THE GIFT EXCHANGE
It was the night of the Christmas gift exchange. Catherine was excited as she had always been at Christmas, especially when her mother was still with her. Now she was excited to see Vincent and her extended tunnel family, and watch their expressions as gifts were opened and thanks were given. Truth be told, she was also a bit apprehensive, because of the gift she got for Vincent. Would he like it? Would he think it too…personal? She sighed. Too late now. She didn’t come with a Plan B. It was this gift or nothing.
*****
Vincent couldn’t remember another Christmas he had anticipated with such nervousness and excitement. It wasn’t just because Catherine was coming to share it with him. He had taken great care in selecting her gift. But he was uncomfortable with it. Perhaps it divulged too much. Maybe he should rethink his gift. His innate sense of time said it was too late. It was either this, or nothing. He suddenly shoved the half-wrapped package under his bed. It would be nothing.
*****
Catherine practically jogged into Vincent’s chamber. She hugged him with extra strength and wished him a Merry Christmas.
“Catherine, about that.” Vincent looked down composing his words. He looked up at her and with a crestfallen look, announced, “I haven’t yet found your gift. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Vincent, of course! All the gift I need is to spend Christmas with you!”
Catherine hugged him again, figuring he owed her an extra one at least. As they hugged, she spied the corner of a partially wrapped package sticking out from under his bed. She could read the gift tag: Catherine. Now she was confused. Why wouldn’t he give her his gift? Should she still give him hers? Her apprehension grew since she wouldn’t have his gift to see if hers missed the mark or not. Enjoying the hug, she inhaled his scent and thought, I brought it for him, I might as well give it to him.
She drew back from his arms and announced, “I have something for you.” She fetched the package she had laid by the door. She stood holding the package. One last chance to bolt from the chamber. “Merry Christmas, Vincent.” She held out the gift.
He took the package from her and carefully slit the paper until he was holding a small box. Opening the box, he saw inside a slip of paper and a necklace with a small glass vial. Inside the vial was a small clipping of hair bound with a small thread. The necklace was braided leather with the vial woven inside a web-like sack. He set the necklace aside to read the note.
‘Fair maidens have long given their knights a lock of their hair to remember them by. I give you this lock of my hair to remind you of my love, as a small piece of me to carry with you during those times I can’t be here. All my love, Catherine.’
He looked up, eyes glistening. “Thank you, Catherine. Will you help me put it on?”
She took the necklace from him and as Vincent leaned down, she reached around his neck to tie the two ends together. It fell a few inches above the rose pouch. He touched it, and smiled. Then he frowned.
“I feel so badly that I do not have a gift for you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m so glad you liked mine for you.”
“Let me see if William has something in the kitchen. I’ll bring back some tea to go with it. At least I can offer you something to eat.” Vincent turned and left his chamber with a purpose.
Catherine couldn’t stand it. She bent and pulled out the wrapped gift. Well, it was mostly wrapped. Since part of it was open, she took that as a sign to proceed. She pulled out a picture frame of a metal that had been hammered flat and shaped. It was a most unique looking frame, polished to a luster with the indentations from the hammer catching the reflected candle light. But as beautiful as the frame was, it was what it encapsulated that took her breath away. It was a hand-drawn picture of her, a three-quarter view as if looking off into the distance, a dreamy, soft look of desire seemed to radiate from her face. Her hair fell softly to her shoulders which were bare. And there the portrait ended. It was a head study. Tears began the trek down her cheeks as she lovingly fingered the frame around the picture.
Vincent carried the tray with some muffins and tea. He stopped abruptly seeing Catherine holding the frame. She looked up at him, her eyes wet, and asked, “You drew this?”
He nodded.
“Vincent, it’s beautiful. Why weren’t you going to give this to me?”
He looked down in silence. “I thought it too…I never asked if I could draw you. It’s so personal to capture someone’s image, especially without them knowing.”
She walked over to him and took the tray from him and set it on his table. She then captured his hands, kissing each one in turn. “I love it, Vincent. Even more because you drew it yourself, and even more than that because of how you see me. I will treasure this always as I treasure you.”
He smiled. Pulling her hands down with his to his side, he brought her closer and kissed the top of her head, then ruffled his nose in her hair smelling the scent of her. “And I will treasure your gift, as I treasure you.”
“Merry Christmas, Vincent.”
“Merry Christmas, Catherine.”
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