Rosemarie Hauer's SUNLIGHT
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CHAPTER SEVEN
 The first thing that told them they were nearing the inhabited tunnels was the clanging of the pipes. Although Catherine was very tired and in dire need of a bath and a bed, she felt a stab of regret that the special closeness to Vincent, which the journey had forced upon them, was going to end now. He reached for her hand as if he were feeling the same thing and she thought that he probably was. Something felt different as they were nearing the communal dining hail. There was a cluster of people surrounding someone who was obviously speaking to them, telling a story. Suddenly Vincent stopped and seized Catherine’s shoulders, but his eyes remained on the commotion ahead. “What is it?” she asked, but at that moment Joshua and Rebecca caught up with them. “Look who’s here,” Joshua remarked sardonically. “Lisa!” Catherine gasped with sudden realization. Vincent cast her a quick glance and she glimpsed bewilderment in his eyes. “I wonder what brought her back this time,” Joshua murmured through gritted teeth. Catherine felt a chill creeping up her spine. “Vincent,” she said, taking his hand in hers, but at that moment they were spotted by the others and waved over to join them. “Vincent,” Samantha exclaimed, her face still beaming with adoration as she grabbed Vincent’s hand. “How wonderful that you’re back. Look who’s come to visit with us.” Catherine let go of Vincent’s hand and remained behind, hoping to get a chance to gather her wits about her before she had to face the woman who had caused Vincent so much hurt and pain. A red dress, she thought. Just like in my dream. Rebecca stepped up to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Lisa won’t stay long. She never does.” Suddenly a hush fell over the room as Lisa straightened and floated toward them. She took Vincent’s hands as if she were the closest person in his life, and cast him a dazzling smile. Catherine swallowed as a wave of confusion and uncertainty surged through her. Yet she remained where she was, looking around for Father, but he was nowhere in sight. Joshua placed his arm around Catherine’s waist and gently but firmly pushed her in Vincent’s direction. “Hello, Lisa,” he said with exaggerated friendliness. “What a surprise to see you.” “Hello, Joshua,” she greeted him, briefly releasing Vincent’s hand to take Joshua’s. “How lovely to see you.” Her body language betrayed that she wasn’t pleased at all to see Joshua. Catherine thought that, aside from herself, Joshua seemed to be the only person unaffected by Lisa’s charm. She was not so sure about Vincent, though. He stood spellbound, his expression tense and guarded. Vincent’s relief was palpable though as the children surrounded Lisa again, pleading with her to continue her story. Quickly he stepped back to put some distance between Lisa and him. Catherine sensed his growing irritation and it was like poison in her blood. Suddenly Vincent whisked around and left the hall. “He is probably searching for Father,” Joshua whispered close to Catherine’s ear. “I suppose he wants to find out why Lisa is here and how long she plans on staying.” Catherine gave him a grateful nod and then her eyes returned to the woman who held everybody’s attention. She certainly was beautiful by common standards, but there was something in her gestures and movements that betrayed her egocentric nature, her greed for acknowledgement and admiration, and her very limited ability to be aware of people other than to gauge their reactions to her performance. Catherine’s stomach clenched at the thought of what she had done to Vincent, and that she had dared touch him like that. “Maybe you should sit down,” she heard Rebecca’s concerned voice. “You’re frighteningly pale.” Catherine took a deep breath and straightened. “Maybe I’d better leave.” “Okay,” Rebecca replied. “Let’s go.” Catherine took a deep breath, reconsidering. “I mustn’t leave Vincent alone in this.” Rebecca nodded her understanding and they both followed Joshua to a table in the far corner of the room. They had just taken their seats when Catherine sensed Vincent’s return. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down, his face neutral and composed, but Catherine could feel his turmoil under the seemingly smooth surface. “And?” Joshua inquired. “What did you find out?” “That she will be in town for the next several months. She has a contract with a touring company and will perform here.” Vincent’s voice sounded strained, and he appeared absentminded. Catherine caught herself hating that woman because she held so much power over Vincent. Within a very short span of time she had managed to turn him into a distant and withdrawn shadow of himself. “Why is Father not here?” she asked Joshua. “Probably because he would have a hard time putting up a friendly facade in the face of Lisa’s lies,” he replied with a frown. Vincent shot him a look that Catherine couldn’t interpret. “Vincent,” she whispered. “Do you mind if we left? I’d really like to talk with you.” He gave her a short nod and briefly talked to Joshua and Rebecca. Then the four of them rose together and left the room. *
Several days passed by uneventfully, and Catherine noted with relief
that Vincent appeared to be his old self again.
