CHAPTER 4

The mountains were delineated against the predawn sky, and Vincent inhaled deeply as he emerged from the rear of the van. He stretched his muscles, relieved that the long hours of immobility were behind him. Turning to look for Catherine, he caught her glancing at him furtively. She quickly dropped her eyes and busied herself pulling two large tote bags from the passenger seat. He rounded the van and took the bags from her hands. The smile she gave him was radiant and he returned it fondly.

"There´s more," she said, grabbing a third bag, "but we can come back for it later. Let´s see what shape the house is in." She closed the door of the van and walked over to the gravelled path that led to the cabin.

Vincent´s eyes swept the dark silhouette of the mountains appreciatively as he followed behind Catherine. He took in the crunching sound his boots made on the gravel and smiled to himself. Certainly no one who approached the cabin on this path would escape his notice.

Catherine unlocked the door and motioned for Vincent to enter. "I´m afraid we´ll have to do some airing and dusting," she said, "but other than that, the rooms are ready for you." She stepped out on the porch. "It´s too dark yet, but the view is wonderful from here. The lake is over there. It´s beautiful in the sunlight."

Vincent stood quietly beside her. Now, an hour before sunrise, the surface of the lake looked like hammered metal. "I can see it quite clearly, Catherine," he confessed, avoiding the surprised glance she cast. "It is part of my...differentness...to be able to see in near darkness."

"That´s great," she said. "I wish I could do that."

Returning her smile at last, he whispered softly, "Thank you, Catherine, for making this possible for me."

Her arm came around his waist and she squeezed him gently. "I hope you´ll like it here," she replied. "It can be rather lonely at times."

He nodded. "I´ll get used to that."

"Don´t get too used to it," she quipped, "because I´m going to come for a visit every now and then."

His heart leapt in his chest at the prospect. He had already hoped for that, but hadn´t dared ask.

"You´ll see," she went on, "in a few weeks you´ll know the place better than I. Then you can show me around."

He chuckled and raised his arm to place it around her shoulders companionably. "It will be my pleasure."

They stood like that for a while, watching the sky slowly turning from gray to apricot. Catherine sighed. "I´d forgotten how beautiful it is out here," she said wistfully, leaning her head against Vincent´s arm. He cherished the gesture, returning it by resting his head on top of hers.

A flock of wild ducks flew by and landed on the silvery water. Vincent couldn´t take his eyes from the beauty spread out before him, but he sensed Catherine´s growing fatigue and roused her gently from her meditative state.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," he suggested softly.

"I think I should," she agreed reluctantly, "but I hate to move."

Smiling, he straightened and let his arm fall away. "I could carry you," he offered.

"I´m not that tired," she protested and then added mischievously, "but I might hold you to that offer sometime. Now we should get a fire going or we´ll catch a cold."

They walked in and closed the door behind them, setting to work.

*

When Catherine awoke it was early afternoon. She sat up in bed and looked around her. This had been her room when she was a child and it hadn´t changed much. There were even some toys left from her childhood and she reached for a fluffy teddy bear with a pink bow. Dust had gathered in its fur and the colors had faded over the years, but it still looked at her with trusting black eyes. She couldn´t remember if the teddy had ever had a name. Probably not, she decided, because if he and I had been that close, I wouldn´t have left him out here in the wilderness. She patted the round head tenderly before she returned the bear to the shelf and got up. It was quite cold up here at this time of year and she realized that she´d never been at the cabin before May. She´d have to think of a way to heat the upper floor when she was here. Vincent could always reside downstairs close to the fireplace.

She went down the wooden staircase to see if Vincent was still asleep, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had stored away all the supplies and retrieved the remaining bags and suitcases from the van. They sat along the wall, neatly stacked, but there was no trace of him. His cloak was gone, so Catherine grabbed her jacket and went outside in search of him. She found him down at the shore of the lake, gazing silently out at the water. April sunlight caught in his long hair, gilding it, and she stopped to study his profile. He blinked and turned his head to meet her gaze.

"Did you sleep well, Catherine?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "What about you?"

He looked away again. "I felt too...restless."

She went to him and rubbed his back reassuringly. "You´ll see how quickly you´ll acquire the pulse of nature out here, and then you won´t find it anything but relaxing."

He flashed her a quick smile, but then, as if of their own volition, his eyes returned to the quiet surface of the lake.

