Rosemarie Hauer's THANKS TO THE HUMAN HEART
|
STARLIGHT
The park was bathed in the light of a late winter
afternoon as Catherine walked down the path after leaving the office. It was
cold, and she filled her lungs with the clear, fresh air as she directed her
steps to the place where everything had begun. Flattening her palms against the
rough bark of her tree, she leaned her head back and gazed up at the intricate
pattern of the branches and twigs against the February sky. Unable to resist,
Catherine began to climb, slowly, steadily, until she reached her favorite
spot: a huge branch where she could sit comfortably and survey the park below
her. Her eyes strayed to the mouth of the drainage tunnel and back again to the
western horizon. The red winter sun seemed suspended above the sea of
buildings, but the park beneath her already lay in deepening shadows that
preceded the night. Catherine reclined her head against the trunk of the tree,
drinking in the bright rays of light that touched her face as pieces of memory
drifted through her mind. She could see Vincent's face: his haunted look when
she'd first caught sight of him; his eyes widening in astonishment when he
tried to figure out what she could possibly see in him; and finally his awe
when the barriers between them had crumbled and fallen away. Catherine gasped for air as the poignancy and
tenderness of their lovemaking came back to her, striking her to the core. At
the same time the enormity of what she had done to Vincent shook her
mercilessly. She loved him so much. The best thing she could do for him was to
stay away, lest the shadows in her soul cause his own darkness to rear its
horrible head. Once again she relived his agony and shame, his shocked
realization of what he had done...for her. Catherine bowed her head and
released a ragged sob. She shuddered in remembrance of her own dark emotions
that had caused all of this. When she finally raised her eyes, the sun had
disappeared behind the buildings, leaving behind a sky streaked with the colors
of Vincent's world: russet-gold, orange, and amber, and there, right above her
head, still a dark, deep blue -- like Vincent's eyes shining with intense
feelings. Catherine was aware that her thoughts of him had
opened the bond between them. Certainly Vincent had been able to follow her
journey through the precious memories they had created. She just hoped that he
still would be able to trust her and believe in her after what she had done to
him. Slowly she climbed down the tree, jogging off for
home. * Vincent sat alone in the chamber above the falls
where he had taken Catherine last Christmas Eve to give her his present -- and
where he had received hers. Staring at the crystal and the rose nestled in his
palm, he tried to recapture those moments, to remember every word that had been
spoken. He had to find out why she had returned the crystal to him. He had
meant it to be a focus for her light, a symbol for the solidity of his love
that would always reflect the beauty of her spirit and the warmth of her heart.
For the thousandth time Vincent wondered why she had given it back. At first he
had thought that she had simply meant to tell him good-bye, but now he wasn't
so sure anymore. The glimpses she had allowed him through the bond had told him
otherwise. So what had she tried to convey? She'd said she knew it was meant
for the light, and that she was sorry. But what was she sorry for? That she
didn't want to keep the crystal with her? That she wanted nothing to do with
him any longer after she had seen what he was capable of in his rage? Or was
she indeed feeling guilty because it had been she whom he had protected? Suddenly his thoughts were broken by a quickening of
the bond, a softly vibrating sensation that told him that Catherine was
thinking of him. He inhaled sharply as the depth of her love and longing washed
over him, instantly stirring his own. Unable to endure the sweet ache in his
body and soul, he pushed to his feet, starting a restless pacing. It was all
there, the whole specter of her love for him. So, why had she left? Why was she
avoiding him? What could he do to alleviate her terror of the beast she had
glimpsed? Would she ever be able to trust him again? Pivoting, he stormed from the chamber. He would go
to her. He must. He couldn't wait any longer. * On her return from the park, Catherine emptied her
mailbox and froze as she discovered a cream-colored envelope like those Vincent
normally used for his messages to her, only he never sent his notes via postal
services. The handwriting wasn't his, either. Catherine relaxed and tore the
envelope open. Unfolding the two sheets of vellum paper it contained, she
realized, much to her dismay, that the letter was in German. Now, what was she
to make of this? Johannes knew that she didn't understand German.
Shaking her head, she crossed the hall and pushed the button to call the
elevator. Glad that she was alone as she rode up to her
apartment, she released a long and heartfelt sigh. She had to talk to Vincent.
She would go to him tonight. * Vincent's stomach clenched in anticipation when he
heard a key being turned and saw the lights in the apartment going on.
Catherine! How young she looked as she walked across her living room and placed
a stack of mail on her couch table. Vincent watched as she bent to retrieve one
of the envelopes, turning it pensively in her hands. He wanted so much to go to
her and simply take her in his arms, hold her close and feel her arms around
him, her sweet breath against his throat... Her head snapped up, and she spun around.
"Vincent?" she whispered expectantly, but he could hear it as loudly
as if she had shouted his name. The next moment she came running toward the
doors, pushing them open, and flinging herself into his arms, arms that were
starved for the feel of her, arms that closed around her in instant
possessiveness. He breathed her name, his voice deserting him as he
took in her familiar scent. All of his senses reeled with the reality of her
presence. She lifted her face to him, tears glittering in the corners of her
eyes. "I'm sorry, Vincent," she murmured. "Will you ever be able
to forgive me?" "Oh, Catherine," he sighed. "Why
would I have to forgive you?" "Because I didn't stay," she answered.
"Because I didn't help you face the aftermath of what I had caused." "Of what you...? Catherine, no!" Gently she extricated herself from his embrace,
wrapping her arms around herself instead. "I've been thinking a lot over
the last couple of days, Vincent. Right after...the incident in the park, I
thought I must leave you and never return, or the shadows in my own soul would
eventually destroy you. There was so much pain...Oh, Vincent, I'm so
sorry." "But none of it was your fault. What makes you
think...?" "I drove you on," she interrupted him.
"Maybe you would have had to kill those thugs anyway, but not...like that.
How could I gain satisfaction from your killing, from their deaths? It
terrifies me that I have it within myself to feel that way." Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into
place. She had sensed him feeding on her terror and fear, and now she was
feeling responsible for his unleashing the dark rage, and the mindless
slaughtering, that she had witnessed. Maybe she was even right in that she had
driven him on and thus pushed him over the edge, he conceded reluctantly to
himself. But it was still not her fault that she had reacted that way. "Catherine," he said in his most gentle
voice. "We have both been through a lot lately. What happened in the park
was wrong in more ways than one. Obviously both of us believed that we had to
take the blame for it. I, too, wanted to beg your forgiveness for confronting
you with the...bloody madness in me. I thought you left because you couldn't
face me again after what I let you see, and share, through the bond." "You thought that was why I left?" she
said, her eyes rounding in dawning comprehension. He nodded. "And I thought that was why you gave
me back the crystal. I thought that you regretted that you...that we...." "No," she gasped. "It wasn't that.
Never. All I could think of at that point was that I had ruined everything;
that I had become a danger to you; that I must never put you through anything
like that again. Last Christmas, when you gave me the crystal, you told me that
it was meant for the light, but after what happened in the park, I didn't feel
any light within me any longer. So I gave it back to you. I hoped that if you
kept it for me...." Her voice broke off, and she stared at him as if her
eyes were looking through him, right down to the bottom of his heart. "Oh,
Vincent, how could you ever think that I regretted our becoming lovers? Being
so close to you, being loved by you, body and soul, made me feel...whole and
complete in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. Our love is all the light I
have right now." Vincent could have looked into her eyes forever.
When she fell silent, he reached for the leather pouch and pulled it over his
head. Tugging the drawstrings open, he released the crystal and the rose into
his palm. The crystal sparkled miraculously in the apricot light that came from
inside the apartment. Slowly Vincent moved toward Catherine and placed the
chain around her neck, tracing it lightly with his fingers until he almost,
almost touched the swell of her breasts. "You are my light," he said
solemnly. "Always." Her eyes sparkled with tears, and he drew her close,
taking the trembling of her body into his own. Unwilling to break their
embrace, he slid the pouch and the rose into a pocket of his cloak and brought
up his hand to stroke her hair. They stood like that for a long stretch of
time, caught up in each other's presence, before Vincent became aware that
Catherine was shivering in the cold. Gently he guided her into the apartment,
closing the doors against the chill of the night. "Vincent, what am I to do?" she asked in a
small voice, and it touched him that she would turn to him for advice when he
was feeling so helpless himself. "Catherine," he said, half turning to face
her. "Whatever we decide to do, let us decide it together. Will you
promise me that much?" She gave him a tremulous smile. "I
promise." He hugged her to him again, rocking her softly as
they savored the quietude and calmness that had returned to them, at least for
the moment. "The letter," Catherine said suddenly,
struggling free from his embrace. "Johannes sent me a letter." She
walked over to the table and picked up the envelope he had watched her studying
earlier. "It's in German. Please would you...?" Vincent shook his head, smiling. "Johannes is
full of surprises," he remarked, shrugging out of his cloak and placing it
over the back of the couch. Then he took the letter from her and briefly looked
it over before he sat down and began to read aloud: "Dear Catherine, please forgive me that I am
taking the liberty of writing you this. I was with you right after you had
witnessed the power of the darkness in all its ugliness for the first time. It
won't surprise you to hear that I know that darkness as well. Darkness has
never been far from me throughout my whole life, and in a way I dare say that
the darkness and I have grown quite familiar with one another. Darkness has
been my protector as well as the source of my strength, and -- you will
probably be surprised to hear that -- of wisdom, too. Mother Darkness has its
own stories to tell, and here is one for you. "The rage that you experienced in your own soul
as well as in Vincent's as he acted upon it, that rage derived from the need to
protect yourself and the ones you love. The roots of that rage lie in the depth
of darkness, as all roots do. All life begins in darkness, and in its beginning
life needs the protection and warmth of darkness and the nourishment which are
supplied by the roots. Look at the plants. At some point they raise their heads
from the dark womb of the earth and learn to take their nourishment from the
light. "We all must learn to do that as well,
Catherine. It is natural to respond with what Mother Darkness has taught us
from time immemorial while she nurtured and fed us. But as we grow, we learn to
react to the challenges of life according to the teachings of light. Yet,
knowing about the light doesn't mean that we don't need our roots any longer.
