Along with darkness the storm came which was not unusual for this time of year. It raged against the cabin with unrestrained fury, and Catherine had to make a conscious effort to concentrate on her book and ignore the battling forces of nature. In the fireplace the flames flickered wildly, casting a dance of light and shadows across the room.

Sighing, Catherine lowered the book to her lap she had been reading. A sudden restlessness passed over her soul and she felt unable to concentrate on the story any longer. She couldn’t quite tell what she had expected to find here in Connecticut, in the house where she had spent so many happy summers of her childhood. All she knew was that she needed the tranquility of this place, hoping that here she could gather some strength for the new year. The first two days within these familiar surroundings had helped to restore her peace of mind to some extent, but tonight she felt that peace could shatter again. The roof of the cabin shook under the onslaught of the storm and Catherine hoped fervently that the weather would calm down by morning and that she would find some quietude yet before she had to leave. Joe expected her back at the office on January 2nd. She smiled gently as she recalled his worried face when she had told him she needed to take a few days off.

The storm was still roaring around the cabin, and Catherine wondered fleetingly what might happen if the snowfall were to continue throughout the night. But she knew that Carl would come to look after her in the morning. He always did. He was the embodiment of reliability and had been keeping this house in excellent condition ever since she could remember.

Catherine caught herself pacing the room, and involuntarily her thoughts drifted to Vincent, making her wonder fondly just how many of his habits had carried over into her throughout the years.

The thought of him made her stop and close her eyes. His face came back to her as he had looked when she had told him she would leave New York to be by herself for a couple of days. Of course, he had been aware of her inner turmoil and he had been correct in assuming that her decision had something to do with him. Lately there had been an increasing tenseness between them that took away the ease which had always prevailed when they were together. Vincent had tried so hard to hide his concern, wanting to make her feel free -- even though it meant free from him. Catherine wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, scarcely aware of the tears the memories had brought about.

Then, suddenly the lights went out. In the dim glow from the fireplace Catherine made sure that her flashlight was within reach before she wrapped a quilt around herself and sat down on the couch. She loved nights like this when she would sit in the comforting stillness of the dark, just thinking and allowing her emotions to flow freely.

The dance of light and shadows on the rug in front of the fireplace and the compelling song of the wind outside gradually faded from her mind as the interior images of her soul took form and sprang to life.

Vincent’s eyes appeared before her -- within them lay her world. Trust and security shone from those eyes every time he looked at her, but they immediately clouded with uncertainty and doubt whenever his thoughts turned to himself. Over the years, she had developed a deep understanding of his fears, and her heart constricted with pain as she thought of the internal battles Vincent constantly fought. Someone as powerful and at the same time as vulnerable as he would always be torn between darkness and light. Catherine wished with all her heart that she were able to help him and somehow ease the anguish. Vincent’s doubts about his own humanity stood like a wall between them, and she was at a loss as to how to tear it down. If only she could make him believe that he was the most human being she’d ever met. Vincent was the man she loved, for whom she longed with all her heart, and with whom she wanted to share everything. If only he would let her.

Unshed tears stung her eyes. She felt so selfish with all her wishes and desires while Vincent had to endure so much more in order to find and keep the fragile balance which allowed him to survive in an ocean of raging emotions. How could she ask of him the very thing he kept restrained within himself with all his strength, because he thought it might destroy what he held most dear in his life?

Despite all the barriers and limits that kept them apart, Vincent’s love for her and hers for him was the most wonderful and magical thing that had ever happened to either of them. Their love had become the source of their lives, an inner light which enabled them to grow and find their way. And all the pain, all the difficulties, were just thorns along that way, and among them the most beautiful roses…
 
“Catherine, your hand!” - The soft and warm touch of his lips on her skin, his sharp intake of breath, the precious moment when his soul, so full of longing, lay undisguised in his eyes…

Catherine rose with a start. She must have dozed off. It was time to tend to the fireplace. The logs had burned down considerably and she bent to stoke the embers. Oblivious to the furious storm outside, she searched her heart for the tenuous images of the fading dream. Yes, it had been a good decision to come to this place. Looking at Vincent and not wishing to touch him as well, to stroke his face, to run her fingers through his hair, had become harder and harder lately. She had spent the Christmas holidays Below, together with his large family that in a way had also become hers. And though they had barely found time to be alone, the closeness and familiarity between them had intensified even more. Many a time, she had felt it so clearly; the desire to reach out for something which belonged to them anyway. And at the same time she had sensed how much it had tortured him. That was why she had resolved to retreat for a while, to give him the chance to …

She put her head against the back of the couch, thinking. To do what, precisely? What exactly had she been expecting? Should they go back to a state where the limits and confinements of their relationship were defined more clearly and more strictly? Could something like that ever be a solution? Or maybe there was a slight chance of moving forward. One that wouldn’t toss them inevitably into an unfathomable vortex of crumbling ideals and convictions.