They spent lovely evenings with Joshua and Rebecca, reminiscing about their journey. They even talked about Lisa. It almost seemed as if Vincent had come to terms with the emotional upheaval Lisa’s reappearance had caused, if not for the fact that Vincent took great care to avoid meeting Lisa when she was below. Catherine knew he wasn’t telling her everything that was on his mind, but at least he didn’t close himself off completely. One quiet evening Catherine had planned on remaining above since Vincent had told her he had chores to attend to. She picked a book on crystals and gemstones and settled down on her bed, but she couldn’t really concentrate on what she was reading. Her thoughts kept revolving around Vincent all the time. Something didn’t feel right. Finally she closed the book and went to retrieve her coat to go below. If Vincent wasn’t back from his chores, at least she wanted to be there when he returned. The pull she felt to be with him was overwhelming. Her heart sang with joy as she rounded the last corner before his chamber. She could already see the familiar rock formation that surrounded the entrance. Suddenly she heard the hurried footsteps of a woman. Her first impulse was to hide and see who it was, but it was too late. Lisa emerged from Vincent’s chamber and came toward Catherine, clutching the front of her dress — her gown, Catherine corrected herself — to her chest. Lisa stopped in her tracks as she caught sight of Catherine, but then she simply hurried past her and disappeared. Catherine stood there in stunned confusion, because the front of Lisa’s gown had obviously been torn, and she was holding on to it to prevent it from slipping off her body. With great apprehension Catherine entered. She didn’t dare think of what may have happened between Lisa and Vincent. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his clothing rumpled and his face buried in his palms. Catherine crossed the room and sat down beside him, waiting patiently until he acknowledged her presence. He lifted his head and cast her such a wounded look that it stabbed her heart. Then he placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close with a quiet sob. “Vincent, what happened?” she asked, but he just shook his head. She tried to lean back and look into his eyes, but he wouldn’t allow it. He insisted on hiding his face in her hair. “I saw Lisa leave your chamber,” she ventured at last. There was still no reply from him. The image of Lisa’s torn gown haunted her mercilessly, but she clamped down on it with determination. “Why is Lisa below at this time of night?” she asked. “She is hiding,” Vincent replied hoarsely. “She is supposed to testify against a man of wealth and influence, and that’s why she sought refuge with us.” Catherine nodded her head, suppressing the urge to ask any further questions. Suddenly he released her and rose to his feet, starting a restless pacing. When he stopped in front of her she stood up in order to meet his gaze. He struggled to hold her eyes with his, but finally his gaze fell away and his shoulders slumped. Catherine couldn’t bear it any longer and grabbed his arms. “Vincent,” she implored him, “please tell me what happened.” He threw back his head, releasing a helpless groan, and when he finally looked at her again, there were tears in his eyes. She lifted her hand to wipe them away, but he caught at her wrist, preventing her from touching him. Her heart went out to him, and she knew that whatever had happened wouldn’t change a thing about her love for him. Ignoring his attempt at keeping his distance, she placed her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. His heart raced frantically beneath her ear, and she tried to soothe him by gently rubbing his back. Gradually he relaxed against her and his resistance subsided. “I don’t deserve the comfort you give me,” he rasped. “I don’t deserve your trust.” “Why?” she asked, suddenly not certain that she really wanted to hear. A long silence followed and she could literally feel his struggle for words. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said at last, lifting her head in order to kiss his throat. He sighed and she pressed into him, deliriously happy when he responded to the intimate way their bodies touched. “Hold me tight,” he whispered breathlessly. “I’m lost without you.” She swallowed hard, because his words washed over her like a dark foreboding, making her tremble. “I’m here,” she murmured against his chest. “Don’t worry.” She released him for a moment and took a step in retreat to unbutton her coat, shrugging it off her shoulders. Suddenly his eyes darkened and he looked away. “Vincent?” she began hesitantly. “Tell me what’s troubling you so.” He heaved a deep sigh and slumped down on his bed. “I can’t,” he replied at last. “I can’t.” Toeing off her boots, she climbed on the bed next to him and leaned back against a mound of pillows, coaxing him to lie with her. He complied reluctantly, but finally he allowed her to pull his head down onto her lap. Tenderly she stroked his hair, giving him all the warmth she could. Catherine thought she must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she knew was that he was lying beside her, holding her close as he was moving against her in his sleep. Instantly the warm tingle of arousal spread through her and she couldn’t help but return his fervent movements in kind. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear as she slipped her hand beneath his shirt, caressing the bare skin of his chest. He rolled her onto her back and slowly lowered himself atop her, holding his weight away from her with trembling arms. His eyes were still closed as he kissed her, and she couldn’t suppress a low moan. His eyes flew open and he rolled himself off her, looking at her disorientedly. “It’s all right,” she crooned. “Everything’s all right, Vincent.” He shook his head vigorously, burying his face in his hands. “Nothing’s all right,” he mumbled dejectedly. Catherine felt helpless as she watched him sitting there. Slowly she inched closer, half- expecting him to withdraw, but he didn’t. He leaned back and gathered her to his side, holding her gently in a position that allowed them to be close, but not too close. Finally she fell asleep that way, and as she awakened, she found herself alone in his bed. The chamber lay in semidarkness, and as she looked around for Vincent, she noticed that his cloak was gone as well. *
After washing up a bit and combing her hair, she left the chamber to
check if Vincent was close by. Father sat at his desk in the study and regarded
her questioningly over the rim of his glasses as she stopped on top of the
small staircase.