If plants were to withdraw their roots from the earth, they would certainly
die. So, as long as we live, we receive impulses from the realm of darkness as
well as from light. We may not feel so safe anymore, but now we are free...free
to choose between moving forward in growth or remaining behind in stagnation.
Growth is a matter of delicate balance, though. We must learn to take just
enough from the darkness to be able to nurture the light within ourselves. We
all stumble, and even fall from time to time, but we have long become children
of the light, able to rise again. And the earth won't swallow us but carry us
and support our feet as we resume our way and take our light to every place we
go. "When you and I met, I was the one in darkness,
and you were so full of light that it shone for both of us. I can never thank
you enough for letting me share your light, your courage, your confidence, and
most of all, your smiles. Know that I will always be there for you when you
need me. --Johannes --" Vincent felt Catherine's hand steal into his as he
finished reading. Her palm was cool and she trembled slightly as she nestled up
against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Still, that darkness
scares me," she said quietly. "I know," Vincent rejoined. "It
frightens me, too." She pulled back from his shoulder, frowning at him.
"What do we do if it happens again?" Gently cupping her chin, he stroked her cheek with
his thumb. "If...it happens again, we will try to make different choices.
Johannes is right, we are free to choose, but sometimes we tend to forget
that." "Then we will keep reminding each other, so we
won't forget again," Catherine said, leaning into his caress. Suddenly she
turned her head and pressed a lingering kiss on his palm, the softness of her
lips burning into him and leaving him desperate for more. The ringing of the phone startled them apart, and
Vincent watched with a mixture of disappointment and relief as Catherine leaned
away from him to pick up the receiver. She cast him an apologetic smile, and he
clenched his fists in order to keep from reaching out and pulling her back to
him. "Hi, Joe," he heard her say, and a sudden twinge of jealousy
shot through him. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to free himself
from the onslaught of irrational impulses that throbbed in the pit of his
stomach. Joe Maxwell was a friend, he reminded himself, trying to focus his
attention on something else in order not to listen to them too intently.
"No, I'm fine, Joe. I really am," Catherine's voice reached him in
reassuring tones. "I was just out for a walk after I'd left the
office." Vincent's eyes dropped to his hands that were still
balled into tight fists. He forced himself to uncurl his fingers and flatten
his sweating palms against his thighs. Images of these hands on Catherine's
smooth and tender skin whirled through his memory, interspersed by pictures of
the very same hands tearing through human flesh, dripping with blood. He swallowed
down the groan of anguish rising in his throat and pushed himself to his feet.
From the corner of his eye he noted that Catherine shot him a worried glance,
but he just shook his head to indicate that he was in control. Reassured, she
returned her attention to the phone. "Yes, Joe, I'm absolutely sure about
my resignation. No, I won't change my mind." Vincent's heart skipped a beat as the meaning of her
words sank in. He pivoted to stare at her in stunned disbelief. "Yes," Catherine continued to speak.
"I'll keep that in mind. Yes, I promise. Bye." Slowly, pointedly, she
returned the receiver to its cradle and raised her eyes to his. Vincent still
could hardly believe what he had just heard. "You have given up your work," he said
tonelessly. She confirmed that with a nod. "I can't live by
two different sets of rules any longer," she explained softly. "It's
like trying to live by two different truths." Vincent nodded understandingly. He knew all too well
what she was referring to. Throughout his entire life, his attempts to
reconcile the rules of humanity and those of the beast had been doomed to
failure. The moment Catherine had chosen to be part of his life and make him
part of hers, his own inner conflict had inevitably carried over into her. "But,
Catherine, you loved your work," he reminded her, torn between relief and
regret at her decision. "That's true, but I found that I really can't
live with risks like that. " "Because of me," he stated flatly. "Because of us," she amended. "And
because of Joe. He's my friend, and I mustn't involve him any further than I
already have." There it was again, that irrational pinch of
jealousy, but this time Vincent clamped down on it so quickly that he was
fairly sure Catherine hadn't picked up on it. "So, what are you planning to do now?" he
inquired, watching as she lowered her eyes to study her hands. "I'm not sure yet," she responded.
"I've thought of working with children, you know. There are so many other
ways to help, to make a difference. I don't think that I'll have to leave town
after all." Vincent felt his body tense. "You considered
leaving Catherine rose to her feet in a swift motion and
took his hands. "I thought that was the only way to keep you safe,"
she explained. The irony of it brought a bitter smile from him. "What's so
funny?" she queried, giving his hands a slight tug. Vincent shook his head. "I was just thinking of
how many times I believed that I must put enough distance between us for the
very same reason. I, too, have known moments when I thought it best we were far
apart, but, Catherine...." Carefully extricating his hands from her clasp,
he turned slowly and walked over to the window. Staring out into the night, he
considered briefly if he really had the right to say what was on the tip of his
tongue. "Yes?" she coaxed gently. Still unable to meet her gaze, he said huskily,
"A life without you, Catherine, would be..." Inhaling sharply, he
gathered his courage to finish, "...no life at all." Catherine stepped around him and ducked into his
line of vision, forcing him to look at her at last. "I feel the same way
about you," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "That's why I
decided to stay." Their gazes locked, and Vincent was suddenly shaken by
the enormity of her commitment. He hugged her to him, nuzzling the crown of her
head as she burrowed her face against his neck. Her warm breath grazed his skin
as she began to speak. "Tell me something, Vincent." "Hmm?" he mumbled into her hair, thinking
that he'd rather not talk right now. He would have liked just to savor her
warmth and closeness as they stood together, wrapped in the peaceful humming of
their bond. "What happened that night? Why could I suddenly
feel you within me, too? What did you do to open the bond for me as well?" He tensed imperceptibly, loathe to call back the
memory of the jaws of blackness that had yawned before him, threatening to
devour his sanity. "Before I respond to that," he said haltingly,
"please tell me what you felt that night. What was it that drove you
to me in the end?" She thought about it for a moment. "I remember
being engrossed in my work," she finally said. "Suddenly I could
hardly concentrate on it anymore. Something tugged at my consciousness, and my
thoughts were drawn to you. I experienced flashes of desire alternating with
chills of fear, and I had the distinct feeling that something must be wrong
with you. I leapt to my feet, intending to run to you, but suddenly I was
filled with a peace so deep that I dropped back on the couch and closed my
eyes. That was when I recognized your presence inside me, Vincent. You were
touching me from within. It was like a caress, and I felt so safe, so...loved...there
are no words to describe it. Then, for an instant, everything went dark within
me and I panicked. It felt like you were gone, completely out of my reach, and
that was so painful that I couldn't bear it. I grabbed my coat and went Below.
Well, you know the rest." "The rest," he sighed quietly in
remembrance as he pulled her close and pressed a kiss on her brow. "The 'rest',
Catherine, turned my life upside down in a way I never would have thought
possible. Although I already knew that Ahab had taken a wife and fathered a
daughter, that Johannes' father had looked like him and still had loved a woman
and given her a child, I felt that it was...wrong...somehow, irresponsible,
even dangerous. Yet I had begun to hope, and that hope brought me more pain
than I could bear at times." Vincent turned Catherine in the circle of his
arms, so that her body touched his full length. He bowed his head to kiss her
neck, unable to resist nibbling tenderly on her skin as he skimmed his mouth
across her cheek and found her lips at last. The freedom to touch her like
this, to demand a kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world, made
him dizzy with joy, and he deepened the kiss, heedless of the rush of desire
that swept through him like a tidal wave. "That this could be
possible," he whispered breathlessly, "was something I dared not
believe." "All things are possible," Catherine
replied, "for those who love." "Yes," he said, smiling down at her.
