quietly against a wooden door. As a young man opened it, lights went on inside.

"Come on in," he whispered, casting Catherine a friendly, curious glance. "We've been expecting you. Rao told us that you'd probably return tonight."

Vincent put down the suitcase and the two men embraced before they all resumed their way through the apartment and down into the basement. Once they had descended the stairs, Vincent asked quietly, "How are the children and Juanita?"

"Fine, thanks," Julio replied with a smile, and growing serious, he added, "I hope that Mary will be better soon."

Vincent nodded and pushed open a door that was hidden in the wall. Catherine watched as he set down the suitcase again and descended a ladder. Julio handed him the suitcase and indicated for Catherine to climb down, too. He retrieved a flashlight from the pocket of his jacket and gave it to her.

"Thank you," she said, remembering the car keys. She held them out to Julio. "Please would you...?"

"No problem," he replied with a smile. "I'll take care of it."

Catherine switched on the flashlight and directed the beam down along the iron rungs of the ladder. It wasn't a long climb and soon she felt Vincent's large hands at her waist as he helped her down. As her feet touched the concrete floor, she turned slowly and looked past Vincent into the murky darkness that lay beyond the opening. Gazing down at the flashlight in her hand, she thought briefly that its small beam could never be enough to illuminate a world that was never touched by sunlight. When her head came up, she caught Vincent's eyes as he studied her thoughtfully.

"The darkness can be quite intimidating," he observed, "to someone who isn't used to it."

"As long as I'm with you," she said, her own voice sounding strangely small down here, "I can deal with it."

He nodded slowly, and Catherine was glad that he didn't expect her to like the blackness of the underground world.

"Do you have many helpers like Rao and Julio?" she inquired as they began their walk down into Vincent's world.

"Yes," Vincent replied, clasping his free hand around Catherine's as they entered an unlit tunnel. "We couldn't do without our friends Above, but we have to choose them very carefully, because the lives of many people depend on their keeping our secret."

"Then maybe your family doesn't approve of your giving away their secret to me," Catherine remarked.

Vincent stopped and the look he gave her caused her heart to turn over. "Catherine," he said earnestly, "you have proven your loyalty and trustworthiness many times over and over again. No one will object to your knowing our secret."

"I hope you're right," she murmured, lowering her eyes.

"I'm sure," he replied, cupping her cheek with one hand as he scanned her features attentively. "Are you certain that you aren't tired?" he asked at last.

"Maybe a little," she confessed, astounded that he'd been aware of it before she'd noticed it herself.

"We have guest chambers," he offered shyly.

"You'll never cease to amaze me," she said with a smile.

Some of the corridors they passed were lit by utility lights, others by torches that were ensconced in the rocky walls. Some of the passageways lay in complete darkness and Catherine was grateful that Julio had thought of giving her a flashlight.

When they'd walked for about an hour, Catherine heard an occasional tapping that grew louder and more distinct the farther they ventured into the tunnel ahead.

"What's that?" she asked, intrigued.

"Those are messages," Vincent explained. "Our sentries are talking with one another by tapping against the pipes that run along the tunnel walls down here."

Catherine shook her head in fascination. "I feel a little like Alice in Wonderland," she said and he chuckled.

"It might get worse." Clasping her hand more firmly, he cautioned, "Be careful, Catherine. The ground is slippery here. This passageway must have been flooded a short while ago."

They walked on in silence, and after a while Vincent said, "We're almost there."

"Won't they all be asleep at this time of night?" Catherine asked almost hopefully. It had been difficult enough for her to face the eerie darkness and oppressiveness of the tunnel world. Now she feared that coming face to face with people who had lived here for most of their lives would make her feel very much out of place. She dreaded that feeling because it forced some kind of distance between Vincent and herself. After all, this was his home, and more than anything else she wanted to be close to him.

"Most of them, yes," Vincent replied. "But the sentries announced our arrival, and those who are still up will be expecting us in the community hall."

Catherine tried in vain to shake off her nervousness. Vincent sensed it and stopped to give her a reassuring embrace. She leaned into him and he kissed her gently, but she noted that his kiss remained chaste and detached. Accepting his obvious need for modesty, she pulled away and put her hand in his. He gave it a soft squeeze and they walked on.

They rounded a bend and suddenly there were muted voices. Vincent tugged at her hand. "We're here," he breathed and she could feel his excitement.

They entered a large, vaulted room that was furnished with several tables and benches and a few chairs. A group of people was seated around the table in the center of the room. They rose and turned to greet the newcomers.