“Vincent is not here,” he said, his voice betraying his curiosity. Catherine thanked him and left to resume her search. He wasn’t in the dining hail either, and neither William nor Joshua has seen him. Joshua sent out a message on the pipes and received the reply that Vincent had left the tunnels and gone above two hours ago. “Oh my God, it will be morning soon!” Catherine exclaimed. Joshua put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. He does that sometimes. He knows his way around and he is used to taking care of himself.” “Thank you, Joshua,” she murmured, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. “Can you tell me what exit he used?” “I’m sorry, I have no idea. Is something wrong?” Joshua asked compassionately. She sighed. “I’m not sure, Joshua. That’s what I’m going to find out as soon as I can. Do you know where Lisa is?” A look of comprehension passed over Joshua’s features. “She left the tunnels in the middle of the night,” he replied. “Do you know where I can find her?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. But it wouldn’t do much good anyway. You can’t talk with Lisa. No one can. The only person Lisa listens to is Lisa.” Struggling for a decision, Catherine studied the tips of her boots. “How well do you know her?” she asked at last. “Well enough to know she is poisonous,” he replied quietly. “But there was a time when Vincent loved her,” she murmured . “He was a boy back then to whom the word ‘love’ didn’t have much more meaning than fairies and wizards and magic castles,” Joshua pointed out with a melancholic smile. Catherine sighed wistfully. “I wish I had known him at that age,” she said. “So do I,” Joshua replied softly. “I suppose it’s best I return above,” she mused, sighing again. “I’ll send word as soon as I hear from him,” Joshua promised. They exchanged a smile of understanding and Catherine thanked him again before leaving for home. *
Two days passed without a word from Vincent. Catherine went below every
night to inquire about him, but he wasn’t there. On the evening of the third
day she was sitting in her living room when there was a knock on her door.
She hurried to open and her heart constricted with anticipation as she saw Joshua standing there, gazing at her solemnly. “Anything new?” she asked hopefully. He just shook his head. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I don’t understand this. It’s not like the Vincent I know.” Catherine stepped back to let Joshua enter. “Please come in,” she said. “I need to talk to you.” They walked over to the coffee table and took seats opposite one another. “It’s about Vincent,” she began and then she told him roughly what had happened. She considered leaving out the detail of Lisa’s torn gown for now, but then she decided he had to know in order to be able to help. “That bitch,” Joshua exclaimed from between clenched teeth. “She would stoop to anything if it served her warped purposes.” “Joshua, I’m worried,” Catherine said. “He seemed to be really down when I found him, as if she had crushed something within him.” “She probably has,” Joshua replied. “She has the uncanny ability to find out people’s weak spots within seconds. And she certainly wasted no time trying her skills on Vincent.” “Do you think she still wants him?” she asked timidly. “That’s of no consequence,” Joshua gave back. “What you really want to know is how he feels about her, right?” Heaving a sigh, Catherine nodded. Joshua placed his hand on top of hers. “You have no reason to worry,” he assured her. “And deep down in your soul you know that, don’t you?” Catherine nodded, but she wasn’t convinced entirely. “Thank you, Joshua,” she said, managing a weak smile. He patted the back of her hand. “Will you come below tonight?” She shook her head no. “I can’t.” Joshua nodded his understanding. “Do you mind if I keep you company for a while?” he asked. Catherine cast him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joshua. That’s really sweet of you. I dread being alone with my thoughts at the moment.” They spent a quiet evening together and she was very grateful for his patient company and support. At her request Joshua told a couple of fascinating boyhood stories that she enjoyed very much. Some of them made her laugh, others brought tears to her eyes, but all of them helped her understand a little more about the man she loved. “It must have been wonderful to grow up together, she said. “Like you and Rebecca.” Joshua’s eyes softened and he stared off onto space as he answered, “When you’re young you don’t really appreciate what you have. You don’t realize its true value.” Catherine smiled fondly. “But now you do, don’t you?” He straightened and turned to look at her. “Life teaches you to savor every moment of happiness as if it were your last.” The sorrow in his voice tore at Catherine’s heart. “Joshua,” she asked softly, “what are you going to do now? Will you return to your mission?” Slowly he shook his head. “My presence there wouldn’t do much good. I can help them better if I stay away.” He fell silent and Catherine waited patiently for him to continue. Finally he murmured, “I’ve been away from myself for too long. Maybe it’s time to come home.” “Rebecca will be very happy to hear that,” Catherine prodded gently. There was a long pensive silence before Joshua spoke again. “Love — when it happens — is too great a miracle to walk away from it.” Joshua’s words brought tears to her eyes. She thought of Vincent and the longing to feel his arms around her became painfully overwhelming. “Catherine, are you all right?” Joshua’s voice pulled her from her reverie. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. “I’m okay, thank you.” He rose to his feet. “I should leave now. You need your sleep.” Suddenly there was a strange noise coming from the terrace, as if somebody dropped something heavy. Joshua jumped to his feet, and the apprehension on his face made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. She watched as he crossed the room and stepped out onto the terrace. “I shouldn’t have come here looking like this,” Catherine heard an all too familiar voice from outside. “I’m sorry...” “Vincent!” she exclaimed, rushing to his side. Instantly she took in his disheveled appearance. His cloak was torn and tattered and his hair matted and dirty. “Oh my God,” she gasped as he looked up at her and she saw a nasty gash at his temple. “Let’s get you into the apartment,” Joshua suggested, supporting Vincent’s weight as he struggled to get to his feet. “I’m all right,” Vincent insisted, but he allowed them to guide him as he made his way over to the terrace door on shaky legs. “Give me your cloak,” Joshua said, and Vincent shrugged out of it obediently, handing the heavy garment to his friend as he stepped over the threshold. In the light of the apartment Vincent’s wound looked even more terrible, yet he claimed it was only superficial. He straightened and turned his head, locking his gaze to Catherine’s. In his eyes she saw all