"But that night the sudden intensity of the bond startled me, scared me
even. I felt you touching me, too, Catherine, but then there was a blackness
lapping against your light, and I was terrified that I had been the one who
brought you in touch with it." Catherine shook her head pensively. "I don't
think you did, Vincent. We both know that I am entirely capable of my very own
darkness, and whatever it was that caused the bond to open for me, I'm grateful
that it happened." "But being connected like that isn't always
joyful. It is also a deep responsibility and requires work. If we were to
neglect that work, it might even turn into a burden." She hugged him close, pressing her cheek to his
chest. "I've already figured that much. Do you think I'll be able to learn
what I need to know? I don't want to be a burden to you." "Catherine," he laughed softly. "You
could never be a burden to me." "Never?" she repeated, glancing up at him
from under her bangs. "What do you mean?" he asked, still
smiling. She took his hand and led him over to the couch, tugging gently and
pulling him down to sit beside her. "In the beginning," she replied,
"there were times when I had the feeling that you thought I was quite a
nuisance." Vincent chuckled softly, placing his left arm around
her shoulders. "What did I ever do to make you feel like that?" "Nothing concrete," she replied, snuggling
up to his side. "As I said, it was just a feeling." Growing serious again, Vincent thought back to those
times of their first meetings. "I think I simply couldn't find it within
myself to trust your feelings for me," he said at last. "Back then,
it never would have occurred to me to think of you...that way." "So, when did it finally occur to you to think
of me...that way?" Catherine asked with a mischievous twinkle in
her eyes. There was a brief pause of silence between them as
Vincent mulled over her question. "I believe it was shortly after I had
tried to make you aware of your feelings toward me." "I remember," she said, smiling. "You
told me you could sense things within me, like the beginning of my desire for
you, and you made it very clear that you would not have it." "I apologize for that, Catherine," he said
solemnly, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I was being incredibly
rude." She shook her head in denial. "No, not rude,
Vincent. You were just being honest. Believe me, despite all the embarrassment,
I did appreciate that." He shot her a doubtful sideways glance. "You
did?" Laughing, she playfully poked his side. "Yes, I
did." Gazing into Catherine's radiant face, Vincent
couldn't help but notice yet again how beautiful she was -- and how utterly
desirable. He wondered how it could have taken him so long to accept the true
nature of his feelings for her. The moment when he had finally dared to admit
that truth to himself was sharply edged into his memory. "I remember how much I longed to hold you after
that. And then you came into my arms, and holding you was overwhelmingly
beautiful. You wanted to say something, but I could not bear to have that
moment broken, so I selfishly silenced you by placing my finger across your
mouth. The softness of your lips was beyond everything I had ever felt. It was then
that I knew it, that I was no longer able to deny it." "Yet there was so much sadness in your
eyes," Catherine remembered, tenderly cupping his cheek with one hand.
Vincent leaned into her touch, relishing the warmth of her palm on his skin. He
captured her wrist, pressing a tiny kiss on the inside, and noted with pleasure
that even such a small caress made her tremble. "What made you feel so
sad?" she asked, tracing his lower lip with her thumb. "Feeling so much love for you, and yet knowing
that I could never have you," Vincent answered truthfully. Catherine knelt up on the couch beside him and
placed her arms around his neck. He drew her in his lap, turning slightly so
that she came to sit between his thighs. The contact of their bodies made him
shiver with anticipation. Searching her eyes, he probed along the bond for any
trace of discomfort or uneasiness. What he found was so brilliant in its
intensity that he could hardly contain his excitement. Catherine wanted him;
she wanted him to make love to her. Now. Vincent leaned back over the armrest of the couch,
pulling Catherine on top of him. The sensation of her body as it slid along his
was deliciously stimulating, yet at the same time utterly devastating to his
equilibrium. He moaned softly as she finally rested her weight atop him.
Diligently her hands worked at the laces of his shirt, and she pressed tiny
kisses to every inch of skin she exposed. His mind was spinning with desire as
he brought up his hand to pull her blouse from the waistband of her jeans,
stroking the naked skin of her back and waist exploringly. Like velvet and
silk, he thought fleetingly, fitting his mouth to the curve of her neck and
shoulder. She shifted her weight, and he flinched as she pressed painfully
against his growing erection. Instantly contrite, she stroked him there, but
what was meant as a soothing caress became his undoing. A low groan wrenched
from his throat as her fingers slid across his taut flesh and inched to the
fastenings of his jeans. She unsnapped the buckle of his belt, and he pulled
her down, burying his heated face between her breasts. Suddenly his need to
feel her naked skin against his own left him breathless with desperation. In
silent understanding she lifted her weight off his body, and he felt instantly
bereft without her warmth. She was a vision before him as she stood unbuttoning
the front of her blouse and her jeans. Suddenly self-conscious, because he
didn't know what to do other than watch her undress, he sat up awkwardly.
Cursing his own clumsiness, he clenched his hands into fists. His eyes darted
toward the louvered doors of her bedroom, and his body tensed as he thought of
taking her there, laying her down on a bed that she had shared with other men.
He felt himself shaking with despair as pictures from his tortured imagination
pressed in on him. Instantly Catherine was at his side, taking him in
her arms and holding him tightly. Her naked skin seared his, aggravating his
state of confusion. "What is it?" she whispered against his
ear. "Nothing," he lied, but she seized his
chin and gently forced him to meet her eyes. "The bond works both ways now," she
reminded him softly, causing him to smile in spite of himself. He swallowed as she pulled his head against her
naked shoulder and gently stroked his hair. "I'm sorry," he managed
hoarsely, his throat suddenly parched and aching. "I'll get us something to drink," she
offered, and without waiting for a reply she released him. Her hair fell softly
over her slim shoulders and slender back as she disappeared into the kitchen
area. Vincent fought to regain control over his ragged breathing, but he was
far too restless. Jumping to his feet, he crossed the room and flung the
terrace doors open, eager to suck in some much-needed air. What was happening to
him? He couldn't seriously blame Catherine for having known other men before
him. Ashamed of his possessiveness and jealousy, he stepped out on the terrace.
Heedless of his state of undress, he reclined against the wall and stared
unseeingly at the illuminated skyline of  "You felt oppressed in there," Catherine
observed as she followed him out on the terrace. The soft touch of her hand on
his shoulder was soothing and reassuring to him. Already starved for the sight
of her, he half turned to regard her solemnly. She had donned a robe and tied
back her hair with a rubber band, and he smiled at the rebellious strands that
had escaped the confines of her ponytail to play loosely about her face. "I don't know why I felt that way," he
said, accepting the glass she held out to him. "I wanted so much to love
you, Catherine. Everything in me cried out for you, but all of a sudden I felt
so insecure and...inadequate." She gazed at him and then out at the gradually
greying sky. "It will be morning soon," she remarked. "Let's go
Below, Vincent. Do you think we can do that?" "If you wish," he replied, surprised. "I do," she said, tugging at his sleeve
enthusiastically. "I'm just going to grab some clothes. I'll meet you at
the threshold in the basement." "Then I will wait for you there," he
responded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He reached up
to lace the front of his shirt and tuck it back in his jeans. Automatically he
felt for the pouch on his chest and was momentarily startled when it was not
there. Remembering where he had left it, he strode into the apartment,
gathering up his cloak. * On entering the Tunnels, Catherine noted with relief
that Vincent relaxed inwardly. The corridors lay in quietude and darkness as
she followed him down into his world. Holding onto his hand, savoring its solid
strength, made her feel safe and protected. "You're tired," Vincent observed as they
stopped outside his chamber. "Would you like me to take you to a guest
chamber so that you can get some sleep?" She shook her head resolutely. "I'd rather not
be away from you right now. Can't I stay with you until you have to start your
day? We could rest together." He nodded, a fond smile crinkling the corners of his
eyes. "I do have classes later in the morning, so we'd better get some
sleep before that." She followed him into the room, once again
experiencing the unique atmosphere of peace and comfort that Vincent had created
there. How different from the cool impersonality of her own apartment, she
thought briefly as she shrugged off her coat and walked over to the bed.
Sitting down on the edge, she took off her shoes. All the while she was aware
of Vincent's intense regard of her, so she finally looked up to meet his eyes. "At this time of day we cannot be certain that
we won't be disturbed," he said, and she relished the regret she sensed in
him. Swinging her legs up on the bed, she patted the spot
next to her invitingly. "Come here," she demanded softly. "Let
me hold you." With one swift movement, Vincent shed his cloak and
flung it over the back of a chair. He sat down beside her, his gaze holding a
silent question; but she just kept looking at him calmly until he finally toed
off his boots and eased down by her side, enfolding her in his arms. His big,
warm body felt so good against her as she snuggled closer, fiercely hugging him
to her and entwining her legs with his. His regular breathing and the steady
beat of his heart lulled her into a state of drowsy contentment. So she was
surprised when, after a while, she felt him shift his weight and rise on one
elbow. Catherine thought that Vincent was an impressive sight as he loomed
above her, the curtain of his hair casting shadows across his face. She endured
his solemn stare for as long as she could before curiosity got the better of
her. "Vincent?" she asked tentatively when the bond conveyed only a
silent calmness. "What do you see?" Instead of an answer, he lowered his head until his
mouth was only scant inches away from hers. His hand came up, and he traced the
curve of her lower lip tenderly, almost reverently, with the pad of his thumb.
Then, slowly, deliberately he teased her lips apart by stroking the corners of
her mouth and tugging softly at her chin. She gasped when his thumb slipped
inside, gliding over the edges of her teeth, nudging them apart as well. With
excruciating slowness he brought his lips down on hers, barely touching her --
waiting. When he sighed, his warm breath flooding her very soul, she could no
longer lie still beneath him, not even if her life had depended on it. Winding
her fingers through his hair, she pulled him down into a slow, searching kiss.
The slightly rough feel of his tongue against hers sent her senses spinning,
and she clung to him desperately as he drew back, gasping for air. When he came back to her, his kisses softened,
fading to feather-light touches of his lips on her face, and finally he nestled
against her, resting his tousled head on her stomach. He lay utterly still
while she played with strands of his hair, smoothing them from his face as she
stroked and caressed him tenderly. His arousal was still evident against her
leg and in the tingling vibrations of the bond, but she could feel it ebbing
away as he grew more and more drowsy and gradually drifted into sleep. Catherine suspected that what had enabled Vincent to
instigate this delicate intimacy between them just now, was the very fact that
someone could drop by at any moment. After what had happened back in her
apartment, Vincent was probably still too fragile to bear any pressure of
having to finish something he felt insecure about. Tracing the contours of his ear, she smiled fondly
when her small caress caused him to stir and snuggle closer. As it was -- she resumed her musings -- the changes
within their relationship had probably happened way too fast for him. Vincent
had never had the chance of experimenting and learning, of gradually growing
into sexual encounters and dealing with his needs and desires in a
self-confident way. When he had never received, how was he to know if what he
had to give was right, or enough? Catherine knew that she had caught Vincent off-guard
when she had come to him, and they had loved for the first time. Not that she
had intended for it to happen, but she couldn't regret it either. And, she was
certain, neither did he. Yet she felt that Vincent needed time to assimilate
all that had happened between them. She had to be careful not to push him into
a pace that was not his own. With her free hand, Catherine grabbed one end of the
quilt that lay just within reach at her side, and spread it over them both.