She sighed and found herself pacing the room again. She couldn’t quite explain her growing unrest. The unrestrained force of the tempest outside seemed to rage inside her as well. There was a sudden fear, and a chill that made her shiver violently. Catherine began to worry that she was coming down with something. Her heart was pumping wildly and her body ached with exhaustion. She was just about to drag herself back to the couch, when she heard a muffled thud against the door. Strangely, all her symptoms were suddenly gone, leaving behind only a great weariness. There was not the slightest trace of fear within her as she went to the door and opened it.

She only had to turn the handle a bit and the wind managed the rest. The door leapt open and a whirling mass of snow greeted her. The panting breath of the dark figure on the threshold was all but lost in the storm, and for a moment she caught the violent rise and fall of his shoulders before he collapsed at her feet, her name on his lips.

There was no time for asking how this might be possible. Catherine had her hands full rallying Vincent’s remaining strength, for without his help she saw no chance of moving him inside. It worked better than expected under the circumstances, but he leaned heavily against her and she swayed under his weight.

As soon as he settled down on the couch, she hurriedly shut the door to keep out the cold and the snow. Then she turned to her chilled guest who was gradually regaining his breath. Ice and snow crystals which stuck to his hair and brows and the fur on his nose began to melt and ran in glistening drops across his face. Catherine hurriedly freed Vincent of his heavy cloak, wet gloves, and soaked boots. Then she ran to the bathroom to get some towels. Rubbing his face and mane thoroughly, she became aware of his shaking body. She knew that she had to remove his damp clothes. That promised to be difficult, but she had no choice, so she knelt before him and took his face between her hands.

“Vincent! Please look at me. Vincent, do you hear me?”

The familiar sound of her voice finally penetrated the heavy fog of exhaustion and fatigue that clouded his mind. With effort, he opened his eyes. She smiled at him reassuringly. “Vincent, you must take off your wet clothes. Do you understand? Please try! I’ll go get you something dry to change into. All right?”

To her great relief, he nodded, lifting trembling fingers to the laces of his vest. Catherine hastily rummaged through her father’s chest of drawers in search of something that would fit Vincent. It was no easy task, but finally she produced a loosely knitted sweater, worn-out jogging pants and a pair of woolen socks.

Having helped nurse Vincent back to health before, this was not for the first time she saw his bared chest, but again there was no time to enjoy the sight. She disciplined her thoughts to remain with the task at hand. Helping him disentangle his hands from the sleeves of his shirt, she reminded him softly, but with unmistakable urgency, that he also had to change his pants.

Could that have been a smile that played across his mouth for the fraction of a moment? But there was no time to pursue that question, either. Vincent’s body shivered uncontrollably now, and she knew she must hurry. She helped him open his belt, handed him the dry pants, and then turned away to give him privacy to undress. With his last bit of strength, he changed and then sank back into the pillows. He left it to her to remove his soaked socks. Catherine wondered briefly if it was trust or just exhaustion on his part which allowed her a task that intimate.

Thinking of his clawed hands, she had speculated many times what his feet might be like. Now that she held the answer in her hands, a tender smile lit her face. The shape of his toenails was unusual, but they weren’t exactly claws. The fur on his feet was of the same color and sleekness as that on his hands, only shorter, and she couldn’t resist the impulse to stroke it gently. The intimacy of this small gesture was overwhelming, and she wasn’t surprised to find him studying her when she raised her gaze. Those vulnerable eyes that she loved so much met hers openly and trustingly, and as she continued stroking his feet, his shivering ebbed and finally subsided. Vincent’s eyelids sagged and he could no longer stop himself from falling asleep. Catherine was overcome by a rush of tenderness as she tucked him in to keep him warm. She would have loved doing nothing more than to sit and watch his relaxed face, but there were other things to do right now. She retrieved the wet pieces of clothing from the floor to dry them by the fire and then went to prepare some tea. It was long past midnight as she poured boiling water over the leaves and set the pot aside to steep, and with tears in her eyes she realized that this was the most beautiful beginning of a year that she had ever experienced.

