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Part 11
A kiss in the sunlight. She had dreamed of it, wished for it, but the reality when it came today rendered dreams and wishes as inadequate as the poetry in the book she'd abandoned. The sun had come to that cavern with its pond, set like a blue jewel in a wash of gold. It had taken up residence there, sending its rays. bursting out upon the earth from a center that was both of them. How could that be? How could its luminance be using from them, yet returning to send rivers of fluttering fire through her body? She knew its focal point as he moved towards her, not touching her, except to bring his mouth to hers.
It couldn't have been more different from that other time, those other kisses in the dark, yet it was impossible to say which was more powerful or priceless in her heart. She had the feeling that each time they touched the sensation was unique, that their passion renewed itself at every moment, so that any contact between them awoke fresh responses whose existence she'd never suspected. That night in the dark, they'd been somewhere out of time. The rest of the world had disappeared. leaving them no signposts, no markers to anything outside themselves. Stripped of all reference points, it had been impossible to ignore the desire that they had both kept hidden. It had come into its own that night, sweeping them up in a vortex of sensual longing. Theft lovemaking had been almost desperate with the liberation of that desire. The moment was so unexpected, so uncertain, it had been hard to comprehend that it was actually happening. Any second it might just as capriciously be whisked away, leaving them back in a world of limits and consequences. Reality had come hard on its heels in the unlikely guise of Mouse, but the moment still sang in her with all its dark and turbulent magic.
Today when he had leaned towards her it had been a conscious decision. He had chosen to kiss her, and that choice was a gift whose value she alone knew. Even though their embraces had seemed natural from the beginning, it bad been such a very long time before he dared to initiate them. Always she'd been the one to turn to him, or the movement would be so spontaneous that he could never be thought the aggressor. She doubted he even realized that he was the one who reached for her first on that long ago night when they had reunited Tony Ramos with his family. He was so careful, so restrained, never presuming to make any gesture that was not a response to hers. He had refused to accept as his right what she had already acknowledged to herself as his, but she'd finally succeeded in convincing him that it was a barrier which didn't exist.
Ironically, it had been someone else's kiss that had shown her the way. It had been his young friend, Michael, troubled and confused, who'd kissed her, and in the resulting confrontation with Vincent she had refused to back down, refused to leave him to his self accusatory thoughts. She had told him that: he deserved her love and the wanting of it, but she needed to know that he'd taken the lesson to heart. When next they stood on her balcony she had let him see all her love for him clearly on her face, but she'd purposely turned away, entrusting the burden of the next move to him, to that fragile seed of hope she'd sown among his doubts and fears, and finally, slowly, he had reached for her. It was a moment she cherished, because she knew he was beginning to accept her conviction that he had a right to her love.
How could he doubt it? She found it hard to know what to say to him, how to reach him on this point, when the evidence was so clear. She had proved her own love time and again. Mouse worshipped him. Father doted on him. Everyone in the community and the helpers above had a very special place in their hearts for him alone. He knew this, but somehow she thought he attributed it to the others' generous spirits, their loving natures. He was so quick to give credit to everyone else, so reticent about his own value.
It had been far easier for him to accept the affection of those others, a society that was built on tolerance, than to accept it from her. She had come to him an outsider, a product of wealth and privilege, whose world couldn't have been more different from his own. At first he had been amazed at her openness to him, then awed by the realization of how deeply she cared, and now, though he could never doubt her love, she knew he still struggled to reconcile it with his life-long vision of himself as someone destined to be alone, forever barred from the kind of relationships that others took for granted. But that was changing, and today had marked a milestone in that process.
The kiss - it had been slow and deliberate, taking that feeling she always had with him, that strange mixture of serenity and excitement, to incredible heights. The sun that had captured them blazed from her and through her with a heat that she knew was his as well. It seethed with such tenderness that she forgot to breathe, forgot everything but the tangible evidence of his passion. When he pulled away, she found she couldn't move, but sat with her face lifted to him, her lips still tremulous from his touch. He moved back only inches, studying her with a look of wonder that she knew must be reflected in her own eyes.
She wanted to say something to him, to express what she
was feeling, but her mind had been so bombarded with intense, new emotions
that it was incapable of selecting words. He touched her then, bringing
his fingers gently to her lips. These same hands that could rip a man apart
were touching her as lightly as a sigh.