Languid images of Vincent drifted by her inner eye and finally relaxed her
enough to fall asleep as well. * She awoke at Vincent's hand gently squeezing her
shoulder. Her eyes opened to the sight of him bending over her, his hair
tickling her cheek and nose. "Good morning," he said softly, smiling
down at her while she tried to focus her gaze. "Good morning," she replied drowsily,
sitting up and looking about the chamber. "Is it time for you to go
yet?" "Soon," he answered. "But I thought
you'd like for us to have breakfast together." She nodded, pleased that he
had thought of it. "There's a basin over there," he said, pointing to
the far end of the room. "Maybe you would like to wash while I go get some
tea." "Thank you," Catherine mumbled,
suppressing a yawn. She rubbed her eyes, and when she looked again, he was
gone. Feeling a little uncertain, she slipped out of bed
and padded over to the table that held a jug with water, a basin, and a stack
of neatly folded towels. She had slept in Vincent's chamber before, but always
left soon after awakening. Even after their night of lovemaking she had had to
leave for home in a hurry, unless she wanted to be late to work. But now,
knowing that she was staying the day, using Vincent's personal things felt a
little strange, despite the closeness that had developed between them. But then
again, practical matters often had an awkward touch to them, she thought with a
shrug and pulled off her sweater. She poured some water into the basin and
washed her face and neck. Then she reached for a towel, marveling at how soft
the worn fabric was to the touch. She had just pulled on her sweater and was
taking a seat at the table when Vincent returned, carrying a tray. He set out
two cups and saucers and handed her a plate with bread, cheese and butter. Then
he poured the tea and pulled out a chair for himself. How different from having breakfast in the common
dining hall, she thought, trembling under Vincent's attentive gaze as he handed
her the sugar can. As she reached out to take it from him, their fingers
touched, the contact deliciously electric, sparking instant desire between
them. "Did you sleep well?" Vincent asked, his
voice thick with restrained emotion. "Wonderfully," she replied, stirring her
tea. After a stretch of silence he finally spoke again. "Catherine, I'm sorry. I behaved...inexcusably
last night." "No, you didn't," she contradicted.
"Nothing of what happened was your fault." Vincent studied the cup he was cradling in his
hands, clearly searching for words to explain himself. When he finally looked
up, his smoky blue eyes were edged with sorrow. "I have to go now,"
he said. "But, Catherine, we must talk. I will see you at lunch, and after
that I have two more classes before we can be alone." Vincent stood up, and Catherine rose swiftly,
catching at his sleeve. She had to touch him one more time, reassure herself
that everything was all right. He enfolded her in his arms, murmuring into her
hair, "Will you be all right -- all by yourself?" "Don't worry," she replied. "I'm
going to walk around a little; or maybe I'll just stay here and do some
thinking." "Perhaps you should try to get some more
sleep," he suggested, gently stroking her cheek before he released her and
started to replace the breakfast dishes on the tray. "Let me do that," she said. "I know
where to take these." He stopped in mid-movement, casting her an
unreadable glance. Then he took a step away from the table and nodded.
"Thank you, Catherine. I really must go now." She looked after him for a long, pensive moment
before she set to work, clearing the table. * After returning the tray to the cooking chamber
where a group of older children were exacting their kitchen chores under
Rebecca's watchful eyes, Catherine directed her steps to the nursery, hoping
that she might be allowed to help with the little ones for a while. Rounding a
bend, she all but collided with Daniel who carried a warmly wrapped bundle in
his arms. "Hi, Paul," Catherine greeted the baby who
peered at her from under his multi-layered wrappings. "Headed for a
walk?" she asked Daniel. "Would you like to accompany us?" he offered
brightly. "The weather is fine today, or so I've been told." "Great," Catherine agreed, glad that she'd
found something that would help her pass the time. "Let me just pick up my
coat." The weather was wonderful, indeed. As they walked
out into the sunshine, Catherine had to squeeze her eyes shut in the
unaccustomed brightness of the day. "Isn't that wonderful?" she sighed,
inhaling deeply. But at the same moment she felt a pang of regret, almost
guilt, that she was enjoying something which was impossible for Vincent to
share. There had been times, prior to today, when the fact that Vincent was
denied the light of the sun had made her sad, but she'd never felt anything
that came even close to guilt. So, what was this? She looked up and caught
Daniel watching her intently. "Qualms?" he asked, and she sighed again. "I don't know," she replied. "So much
has happened lately." "Between Vincent and you," Daniel stated,
and she nodded. "So, what are you going to do?" Catherine stopped and looked around her, taking in
the beauty of the park as it lay before her in the sunshine. It was cold, and
her breath was a white cloud in front of her face as she expelled yet another
sigh. "What will you do, Daniel?" she asked back. "I think I'm going to stay Below, at least for
a while. It's a good place for a single father to rear a child. It's safe, and
people really care about one another. I can work hard. I will find my place. In
a way, I've found everything I've ever wanted Below." Catherine raised an eyebrow at him. "Everything?" Shifting the child's weight to his other arm, he
lowered his eyes, and Catherine wondered if she detected a faint blush on his
cheeks. "Suzanna," he said slowly, letting his
voice trail away. "Oh," Catherine said in dawning
comprehension. "She's been Below a lot lately." From the way Daniel beamed at her, she could tell
that he was very much in love, indeed. "We're only at the beginning,"
he said. "There are lots of decisions yet to be made." "Whether you are going to live Above or
Below?" "That's one of them, yes." Catherine resumed walking. Her thoughts returned to
the questions in her own life. Vincent and she would have to make important
decisions as well. "Can you imagine a life underground on a permanent
basis?" she asked without looking at Daniel. "I think I can," he answered. "After
all, all they're lacking down there is the sun, and all of them come Above to
get their fill from time to time." "Not all of them," Catherine retorted. "No," he rejoined. "Not all of them.
I'm sorry, Catherine." She stopped and turned to look at him, her heart
aching and her mouth suddenly dry. "What am I going to do, Daniel? I've
always wanted Vincent to ask me to share his life Below, but he'll never ask as
long as he senses the slightest doubt in me." "Then you'll have to ask him,"
Daniel remarked matter-of-factly. She looked up into Daniel's kind, brown eyes,
thinking that he might be right. This wasn't something which could be resolved
by a simple decision, but rather something that had to grow and develop.
Vincent and she would have to find their way through it together. After all, it
was a matter of priorities as well. "I'm just so scared of disappointing
him," she said at last. Daniel chuckled softly. "Don't you think that's
exactly how he feels, too?" Smiling back at him, she answered, "I suppose
you're right." "And?" Daniel prompted. "What would you
do to dispel his fears?" "Show him how much I love him," she said,
more to herself than to him. "And prove to him that there is nothing that
matters more to me than he." Daniel grinned at her. "That should certainly
convince him." They walked on in silence, each keeping to their own
musings, and when they finally returned to the Tunnels, Catherine felt a lot
better and more confident than she had in days. * When Catherine entered the communal dining room at
lunch-time, Vincent was nowhere to be seen. A group of the smaller children,
accompanied by Sarah and Mary, came up behind her, and she stepped aside to let
them by. "Vincent is often a little late for meals,"
Mary said and smiled, touching Catherine's shoulder reassuringly. "Will
you join us until he comes?" "I would like that; thank you, Mary,"
Catherine replied, following them to one of the large tables. The children
appeared genuinely thrilled that she was going to sit with them, and Catherine
found their enthusiasm to be contagious. "Now, whose turn is it to get the soup?"