The lake was deep with rocky outcroppings on both sides. Vincent could see the other shore, its tree-lined banks rich with new spring leaves. That side of the lake was steeper and the forest beyond was heavily wooded and dense with foliage. The water was placid and its color was blue-green, unlike the ponds and pools Below that reflected only the colors of the earth. It was a beautiful lake and he thought that he would never tire of looking at it. There were swans and ducks gliding across the peaceful surface. The bank he stood on was very close to the water.

The amazing thing was that he felt such a great sense of affection, not only like his feelings for the woman beside him, but rather the fullness of what may be called love. He thought that the only thing that mattered was to probe into the very depth of it, not with the restless mind with its endless muttering of thought, but with silence.

There, as he was standing on the bank, watching the beauty of the water, all human problems and sorrows would find their right place if one could penetrate silently into this thing called love.

He became aware of Catherine´s hand stealing into his and squeezed it gently. The magnitude of her friendship awed him and his heart went wide with it. He couldn´t speak past the sudden tightness in his throat and hoped that she would keep her gaze directed at the water lest she notice the tears that gathered in his eyes.

*

Catherine didn´t dare look at Vincent for fear she might pull him from his contemplative state. She listened to his deep, calm breathing and wished for the hundredth time that she could perceive what was going on inside him even half as well as he could with her. The fact that Vincent was quite reluctant to talk about his feelings made it all the more difficult for her to figure him out, especially when he had withdrawn into himself as deeply as he had now.

There was only one way for her to draw him out a little, to follow his sometimes strange musings at least to some degree, and that was to coax him into quoting. His spontaneous choice of a quotation told her volumes about his state of mind and his emotions. She was not certain if he was aware of those furtive explorations into his soul, but if he was, he didn´t seem to mind. He was always willing to come up with something to appease her gentle curiosity. It had turned into a game between them. She would say, "A penny for your thoughts." And he would smile and think for a moment before reciting a few lines in that soulful voice of his that would always, always balance her immediately, no matter how deep her sadness, how great her turmoil.

Stealing a quick glance at his peaceful but distant face, Catherine decided that now would be a good time for their quotation game.

"A penny for your thoughts," she whispered, not looking at him so as not to intrude upon him too much. She didn´t know if he smiled this time; he didn´t look at her either. He just kept staring out at the lake, but his words unfailingly started to flow.

"All that is sweet, delightful, and amiable in this world," he quoted softly, "in the serenity of the air, the fineness of seasons, the joy of light, the melody of sounds, the beauty of colors, the fragrancy of smells, the splendor of precious stones, is nothing else but Heaven breaking through the veil of this world, manifesting itself in such a degree and darting forth in such variety so much of its own nature."

"Who wrote that?" she asked, following the rules of their game.

"William Law," he provided quietly.

They stood together in silence for a while, and Catherine savored the warmth of Vincent´s hand around hers. She gazed over to the wooded shore on the other side of the lake and pondered the words Vincent had just given to her. How deep his feelings always run, she mused silently, how aware he always is of everything around him. And then she felt driven to do something she rarely did -- she came up with a quote of her own.

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way," she said softly.

Very much to her surprise, that brought a chuckle from him and she found him looking at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"William Blake," he stated, and she nodded, grinning back at him.

Suddenly, in a rare fit of audacity, he pulled her close and hugged her to him. She expelled a quick breath and snuggled into his embrace, relishing the warmth that always stole around her heart when he expressed his affection for her like that.

"Aren´t you cold?" he asked close to her ear.

"No," she breathed, "because you keep me warm."

He released her slowly, flashing her a quick glance from beneath his bangs, and she bit her tongue, hoping that her remark hadn´t made him self-conscious.

"Maybe we´d better go back inside anyway," she suggested.

He nodded and seized her hand, and as they walked toward the cabin, Catherine wondered when his touch had started to affect her in such a profound way.

*

The woods were full of solitude. It had been raining off and on for several days and the mountains were green with light. They had become almost blue, and in their fullness they were making the skies rich and beautiful. There was great silence which exceeded by far the silence of the park at night. In the city there was no silence except within the heart, but among the mountains, on that winding path, silence was everywhere.

Vincent wished that Catherine were with him now, sharing this wonderful experience. She had returned to New York on Sunday afternoon, and he recalled his own conflicting emotions as he had looked after the departing van. It had torn at his heart to see her go, but there also was some small part of him that had been relieved at the same time. They had been together for longer periods of time before, but it was something else entirely to be close to her out here where everything spoke to him so deeply, opening his senses to the beauty around him, and leaving him unable to defend himself against the unaccustomed flood of sensations.