*

When he awoke, the first thing that reached Vincent’s awareness was the warmth that engulfed and permeated him. Then he heard someone rattling dishes, and the fragrant smell of herbal tea teased his nostrils.

Catherine! He had arrived safely. He was here, with her! There had been moments out there in the night when he had doubted that he would ever make it But then he had felt her again deep inside him, and that inner sense of her had seen him safely through the relentless storm and the dark.

Now she was coming to him, a steaming mug in her hands, and she smiled -- no, she beamed -- at him when she saw that he was awake. Slowly, he sat up, not surprised that he was still dizzy. She placed the mug on the low glass table beside the couch and hurried to support him with cushions.

“How are you, Vincent?” she asked, looking at him with concern.

“Much better, thank you,” he answered, allaying her fears immediately.

She sat down and handed him the mug. He took it from her hands and curled his fingers around it, gratefully absorbing the warmth that it offered. But this was nothing compared to the warmth her eyes radiated as she looked at him.

“I can hardly believe that you are here.”

He merely nodded and she knew that he felt the same.

“But how ...?“ she began and interrupted herself. “Maybe it’s best I don’t ask.” With a slight frown she added, “Father must be sick with worry.”

“I must admit that he was not pleased when I told him of my decision,” Vincent confessed.

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. How well she knew Father.

Carefully, Vincent sipped the hot tea. “I couldn’t leave you alone in this,” he said at last.

He sighed. This was going to be so difficult.

Putting the mug on the table, he turned to face her. “I know why you wanted to be by yourself, why you went away -- from me. You thought you had to protect me, to spare me your inner turmoil.”

Gently, she placed her hand on his forearm. “Vincent, I didn’t go away from you. You may be right that I thought we both could use some time apart. We seemed to be running in circles. Lately it was as if we...”

“We’ve been feeling as if something was driving us toward each other and, at the same time, it was trying to keep us apart,” he finished her thought quietly.

Catherine looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise as if she couldn’t quite believe that this conversation was actually taking place. She started slightly when he began to speak again. “I felt it, too, Catherine.”

“What?” she asked huskily.

Her eyes were so intent that he dropped his gaze. “We’ve grown so close that the caution and restraint necessary between us, suddenly seemed so ... unnatural. It has become almost impossible to live with it now.” Slowly, he looked up and searched her eyes. “I’ve tortured us, Catherine. Whenever I looked at you, I wanted to extend my hand and touch you, draw you to me and never let you go. Those longings frightened me. I didn’t know how handle them. And what bewildered me most was that...”

He paused, aware that his own confusion and helplessness were carrying over into her. Her empathy and love for him washed through him and he gasped as she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his in a gesture of reassurance.

 
Catherine noted with delight that she could feel Vincent within herself more clearly than ever before. Drawing him into her arms, she whispered against his ear, “I was aware of your presence out in the storm before I knew you were there, Vincent! It was similar to when Father and you were in that cave- in. But it was much clearer this time. I sensed your exhaustion and despair. You know what? I believe our bond is growing stronger every day, and maybe one day I’ll be able to feel you as strongly within me as you can feel me. That is something I’ve been wishing for ever since we met.”

He withdrew from her embrace and hung his head, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Yes, I know, Catherine. This is something I owe you an explanation for, and I hope ...“ As he grew silent, she gently touched his chin to make him look at her. Her eyes implored him to continue. Sighing deeply, he whispered, “I hope with all my heart that you will forgive me.”

Puzzled, she shook her head. “I don’t understand. What would I have to forgive you for?”

She noticed that he had to force himself to keep his eyes connected to hers, but she steadfastly held on. Finally he released a slow breath. “Please tell me what you are feeling within me right now,” he demanded quietly.

She placed her hand on his and closed her eyes. First, she was only aware of her own restless thoughts which dealt with the things he was trying to tell her and why he felt so bad about them, so guilty. Suddenly his emotions came to her and she could grasp them clearly: There was deep regret and… shame!

Alarmed, she opened her eyes. “What is it, Vincent? Please!”