Mary asked, surveying the group. "Mine and Lizbeth's," Timmy piped up. "Lizbeth's and mine," Sarah corrected
gently, but the two youngsters were already off to fulfill their chores. Soon everyone was eating peacefully, and Catherine
was just thinking how wonderfully efficient the tunnel community was, when she
felt Vincent's presence behind her. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, and
little Mariah generously made room for him at Catherine's side. "Thank
you, Mariah," Vincent said, his face solemn, although Catherine could hear
a smile in his voice. Vincent lowered himself to the bench next to her,
his thigh brushing her hip as he inched closer to take up as little space as
possible. Lizbeth came over to serve him soup, beaming with the importance of
the task. Vincent thanked her and then peered at Catherine from under the fall
of his long hair. "How was your morning?" he asked, taking up the
spoon. She smiled at him, warmed and reassured by his
closeness. "I was visiting with Daniel. We took little Paul for a walk in
the park, and we talked." A shadow crossed Vincent's features before he bent
over his soup, and although he was quick to suppress it, Catherine felt a brief
stab of pain across the bond before he relaxed again. She was at a loss as to
what might have triggered this uncharacteristic reaction and made a mental note
to ask him about it later when they would be alone. "How was your class?" she asked, glad when
he began to speak, willingly complying with her attempt to divert themselves
from the tension they both felt. After the meal, Vincent walked her back to his
chamber. The lack of sleep during the last few nights was beginning to take its
toll on her, and Vincent suggested that she rest a little. "I won't be
long," he said as she made herself comfortable on his bed. She looked up
at him as he stood above her, clenching and unclenching his hands. "I am
sorry, Catherine," he said at last. "I don't know what has gotten
into me. I..." Catherine rose to her feet once more and hugged him
close, placing a small kiss on his cheek. "We'll try to find out
later," she said in a reassuring tone. "Now, go." Releasing him,
she nudged him gently towards the exit. "I love you," she whispered
softly, and he reached for her hand to bring it to his lips. Then he was gone,
and she returned to the bed, slowly easing down amid the large, patched
pillows. But soon she found that she was far too restless to relax, let alone
fall asleep, so she decided to walk around a little. Maybe she could even pay a
brief visit to the chamber of the falls. Anything to pass the time until
Vincent would be with her again. * Hours later, when Vincent finally returned to his
chamber, he found Catherine sitting on his bed, knees hugged to her body and
obviously deeply in thought. He approached her quietly, gently touching her
shoulder as he eased himself down beside her. She raised her head, welcoming
him with a smile that warmed him to the bottom of his soul. "I've missed you," she whispered, and he
pulled her close, tucking her to his side as he stretched out on his back. It
felt so good to have her with him; too good, he decided at last and sat up
slowly to put some distance between them. He needed a little space or he would
never be able to talk to her the way he had planned. She rose on one elbow, looking at him expectantly,
and with a touch of apprehension. "Catherine," he began at last,
"I didn't mean to upset you when I told you that we had to talk." "I know," she replied calmly, covering his
hand with hers. "I've been aware that something is troubling you. Please
tell me what it is." Suddenly feeling restless, Vincent drew up one leg
and rested his free hand on top of his knee, suppressing his need to get up and
pace. He knew that there was no way of hiding from her anymore, unless he cut
off their bond deliberately. But that would be equal to pushing Catherine away,
something he would never do again, not even with the best of intentions. Catherine released his hand and withdrew to the
opposite side of the bed. "You can tell me everything," she
encouraged him. "I'm frightened by the changes that have been
taking place within me," he said. "And I'm not referring to the...darkness
that I've been facing of late. That darkness was always part of me, hovering
just around the edges of my consciousness. What has changed is my will to be
what I chose to be to the people I care about." She shook her head in confusion. "What do you
mean?" He sighed. "I've always struggled to be what
those I loved needed me to be. But there have been times when I simply didn't
care. Then I would retreat to the deep, uninhabited regions of the Tunnels to
release what I thought to be my true nature. It was such a relief to forget
what others thought or needed of me. I believe that, without those times, I
would not have been able to maintain my sanity. I told myself that it was
selfish to simply withdraw from my duties, that acting that way was part of the
darkness. Maybe it was, but that doesn't matter now. What concerns me, though,
is that lately I've been feeling that way constantly. Going through the routine
of my life has become oppressive and laborious for me. But, strangely, I don't
feel that it is the...darkness...which has brought about those changes. There
is a pull, a need to break free -- and it seems to require all my strength. In
struggling to shake off my chains, I have done questionable things, Catherine,
things that have hurt people I love. For so long I've been obedient to the
rules of safety and responsibility which are essential for the survival of our
world, that I didn't even listen to the first stirrings of my inner voice that
would tell me I had a right to a life of my own. But more and more it became a
beacon to me, and I started walking in a different direction and doing
dangerous things." "Like what?" she prompted, and he sighed
again. "It began when I went Above not only during the
hours of darkness. More and more often I stayed long enough to watch the night
fade into dawn. I would remain outside the drainage tunnel longer and longer,
starved for the first rays of light, and it happened more than once that it
took the voices of early passersby to drive me back into the shadows." Bending forward a little, Catherine cut in,
"Doesn't your longing to see the dawn prove that it was the voice of
light, and not the voice of darkness, that called out to you? And, Vincent, if
you hadn't followed that voice, I never would have seen you, and we probably
never would have met." "I know," Vincent replied huskily.
"It startled me nevertheless when you told me that you had seen me outside
the access tunnel. But that was not the only thing. Remember when I left the
Tunnels to live Above shortly before I came to you to meet Daniel? I wanted so
much to learn more about Daniel's origins that I broke every rule the people of
our community live by. I withdrew my help from them and refused to accept
theirs." He fell silent, thinking back on that time, while Catherine
waited patiently for him to continue. "I left all my duties and chores
behind and put myself at risk, just to prove my point that I didn't need this
world to survive; that I could do it on my own; that I must not be pressured or
I would no longer be available to them. Now that I think of it, it reminds me a
little of puberty -- trying to break free at any cost." A breeze of slight amusement tingled across the
bond, and Vincent looked up to see Catherine smile. "I remember those
times in my life," she said. "Yet, I only completed that
process of breaking free a few months ago -- thanks to you. A little late to
resolve the problems of puberty." "When you left your father's firm," he
stated. "And Tom Gunther," she added. Again Vincent felt an irrational twinge of jealousy,
and his attempt to suppress the unwanted emotion only helped consolidate it
into a tight knot around his stomach. Puzzled, Catherine looked at him, and he
could see that she was fighting the impulse to come to him and hold him. Inhaling deeply, Vincent tried to clear his head and
gather his thoughts. "There is something else that I know to be wrong, and
yet I cannot help it." "Yes?" she coaxed softly when he fell
silent. Finally unable to stand the internal pressure any
longer, Vincent pushed himself from the bed and paced back and forth a couple
of times before he felt focused enough to resume speaking. "We have grown
closer than I ever dared dream," he finally said, coming to a halt before
Catherine. "I have known your love in ways I never thought possible...for
me. Loving you, being loved by you, has profoundly changed my way of viewing
myself. And how do I thank you for it? By wanting to have you all to myself. I
want to possess you; I'm even jealous of men you once knew. The thought
alone..." His voice broke, and he averted his face, ashamed. "It
haunts me," he finished hoarsely. "Oh, Vincent," she gasped, shifting as if
to come to him. "Please hear me out," he said, raising his
hands, and she sat back again. "If I stop now, I might never regain the
courage to speak about it. I don't know what it is, Catherine. All I know is
that it is wrong and that you deserve better than that. No one must belong to
anybody the way I want you to belong to me." "Unless they want to," she interjected. He tilted his head, warmed by the thought that she
was about to embellish his flaws yet again. But he must not let her do that. He
must make her see. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "Not even
then." "But why?" she insisted. "Because I might take advantage of your feeling
of belonging," he replied steadfastly. "Because I might take away
from you what you are meant to have. Because I might want you to trade a life
in the sun...for my world of darkness. Because I might ask you to stay..."
He swallowed convulsively, barely able to find his voice to finish,
"...and share your life with me." There -- it was done. He felt his
shoulders sag and he slumped down on the bed, unable to meet her eyes. Catherine didn't speak for a long, unendurable
moment; she just scooted over to him, leaning her head against his back, and he
moaned at the contact. "Why are you talking in 'ifs' and
'mights'?" she asked at last, her voice muffled in the folds of his shirt.
"Why don't you tell me what you really want?" He shook his head in a
helpless gesture, and she swung her legs over the edge of the bed in order to
sit beside him and peer up into his face. Cupping his cheek, she brought his
gaze down to hers. "Tell me," she demanded softly. His vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears. So
close. He was so close to losing or gaining everything. If he only knew...if he
only could be sure... "You," he breathed voicelessly, and she sank
against his chest, sighing with relief. Suddenly the words poured out of him as
if they possessed a will of their own, and he was unable to stop them.
"You are all I can think of, all I ever dreamed of. I cannot tear my heart
away from you, Catherine. I want you. I want to love you until my last
breath." She pushed gently at his chest, and they toppled
over, landing in each other's arms. He leaned up on his elbows and bent over
her, reverently framing her face with his hands. Her arms came up and wound
around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. He gave himself to her without
relinquishing his desperate control over his senses, knowing that, if he
allowed himself to become lost in passion, there would be no way for him to
finish what he still had to say. Maybe the solitude of his chamber was not the
right place for this conversation. On impulse, he raised his head. "Will you take a walk with me, Catherine?"
Perplexed, she looked up at him, and he smiled. "I would like to show you
something." "All right," she replied, sighing
wistfully as he lifted his weight off her body and stood, reaching down to help
her up. "Please take your coat," he said. "We
are going Above." * How strange, Catherine thought as she followed
Vincent up an iron ladder towards a manhole cover, that he would choose a place
Above to talk to her about something as delicate as their future. The cover
made a grating noise as he shoved it aside and pushed himself up over the rim.
His hand came down, and she seized it, allowing herself to be pulled through
the hole. A cold gust of wind met her face as she gained her feet. They were in
a dark and deserted alley, and Vincent cocked his head to indicate the
direction they would take. Walking in companionable silence, Catherine found it
increasingly difficult to rein in her curiosity. She glanced up at Vincent's
face repeatedly, but he would only smile down at her mutely. He led her to a large building that lay in complete
darkness. "This one is going to be torn down in a couple of days," he
explained, and she detected a hint of sadness in his voice. "This was one
of my favorite places Above where I used to come to look at the sky." "And now you are going to lose it," she
stated softly. "I'm sorry, Vincent." He shook his head. "Don't be. So many things
have changed. It's almost as if I had come here in a different life. My worlds
of darkness and light have begun to fuse, so I won't have any further need for
places like this. Yet I wanted to show it to you, Catherine, before it will be
no more. Maybe it will help me explain." She was touched and excited that
he was going to share such a private part of his previous life with her.