He knew he needed time to come to terms with his new surroundings and with the subtle shift in his feelings for Catherine. Actually, it wasn´t that anything had changed. It was just that he had become more aware of the tiny sparks of electricity that leapt between them at times. The problem was that he had grown more helpless in denying the desire he felt when she was near, looking at him, touching him casually, or allowing him to hold her. It hadn´t been often that he´d been bold enough to do so. Somethimes, though, his love for her grew so overwhelming that it seemed to have a life of its own, causing him to do things he hadn´t rationally intended -- a fact that bothered him deeply.

With a sigh, he focused his attention on the path before him and walked on. The soothing effect of nature was very helpful in his struggle for balance. Maybe there was hope that in the silence of the mountains he might be able to come to terms with the unresolved matters of his heart and mind.

*

The days passed by peacefully, turning into weeks, and gradually the weather grew warmer. The weekend before, Catherine had been there to visit and restock his supplies. They had walked and talked together, but he had sensed a certain distance between them that hadn´t been there before. She had arrived on Saturday afternoon and left on Sunday morning, and it was obvious to Vincent that she´d been in a hurry to return to the city, a fact that puzzled him but he didn´t feel he had the right to question her about it. He tried not to think of it too much.

Vincent was aware that the mountains and woods had already imprinted their rhythm on him. He lived with the pulse of nature that was refining his instincts as well as the human impulse to turn inward and reflect on the changes that were taking place within him. For all his life he had lived underground, wrapped in multiple layers of clothing, as he´d yearned for sunlight. But here in this tranquil place he walked in the open, clad only in shirt and jeans and a pair of soft suede moccasins. The measure of freedom he experienced sometimes made him giddy with joy, ecstatic even, and he reveled in it unashamedly. He knew every tree and bush, every rock as if they were old friends, and he barely ever felt the sting of loneliness. The only thing that cast a shadow over his contentment was that he couldn´t share the beauty of his discoveries with his family. He had always shared his thoughts and dreams, his joys and sorrows with Father, and now that such profound changes had taken place in his life, he couldn´t discuss them with the one person who would have understood them like no other. It pained him that he´d had to leave the city so abruptly, that he hadn´t been able to talk to Father first, to explain to him the reasons for his choice. Of course, Vincent knew that it would have been difficult to convince Father of the rightness of his decision to accept Catherine´s offer, but Father´s understanding would have meant more to him than he could say. With gratitude he thought of Rao, and the depth of his old friend´s insight awed him. Rao had come personally to bring him Father´s blessings, and now, after so many weeks, that seemingly small thing had grown into Vincent´s only consolation with regard to Father. He wished he were able to send a message Below, but that would mean breaking yet another rule, and Vincent wasn´t ready to do that again. His breaking rules in the past had caused more harm than he could bear. Catherine had told him that Rao had called her to inquire about his welfare, so at least he could be certain that Father wouldn´t have to worry too much.

Inhaling the clear, fresh air, Vincent made a conscious effort to release his thoughts of home and focus on the present again.

The oak tree was very quiet that morning. It was an enormous tree in the woods; it had a huge trunk and its branches were well above the ground, spread out in all directions -- quiet, stable, and immovable. It was part of the earth like the other trees that surrounded it. The others would be shouting with the wind, playing with it, and every leaf would belong to the wind. The leaves of the oak tree played with it too, but there was great dignity and a depth of life that he could feel as he watched. Ivy was clinging to many of the trees, going right up to the top of the highest branches, but the oak tree had none of it. Even the pines had this clinging ivy, which, if allowed, would destroy them. He would sit by the tree, brace his back against the rough bark, and look up at the blue sky through the leaves. It was an enchanted place and he believed that if he sat quietly, far away from all the past, then perhaps he would feel the movement of life and living, the depth of which thought could never touch. He realized that he was not feeling that way simply because he was a human being, but rather because his mind was so utterly still that there was an immense awareness without the division of the observer.

As a city dweller, Vincent had never experienced the strange menace of an uninhabited forest. This one was a deer sanctuary, and the deer in there were as shy as the snakes. They would see him come along and gently disappear into the bushes. There were spotted deer, full of gentle charm, with infinite curiosity, but their fear of man was stronger than their curiosity. Some of them were quite big. In the evening they would gather in a little meadow and he would watch them from afar, admiring their quiet beauty.

The deep fear he had harbored that the game in the woods might stir some predatory instinct in him, proved completely unfounded. Oddly, it seemed that it took humans to bring out the beast in him. Here among the beasts of the woods and meadows, he felt more human than he ever had in the city. The realization filled him with relief and deep satisfaction.