the reassurance she needed. Whatever place he had been to, he hadn’t been fleeing from her. That much she knew for certain as she saw the love in his gaze and a silent yearning so deep that it took her breath away. “I’m going to run you a bath,” she told him, and to her surprise Vincent didn’t even object. “I would assist you, Vincent,” Joshua offered with a grin, “but I guess we already have a volunteer.” Catherine cast him a reproachful look and he chuckled softly. “Well, I think I’d better go below and tell Father Vincent is safe. I’ll be back with a change of clothes in an hour or so.” “Thank you, Joshua,” she said over her shoulder as she guided Vincent to the bathroom. Vincent stood in the middle of the room, hanging his head. She walked over to him and placed a stack of fresh towels on a chair. Then she reached up to help him with the fastenings at his collar. He pulled off his heavy sweater and then grasped her hands as she wanted to help him out of his shirt. “I can do that,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze. “Vincent, please tell me what’s wrong,” she begged. He remained silent for a long moment, and then he said, “Your touch. ..is life. You shouldn’t waste it on “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she replied in bewilderment. “Would you prefer it if I waited for you outside?” Her heart all but broke as he slowly nodded his head, but she pulled herself together. He had been through a lot, and whatever his reasons may be, if he needed space now, all she could do was give him that much. “But you’ll talk to me later?” she asked quietly. He inclined his head, looking at her with so much desperation in his eyes that her resolve to keep her distance was weakening. “Enjoy your bath,” she said with a weak smile, turning to leave him alone. “Catherine,” he called out softly. She whisked around, helpless to keep the hope from her eyes as she looked at him. “I…may need help with my hair afterwards,” he murmured shyly. “I’ll be close by,” she promised. “Just call for me when you’re ready.” He gave her a tentative smile before averting his gaze to focus on undoing the fastenings of his shirt. Casting one last look in his direction, Catherine closed the door between them. *
She stood at the window, staring out into the darkness, when she heard
Joshua’s knock on the door.
“How’s Vincent?” he asked with a concerned glance in the direction of the bathroom door when she let him in. “He...wanted to be alone,” she replied, trying to make her voice sound even. Joshua squeezed her shoulder compassionately. “He’s always been like that. It’s his way of dealing with things.” “Alone,” Catherine murmured and he nodded. “He said he might need my help with his hair later,” she added. Joshua’s face broke into a huge smile. “Now that’s something,” he said enigmatically. “Why?” “Because Vincent certainly doesn’t need help with his hair.” Catherine looked up at Joshua in puzzlement and his features sobered. “Vincent probably felt your need to be there for him,?? he explained quietly. She shook her head, smiling. “Thank you, Joshua.” He gave her a companionable wink before handing her a tote bag with fresh clothes. “The old man sends his thanks. At first he wanted me to take Vincent below immediately, but I could convince him that he’s in good hands.” Catherine grinned. “Thanks a lot, Joshua. I’m sure that’s exactly what he needed to hear.” Joshua laughed. “It’s about time he acknowledged that his son is a grown man.” After Joshua had left, Catherine went to her kitchen to prepare some tea and sandwiches for Vincent, always aware of the noises coming from the bathroom. From the stillness in there she could tell he must have finished his bath. She strained her ears but couldn’t hear a thing. Suddenly the door opened and Vincent appeared, wearing a large towel around his hips while another one was dangling from his hand. His hair was dripping wet and framed his face in unruly tendrils. She walked toward him, taking the towel from his hand. “Come sit,” she ordered, pulling up a chair for him, and he complied. Gently she began to towel his head, rubbing and squeezing the moisture from his hair. Soon she had to get yet another towel, because his hair was so thick and heavy. Carefully she massaged his scalp with her fingers and as she stole a glance at his face, she saw that his eyes were closed, a fact that made her irrationally happy. For the fraction of a moment she lost herself in that feeling. Instantly his eyes snapped open and he looked up at her questioningly. She gave him a reassuring smile. Suddenly he seized her wrist and pulled her onto his lap, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to worry you so.” “Vincent,” she said, running her fingers through his wet hair. “What happened? Can you tell me?” He opened his mouth as if to speak, but all he managed was a heart rending sigh. She knew he needed more time to come to terms with whatever it was that had happened between Lisa and him. “Joshua brought you a change of clothes,” she said. The relief that flitted across his face was a palpable thing. It hurt that he felt the need to hide something from her, but she knew she had to accept it if she wanted to be there for him and help him through it, whatever it may be. When Vincent opened the bag, he raised his brows in surprise. Joshua had brought only night clothes. “It seems Joshua wanted to make certain that I won’t go anywhere tonight,” he said with a weary smile. “Joshua is a wise man,” Catherine replied, returning to the kitchen to give Vincent privacy to dress. When she came back with a tray, he had slipped on a pair of soft-looking pants, and her heart was aching with tenderness for him as she watched his long elegant fingers working with the fastenings of his cream-colored cotton shirt. “Are you hungry?” she asked, setting the tray on the table. Vincent shook his head, but he did take some tea. Catherine noted deep circles of fatigue around his eyes. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” she suggested, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded and stretched out on the bed she had prepared for him on the couch. She went to clear the table and put away the dishes and when she returned to him, he was fast asleep. She studied his peaceful face for a moment before retiring to her bedroom to get some sleep of her own. *
In her dream Catherine floated through long, twisted corridors, looking
down at people who moved about in tunnels and passage ways. As if I were
swimming through liquid, transparent rock, she thought. She found herself drawn
to Vincent’s chamber and as she neared the place of her heart’s desire, she saw
the woman with the red dress, walking barefoot through the tunnels. Curiously
she followed her, and the next moment she was there, standing before Vincent’s
bed, looking down at his sleeping form. Catherine wanted to shout and warn him,
but her voice deserted her. Desperately she tried again and again, but all she
produced were strangled sobs.