“I came here to tell you something that isn’t easy for me to say, but I know that I have to. Catherine, there is something I’ve kept from you from the very beginning of our relationship, something that has stood between us, and it is my fault.”

Overwhelmed by the whirl of emotions his words evoked in her, Catherine closed her eyes. What was happening? And why? “Tell me!” she demanded at last.

“Until now,” he began, sighing, “I have shut myself off, Catherine. I shut you out.”

Unable to comprehend what he had just said, she stared at him for a second before asking, “How do you mean?”

“Our bond ... I broke it purposefully. I disconnected you from my emotions.”

She looked at him, uncertain whether or not she had understood him correctly. “You mean you cut off our bond? All these years you just pretended that I wasn’t able to ...“ Incredulously, she shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.”

He reached out for her, but she recoiled and jumped to her feet. It hurt so much and she needed this distance now to digest his revelation. She went over to the window and stared out into the inky darkness. Her mind reeled with disconcerting thoughts. She felt as if she had been cheated out of something she had been desperately searching for all this time.

“Catherine, please forgive me.” His voice came from close behind her, but she wasn’t ready yet to face him.

Suddenly, she felt so empty. Her thoughts cleared, and the hurt eased a little. She stood there, motionless, and the silence within her reflected Vincent and all that he was, all that he meant to her, like a perfect mirror. She became aware of all the pain he had suffered in solitude, his deep regret about what he had done, but also his trust that she loved him enough to eventually forgive him.

She turned around slowly. Tears were in her eyes as she sank into his arms. She burrowed her face against his neck and ran her fingers through his tangled hair. Instantly his happiness engulfed her, and the relief she found when her heart opened to his, took her breath away. Tilting back her head, she gazed up at him solemnly. The dim light of the dying fire cast deep shadows over his face. Carefully, she withdrew her hands from his mane and began tracing the lines and contours of his features with trembling fingers. His face was an intriguing mixture of varying textures, rough and soft, wild and gentle. And all those sensations mingled with his emotions -- his joy and excitement. Tenderly, she stroked his lower lip with her thumb, and he lowered his head to bestow a first shy kiss. So gentle, so delicate. His lips were warm and soft, and she bathed in the emotional responses her caresses drew from him.

“Please don’t worry, Vincent,” she whispered softly. “It’s all so new, for both of us.” And, smiling, she added, “We’re just setting out.”

She realized that she would willingly do anything to produce a smile like the one that lit his face at that. His eyes were still glittering moistly, and she raised on tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “I guess we should put some more logs on the fire. It will be a very cold night.”

Only now, she became fully aware of his overwhelming fatigue. Although every line around his eyes, his entire posture spoke of his weariness, she couldn’t keep him from tending to the fire himself.

“You’d better go to bed now, Vincent. Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

From the heaviness of his footsteps as he followed her upstairs, she could tell just how exhausted he was. It was about time that he got some undisturbed sleep. She led him to her bedroom and went to pull back the covers on the comfortable bed.

His voice was low and rumbling, as he insisted, “This is your bed, Catherine. You will sleep in it.”

“But it’s the only bed. My father’s old bedroom isn’t furnished anymore. We can’t use it. It’s no problem. Really. I’ll be sleeping downstairs on the couch.”

“I will sleep on the couch.”

She had already suspected that this wouldn’t be easy, but she wasn’t willing to give in. “That’s nonsense. The couch is too short for you.”

“Your bed is big enough for both of us, Catherine,” he said softly.

“And by the way ... What?” She stared at him, not quite trusting her ears.

He smiled. “I think your bed is big enough for both of us,” he repeated.

Not quite trusting her ears, she heaved a sigh of relief and returned his smile. “The bathroom is over there,” she said simply, kissing his cheek before she left the room.

From under the covers, Vincent met her gaze innocently. “That sweater itches terribly,” he said apologetically.

Laughing, she nudged him playfully, turned off the flashlight, and slid into the bed beside him. It felt heavenly to have him that close. Every part of her was aware of his overwhelming presence and she hardly dared to breathe.

So, they lay side by side for a while, carefully avoiding any movement, and thus, any touching. Finally, he whispered hoarsely, “I’m afraid our attempts to avoid each other in this bed will keep us awake for the rest of the night.”