"Unfortunately there is no electricity," he said apologetically as
they climbed up an endless flight of stairs, their way illuminated only by a
flashlight that Vincent had produced from the folds of his cloak. For her sake,
she was certain, because he needed no artificial light to find his way. By the time they stepped through the door that led
to the roof, Catherine was fighting for air. But when she finally looked around
her, the beauty of the sight took her breath away completely. The towers of "This is a beautiful spot," she remarked, settling comfortably against him.  He enfolded her in his arms. "Are you
cold?" "No," she answered. "Only
curious." Pressing a tender kiss on the crown of her head, he
cleared his throat and began to speak. "From the earliest days of my
childhood, my life has been dominated by male influences. You must know that,
when I was a child, there were far fewer women and girls living Below than
there are now. So, naturally everything female was always somewhat distant to
me -- enigmatic even. Perhaps Father had his share in keeping it that way for
me. He may have had his reasons, but this one-sidedness in my life certainly
failed to give me a balanced and harmonic concept of the nature of women. So I
chose to keep my distance from them in order to cope with the contradictions
they represented to me." He fell silent, and Catherine slid from his lap to
kneel in front of him and study his face. Her heart ached with the
vulnerability she saw reflected there. She found it increasingly hard to
believe that no woman Below had ever noticed Vincent's irresistible aura of
masculinity and innocence. Looking into his strangely handsome face, Catherine
thought her heart must surely burst with the love she felt for him. "There have been women who looked at the man
they sensed in me, but fortunately none of them lived Below for long,"
Vincent continued in response to the tumble of emotions he was receiving from
her through the bond. Catherine swallowed as she felt a brief, illogical stab
of jealousy. His head snapped up and he stared at her in disbelief. "Talk about possessiveness," she mumbled,
lowering her eyes under his gaze. He reached out and drew her close, and
although she couldn't see his face, she felt his smile across the bond. "I was never even tempted to respond to any of
them in any way," he said quietly. "I was disconcerted and repulsed
and simply decided to avoided them. I suppose it angered me that no one was
ever interested in who I really was below a surface that some thought terrible
and fearsome, others intriguing and tempting. Of course it never occurred to me
to expect that a woman might love me for what I am. I honestly did not think
that this was possible. And when that miracle finally happened and you came
into my life...." He broke off with a heavy sigh. "You were suddenly scared that you might lose
it all again," she offered. He flashed her a shy smile. "Johannes would
probably say that my extreme possessiveness where you are concerned is just
another call of Mother Darkness, and that I must not shun it completely but
turn it into something constructive, something that serves the purpose of
light." "Johannes is a wise man," Catherine said,
smiling. "It is inconceivable that he could become the person he is under
the extremely difficult circumstances of his life." "The human heart," Vincent said with awe,
"is a miraculous instrument, fragile and strong at the same time. It is
able to function even under the most obscure and difficult conditions. In a way
it seems to be programmed to bring forth light, even if it is fed by darkness.
Johannes allowed himself to be guided by Mother Darkness instead of
fighting her; and in the end he emerged uninjured and whole. Whereas I used to
fight against the darkness, denying my roots. Maybe that is why I stumbled and
fell so many times. Your love, Catherine, has shown me how it can be to
be whole and complete. I'm afraid, though, that if we tie our lives together,
my own inner battle will carry over into you. Connected as we are, I might take
from you more than I am able to give in return." "Don't struggle so," Catherine demanded,
firmly meeting his gaze. "You gave me so much, even before I actually knew
you. You gave me purpose and strength, faith in my dreams and confidence in
myself as well as in the future. And you gave me love. There can be nothing
more wonderful than that, Vincent. Nothing else really counts. Remember what
you read to me recently? Rilke's lines about love being work..." He nodded, quoting softly, "...but there is
nothing happier than work, and love, just because it is the extreme happiness,
can be nothing but work. So whoever loves must try to act as if he had a great
work...." "Yes, that's the one I mean. I think that is
exactly what we must do; what we can do: bringing in ourselves,
everything that we are, to make our love work every day, every moment of our
lives." "And whoever wants to have a deep love in his
life must collect and save for it and gather honey," he added
bemusedly. Although she could not see his eyes, Catherine felt
that his doubts were beginning to fade. The bond conveyed gentle stirrings of
joy and hope, and there was wonderment as well. His hands stole inside her
coat, and he stroked her back tenderly, exploringly. She leaned against him,
nuzzling the hollow of his throat before she kissed her way up along his jaw
line and cheek to his mouth. When their lips met and fused, he shifted his
weight, pulling her between his outstretched legs. Catherine was helpless to
resist running her fingers along the hard muscles of his thighs and sighed
softly when she felt the touch of his tongue against hers. The heat of his
desire merged with hers as they lost themselves in one another, their kisses
deepening and becoming more and more demanding. Slowly he released her mouth
and lowered her to the ground, leaning over her like a large shadow against the
night sky. She reached up to trace the contours of his face and neck, letting
her fingers feel what her eyes couldn't see. He gasped as she reached beneath
the collar of his sweater, rubbing the indentation between his collarbones with
her thumb. Suddenly aching for the feel of his skin against hers, she wound her
arms around his neck and drew him down, moaning in spite of herself when his
weight pressed her against the concrete floor. Instantly alert, Vincent jerked
away, pulling her onto his lap again as he scrambled into a sitting position. "Did I hurt you?" he asked huskily and
slightly out of breath. "No," she whispered, suddenly aware that
no matter how much she'd have liked to continue, Vincent would not forgive
himself if he felt he had put his need over her welfare. So, snuggling into
him, she added, "But it is a bit cold up here." "Would you like to go home then?" he
inquired softly, and her heart leapt in her chest at his choice of words. "Very much," she breathed, quickly kissing
his chin before she released him and rose to her feet. He gathered his cloak
and shook it out before placing it around her shoulders. "I'm not that
cold," she explained softly, taking off the heavy garment and handing it
back to him. "I merely meant that it was too cold up here to...pursue what
we were just doing. I thought we might be more comfortable...at home." Vincent inclined his head, shaking it in mild
surprise as he reached for his cloak, but she could feel his joy pouring into
her in big, shuddering waves. He held out his hand, and she seized it, knowing
that she would follow him everywhere, no matter where life would take them from
now on. * Vincent lowered himself through the manhole, helping
Catherine down the ladder after him. They had barely reached the tunnel floor
when a rapid tapping on the pipes caught Vincent's attention, causing his head
to snap in the direction of the sound. "Fire," he exclaimed.
"Catherine, we must hurry." "You go on," she told him, sensing the
urgency in his voice and the fear for his family in his heart. "I'm quite
capable of finding my way down." "No," he gasped, his eyes darting back and
forth between her and the pipes. "You must not be left to walk alone down
here. I don't know yet where the fire is located. It could be dangerous."
He cocked his head to listen again, and she all but staggered under the impact
of his inner turmoil. She knew he would have liked to know her safe in her
apartment, but was clearly uncomfortable with the thought of sending her out
into the night on her own. While she would have been perfectly able to handle
that, she was more than reluctant to leave his side. Before she could say
anything, Vincent grasped her hand and pulled her along as he strode swiftly
toward the Home Tunnels. "The fire has broken out in a chamber on one of
the lower levels. They are already fighting it, but there may be people trapped
down there. We have to hurry." She fell into a steady trot behind him,
glad that her regular jogging exercises had kept her in fairly good shape. By
the time they reached Father's study, though, she was sweating and panting
heavily. "Vincent, come here," Father exclaimed
without preamble, barely raising his head from the maps that lay spread before
him on his desk. Vincent stepped up to him and studied the maps while he
listened to Father's instructions. Then he turned to Catherine. "Please stay here while I'm gone. This level is
not in any danger." With that he whisked away and was gone. "Father, can you tell me what happened?"
Catherine asked. The old man nodded, raking his fingers through his
greying hair. "Someone must have been careless with a candle," he
sighed. "Nathan's chamber has burned out completely. Fortunately, he was
on sentry duty tonight, and his son Jeremy has been reported asleep in the
dormitory. Inexplicably, the fire keeps spreading, blocking the passage down to
the lowest level of the living area. We have every reason to assume that Martha
and her daughters are still down there. Despite our repeated attempts we have
not been able yet to locate them." Putting a reassuring hand on
Catherine's shoulder, Father added, "Vincent will be fine. Don't worry.