“Shhh,” she heard the dearest voice in the world, and a pair of strong, warm hands held her securely, shaking her gently. “It’s just been a dream,” Vincent said soothingly. “You’re safe.” Relieved, Catherine pressed into him, holding him tight. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she murmured. “Tell me,” he urged quietly, and she did, feeling him tense in her arms as she came to the part with the woman in the red dress. “But Lisa wore a light blue gown as she left your chamber,” she said, starting as he sat up abruptly. “Did she...talk to you?” he inquired hesitantly, and Catherine’s heart sank. “Why?” she asked, making an effort not to sound suspicious. She swallowed the question that leapt to the tip of her tongue, although she was dying to know what he thought Lisa might have told her. “No,” she said at last. “She didn’t talk. She just rushed by me.” Turning to face him more fully, she asked, “Did you.. .see her again after that?” Vincent nodded his head, and her heart constricted with apprehension. “She came to me for comfort,” he began. “You have to know Lisa to understand that the only comfort for her is to be desirable. I know that now, but I didn’t know it at the moment I awoke and looked up into her face. I saw desire there — not particularly for me, but more for.. .feeling alive and being desired in return. I should have listened to her before sending her away like that.” “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Catherine interjected. “She hurt you so many times and yet...” Vincent sat up and reached for her to pull her to him. Smoothing a strand of hair from her forehead, he began to speak. “After I had rejected her, Lisa started to cry and told me she is severely ill. She will have to have an operation that will…change her body…undermine her female sense of self in a profound way. She was desperately seeking for consolation, for help of any kind, but at that moment I simply wasn’t capable of comprehending, of truly understanding what was happening. That is why I felt I had to find her and talk to her, tell her that I had understood at last, but that what she wanted from me was impossible because.. .because my heart belongs to somebody else.” Ashamed of her jealousy, Catherine lowered her gaze. “Oh, Vincent,” she said huskily. “I had no idea.” He pulled her to him more tightly. “Neither had I. It was difficult to find her, to get to her. She didn’t want to listen to me. She was deeply offended by my rejection. In her agitation she left the hotel and as I followed her, I saw that some other men did, too. Lisa and I didn’t talk, but at least I was able to prevent those men from hurting her.” “Was that how you got your injury?” Catherine asked. “What happened?” “Fortunately it was very dark in that alley,” he replied. “I fought them. One of them hit me with something solid and heavy. They fled and I’m afraid I passed out between the dumpsters, amid the garbage.” “Oh no,” she gasped. “Do you think they saw you?” “I don’t think so.” The thought wouldn’t leave her alone. “What if they did? What if they got Lisa after all and questioned her about what they had seen?” “Lisa stayed with me until I came to again,” he reassured her, pulling her close. “She thanked me and asked me if I could manage on my own. When I said yes, she told me she was going to be okay and that I shouldn’t worry about her.” Catherine sat there in silence, digesting everything she had just learned. “You should go back to sleep now,” Vincent suggested at last. To her vast surprise he lay down beside her and pulled her to his side. She snuggled up to him and closed her eyes, but the images of her dream haunted her. “Did Lisa actually try to sleep with you?” she asked without looking at him. He didn’t answer right away, but then he whispered, “Yes.” Catherine didn’t dare ask any further. It drove her crazy to speculate about what had happened. “Sleep now,” he rasped, holding her tightly against him. “How can I sleep when my mind can’t stop picturing all kinds of painful scenarios?” she protested. He lifted his head, kissing her tenderly. “Lisa...came into my bed, pressing her body against mine when I was still asleep. As soon as I awoke...” “Maybe I don’t want to hear this after all,” Catherine interjected, and he brushed a reassuring kiss onto her forehead. “Nothing happened,” he continued, but his eyes darted away from hers for a moment. “Nothing?” she pursued. Slowly he rolled himself away from her and sat up. “She...started to expose her body to me.” Wordlessly Catherine put her arms around him, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He turned his head and looked at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” “Vincent, my imagination has been running riot ever since the moment I saw her clutching her torn gown to her chest. How did that happen?” He looked away. “We…wrestled. I struggled to restrain her, to keep her from undressing. She became desperate and started to fight me in earnest. I don’t remember how exactly it happened, but the gown got torn in the process of our fight.” Catherine thought fleetingly that what happened in Vincent’s bed must have looked like lovemaking to some unassuming passerby. Images from her dream passed through her mind, of the woman in red making ardent love to Vincent. “Vincent,” she pressed gently. “What makes you feel so bad? What she did is not your fault. Whatever it was that she did, you didn’t act on it.” “Of course not,” he said hoarsely, swinging his feet to the floor. She inched over to him, watching with concern how he clenched his hands into tight fists in his lap. “You’re shaking,” she observed worriedly. “I’m sorry, Vincent. I didn’t mean to push you so. I...” He spun around to face her. “You have every right to ask. And you certainly deserve the truth.” His outburst stunned her into silence. She watched patiently as he threw back his head and released a ragged sigh. “The image you have of me,” he began, seemingly out of context, “is one-sided. There aren’t any shadows in it.” “You’re probably right,” she conceded. “I simply don’t think of shadows when I think of you, because there’s so much light in you.” He tilted his head and smiled at her sadly. “That’s illogical. Where there is light, there have to be shadows.” “That’s right, of course,” she admitted pensively, trying to figure out where he was leading her. When he spoke again, she was totally unprepared for his confession. “My body responded to her,” Vincent said quietly and Catherine could feel his anguish so clearly as if it were her