That made her laugh and she went into his arms. He was so warm and he smelled so good, and the beat of his heart sounded so comforting. Burying her face against his chest, she felt his hands and his lips on her hair. This time, he held nothing back, he didn’t even shut himself off as a flood of desire engulfed him. She responded to him with all the warmth of her heart and body. He pulled her tighter, and she bathed in the tenderness and gratitude he felt. But soon only fatigue prevailed and gradually he drifted towards sleep.

“Sleep well, Vincent,” she whispered.

“A happy new year, Catherine,” came the murmured reply.

She jolted upright in her bed. Bright daylight poured into the room. Her searching eyes found Vincent pressed against the bedroom wall, staring at her wide-eyed and panic-stricken.

Catherine smiled reassuringly as she realized what had awakened her. “It’s all right. It’s only the caretaker Carl. I’ll go tell him that I’m all right and send him away. Please come back to bed. You’re safe. Trust me.”

The voice from below would not be stilled. “Miss Chandler? Are you okay?”

She jumped to her feet, grabbed her robe, cast an encouraging look in Vincent’s direction and hurried downstairs. “Yes, Carl, I’m okay. Calm down!”

She opened the door and he stomped into the room, knocking snow from his heavy boots. “There you are. Thank God! What a night, huh? Do you need any help?”

“No, really, I’m fine. No need to be upset. I’ve been sleeping, that’s all.”

Carl shook his head. “You are remarkable, Miss Chandler. The worst storm in centuries and you sleep like a baby!”

His glance wandered over the room and stopped at the clothes that still hung over chairs in front of the fireplace.

When Catherine’s only response to his puzzled expression was an enigmatic smile, he backed towards the door. “Well, I’d better go now. I can see that I needn’t worry about you. Have a nice day and a happy new year!” With that, he was gone so quickly that she couldn’t even thank him.

 
Catherine looked after him and then raised her head to the morning sky. The sight was overwhelmingly beautiful. Snow crystals glistened in the winter sun and everything was so quiet and peaceful. Although he hadn’t made the slightest sound, she knew that Vincent had come up behind her.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” she said softly.

There was no need to wait for his answer. She could sense his emotions clearly. His soul was like an open book now, that spoke to her of unending wonders and joy. She turned and, smiling up at him, she put both arms around his waist.

“You’re right, Vincent,” she murmured at last. “This sweater itches terribly, indeed.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” she offered.

For an instant, he hesitated, then responded, “I don’t like the thought of causing Carl sleepless nights by leaving mysterious footprints around your house, Catherine.”

“You needn’t worry about that, Vincent. You’ve already ruined my good reputation,” she replied with a wink.

His puzzled gaze followed hers toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. She watched the realization dawn on his face of what Carl must have thought at the sight of Vincent’s clothes hanging there. Rarely had they ever laughed together so wholeheartedly.

“Well, under these circumstances a few footprints can do no further harm,” he said, casting her a fond smile.

Catherine couldn’t take her eyes off his face. One day, she would tell him how irresistible he looked when he laughed. And he would believe her.

The forest seemed to be right out of a book of fairy tales and Vincent enjoyed it thoroughly. Everything they encountered along the way had to be scrutinized by him, and Catherine thought how much she loved watching him.

The view over the snowy mountains on the other side of the valley left him almost breathless. He reached for her hand and then stood still, absorbing the pristine beauty of the sight before him. His emotions reached her with astounding clarity.

She put her arms around his waist and leaned against him, asking, “Then why do I sense such sadness in you?”

His expression grew even more thoughtful as he replied, “I was thinking of Lena. Once she confided to me her innermost dream. She longed so much to see the mountains. Snow-covered mountains.”

Catherine leaned her head against his shoulder. “Lena bore within her heart an immense yearning for beauty and light, Vincent. That’s why she fell in love with you.”

The colors of a flawless winter-sky danced in Vincent’s eyes as he smiled down on her.

The setting sun was painting long shadows on the snow when Catherine and Vincent began their descent. Playfully, Catherine let herself glide from tree to tree, embracing the trunks and releasing them as she tumbled on. Vincent followed her with cat-like grace, never sliding, never stumbling at least until that fatal moment when she crossed his way abruptly. She tried to hold on to him, but it was too late. A tangle of legs and arms, they rolled down the hill until they came to a halt in a snow-cornice. When Catherine opened her eyes, she met his surprised gaze looking down on her worriedly.