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"That such softness could exist...” he said slowly, his voice vibrant with emotion. He didn't finish the thought and she kissed his fingertips, still mesmerized by his touch and the luxury of looking at him so closely in the light. He looked into her eyes a moment and then drew her close against his chest.
“For so long, Catherine, I believed that your heart was blind to what I am, that my appearance --"
"Was something I overlooked?" She pulled back to look at him again, and he nodded. She smiled. “You cant believe that anymore. Yours is the most beautiful face in the world to me.” He shook his head, but she knew it was merely at the strangeness of the fact. He couldn't doubt that it was true, not when she was so unable to look at him here without adoration shining in her eyes.
She took his hand and rubbed her cheek against the back of it, enjoying the unique sensation of the fur against her skin. He turned it, so his palm caressed her face, and she shivered at the intimacy of his skin on hers. In this light she could see the slightest change of mood in his eyes. She saw it now - the subtle deepening of the blue, a reflection of her own quickening heartbeat, her shallow breath. How swiftly everything in her responded to that look, how ready it was to surrender totally.
He took a deep breath and moved back against a boulder at the water's edge, resting his arms on his knees. “Catherine, we must talk.”
“Okay,” she answered carefully, striving to quiet her physical turmoil. She clasped her arms around her knees and watched him with expectation.
For a moment he turned to contemplate the clear, blue water of the pond, still shot through with sunbeams. When he looked at her again, his eyes were solemn. "Catherine, this step I have taken --"
“We've taken, Vincent.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes, we have taken it, but we cannot continue along this path unless we are both alert to the possible dangers. The journey that begins with that step is a perilous one."
“I want to make that journey with you, Vincent.”
Had the cavern not been so very quiet, she might have missed the soft catch in his breath before he said quietly. “I know. But there are risks, perhaps greater ones than we suspect. We may very well find the way too treacherous - even impossible. You must accept that, Catherine."
“I can't. I've tried, but I can't help believing that we can find a safe path through all that.”
“Perhaps,” he sighed. She knew he wanted to believe it, as much as she did, but there was no mistaking the warning in the look he gave her. “To set out on that path, to see everything before us only through the eyes of love could be disastrous. You must promise me that you will be on guard, that you will not hesitate to turn back.”
“Vincent, I'm not blind to the dangers. I'm really not. Father made me face a lot of them today. I know there are risks, but it's worth it.”
His expression softened, as it always did when he thought she was being courageous, but she knew it was love, far more than courage, that had made this her only choice. “Catherine, there may come a point when it is no longer possible to turn back. You know that.”
She nodded, feeling that she knew that place, had already glimpsed it, and that it wasn't as far away as he might think.
“We must go slowly and with great care."
“I know,” she agreed. She did know it, knew everything he was saying needed to be said. She wished she could make it easier for both of them by keeping a tighter rein on her feelings, but sitting this close to him, watching the changing emotions that played across the deep pools of his eyes, it was a challenge. Oh, Vincent, she thought, if you only knew how easy it is to love you, and how hard it is not to want you. Some mysterious force wanted to draw her to him, but she hugged her knees, resisting the temptation to give into it.
“Slowly' Catherine,” he repeated, and she realized he was well aware of her longing. She couldn't hide it from him with her actions, when he knew what was in her heart and soul. “This is difficult for me. Sometimes..."
“Sometimes, you just want to rush right down the path?” she smiled.
He looked momentarily startled, and then the corners of his eyes lifted, and he returned her smile. “Yes.”
“Well, then we'll just have to take turns being strong. We've fought so hard and so long against a part of us, a part of our bond, that can't be denied. If we can accept those feelings and stop being afraid to express them, then all that strength we've been wasting can be used to deal with what lies ahead. Whatever that may be, Vincent, I can face it, as long as we truly make the journey together.”
His expression spoke of how much her conviction had helped to temper his own misgivings. “Your faith, your determination, Catherine - they sometimes overwhelm me."
'They shouldn't. Those are things you gave to me."
“No.” He shook his head in denial, and she thought that the subtle shadings of gold and auburn in his hair were meant to be seen in the sunlight. “Perhaps we give them to each other,” he conceded at last. “But there are those who would be troubled if they knew of this, Catherine.”
“I understand. I won't do anything that might cause anyone to worry."
“I know that,” he responded, and his voice was a caress. He looked up at the white roof of the cavern where the sun was beginning to fade. “This is a public place. It is remarkable that none of the children have come to swim in the sun."
"I'm glad they didn't."