own. Suddenly everything fell into place and she understood why he had behaved the way he did and what had been tormenting him all the time. “I didn’t want it, and yet...” His voice broke in a hoarse sob. Completely at a loss for words, she started rocking him soothingly, but he tensed. “What does that mean?” he asked in despair. “What does that make me?” “It means nothing,” she replied with conviction. “The mere impulse of your body or mind doesn’t mean anything unless you want it and act on it. That’s what you told me once, remember?” She closed her eyes, concentrating. “It was when I confessed to you that I almost left you to your fate in order to escape after the cave-in. I was ashamed that I was capable of a thought like that, but you told me our responsibility lies only with the way we act on our thoughts in the end.” Slowly he shook his head against her shoulder. “Still, it frightens me to think that I have so little control,” he murmured. “But you were in complete control,” she insisted. “Otherwise you would have...’ Quickly he covered her lips with his hand. “Never,” he said firmly. Tears were running down his cheeks, yet for the first time in days his eyes were clear and deep. “I love you,” she breathed, cupping one hand around his cheek. He covered it with his palm and leaned desperately into her touch. “I was…afraid to tell you,” he whispered. “I know,” she replied, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, “but I’m glad you did.” His arms stole around her waist and he gathered her close, burying his face in the folds of her pajama top. Suddenly he inhaled deeply and she felt the first familiar sparks of arousal springing to life between them. Gently he pushed her at arm’s length. “You must sleep now,” he ordered in a hushed whisper. Their gazes met and she noted deep circles of fatigue around his eyes. He had been through so much these last few days. “You’re right,” she said, savoring the warm glow his closeness caused in the pit of her stomach. As they lay back together, she took his hand and brushed her cheek across its hairy back. “I’m glad you came to me instead of going below.” “Your lectures are...more bearable,” he teased gently, making her laugh. Then he gathered her to him, tucking her head into the curve between his neck and shoulder, and as she snuggled up to him more tightly, she felt his body respond to the warmth of hers. A rush of tenderness washed over her and she placed a tiny kiss onto his throat. He nuzzled the top of her head. “Sleep now,” he repeated softly, and she felt with regret that he was withdrawing from her to return to his bed on the couch. He rose and his reluctance to leave warmed her. Finally he turned and moved towards the panel door that separated the bedroom from the living room. “Vincent,” she called in spite of herself. He stopped to look back at her and her breath caught in her throat as she met the longing in his gaze. She knew, however, that she mustn’t call him back. He was still too fragile, too uncertain of himself to be pushed towards decisions of any kind. “Sleep well,” she whispered throatily. He inclined his head and smiled, and Catherine didn’t doubt for a second that he was aware of every single one of her thoughts. “And you, Catherine,” he rasped, and the sound of his voice carrying her name followed her into her sleep. *
On awakening Vincent knew he couldn’t have slept very long. Fragments of
a receding dream played around the edges of his consciousness. He tried to grasp
them, but they evaporated before his searching mind. Soundlessly he got up and
walked over to the terrace door. It was still dark outside, the predawn sky
only slightly brighter than the Releasing a quiet sigh, Vincent padded over to the paneled door and cast a glance at Catherine’s sleeping form. Leaning against the door post, he took in the way her hair spilled over the collar of her pajama top. She lay on her side, breathing calmly in her sleep. He wondered what it was about her that had touched something deep within him from the moment he had set eyes on her for the first time. It was as if he had always known her, as if he had been waiting all his life to remember her, to be reminded by her who he truly was. She stirred in her sleep and he knew he should retreat and leave her alone, but he couldn’t tear himself away. His body craved the warmth of hers as his soul yearned for her recognition and he wished he would understand why she made him forget what he had sworn never to forget: That he wasn’t entirely human. That he had no right... “Vincent?” Her voice startled him out of his musing. She was sitting up in bed, looking at him drowsily. His heart constricted with tenderness at the sight of her. Slowly she pushed back the covers and rose to cross the distance between them. He straightened and watched as she walked toward him, her gaze locked to his in the semi-darkness of the room. She stopped in front of him, looking up at him from under tousled bangs, and he couldn’t help himself, he just had to touch her. His hand came up as if of its own volition and his fingertips skimmed reverently across the silky skin of her cheek. Finally he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear before he let his hand fall away. “You’re up early,” she stated. “What was it that woke you? A dream?” Her words triggered a faint memory and he closed his eyes to capture it. He saw himself walking down a flight of stony steps towards a woman in a white gown. She lifted her hand and he yearned to take it, but he knew he must not. Her image dissolved and he found himself staring at the spot where she had been just a moment ago. A voice inside him told him to turn around, and when he did he stood facing a source of white light streaming in through a window in a dark ancient stone wall. He recognized the scene. He had been there before. The light was beckoning to him, calling him... “Vincent, are you all right?” His eyes snapped open and he nodded his head. “It was just a dream...” “Come sit with me,” she said, nudging him gently towards the couch. “Those dreams,” he murmured, sitting down beside her. “I wish I could understand them better. Learn from them.” “Tell me about those dreams, Vincent,” she asked softly. He looked up to the ceiling and then down at his hands. “Those dreams,” he began again. “They started after...you came into my life.” He could feel her apprehension while she waited for him to continue. “Some dreams were of different lives at different times and places. In some of them you were there, too, but we were