“It’s all right, Vincent. Really. I’m fine,” she reassured him.

At that, he shook his head, smiling. “You should have warned me about you, Catherine. You’re a force of nature to be reckoned with.”

That made her laugh, but then she became aware of the pressure of Vincent’s body against hers as he lay on top of her, and her thoughts took an entirely different direction. Forgotten was the chill, forgotten was the snow that was creeping through even the smallest opening in her clothing. She saw only his eyes, felt the beat of his heart, and met willingly his searching lips -- so soft and warm amid all the ice and cold that surrounded them.

It was only with reluctance that she let go of him as he finally rose and offered his hand to help her to her feet. “I hope there are enough dry clothes for both of us in your house,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

 
Catherine found herself getting used to the sight of Vincent in that heavy woolen sweater and her father’s old pants. His long hair fell in dishevelled strands about his shoulders while he was tending to the fire. The moment had something familiar to it that made her feel as though they had been together like this, forever. He seemed to be perfectly at ease here with her. Why then all those months and years of reserve and denial? So many lonely nights, cold nights on her balcony, nights full of unfulfilled dreams. Why this ... lie? For it had been a lie. The sharp ache flashing through her soul at the realization left no doubt about the fact that he had been less than truthful with her.

Sensing her train of thought, Vincent crossed the room and stood before her, his shoulders slumped in a posture of dejection. The expression on his face betrayed that he was aware of what was going on inside her. He didn’t say a word, only gazed at her silently without touching her. She could feel that he was at a loss as to how to deal with this.

“Vincent, please believe me,” she began, “I’m glad you’re here with me. And I’m grateful that you trust me enough not to shut yourself off from me any longer...”

“But?”he coaxed gently.

“...but it still hurts. All those years...”

He dropped his gaze and heaved a deep breath as he always did when he was about to come to a decision. He took her hands in his and searched her gaze intently. Tenderly, his thumbs stroked her fingers as he began to speak.

“When I was little, Catherine, my favorite books were those that contained love stories. Needless to say, the books I read tended to take a highly idealized position on the matter of love and relationships. Devin began to tease me about it and so I would read those stories secretly. I never talked with anybody about it, and gradually, deep within me, the faith was nurtured that love between man and woman must be something holy and eternal, predestined by fate from time immemorial. Reverently, I held on to my belief that man and woman were destined to become one in an act of sheer beauty and spiritual purity.” He paused for a breath, then went on.

“I had no idea of my dark side back then. I liked the girls I grew up with, and I enjoyed their company. I would watch them furtively, pondering who would be their other halves, and if mine was already among them. When Lisa came to us, the rest of my life seemed clear to me. I would be her friend until we were old enough to become one.

“Lashing out at Devin when we were children made me realize that there was something within me that I couldn’t quite control.

“The incident with Lisa happened a few years after Devin had left the Tunnels. What shocked me the most was not the fact that I had scratched her. It was the realization that I had something within me that wasn’t the self I was familiar with. That shook me to the bottom of my soul. That part of me wanted to touch Lisa, to press against her, to feel her body, without even knowing what exactly I wanted from her. That was not the way I had read about it. It was overpowering and disconcerting. I was about seventeen then, and quite naive where sexual matters were concerned. Years after that, Father confessed to me that he felt rather guilty about not having prepared me sufficiently for the changes that took place in my body when I grew up. I did have biology lessons, of course, but with me Father always did his best to avoid matters of sexuality. We both know his reasons. He thought that was something I could never have, and therefore would never need to know. After my illness he felt the necessity of making up for his cowardice, but I refused to listen. I didn’t want to hear anything about it. He admitted that he had accepted that all too willingly then.”

Catherine was surprised and deeply touched by the glimpses Vincent allowed her of his past. She settled on the couch without taking her eyes off his face, not even for a moment, and drew him down to sit beside her.

“Do you think that shock was the reason for your illness back then?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I believe it would have happened anyway, sooner or later. But there was something else. It occurred only a short time after Lisa had left. I was roaming a section of the tunnel system that Father called ‘the forbidden tunnels’, because it was not safe to pass through them. From time to time there were cave-ins. He was very strict about those tunnels. Not heeding his instructions always meant trouble and therefore I hid in an niche when I heard voices coming toward me. It was a man and a woman from our community. You don’t know them, they don’t live with us anymore. When I realized why those two had been seeking the solitude of the forbidden tunnels, it was too late to disappear unnoticed. You could say that was the night when I lost my innocence. I had to witness how they ... mated... so full of greed and rudeness. Even though I closed my eyes and pressed my hands on my ears, I couldn’t prevent myself from facing the disillusioning reality. That day, my world crumbled, and my dreams with it.”