“So am I.” He looked at her for a long moment and then stood, offering his hand. She took it, and their fingers intertwined. They looked around the cavern, and she knew he was recording the memory of this magical place, this time, just as she was. They strolled slowly back through twisting passageways, not speaking. Now and then he'd look at her, and she would smile. Her happiness made it impossible not to; it overflowed, inextricably linked with his.
They entered his chamber, and he lit two candles that waited on the table, then went to a wooden chest and took out a change of clothes.
“Catherine, if you will excuse me, I should clean up." His clothes were still encrusted with dust from his morning in the quarry. “You will wait for me here?”
“I'll wait. Vincent.”
He started to leave, but turned back to her. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I'm fine. I'll read a book or something."
At the doorway he stopped again to look back at her, and she realized he was finding it hard to leave. Don't worry, I'll be right here, she thought, and as if she'd spoken the words aloud, he nodded and disappeared.
She seriously considered dancing around the room, but the idea seemed redundant. Everything in her was already dancing and whirling with joy. That journey that he spoke of - who knew how long it might take? But it didn't matter. The first step alone and been worth all the dreams in the world put together, and he had promised - with his words, his eyes, his kiss - that he wouldn't abandon the venture now.
She went to the bookcase and selected the volume of Browning. What better poetry to suit her mood? She started to sit in a chair, but nothing could intimidate her now, and she chose instead to bounce defiantly on the bed, sitting Indian style with the book opened in her lap.
She was still sitting there without having read a single poem, when he returned. He was wearing clean clothes, and his hair was still damp, creating little tendrils around his face that struck her as adorable.
He saw her look and said a most apologetically, “It takes some time to dry.”
“It's nice,” she smiled, wondering if she'd ever be capable of any other expression again.
"What would you like to do now, Catherine?”
“I don't care - whatever you want to do,” and she congratulated
herself on her
restraint.
He started to speak but turned towards the doorway. She strained to catch the sound of pattering feet, and a moment later Eric ran in and skidded to a stop in front of Vincent. It occurred to her that his chamber was scarcely more private than the pool cavern, considering the way someone was always running to him for advice.
Eric could not manage to state his business. His thin chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his eyes looked huge behind their broad lenses.
Vincent had dropped to one knee and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. “Eric, what is it?”
“A man - got hit.”
“Hit? By what?”
“Another man - he knocked him out.”
“Where, Eric? Can you take me to him?”
The boy shook his head. “They're gone. They're both gone."
Vincent picked him up and set him on the bed next to her. “Suppose you catch your breath, and start from the beginning.”
Eric did as he was told. “I was at Catherine's apartment.”
“My apartment. Why?”
“Jamie sent me. She asked me to pick up some clothes.”
“Oh my gosh. I forgot I hadn't returned them, but where were these men, Eric?”
“There was just one man. He was sitting on the chair in the hall.”
“What did he look like?”
The boy shrugged. “Just regular. I guess."
“Was he tall or short?”
“Medium."
“Young or old?”
“Kind of in between.”
Catherine sighed, hoping never to have Eric on the witness stand. “Do you think he was waiting for me? There are other apartments. He might have been meeting anyone."
Eric shook his head. “He walked up to your door. He was sort of fidgety. He sat down and looked at his watch, and then he got up again and walked around. He kept jiggling the money in his pocket.”
“What color hair did he have - and eyes?” she asked with a dawning sense of dread.
“Dark like mine - but curly, his hair, I mean."
“Joe," she said fearfully. "Vincent, it could be Joe. Tell us about the second man."
“I was peeking around the corner. I didn't really get a good look at him. He got off the elevator with his head down, and when the other man turned away, he hit him and carried hum off.”
“On the elevator?"
“Uh-huh, so I went down the stairs. I didn't know what to do, so I came to tell you. Vincent.”
“You did the right thing, Eric. Please don't worry. We'll see if we can help this man. Now you'd better go and have your supper."
Eric nodded, looking relieved, and scooted off the bed. “Bye, Catherine."
“Good-bye, Eric. Thank you.” She turned to Vincent. “I better go back up and at least call Joe - see if he's okay.”
“Yes.” He took her hand, and they left the chamber, walking quickly. “Is there a reason he might have been waiting for you?"
“Not that I know of. If something came up, it seems like he'd call and leave a message on my machine."
“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm him?”
“No, not specifically, but it goes with the Job. You never know when someone you've put the pressure on might come back looking for revenge.”