Let's go over to the hospital chamber and get ourselves prepared -- just in
case..." * Vincent raced through the tunnels at breakneck
speed, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a large, black bird. He
had briefly considered shedding the cumbersome garment, but decided that he
might need it to battle the flames. Soon smoke began to sting his nostrils and
his eyes brimmed with the acrid fumes that filled the passage. Voices came to
him from ahead, and he skidded to a halt, perusing the small group of people
assembled in front of the gaping opening that had once been the entrance to
Nathan's chamber. Vincent half turned and looked down the smoke-filled
corridor, trying to assess the situation. "Martha and her daughters must still be in
there," Winslow called out to Vincent. "There's no other way out, at
least none that I know of." "Who went after them?" Vincent inquired,
sensing a human presence beyond the seemingly impervious layers of smoke. "Cullen and Johannes," Sarah replied. With
a nod, Vincent plunged through the thick, foggy curtain. After only a short
distance his lungs were burning from exertion, and his head was spinning for
lack of oxygen. He could not see much in the swirling mists, yet he staggered
onward, following his empathic sense that told him that Johannes and Cullen
were close. When he finally reached them, Johannes was coming toward him,
carrying Cullen across his shoulders. "Bridge on fire," Johannes reported in a
broken voice. "Feel...no one...beyond." "Get Cullen out of here," Vincent ordered
hoarsely. "I will see what I can do." "Sei vorsichtig," Johannes called after
him. On arriving at the bridge, Vincent stared at the
glowing embers that had once spanned the chasm and now dangled loosely from
singed ropes, one by one dropping into the darkness below. It was not a broad
gap, and the entrance to Martha's chamber was right on the other side but now
hidden from Vincent's view by a curtain of smoke. He wondered what could have
caused this second fire. Nathan's chamber might have burned out because of
carelessness, but that didn't explain what had happened to the bridge. The fire
could not have spread along the corridor, since there was no food for the
flames. Suddenly Vincent felt a weak stirring of consciousness as it touched
his empathic sense. Hadn't Johannes just told him that he'd not been able to
feel anybody beyond the bridge? But there was no time to ponder that any
further. Right over there was someone in pain. Discarding his cloak, Vincent
ran and jumped blindly across the gap. * Father was busy checking Cullen's vital signs when
Catherine was engulfed by a wave of panic, followed by intense pain and
then...nothing. "Vincent!" she sobbed. "He's hurt." She was
out of the chamber before anybody could ask what had happened or how she knew.
Suddenly Johannes was running at her side. "Show you," he panted as he
overtook her. When they reached Nathan's chamber, Winslow wouldn't
let them pass. "Nathan, Sam, and the others went in to get him," he
tried to reassure Catherine, but she would not be quieted. "He's hurt," she pleaded. "I must go
to him." Winslow grasped Catherine's arms, shaking her
gently. "Now listen to me," he said firmly. "There has been a
cave in, but we don't know if Vincent was in it. So please pull yourself
together. You can't help if you're being stubborn." Catherine took a deep breath, regretting it
instantly as the smoke stung her lungs. "O.K.," she nodded.
"Please tell me what I can do." At that moment Nathan emerged from the tunnel.
"Vincent's hurt," he shouted. "Martha's chamber caved in, but he
got Meagan out first. She's fine. Told us that her mother and sister are Above,
staying the night with relatives. Right now we're digging Vincent out. Get a
message to Father. We need a stretcher." Catherine was just about to inquire further when
Vincent appeared in the smoky passageway, supported by two men she did not know
by name. They led him a little farther down the corridor where they lowered him
carefully to the ground. Instantly Catherine was by his side. He winced as she
touched his blood-crusted temple. "They could have died," he said
almost voicelessly. "They could have died because of a careless
game." "Don't speak," Catherine demanded quietly,
relieved when the men with the stretcher arrived. On their way back to the hospital chamber Catherine
asked Nathan, "Can you tell me what happened?" "I'm not entirely sure yet, but I have a strong
hunch that Jeremy had his share in it," he replied grimly. "Your son? But how?" "Meagan told us that she and Jeremy and several
other children played together, designing their own torches from cast-offs.
Then they went 'exploring', and I guess that's how they managed to spread the
fire. The boys must have dropped Meagan off at her mother's chamber and then
returned to the dormitory. They were probably already fast asleep when the fire
finally broke out in full force. I'll know more as soon as I've had a word with
my son." He released an exhausted sigh, and Catherine shuddered with the
dawning realization that she might have lost Vincent through mere child's play.
* It was almost morning when they finally brought
Vincent back to his chamber, helping him settle down in his large bed. After
the others had left, Catherine was far too charged with emotion to feel how
tired she actually was, but she sensed Vincent's fatigue, and so she just sat
silently at his side, staring up at the ceiling. "You should rest," she heard him murmur,
and as she looked at him, she saw a weary smile play across his features. The
bandage Father had applied to his temple stood out starkly in the semi-darkness
of the room and made Vincent's face appear pale and drawn. "I am resting," she replied. "How are
you feeling, Vincent?" "Better." Levering himself up on one
elbow, he patted the edge of the bed beside him. "Please, Catherine, come
closer." His request filled her with warm joy. Gathering the
folds of the large tunnel-robe she was wearing more closely about herself, she
scrambled to her feet and walked over to him, gingerly sitting down. "Does
your leg hurt a lot?" she asked. "It is only a sprained ankle. No need to
worry." Tugging at the wide sleeve of her robe, he inquired, "Isn't
that one of Father's?" She nodded. "He gave it to me when he sent me
off to the bathing chambers. My own clothes were hopelessly soiled. The stench
of the smoke probably can't be washed out." "I know," he replied. "It was the
same when we brought you and Johannes Below after the Doctor's lab had burned
out." Bracing her weight on one arm, she leaned back a
little, looking down at him. "Sometimes I can't believe that only such a
relatively short span of time has passed after all that has happened lately. It
seems like years are not enough to contain it all. Before tonight I imagined
that moving Below to live with you would be all it would take for us to lead a
quiet life...." Her voice trailed off uncertainly. They had never openly
spoken about her living Below, and now she had simply let it slip as if they
had already consented to it. To her surprise, Vincent kept looking at her
steadily. "There are no guarantees," he said finally. "Not even
Below." "No," she agreed. "There are no
guarantees." Suddenly all her resolve and confidence drained from her, and
all that remained was a bone-deep weariness. "I guess I'd better go and
get some sleep now," she murmured. "And so should you." "I will," he promised, and she could feel
his eyes following her as she left the chamber. * Tired as she was, Catherine found herself deserted
by sleep as she lay in bed, struggling to turn off the tumbling of her
thoughts. The pipes were unusually quiet for this time of day. Probably
everybody was trying to get some sleep after last night's strain. The memory
made her shiver all over again. Now that she had so much to lose, life
stretched before her like a mine field, each step more dangerous than the
previous one. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, softly dripping down
into her ears, and she turned on her stomach, pressing her face into the
pillow. A barely perceptible flutter inside her heart roused
Catherine from her drowsy state, and she found herself clutching the pillow as
she sensed Vincent's approach within herself before she could hear his soft
steps in the entryway. "Vincent," she gasped as he emerged from the
opening and slowly limped across the room. She threw back the covers and rose
to her feet in order to meet him. He paused, and she could see a flicker of
hesitancy on his face. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down the length of
her body, becoming aware that she was wearing only a thin cotton gown that
didn't do much to conceal the curves of her body. Raising her chin
determinedly, she took a few steps toward him and looked straight into his
eyes. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" she said huskily, reaching up to
touch his cheek. Never taking his eyes from hers, Vincent stepped up
to her and drew her close. "I will be, soon," he murmured, his breath
hot on her skin as he buried his face against her neck. She shivered in his
arms, relishing the feel of his body, warm and solid against her own. Sighing,
he tightened his embrace, and she moaned quietly as she felt the stirrings of
his arousal. Breathing his name, she stroked his back, urging him closer still.
He tensed slightly, but instantly relaxed again, and suddenly Catherine felt
herself being swept off the ground and carried over to the bed. Easing her down
onto the pillows, Vincent followed and stretched out his body beside hers.