never...lovers.” “What were we?” she asked, unable to suppress a tremor in her voice. “In the dream in which we came closest to being lovers I was a spiritual teacher, a keeper of the holy truth, so to speak. I was supposed to lead a life in celibacy and I did. But then one day a young woman came to the temple. I became her teacher and she and I studied the scriptures together. Gradually we fell in love, a hopeless love since acting upon our feelings would have meant death for both of us. And yet one day we were accused of…having become intimate and...” With a sob he fell silent and she wiped a tear from his lashes as he leaned against her. She was crying, too, as she continued, “They separated us and killed us.” For a moment he was at a loss for words. It astonished him how matter-of-factly she spoke of these things, as if she could actually remember them. Carefully collecting his thoughts, he began to speak again. “When I died, I saw your face before me, and my biggest regret was that we...hadn’t even fulfilled what I knew to be our destiny. Dying would have had meaning, had it been the price for something true. But as it was, it was only the result of somebody’s shallow lies.” He paused before continuing, “I looked up into the eyes of your image before me, knowing it would be an incredibly long time before you and I were to meet again. And yet I was given the confidence that eventually we would be together again...” “Because it was meant to be,” she finished for him. After a long, contemplative pause she whispered, “I too had a dream like that, Vincent. It wasn’t as rich and detailed as yours, but rather a series of images.” “Tell me.” She took a deep breath and began. “I walked up a long, straight, staircase. The steps were paved with raw, flat stones. On top of those stairs was an altar and behind it a Gothic window through which light was slanting into the room. You were there, Vincent, standing on top of the stairs, gazing down on me with luminous eyes. I don’t know how I knew it was you, but I did, although you didn’t look as you look now.” “Recognition isn’t so much a matter of the eyes, but of spirit and soul,” Vincent interjected. “And those always remain the same,” she added thoughtfully. “I continued my ascent without taking my eyes off your face. You started to descend and slowly came toward me, extending your hand...but before I could grasp it, I awoke.” Vincent’s hear skipped a beat and he stared at her in awe. Memories were flowing easily now. “That sounds like a description of the temple in my dream. We often met there to study the holy books that were kept inside the altar. I was waiting there for you — impatiently. I remember the joy at hearing the approach of your footsteps. I often walked down those stairs to meet you halfway. I wasn’t allowed to touch you, not even to take your hand, and I never did. I wonder why you dreamed of me extending my hand. I would never have tempted you like that.” “Dreams are metaphors,” she replied. “In our dreams we are able to look deeper. I’m sure I dreamed of what you longed for...of what we both longed for.” “You are probably right,” he said quietly. “Those drawings on the rock walls I showed you on our way to the crystal cavern…when I saw them for the first time, they seemed eerily familiar to me. The man who did them...he must have felt as hopeless as I did...in that life.” The vulnerability in her eyes tore at him and he reached out to cradle her against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you ever again.” She started stroking his head and the tiny kisses she was placing along his jaw line sent shivers through him. “In that other life,” he murmured, “I was completely human and yet I wasn’t able to fulfill my destiny. How shall I succeed this time...when I am...like this?” “You did succeed already,” she said calmly. “You and I are lovers, and no one is going to kill us for that.” “I wish I could be so certain about that,” he murmured, bitterness tingeing his voice. “Don’t be silly,” she admonished, snuggling up against his chest more tightly. “We’ve come a long way to be together again, and we will be around for a long time to make the best of it.” He smiled at her. “The Crown and the Heart,” he said. She raised her head and gave him a puzzled stare. “What?” “The symbols of our dreams are from the Kabalistic Tree of Life,” he replied as if that would explain it all. He saw recognition dawning in her eyes and she knelt up beside him. “The stairs are the path that the High Priestess takes from Heart to Spirit.” He was still smiling at her “I taught you well,” he rasped, “that you are still able to remember it after all these centuries.” “Vincent,” she asked with a frown, “do you believe in reincarnation?” “What else could our shared dream mean?” he asked back. She took one of his hands between hers and looked deeply into his eyes. “It means,” she said slowly, “that you don’t have any reason to doubt your humanity. You are like everyone else. Your true self goes through different lives, acquiring different bodies and identities. This time your body is more unusual than it was at other times, but that doesn’t mean you are different. You are what you always have been: You.” Vincent didn’t know what to say. He was certain she was right. He’d felt it ever since the dreams began. “You do believe me, don’t you?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern. He cupped his palm around her cheek and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “It’s what I’ve been thinking about ever since I discovered the wall paintings, Catherine. I realized that I’m not nearly as unique as I thought I was. I started to feel a connection to every human being that had ever walked the earth. Suddenly my struggle to control the darker side within me wasn’t so hopeless anymore. My fear of plummeting into a fathomless abyss receded and I started to trust in my humanity. Until....” “Until you were overcome by rage again,” she stated. Vincent swallowed hard. Slowly he straightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Catherine’s eyes. “My newfound belief was badly shaken after...killing again…like that.” He studied his hands for a long, silent moment. “Joshua helped me to understand that not even rage like I have known it is outside the human range of behavior.” Catherine cupped Vincent’s chin and brought up his gaze to meet hers. “1 already suspected that he must have been through a very difficult time. It’s all there in his eyes.” Vincent grasped her wrist and dislodged her hand from his face, tucking