With tears in her eyes Catherine stood back to watch the joy and delight those people displayed at having Vincent back. After much hugging and shoulder-clapping Vincent returned to her and seized her hand to lead her toward the group.

"This is Catherine," he introduced her. "Catherine, this is Kanin, Cullen, Sarah, and Rebecca."

Catherine shook everyone's hands and couldn't help but think that she'd rarely ever felt such genuine welcome and kindness. No gauging gazes as was usual among people in her world. It was instantly clear that down here all that counted was what you could see in people's hearts and eyes.

"Where is Father?" Vincent asked at last and everyone grew quiet.

"He's sitting with Mary," Cullen replied. "He even sleeps in the hospital chamber, if he sleeps at all, that is."

Catherine saw a shadow cross over Vincent's features.

"I'd like to go see him," he said, reaching for Catherine's hand. Suddenly feeling shy, Catherine was reluctant to intrude on such an intimate moment as the reunion of Vincent and his parent certainly had to be.

"Maybe you should go to him alone," she suggested softly. "I can sit here until you return."

"You must be tired," Sarah stated. "Wouldn't you like to sleep a little?"

Catherine nodded gratefully.

"Then we'll show you to a guest chamber," Rebecca said. "Come."

Catherine felt Vincent's hand on her shoulder. "I'll come to you in the morning," he said in that gravelly voice of his that she loved so much.

"Okay," she said, looking after him as he left the room.

Linking her arm through Catherine's, Sarah guided her toward the corridor and down a twisted passageway while Rebecca followed behind. "It's wonderful to have you here," Sarah said companionably. "And it's wonderful to have Vincent back. You know, we missed him very much, especially the children. He's their hero."

"Do you have many children down here?" Catherine asked.

"Yes," Rebecca threw in, "twenty-three, and their number increases. It's impossible to turn down children in need. Whenever a helper reports children who were abandoned or who have lost their parents, we do everything we can to get them off the street. Some were born down here, though."

"Like Vincent?" Catherine asked.

"No," Sarah replied. "Did he never tell you his story?"

Catherine shook her head.

"Well, I'm sure he will if you ask him," Sarah said. "We're here." She indicated an opening to their left and guided Catherine inside.

Rebecca lit several candles, and Catherine was astounded at the cozy atmosphere of the room as she looked around gratefully.

"Do you need anything?" Rebecca asked solicitously.

Catherine took in a washstand, towels, and nightclothes that had been laid out for her. There was a supply of candles and matches on the nightstand, and a carafe of water with a glass. She cast a helpless glance toward the exit.

Rebecca smiled. "There's a toilet down the corridor to the left."

"Thank you," Catherine said. "I think I'm fine."

The two women smiled at her. "Sleep well, Catherine," Sarah said and then they left her alone.

Gingerly, Catherine sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her folded hands between her knees. The whole scene had a dreamlike quality to it, and somehow she expected to awaken at any moment. She thought of Vincent and wished him well, knowing how difficult it must be for him to face a situation like that, to find one member of his family severely ill and the other deeply distraught.

Slowly she began to undress. She had to be more tired than she knew, because she didn't even bother to wash up. She just lay back in bed and closed her eyes, falling asleep instantly.

*

Vincent approached the hospital chamber with apprehension. Although he couldn't wait to enclose Father in his arms again, the thought of what he might encounter in there filled him with dread. He knew there was no sense in feeling guilty that he hadn't been there by Father's side when Mary had fallen ill, yet he couldn't shake the impression that his parent had felt betrayed somehow.

The chamber lay in darkness, and Vincent surveyed the room in search of Father. He could feel the elder man's presence, and finally he detected him sleeping soundly on a cot at the far wall. A smile crossed Vincent's features at the sound of the soft, familiar snore the tunnel patriarch produced as he shifted his weight and shrugged into a more comfortable position. Tears of relief filled Vincent's eyes. He had missed his father so much.

Soundlessly, Vincent moved over to the hospital bed that held Mary's fragile form. An IV was applied to her right arm and Vincent was shocked to see how drawn and thin she looked. He pulled up a chair and sat down, regarding her silently. Mary was a mother to the children of the underground world, to most of them the only one they'd ever know. Even to him she'd always been like a mother, although he'd been in his teenage years when Mary had joined the community. He extended his right hand and took Mary's cold one in a gentle clasp. Automatically his left hand went to Mary's forehead, touching her carefully. The skin of her face was hot and dry, and Vincent looked around in search of something cool that might bring her release. He relinquished his hold on Mary's hand and went to fetch a piece of cloth which he dipped into a bowl of water that stood on a nearby table. She moaned as the cool cloth touched her skin, and as he finally removed it again, she whimpered softly but didn't open her eyes.