Vincent sighed and Catherine could perceive the anguish of that memory pass through him anew. Tenderly, she stroked the furry back of his hand, wishing she could take the pain away from him somehow. He closed his eyes before he continued. “I sat there alone in the dark for a long time after the couple had left, and asked myself how I should live with the terrible truth the incident had shown me. The fact that one part of me had been excited, and even aroused, by what the other part detested vigorously, all but tore me apart.

I couldn’t forget about that split in my personality, and I think this was what caused the seizures and the illness in the end. It started with nightmares that left me crying and sweating in their wake, but relieved that I hadn’t done more than scratch Lisa. Now I thought I understood what that part of me had wanted to do to her back then. It was a terrible time, but one day it was over. I made a vow that I would never love a woman, not this way, not as a man. And all the stories of my childhood faded away and sank into oblivion together with the dreams of my youth.” He looked at her silently for a moment before he continued.

“When you came into my life, Catherine, you re-opened the doors to the enchanted places in my soul. I was aware of the symptoms, I knew that I was falling in love. From the very beginning, you were closer to me than anyone had been before. I could feel what you felt, even when we were apart. It was miraculous and overwhelming. And then, one day ... I returned from an errand and caught you at your first attempt to explore my chamber, your eyes still bandaged. I knew with absolute certainty that I hadn’t made the slightest noise, and yet you suddenly froze and turned around toward me. You told me I could come to you, you knew that I was there.

“It was then that I realized that you had it, too -- the ability to sense me within your soul. The thought of what you might discover if you read my feelings, frightened me. I knew that I couldn’t trust myself because of that part in me which tried to make me a slave to its instincts, and which I struggled so desperately to restrain.

“That was when I decided to sever the bond. I knew I mustn’t let that part get closer to you. With you, all that I had lost and banished from my life, had returned. Hope ... and faith in love...”

“How was it possible,” she ventured softly, “to supress something as vibrant and vivid as our bond? How could you endure that?”

“You know how. You did it yourself,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“When Paracelsus held you prisoner to lure me into his dark realm, you said that…”

“…that I would sacrifice everything for you. Yes. Oh, Vincent, now I see. Why didn’t you tell me back then? I would have understood.”

“Then was not the time, Catherine. I never would have dreamed that I could ever be this close to you...as I am now.” He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder and added softly, “Right now.”

She smiled at that and stroked his back. Slowly, he lifted his head and sought her eyes.

“I thought I could buy your freedom and your happiness by putting chains around my soul. I had to hide behind the walls I had erected in order to protect you. Your love and your trust shamed me, Catherine, for I hadn’t been truthful with you.”

He raised his hand to wipe away the tears she was unable to hold back now. Her voice barely obeyed her as she began to speak. “And yet you found the strength to come to me and tell me at last. That makes me very happy, Vincent. It means everything to me. Everything. What gave you the strength for that decision? Can you tell me?”

He reclined against the pillows and stared into the fire. “1 had a dream, Catherine. I stood before you, but there were walls around my body. Only my head and my arms were free. You wanted to touch me, but I recoiled. You wanted to embrace me, but I rejected you. Yet you went on unerringly. You started removing stone after stone, although I tried to send you away. When the wall was finally gone, there was nothing left of me. Suddenly I had no body at all. Desperately, I called your name and asked you if you could see me. And you said, ‘No, but I feel you within me’.”

The look on his face when he turned toward her again seemed to ask for her interpretation of his dream.

Catherine nodded. “It’s true, Vincent. I can feel you within me now, but…”

 
“But?”

“...but I also find it wonderful that your body is still there.”

That was one of the rare occasions when Vincent laughed, head thrown back and uninhibited. Growing serious again, he asked, “Do you like this body, Catherine?”

“I love your body, Vincent. I love you.”

He gazed at her silently, and in his eyes lay a hope so fragile that her heart turned over. His hand came up and he caressed her cheek with the downy back of his index-finger. There was so much tenderness in that small gesture that Catherine felt her tears well up again. She took his hands and put a warm kiss on each palm.