it against his heart. “Yes, but it didn’t break him. He came out of it a stronger person, because he doesn’t turn away from his shadows. He went through the pain, he still does, admitting and acknowledging everything he is. That’s probably the only way to free the light within you.” Memories of the white light beckoning to him, pulling him out of his body, flashed through his mind and he buried his face in his palms. Instantly he felt her arms around his shoulders and her breath close to his ear. “What is it, Vincent?” “The pain is so overwhelming,” he whispered hoarsely. “Death is not meant to be remembered.” “You mean the death in your dream?” she asked. He nodded mutely. “But death wasn’t really an end, was it?” she whispered. He drew a deep breath and straightened. “No, but every death means losing yet another precious possibility.” Her palm was warm against his cheek as she guided his face to hers. “What kind of a possibility, Vincent?” “To bring love to fruition,” he replied hoarsely, his voice all but deserting him. “Do you think there’s anything in this life that is holding you back?” she pursued gently. He lowered his gaze to his hands to avoid her eyes. “I’m not sure,” he confessed quietly. Catherine remained silent for so long that he raised his head to gauge her expression. She gave him a tender smile. Vincent’s heart raced as he struggled to recapture any of the answers he had stored in his mind. There were a hundred reasons for him to remain alone, to avoid real closeness, but none of them would come to him now. None of them appeared to be valid anymore. Catherine’s touch startled him from his musings. She stroked his hands and leaned her head against his shoulder. “The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost,” she quoted pensively, causing his heart to constrict in his chest. “Never again,” he rasped. “I don’t ever want to lose you again.” “There are no guarantees,” she whispered. “There is only now.” Wordlessly he pulled her to him, savoring the warmth of her body against his. He lowered her onto the bed and moved over her, locking his gaze to hers. She felt incredibly soft beneath him and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. In her eyes he saw a wealth of emotions and it moved him deeply to realize they were all for him. When she reached up to pull down his head he followed willingly, unresistingly, until their mouths found each other in a breathless kiss. She parted her lips under his and he gasped as he felt the heat of her tongue. She was all softness, begging to be touched, and he complied, astonished how quickly his shyness vanished at her moans of pleasure. She was touching him, too. Her hands seemed to be everywhere, making his skin tingle with excitement. He was aroused beyond reason, fighting hard to maintain some semblance of control, but when she started unbuttoning her pajama top, he was lost. There was a sweet urgency in both of them as they undressed each other, yet he took his time studying her as he skimmed his palms over her flushed skin. She was beautiful and being this close to her filled him with pride. She wanted him, needed him, loved him every bit as desperately as he loved her. Slowly he ran his hand up the inside of her leg, and she parted her thighs, wrapping them around his hips. Once more he sought her eyes. Their gazes locked and held as he slowly joined with her. The heat of her body quickly drove all caution from his mind, and when she started to move his resolve to stay in control crumbled. She carried him away and he followed without looking back. A wave of pure joy surged through him, a pleasure so intense that he forgot to breathe. Her joy, he realized in a flash of sudden clarity, and the knowledge that he was with her, inside her, one with her, coiled up in his belly and broke free in a soul-shattering climax. Her moan of release carried his name and blended with his own cry of ecstasy as he sank down beside her, pulling her close. She burrowed into his arms and he held her tight against his loudly beating heart as he fought to regain his breath. She was murmuring something and he turned his head to bring his ear closer to her mouth. “Did you see the rainbow?” came her whispered question. Tears welled up in his eyes as he replied, “You’ve always known it was there.” She nodded against his chest. “Always.” His heart went wide with the realization that she was the light that brought out the colors of his soul, colors he wouldn’t have acknowledged if not for her faith in them, in him. “Forgive me for doubting,” he murmured huskily as he brushed a kiss across her forehead. There was no reply, and her slow and even breathing told him she had fallen asleep. He pulled up a blanket and tucked it around her body as he curled against her protectively. *
Vincent dreamed. He was a child again, running across a meadow, chasing
the colors of flowers and butterflies as he danced with the wind that ruffled the
long, golden tresses of his hair. Vincent held his breath as the child in his
dream stopped and turned. His little face with the fuzzy nose and the cleft
upper lip broke into a delighted smile and Vincent’s heart turned over in his
chest at the beauty of the boy’s blissful expression. “I’m here,” the child
shouted. “I’m coming, mom.” He started to run again and threw himself into the
arms of a woman who lifted him up, laughing happily as she spun him around.
Catherine... With a start Vincent sat up in bed, his eyes wide with the enormity of what he had seen. The child in his dream hadn’t been him, he had been Catherine’s. Catherine’s son. Catherine’s son who had a face like his... “Vincent?” Her voice was slightly blurred from sleep as she sat up beside him, rubbing his back soothingly. “Did you have a bad dream?” Vincent felt laughter bubbling up inside him, the same blissful happiness he had experienced with the child. “No,” he gasped softly. “No Catherine, it was the most beautiful dream in the world.” “Will you tell me about it?” she asked, confusion and amusement warring in her eyes. “I will,” he promised as he lay down again. The way she instantly snuggled up to him, seeking his warmth, filled him with awe and pride. He placed his palm over her soft, flat belly in a tender caress. “Sleep now,” he added in a hushed voice. “It will be morning soon.” A tremor went through him as she pressed a kiss to the base of his throat and he realized that for the first time in his life he would awaken to sunlight. *
— Rabindranath
Tagore —
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