*

It was a week after Catherine´s last visit that the dreams started. Bizarre dreams of a man he didn´t know, a powerful man without a face who was mocking him, intimidating him. Soon the tone of the dreams changed, and he saw Catherine as she walked hand in hand with that man, her face turned toward him attentively. There was a scene that repeated itself over and over again. Catherine and the man stopped and bent close, sharing a kiss. Then the dream contents would shift slightly and Vincent would jerk awake, his own lips tingling with the sensual imprint of Catherine´s kiss.

Vincent didn´t know what to make of those dreams and finally put them down to his suppressed feelings for Catherine. He simply refused to believe that there might be a grain of truth in them.

*

It was very early in the morning and the valley was full of silence. The sun was not yet up behind the hills and the peaks were still dark. For many days now the sun had been clear, strong and rather hot. It wouldn´t last, and yet this Sunday morning again the sky was very blue. The sun began to touch the peaks, and to the west there were dark clouds. The air was clean and the mountains seemed very near. They stood aloof, alone, and there was both that strange feeling of nearness and a sense of vast distance. Looking at them made Vincent aware of the age of the earth and man´s impermanence. Man passed away and they remained, the mountains, the hills, the green fields and the lake. They would be there for a long time, and man with his worries, his insufficiencies and sorrow would pass away.

Vincent thought that it was that very impermanence that made man seek something beyond the hills, investing it with permanency, with divinity, with beauty, which he in himself has not.

The sun was high as he finally returned to the cabin, finding that Catherine´s car was parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat and he raced down the slope, almost forgetting his usual caution. Peering through the window, he saw her sitting at the kitchen table, elbows braced on the table top, cradling her head in her hands. Her posture was one of dejection, and Vincent wondered briefly why he didn´t pick up anything from her that might give him a clue as to what she was feeling.

He entered quietly so as not to startle her, and when she saw him, she leapt to her feet and came into his arms. The moment he touched her, her turmoil washed over him, confusing him and leaving him at a loss as to what to do.

"Catherine," he rasped, "what´s wrong?"

She drew back and looked up at him. "I´m not sure," she replied. "I think I came here because I felt that I needed to talk to you."

A flash of his dreams danced by Vincent´s inner eye. "You met a man," he stated flatly, his heart twisting in his chest as he waited for her answer.

"How did you know?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.

He sighed and released her gently, guiding her back to the table and urging her to sit down. "Tell me," he demanded softly, taking a seat opposite her.

Studying her hands in her lap, Catherine gathered her thoughts. "I met him four weeks ago," she began at last. "We dated a couple of times, and despite myself I felt drawn to him in a way. I didn´t really want a relationship, but I didn´t want to turn him down either." She paused and cast him an uncertain glance before dropping her eyes.

"Do you love this man?" Vincent asked carefully past the knot in his throat.

"I´m not sure," she said, "but if I do..." Her voice fell away and he waited patiently for her to continue. "Vincent, I wanted you to know that whatever happens, no matter what I decide, nothing will change between you and me."

Vincent felt his solar plexus constrict painfully. It was not her fault. She didn´t know that silently he´d been betraying her trust in him as a friend. As just a friend, he added grimly. He felt her eyes on him and drew a breath.

"Why did you come here, Catherine?" he asked carefully. "What can I do for you?"

Her look changed from puzzlement to comprehension. "Maybe I shouldn´t have come after all," she said, averting her eyes.

He reached out to touch her but stopped his hand halfway across the table, clenching it slowly. "I´m glad you came," he confessed quietly. "Thank you."

She slanted a look at him that was followed by a smile. "Still friends?" she asked hesitantly.

Schooling himself to detachment, he replied, "Still friends."

Her hand came up and she cupped his fist, coaxing it to open. "I was so afraid," she whispered, "that I would lose you."

He cast her a long, silent look and she blushed. "I didn´t know just how much you mean to me, Vincent," she breathed, "until last night when Elliot wanted me to sleep with him."

Taken aback by her bluntness, Vincent was momentarily at a loss for words. He felt heat rise to his cheeks. "What do you mean?" he asked tentatively.

Catherine shrugged. "I´m not sure. I couldn´t stop thinking of you and of how much our friendship means to me."

Vincent swallowed hard. "So...what did you tell him?" he inquired softly, afraid that his voice might give away the raw state of his emotions, a mixture of despair, jealousy, and relief.

"That it´s too soon for me to take a step like that," Catherine answered.