He tilted his head in the familiar way that she loved so much and said with a tremor in his voice, “It was an incredible sensation, Catherine. In the dream we were two souls, and yet one being. There was nothing that seperated us. And suddenly I knew that everything I had believed in as a child was true. Everything ... and more. Love is always true. Love can never be frightening. I know that now.”

She nodded at that. “And anything else ... simply isn’t love.”

Suddenly he became very silent. His gaze returned to the glowing embers of the fireplace, and she could sense clearly that the old wound in his soul began to ache again. Yet, there was a resistance in him now. A resolve not to run from this pain -- and from her. She squeezed his hand gently before she rose in order to tend to the fire. If not for the peace and the confidence that reached her from him, she would have been afraid that he had withdrawn from her once more.

He must have felt her tentative exploration of his feelings, for he lifted his head and met her gaze. Words were no longer necessary. She felt his smile in her heart before she could see it play across his features. In a single graceful motion he got to his feet and came over to where she was standing. His arms closed around her body and she felt his breath in her hair as he whispered, “Thank you, Catherine.”

They cleared the table and straightened the kitchen in companionable silence. Not even the knowledge that, in a few hours, they would be on their way back to their separate worlds could disturb the tranquil joy in their hearts.

Suddenly, Vincent reached for her and drew her against him. He brushed her forehead with his lips and his voice was throaty when he finally spoke. “Catherine, you should try to get some sleep before we have to go.”

She gazed up at him and mutely nodded her agreement. She felt that his eyes were following her as she ascended the stairs, but she didn’t turn back. That would have equaled the question, “Won’t you come, too?” She knew all too well how fragile the new intensity between them still was and that it would be wrong to coax him into anything. She had the strength to be patient. Vincent had given it to her. He had unlocked every hidden door to his innermost being and had overcome guilt and shame -- all for her. There could be nothing more intimate than this.

Her bed seemed much too wide as she lay on her back, staring into the gentle darkness. The light of the moon cast a soft blue light upon the snowy landscape outside and slanted into the room in milky beams.

Catherine couldn’t sleep. Her heart was so full of love and tenderness -- and gratitude. She caught herself smiling at the thought of all she and Vincent had shared here in the solitude amid the snow covered mountains.

A tremor went through her soul and suddenly she knew that he would come to her. His longing was like a stirring of fresh leaves in the morning breeze and she welcomed his shy desire with a rush of love as she opened her heart to his. At last he appeared soundlessly in the doorway. The moonlight caught in his hair, lending it a soft shine, and the flow of his feelings was a steady trickle of warmth and tenderness. Slowly, she sat up as he came over to the bed and settled down beside her. He took her hands in his and silently looked into her eyes. She couldn’t see him too clearly. His eyes were hidden in deep shadows. But everything she needed to know was written in his heart, and what she sensed there made her tremble. He was trembling, too. She could feel it as she rose to her knees and into his waiting arms. This kiss was different from his previous kisses. There was a freedom within him now which allowed his passion to be wild and demanding in all its gentleness. Her hand found its way under his sweater and her palm tingled with the feel of his naked skin. She freed her lips from his searching mouth just long enough to whisper, “This sweater...”

“….itches terribly,” he continued, smiling. With a deft movement he removed it. Then he stood up and pulled her to her feet with him. Reverently, he cupped her face with his hands before running them down her neck and shoulders. There was a silent plea in his eyes and she opened the fastenings of her nightgown to let it slip to the ground.

Everything was so bright and clear inside him when his eyes caressed her beauty with awe and tenderness. She knew that there could never be any fear between them, and it filled her with joy to know that he knew it, too. He opened his arms and she came to him, raising on tiptoes to kiss the tears from his face. His warmth engulfed her and her softness became his as he loved her with the faith of his childhood, with the dreams of his youth, and with trust in the man that he was. She could feel his rebirth within her and the sweetest truth that could possibly exist was the truth of never having to part with him again.

Dawn found the two lovers nestled together amid a cozy tangle of sheets and pillows.
 

 
“Hmmm?”

“It’s time. We must go.”

“You know what, Vincent?”

“Yes?”

“This is the happiest new year of my life.”

“It’s the happiest new year of our life, Catherine. And now come. It’s time to go home.”