"Life is so fragile," he whispered against her mouth. "There are
no guarantees...." "No," she breathed, placing one leg
between his thighs as she nestled closer. He turned her onto her back, and she
accepted his weight atop her with a delighted gasp. "We'll simply have to
take one day at a time," she sighed, encircling his neck with her arms and
pulling his head down. She held him firmly in place as she felt him draw back a
little. She knew he just wanted to look into her eyes, but she couldn't bear
having him retreat even the tiniest bit. "I need you," she added
hoarsely. "I need you close." He took her lips in another
breathtaking kiss, and when he came up for air, she murmured,
"Closer." His eyes smiled down at her as he began to undo the
laces at the collar of her gown. Impatiently she reached up to help him, but he
grasped her hand gently and placed it on the pillow beside her head. Pleasantly
surprised at his lack of shyness, she watched as he pulled the edges of the
gown apart, revealing her breasts to his gaze. She moaned helplessly as he
buried his face in the softness he'd just exposed to his touch. He only stopped
long enough to pull the gown down her shoulders and off over her hips. When her
legs got tangled in the fabric, he stilled her struggle to rip it off by
pressing a kiss on her stomach. She tensed immediately, suspended in sweet
agony as his softly stubbled muzzle tickled her skin. His rough tongue teased
her belly, and she writhed and wriggled beneath him helplessly. He braced
himself on his arms and drew up one knee to gently part her thighs. His gaze
held hers as he positioned himself above her, and she quickly reached down to
undo the drawstrings of his pants. The skin of his sex was soft and smooth in
the palm of her hand, and he gasped at her touch as she guided him into her
body. He filled her completely, body and soul, as he began to move within her,
and she gave herself to his rhythm with total abandon. She had never felt more
complete in her life. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and he stopped his
movements to kiss them away. The tenderness of his action caused even more
tears, and he gently cupped her head, his eyes deep and solemn as they met
hers. At that moment the bond opened between them to an extent she wouldn't
have thought possible. His head came down and she received his kiss, his lips
still lingering as he began to move again. Catherine felt as if everything in
her existed only to hold him and surround him, and his desire to give himself
washed over her in pulsating waves of pleasure. The rhythm of his thrusts
increased as he carried her toward the peak she so craved and dreaded a little
at the same time. There was a moment of unbearable bliss when his soul poured
into hers and their hearts blended in a mixture of rapture and bittersweet
pain. Oh, to never have to let him go again.... He collapsed into her arms, and she showered his
hair, face, and shoulders with tiny kisses as she rocked him gently, waiting
for his breathing to return to a more normal pace. Carefully he eased himself
down beside her and instantly pulled her close again. His lips were on her
forehead, and the heat of his body enveloped her as she fell asleep against the
steady beating of his heart. * Vincent awoke because his head was throbbing
painfully, but the dull ache subsided the moment he became aware of Catherine's
warm presence as she lay nestled intimately against him. Involuntarily his arms
tightened around her, and his heart beat faster at the memory of how she had
moved beneath him as they had loved earlier. Her love was still a miracle to
him, but gradually he was coming to accept it as the gift that it was without
questioning it -- or his right to it -- any longer. Last night's events had reminded him yet again how
easily things, and people, could be lost. There was no place which could be
considered safe in either world. They would simply have to take each day as it
came to them, with its pains and fears and all of its joys. The bond quickened almost imperceptibly as Catherine
surfaced from her sleep. Smiling, Vincent caressed her cheek, and she mumbled
his name in response. He drew slightly away from her and rose on his elbow,
wanting to see her eyes the moment she opened them. He loved being touched by
the drowsy look of wonder those eyes always held when she awoke in his arms. "Did you sleep well?" he inquired softly
as she stirred against him, her gaze luminous despite the near darkness of the
room. "Mmhmm," she murmured languidly, and he
bent his head to kiss her cheek. Suddenly she sat up, her breasts bobbing
enticingly before his eyes as she looked around her unseeingly. "It must
be awfully late. Don't you think that we...?" Trying to ignore his rising desire to pull her close
and simply bury himself in her warmth, Vincent sat up to light a candle. He
wanted her to be aware of his looking at her. "No one will come. Everyone
needs to rest today. No chores, no classes, no common meals. I'd better return
to my chamber, though. Father will probably want to check in on me, if he
hasn't already." "Do you think he knows...about us?" she
asked, slipping back beneath the covers and snuggling against him. "He probably suspects it, but after all that
has happened lately, he looks at things differently." "You mean he looks at you differently." "Yes." Again, Vincent felt a strange unwillingness to talk.
She was so soft and warm, and he would have loved to give in to the stirrings
of desire that arced between them. Turning on his back, he welcomed the cool
air on his heated chest. She inched closer, placing a comforting hand on his
shoulder, and he winced as she touched one of the bruises he had gained last
night when the entrance of Martha's chamber had caved in. "What happened down there?" she asked,
breathing a soft kiss against the sore spot. "Meagan -- the older of Martha's daughters --
failed to extinguish her self-made torch properly before she put it on the
chest next to the entrance. Martha's entrance was framed by wooden beams which
became damaged by the smoldering flames. I brushed against one of those beams
as I went back in to see if there was someone else in there, and the entrance
collapsed. Something hit my head and shoulder. I think I passed out briefly.
Fortunately Meagan was already outside, and no one else was home." "I felt your pain so clearly," Catherine
said tensely. "I knew something had happened to you, and I was frantic
with worry because they wouldn't let me to you." "I know," he said. "Your fear reached
me through the bond. I'm not completely sure, but I think that was what brought
me back to consciousness. At least it was the first thing I was aware of when I
came to. By that time the others were already removing the debris from the
chamber entrance. They had bridged the chasm with planks to get to me. You know
what happened then." Catherine nodded against his chest. "Our bond
is a wondrous thing. I can't wait to explore it more thoroughly. You told me
once that you've always been empathic, so that would explain your side of the
bond. But what about me? How come I can suddenly sense you, too? Since I have
no sense of anybody else, I suppose you must be a...sender of some sort, as
well as a receiver." He shook his head. "I have thought about that
myself and have come to no conclusions. I think that every human being
possesses the capacity to send out and receive waves and vibrations of various
kinds. But in most cases those abilities lie dormant, only to be roused at
times of exceptional distress or -- joy." She mulled his words over in silence, asking
finally, "And which one was it in our case? Distress or joy? What do you
think?" He smiled. "Perhaps both. When I felt you so
clearly within me, I was filled with such joy. But when I found myself on the
verge of darkness, I was terrified. Maybe some part of me cried out to you then
-- I don't know." She pressed a kiss on his chest, the softness of her
lips making him tingle all over again. "Whatever it was," she
whispered. "I'm glad that it happened." Growing pensive again, she
rested her forehead on his ribcage. "What about Johannes? Do you think his
way of sensing people is like yours in any way?" "Johannes seems to be telepathic," Vincent
replied. "When I was on my way down to the burning bridge, he told me that
he could sense no one on the other side, whereas I could. The reason may be
that Meagan was unconscious. There were no thoughts at all for Johannes to pick
up on, but there was still a muted sense of pain and fear of death that got
through to me. But that is only a theory." Catherine lifted her head from his chest, and he
turned to meet her eyes. "What is it?" he asked, sensing a question
in her. "Do you think those special abilities have got
something to do with your being different?" she asked finally. "That is a valid assumption," he replied.
"Even Daniel seems to have inherited a certain empathic sense from his
grandfather." "Really? I didn't know that," she
exclaimed, her excitement making him smile. "He told me about it last Christmas. Daniel
believes that the fact that there are three of us proves we are more than just
a pure coincidence, more than just a whim of nature." "I couldn't agree on that more," she cut
in. "Mankind would be better off if there were more people like you among
us." "I'm not so sure about that, Catherine. Powers
like empathy and telepathy can be disastrous if they are in the wrong hands.
The same goes for superior physical strength. Why do you think did the 'Doctor'
try to gain so much knowledge about us? He probably dreamed of breeding a new
race of superior beings in order to use them as he desired. I wish I knew more
about what he found out, what exactly causes our differences. Evidently we can
procreate, and we do know that our special traits are hereditary, but not
necessarily so. At least they can skip a few generations." Vincent let his
voice trail off, suddenly unsure if he should tell Catherine what Johannes had
confided to him about the tests the Doctor had run on him. Eventually he
decided that she had every right to know. "Catherine," he began,
still a little hesitant, "Johannes told me about the terrible things they
did to him in the lab." Catherine sat up abruptly, wrapping the blanket
about her shoulders and hugging her knees to her body. "Each time they
came down to the basement to get one of us, he was terrified beyond
reason," she remembered. "It must have been horrible." Vincent levered himself into a sitting position,
absently pulling the quilt up over his stomach. "They anesthetized him
many times to examine him in great detail. They were particularly interested in
his brain functions, administering many kinds of nightmarish drugs to study his
psyche. They also took various samples of his tissue and body fluids." He
paused uncertainly, and Catherine leaned forward to put her hand on his arm. "Yes?" she prompted gently. "The main reason why Johannes destroyed the lab
so thoroughly was that they had taken samples of his semen. He was sick with
worry about the kinds of experiments they might have had in mind with it. There
may have been other scientists working with the 'Doctor'. There is no way of
being certain that none of the samples were transferred to another lab." "I never saw anybody aside from the Doctor and
the three men who worked for him," Catherine said. "but then, I
wasn't there for too long. Are you saying that we can't be sure the danger is
over?" Vincent nodded. "I'm afraid so. We can only
hope and pray that the results of the research were in the lab Johannes managed
to destroy." "Does Johannes know anything about those
results?" Catherine asked, concerned. Vincent shook his head. "Not much. Johannes
spoke of the hurt he felt when he saw their excitement and delight at
discovering in him another aberration of the normal. You know that he could not
exactly understand what they were saying, but he did understand what was in
their minds. He told me that they found his brain to be slightly different from
the...normal human brain. But then, so is the bone structure of his skull, so
that doesn't necessarily mean too much. There is so much more to the human mind
than the assembly of neurons in the cerebral cortex. The human brain may be the
most complex structure in the known universe; yet, the question how the
non-material mind influences the brain, and vice versa, has not yet been
answered satisfactorily." Catherine rested her chin on top of her knees, and
Vincent ached at the sorrow he could see in her eyes. "Isn't it a shame
that for so many people all that counts is what they can see, measure, weigh,
and dissect? What does that tell us about humanity? What about the human heart?
Sometimes I think that the human spirit is much more a matter of the heart than
the brain." Smiling sadly, Vincent reached out to pull her
close. "Or at least it should be," he said, pressing a kiss on the
crown of her head. She put her arms around his waist and snuggled closer. "I'm glad that Johannes will stay here in the
Tunnels with you. This is an amazing world, one where the human spirit can
breathe freely, because you people Below don't put cages around your
hearts." A rush of tenderness swept through him at the
wistfulness in Catherine's words. For so long he had believed that his world
was a prison, even a tomb, only because there was a ceiling of rock between
himself and the open skies. His arms tightened around the remarkable woman he
was holding, the woman who had loved his heart even before she had seen his
face, who had known his spirit even before she had heard his voice. She longed
for a life with him, and he had put her at arm's length because he thought she
needed sunshine more than him. "And you, Catherine?" he asked, his voice
husky with emotion. "Will you stay, too?" Her head came up slowly, and his heart grew wide with joy as he met her radiant eyes. "Yes," she whispered simply, and the bond sang with her happiness as she leaned toward him and kissed him.
 |
.
Return to Thanks to the Human Heart Table of Contents