"Vincent?" Father's voice came from the back of the room. "Is that really you?"

Vincent turned in time to see the old man scrambling to his feet. He rose to meet him halfway across the room and the two men fell into each other's arms.

"Father," Vincent whispered, his voice deserting him, and for a long time they simply stood holding one another wordlessly.

"What happened, Father?" Vincent asked at last.

Father's grip around Vincent's shoulders slackened and his hands fell to his sides. "It was an accident," he explained in a lost voice as he moved over to the bed, looking down on the unmoving figure. "She and Michael took a group of children to the caverns beyond the outer parameters of the hub, and little Nick fell into an icy cold pool. He knocked his head against the rocks and Mary sent Michael off for help and then jumped in to try to pull Nick out. She managed to lift him high enough so that the others could reach him, but she had no strength left to climb out herself. She had to stay in the icy water until the rescue team arrived."

Father paused and sat down in the chair Vincent had vacated. He reached for Mary's hand and pressed a reverent kiss on its back, and Vincent felt tears welling up in his eyes at the tenderness of the action. Father had never given any indication that what he felt for Mary was more than friendship and respect, but now it was obvious that the man before him loved with all his heart the woman whose hand he was holding.

"She got pneumonia," Father resumed his narration. "For days she lay unconscious, her fever so high that we had to put her into a tub filled with ice. Fortunately her temperature is fairly constant now, if still too high." Releasing Mary's hand, Father pushed himself to his feet and removed the empty IV bottle. "For days I thought we would lose her," he continued, hanging a fresh bottle onto the rack and fastening the plastic tube to her arm.

"And now?" Vincent coaxed gently.

"Now we have hope that she will recover, but it's still a long way." Father turned and regarded his son fondly. "I can't tell you how good it feels that you are back." Linking his arm through Vincent’s, he added, "Mae Lyn will be here shortly to sit with Mary. Then we'll go to the study and have some tea." Releasing Vincent's arm, he returned to Mary's side and smoothed back an errant strand of hair from her face. "Vincent, I've been such a fool," he confessed hoarsely. "I had to come close to losing her to realize how much she means to me."

"Life is like that, Father," Vincent said softly. "Its lessons are often dramatic and painful, and sometimes they appear even cruel. But we are given chances over and over again, and when we finally learn the lessons that were meant for us, no one asks how long it took us to get there. All that counts is that we did learn in the end."

Father cast a grateful glance in Vincent's direction. "You sound like Rao," he teased fondly.

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and both men turned to see Mae Lyn enter the room. "Welcome home, Vincent," she said and extended her hands in greeting. Vincent took them and returned her smile.

"Thank you," he replied.

Offering his arm to Father again, they left the hospital chamber and headed for the study.

*

"Tell me," Father urged as he set a cup of tea in front of Vincent, "how have you been?"

Vincent stirred some sugar into his tea and gathered his thoughts. "I don't know where to begin, Father," he said at last. "The time out there in the woods has been the most miraculous thing that ever happened to me."

Father took a seat opposite Vincent and reached across the table to touch his son's arm. "I've always wished you might be able to have that," he said softly, his voice vibrant with emotion. "It pained me that I wasn't able to give it to you."

Covering Father's hand with his own, Vincent gave him a reassuring smile. "I know that, Father. I've always known." Leaning back in his chair, Vincent closed his eyes, remembering. "There is such freedom there," he whispered huskily, "such beauty." Opening his eyes, he straightened to look at Father. "I wish you could have seen it."

"Beauty is dangerous," Father said in a tone that indicated that he was quoting, "for a man of desire."

Vincent smiled. How he had missed that. "Krishnamurti?" he offered uncertainly.

Father nodded. Drawing a deep breath, he leaned forward in his chair and directed an inquisitive look at his son. "Tell me about her, Vincent," he demanded softly.

Vincent briefly lowered his eyes before he felt confident enough to meet Father's gaze. He didn't even try to conceal the joy that passed over his features as he thought of Catherine. "She is the woman I love," he answered simply.

Father nodded thoughtfully. "Why am I not surprised to hear that?"