"And," Vincent prompted quietly, "what did he say?"

"That he´d wait -- but, Vincent, I don´t want him to wait."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Not yet."

Vincent straightened in his chair and looked out the window. The lake glittered brightly in the midday sun, and he wished that Catherine would stay for a while until her emotions and thoughts had cleared. But somehow he knew that she would not, that she would return to the city, and to Elliot, and that her confusion of mind and soul would yet increase before she would be able to resolve it. Maybe she would even have to let her relationship with Elliot move forward if she were to be sure in the end. His mind reeled and his heart screamed at the thought, but he reined in his ragged feelings for her sake. He mustn´t make it any harder on her than it already was.

"Vincent?" Catherine´s voice pulled him from his musings.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for listening."

His heart ached at the shaky smile she gave him, and he wished he´d been able to hold her, stroke her hair, and comfort her as best he could, but he dared not. "Would you care for a walk?" he asked instead.

"Very much," she replied.

Hand in hand they strolled down to the lake, tossing pebbles and watching the swans, but they didn´t touch the subject anymore.

In the late afternoon, when Catherine finally returned to her car and started the engine, Vincent knew that all he could do was wait. Suddenly the time ahead stretched endlessly before him. "Be well, Catherine," he whispered, bending his head down to the open window at the driver´s side.

"And you, Vincent," she replied and reached up through the window, touching his cheek.

When the car was long gone, Vincent still stood in the same place, looking down the driveway. His skin tingled with the last traces of Catherine´s caress, and he wished...he wished so much that...

Shaking off the unfinished thought, Vincent turned and walked up to the house, knowing that his long, agonizing wait had begun.

*

Weary from the three hour drive home, Catherine took a cool shower and retreated to her bed. She was still not certain what had compelled her to seek out Vincent and burden him with her problem. Her thoughts returned to their talk in the kitchen when Vincent had stated that she´d met a man. How in the world could he have known? But then again, Vincent had always had that uncanny ability to look straight to the bottom of her soul.

She wasn´t so naive as to believe that Vincent´s feelings for her were mere friendship. She´d sensed the shift in their relationship long ago, but at the same time she´d been glad for Vincent´s obvious reluctance to address the issue. It suddenly occurred to her that the reason why she´d gone to him today might have been her silent hope that he would declare his love for her and beg her not to see Elliot again.

Catherine was both disappointed and relieved that Vincent had done no such thing. It had been foolish, and cowardly, of her to expect that Vincent would take the decision from her shoulders and place it upon his own. That would have meant the end of their friendship as they had known it. And what if they had discovered, after all, that there was nothing else beyond it?

Catherine made an effort to put a name to what she felt for Vincent. When she´d seen him for the very first time, her reaction to him had been startlement, but then again, anyone would have startled her, breaking through the door the way he had. She remembered the vivid blue of his eyes as he had lifted his head, and how she was captured by them right from the start, so much so that her panic at the sight of the rest of his unusual face had been a moderate one. And then, when she´d discovered that he was hurt, she´d felt compassion, but also admiration for his endurance and patience -- and his trust in her, a total stranger.

Friendship had developed easily between them. From the beginning they´d always found something to talk about that intrigued them both, and Vincent´s insight and sensitivity had made him a friend unlike any she´d ever had.

She was helpless to tell when her feelings for him had begun to shift to something else, something she´d wanted to avoid, something that made him very uncomfortable, as well. Maybe it had been that evening when she´d tried to concentrate on her work but her thoughts, and her gaze, had kept returning to him as he´d sat on the sofa, listening to music.

Certain enough, he had sensed it instantly, and his reaction had taught her to take great care to conceal her admiration for his masculine appeal.

With a smile Catherine realized that Vincent had never ever given away his feelings for her by casting her a look that would have betrayed him and that would have made her feel uncomfortable. His remarkable self-control had earned him the high opinion she had of him. Yet there had been moments when she´d caught herself almost wishing that his restraint would falter -- at least a little. She knew it was silly of her, like playing with fire, but she just couldn´t help it.

Suddenly the realization hit her that she´d intended to think about Elliot and her feelings for him. Well, Elliot was charming, handsome, and powerful, not to mention wealthy. He even tried very hard to understand her and be patient with her. Yet...

On impulse, Catherine left her bed and walked into her living room. She turned on the lights inside her etagere, gazing silently at the beauty unfolding before her.

With a grateful sigh, Catherine closed her eyes. Maybe the answer was as simple as that. Maybe it was all a matter of discerning glittering glass from a shining gem.