Vincent stopped. “Catherine, that's what troubles me. Why would this man choose to attack him at your home? He took a great risk - anyone might have come along. We cannot be sure that you were not his intended victim.”
“I never thought of that.”
“Don't go back there, Catherine.”
"I won't. I'll call from somewhere else.” She could see the tension in his face, but he wouldn't try to stop her from what she had to do. They continued on at a hurried pace. When they reached the ladder, he put his hand on her arm.
“Wait. We don't know that the man has left the building. It isn't safe for you to go out this way."
Before she could respond, there came a low moaning sound from somewhere behind her. She jumped, and Vincent stepped around her. “Stay here,” he whispered and disappeared into the shadows, but a moment later he called to her.
She found him kneeling beside a man's body. The face was turned to one side. “Oh. my God. It's Joe. Is he all right?"
“He has a bump on the back of his head, Catherine, but his pulse is strong.”
“But how did he get down here? Who would have known about the entrance?” A second fear joined her concern for Joe. “Vincent, we have to get him out of here. He needs a doctor, but he can't wake up here. He can't see you."
“Go up, Catherine - carefully. If it is safe, I'll bring him into the basement. You can bring help to him there.”
She hurried up the ladder. The light was on in the subbasement, but a quick search showed her no one was there. She came back to the entrance and called to Vincent who appeared at the top of the steps, Joe slung over his shoulder. Gently, the two of them pulled him out onto the floor.
“I'll be just inside, Catherine, if you should need me."
“Okay. I'll have to wait for the ambulance. I may need to go with him to the hospital. I don't know when I can come back down.”
“Please, don't worry. He is your friend, Catherine. You must help him. Stay with him. I will see you when I can.” He touched her face lightly and was gone.
She ran to the lobby and phoned an ambulance and the police. When they arrived, she was waiting next to the still unconscious Joe, the entrance to the tunnels, carefully concealed. Her story was that she'd come down to the basement and found him there. It didn't make a great deal of sense, but neither did the truth. He was still unconscious when they arrived at the hospital. She paced the waiting room for a while, reluctant to call his mother until she knew his condition. Finally, a doctor emerged and told her that he was awake, they wanted to run some more tests and she'd be able to see him for few minutes in half an hour or so. She took the time to call his family and have a sandwich in the cafeteria. When she came back up he'd been moved to a room, and she entered to find him looking pale, but determined to talk.
“How are you feeling, Joe?”
“Don't ask. They told me you came to my rescue.”
“A little too late. I'm afraid. What happened? Who did this to you?”
“I never saw his face. I was waiting for you Cathy. The switchboard got a call today, some guy saying he was going to get even with you. I was tying to get to you before he did on the off chance he wasn't Just blowing hot air. He wasn't.”
“I'm sorry, Joe.”
“Hey, I'll live, but you are going to move in with one of your friends, Cathy.”
“No, Joe. I don't --"
“Either that, or a guard goes on your door tonight before you set foot in that apartment.”
"I - okay, I'll take the guard, but he'll stay outside, right?”
"Right, and he'll stick with you wherever you go, until we find this jerk.”
It was the last thing in the world she wanted, but she knew it was useless to argue. The danger was real and immediate. There was no way she could talk Joe out of protecting her, not when the police were already in on it. “Do you have any idea who he could be, Joe?”
“Not a clue, but you can bet he knew who I was. It would have been easier for the guy to just leave when he saw me, but, no - he couldn't resist laying me out. I figure I was a bonus, but it's you he's after. He must have figured if he left me in the basement, he might have time to get to you, or else he thought I'd croak down there before anybody came along. Funny, you just happened by. How'd that happen, Radcliffe?”
For a man with a head injury his investigative mind seemed to be in good working order. She'd better send him off in a different direction. “I needed something out of the storage bin. Did you break down my door again, Joe?”
“No, I knew you weren't in there.”
“How?"
"I asked the doorman. He said you went out early this morning.”
There was one good thing about Joe's condition when he'd been taken out of the building: he hadn't been able to ask about her return. It would have given him food for thought had the doorman told him she'd never come back, yet had mysteriously been in the basement. “I called your mother, Joe. She's on the way down, but I told her you were all right. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Just sit tight. There's a uniform downstairs waiting for you. First thing Monday morning, we start tracking the garbage that's been dumped back on the streets lately. We'll find the connection, Cathy. Don't worry."