They exchanged tentative smiles.

"And," Father prompted, "does she love you, too?"

Vincent sighed. Why was it so much harder now that he was back in the tunnels, to believe in the truth and rightness of the love he and Catherine shared? He remembered his own words as he had predicted that she'd find it more difficult not to have doubts about him once she returned to her old life. When he looked up he caught Father's silent regard.

"I believe she does," he replied at last. "It's just that..."

"Yes?" Father coaxed.

With a swift motion, Vincent rose from his chair and paced a few steps into the room. Then he stopped and pivoted, throwing up his hands in a gesture of despair. "It seemed all so clear out there in the light of day. Everything was so easy when it was only the two of us. But here..." He swept the room with a movement of his arm and fell silent.

"You doubt that her feelings for you will be the same here as they were there," Father stated calmly.

With a sigh of frustration, Vincent slumped back into his chair. "It's not that I doubt her feelings," he said finally. "It's rather that I think that, as things are, she shouldn't tie her life to mine in any way."

"Then you doubt yourself," Father observed matter-of-factly. "But, Vincent, if I've learned anything at all in the last few days, it's that we must never decide things above other people's heads, no matter how noble our intentions."

Vincent's gaze snapped to Father's. "Mary?" he asked softly.

Father nodded. "I always thought that I mustn't make demands on her. Her life was so full with obligations to the community and she was needed by so many that I believed I mustn't be so selfish as to claim her for myself as well. In the nights I spent sitting with her, watching over her, fearing I might lose her, I realized that no matter how fulfilled her life might appear, deep inside she was lonely and that I've shared that loneliness."

Vincent rose and rounded the table. He cupped his hands around Father's shoulders and pressed a kiss onto the top of the old man's head. "I've always wondered whether or not you were aware of the looks Mary gave you when she thought you didn't see it," he said quietly.

Father craned his neck to look up at his son. "She did?" he asked, but Vincent noted that he didn't sound too surprised. "I believe she did," Father said at last, studying his folded hands.

"You're tired," Vincent observed, giving Father's shoulders a gentle nudge. "You should rest."

"You're right," Father conceded and shifted his weight to stand up. Vincent supported him and guided him over to the alcove that held his bed. "I can manage now," Father muttered good-naturedly and waved him off. "You look as if you could do with some sleep yourself." Vincent bent to kiss his parent's cheek and turned to leave.

"Vincent?" Father's voice reached him as he was about to leave the study.

He stopped and looked back. "Yes?"

"When will I get to meet her?"

"Tomorrow, Father," he replied and felt the corners of his mouth lift in a confident smile.

*

At first it was that rhythmic tapping which seeped into Catherine's consciousness. It had been there all the while she'd slept and she knew that it had permeated her dreams as well. When she opened her eyes at last, her disorientation lessened somewhat. The room lay in darkness, yet she was aware of a presence close to her.

"Vincent?" she asked gingerly.

"I'm here," came the reply in his deep, resonant voice. She heard a match being lit and a candleflame leapt to life on the nightstand beside her.

Catherine sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, surveying the room. "Did I sleep long?" she asked.

Vincent shook his head. "It's still early in the morning. I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to look in on you before I went to bed."

"You mean you haven't slept at all yet?" she asked.

"That doesn't matter," Vincent replied. "I'm not tired. I don't need much sleep."

Filing away the information, Catherine smiled. "That's why you were always up before me," she stated. "Or at least most of the time."

"I never wanted to miss the sunrise," he confessed quietly and her heart turned over in her chest with a love for him so all-encompassing that it brought tears to her eyes. She rose and sat on his lap, encircling his neck with her arms. He lifted his head and their foreheads touched. "Although it was always a hard choice," he added shyly. "I could hardly bear to leave the warmth of you beside me."

Their lips met and he kissed her with a tenderness that made her giddy with joy.

"Come with me," he urged suddenly. "I want to show you something."

Catherine slid from his lap and dressed hastily.

"Are you hungry?" Vincent asked as he led her from the chamber, but she just shook her head.

He guided her down the corridor and along a rocky passageway, and as they ducked through a small opening, Catherine couldn't help but think that life down here in these gloomy tunnels and chambers must be very difficult. He stopped and she wondered if he had picked up on her reflections, but he just stepped aside and motioned for her to pass by him through a narrow corridor into a darkened room. She stopped just inside the entrance and listened as he moved objects, obviously in search of a candle. Suddenly lights went on and, stunned, Catherine stared at an illuminated half-circle of stained glass.

"This is beautiful," she said.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied sincerely. "This is my chamber. It is where I have spent most of my life."

Catherine looked around her, taking in the unique atmosphere of the room and the large variety of objects Vincent must have collected throughout his lifetime.

"This chamber is very much like you," she observed with awe.

"In what way?" he inquired carefully.

"I don't know. It's just a feeling, the same feeling I had when you and I became acquainted. It's like a cocoon of comfort and familiarity, a gentle glow that warms the heart."

Vincent dropped his eyes before responding, "But it's only candlelight that falls through colored glass."

Catherine crossed the room and seized his hands, bringing them to her lips and kissing them gently. "Candlelight isn't less true than sunlight," she said with emphasis, guiding his eyes back to hers. For long seconds he just stared at her wordlessly and she endured his silence, sensing that there was something he had to come to terms with.

"Vincent?" the voice of a child piped over from outside the entrance, and they jerked apart.

Before he responded, Vincent took Catherine's hand in a gentle clasp and cast her an apologetic look.

"Yes, Samantha?" he said gravely.

There was an uneasy pause. "May I come in?"

Guiding Catherine to a chair and indicating that she sit, Vincent replied, "Yes, please."

A dark-haired girl appeared in the opening, her eyes growing round as she caught sight of Catherine. "I'm sorry to disturb you," she apologized, looking at Vincent, "but we heard that you were back and I wanted to ask..." She fell silent, obviously embarrassed at her intrusion.

Vincent opened his arms. "Come here, Samantha," he said and the girl complied happily, all but disappearing in Vincent's gentle bear hug. "It's good to be home again."

"Will you stay, then?" Samantha asked eagerly, and when there was no reply, her eyes darted from Vincent to Catherine and back again.

"I think I will," Vincent reassured her, searching for Catherine's eyes over the child's head.

Although she hadn't thought about it yet, Catherine wasn't surprised to hear that, yet she felt a sadness reaching for her heart.

Vincent relinquished the girl from his embrace, looking into her eyes. "Will you excuse us, Samantha? Catherine and I would like to talk."

"Of course," Samantha said brightly. "See you later. Bye, Vincent. Bye, Catherine."

Catherine looked after the child as she disappeared through the narrow doorway. When she finally turned to Vincent, she caught him studying her intently.

"What is it?" she asked, rising from the chair.

"You knew that I wouldn't return to the cabin, didn't you," he said.

She nodded slowly. "I guess I did."

"This is my home," he explained, sweeping the chamber with a gesture of his arm, and Catherine wondered fleetingly about the apologetic undercurrent in his voice, but the way he pierced her with his gaze made it difficult for her to think clearly.

With effort she gathered her thoughts. "What are you trying to tell me, Vincent?"

He dropped his eyes. "Don't you feel it, too?" he asked quietly.

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"The weight of the darkness, the pull of the light. As if we were drifting apart."

"No," she gasped, crossing the space between them. She stopped just before him and reached up to cradle his face between her palms. "I feel no such thing."

They stared at each other silently for an endless span of time before she felt his hands on her waist at last. Slowly he pulled her against him, lowering his mouth to meet hers in a kiss. She pressed into him, desperate to have him as close as possible, and the tongues of spontaneous arousal flashed through her blood. His body hardened in response and he deepened the kiss with an urgency so sweet that it took her breath away.

Vincent was the first to pull away, and Catherine understood. This was no place for privacy. Just like Samantha minutes ago, someone else might drop by at any moment.

"Don't you have a door?" she asked wistfully, still a little breathless from his kiss.

"I've never had any need for doors -- until now," he replied with a sigh.

They moved back into each other's arms, and Vincent started to rock her gently, almost as if he held a child. The steady movement gradually soothed her tingling nerves. She closed her eyes, and suddenly her awareness of him within her soul intensified and multiplied in a way that left her breathless with awe. It overwhelmed her that she could be this close to him, much closer than physical touch alone would ever allow. In a way it felt...it felt as if they were one. She pushed the thought aside, not ready to accept it as the truth yet, but then she heard him whisper, "Sometimes I feel as if there has never been a time when I haven't known you, Catherine." His voice was so soft that she had to strain her ears to make out the words. "As if we were two merging currents of one living spring." His hand came up and he cupped the back of her head as he held her even tighter to him, and suddenly she wasn't certain anymore if he had spoken the words aloud at all.

Chapter Seven