daylightasonefinal

IN DAYLIGHT AS ONE
by Linda Mooney

Final Part ~ The Return

Darkness had descended with its regular rhythm. Ducks nesting around the lake quacked sleepily and Catherine stopped what she was doing to listen. More and more she was learning to see her world through Vincent's eyes. She never knew how much she took for granted until a comment or gesture from him gave her new insight. Because of him, life refused to be boring, and love was a promise kept every second.
She loaded the ice chest into the back of the van and closed the door. Going around to the front of the cabin, she checked to be sure the door was secured before seeking him out.
He was standing on the shore, lost in his thoughts. Hands in her jeans pockets, she walked up beside him.
"I shall miss this place," he whispered. "It has been a refuge, an answer to all my hopes and wishes."
"I know I will never be able to look at it again the same way ," Catherine answered. She reached up to lay a hand on his arm. "We need to go."
He nodded and they walked back to the van, yet their bond told each of them there was no sadness in leaving. Deeper inside their hearts they were anxious to get back to the city and retreat down Below where Vincent would call a Grand Council -a meeting held for the most important news- and there he would announce his and Catherine's intentions.
On the drive back they listened to "The Mikado" and it brightened their mood. Vincent was faintly amused to watch Catherine happily sing along with certain sections, waving her hand about like an orchestra conductor .
Reaching Manhattan, she slowed down, careful of the traffic, and Vincent pulled his hood over his head, caution once more prevailing.
Catherine cut the headlights when they finally reached the alley. But before she could bring the van to a complete stop, Mouse erupted from the side door of the building.
"You're home! You're home! Back safe, like Narcissa said!" He opened the passenger door to give Vincent a big hug. "Must go tell Father ."
"Is Father well?" Vincent asked him.
Mouse nodded. "Yes, fine. But worried. Worry, worry, all night and all day. Mouse here since dark, waiting for you."
Vincent patted his shoulder. "Then you go on ahead and tell Father and the others that I'm back home. And that I am fine. There was never any danger."
Mouse glowed. "Okay, fine. Okay, good!" He turned to go, then stopped as if forgetting something. Whirling around, he stepped back up to the van. "Hi, Catherine. See you later." With that he disappeared back into the entryway.
Catherine let the giggle escape that she had been holding. Vincent shook his head and stepped out of the vehicle. Opening the side door to retrieve his valise, he paused to look at her. "How long will you be?"
She glanced at her watch. "After I unpack the van, I need to take a taxi back to the apartment. I'll meet you in the basement in about an hour ."
"An hour," he echoed. Nodding, he removed the valise and slammed the door. He stood in the doorway of the abandoned building and watched her maneuver the van into traffic before allowing himself to go back down Below.
Catherine made record time getting back to her apartment. In fact, she still had a half hour before meeting Vincent. Throwing her suitcase on the floor beside the wardrobe, she walked over to the French doors leading from her bedroom to the balcony and opened them. She stepped out into the night and leaned over the edge of the railing. The autumn weather gave her a crystal view of the city. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, she held it and tried to read the night like Vincent could, but, laughing, she shook her head and gave up. She moved over to the chaise lounge and sat back in it, pulling out her little red book from her jacket pocket. Slowly she leafed through the pages until she spotted one with Vincent's familiar writing on it. Tilting the book to catch the light better, she read, hearing his melodious voice.
"You are asleep, my beloved.
Your face is peaceful, your brow smooth.
I feel a peace I have never had before in my life.
Rest, my heart.
I will guard you and protect you through all eternity.
Know that I will love you more every day than I do now. Forever .
V"
She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be sweeter than that moment.

*** A blaring horn from the street below jerked her back to consciousness. Morning was firmly set in the sky. Guiltily, she jumped up and looked at her watch.
"Twenty minutes past six? Oh, my God -Vincent!" She slammed out of the apartment and bolted for the elevator.
"Come on, come on !" she begged the slow moving lift.
The door to the apartment across the hall opened and Mrs. Peale leaned out to get her paper . "Morning, Catherine!" she called out.
"Good morning, Mrs. Peale." Catherine turned back to the elevator when a light went on in her head. "Mrs. Peale!" she called back to the woman.
The elderly lady paused with her door half closed. "Yes, dear?"
"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane to Boston by now?" Catherine was sure she had made the reservations for the crippled woman for Friday morning.
"Why, that's not until Friday, dear. I still have a few more days to pack."
Blood drained from her face. "What are you talking about?" Catherine demanded. The elevator dinged and the doors opened but she ignored them. "Isn't this Friday morning?"
Mrs. Peale smiled at her. "No, Catherine. It's Tuesday morning."
"Tuesday? But -" But Vincent came to her Tuesday night with the news. They left Wednesday night for the lake. "Oh, God...NO!"
She ran back to the door and snatched up the paper from her doorstep. The header read Tuesday, September the tenth.
A small cry of anguish escaped her as she fumbled at the lock of her door. At last she got it unbolted and threw it open, running for the phone. She rapidly punched a number.
"Hello, Phil? This is Catherine Chandler. Say, did I rent a white Ford van from you just recently?" Her palms were sweating so she wiped them on the legs of her pants. "I didn't? Are you sure? ...No, no, it's not important. No, thank you, Phil. 'Bye." She set the receiver down. Her breath was coming in short gasps like someone had his hands around her windpipe. Frantically she grabbed her directory and flipped through it until she found the number she wanted. She dialed again.
"Will? Is this Will Tellegrue? Hi. This is Catherine Chandler. Look, I know this is going to sound silly but did I call you any time recently? ...Hmm? ...No, I mean in the last couple of days?" She felt her world begin to blacken and crumble. "Okay, I see. No, I'm fine, thank you... Yes, I will... 'Bye, Will."
She didn't feel the phone drop from her nerveless fingers. "No," she moaned. "Please...please...it happened! Please, God...tell me it really happened!" Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. There was one more chance -just one small, very slim chance. She stumbled back out to the balcony and snatched up her red book. Like a madwoman she tore through the pages to find the one with Vincent's note to her.
All the pages were blank.
*** Deep beneath the city, Vincent opened his eyes and stared unseeing at the stained glass window over his bed. Slowly he rolled onto his back, letting the threads of the dream weave the tapestry of what he had shared with Catherine through their bond. He could not remember every moment, but the whole of what she had imagined they had experienced left him shaken...and intrigued. Was it possible that the deepest hopes he kept secreted in the furthest part of his heart were a reflection of hers? Never before had he been able to enter her dreams and see them as she did. He often felt her dreaming and knew if it was pleasant or distressing, but the one she had lived last night had been a beacon, drawing him into the shadowy world of her mind until he could view, for the first time, dimly but clearly, the images of her dream. The touches, the looks, the emotions had played before him as he had watched the two of them through her eyes.
Now he could feel her awaken -and was confused by the sudden sense of urgency he received from her. He sat up in the bed and tried to focus, to understand her rising panic. And when she screamed through their bond, he leapt from beneath the covers and hurriedly dressed, wanting to go to her and wait beneath the basement of her apartment in case she needed him for comfort.
Half-running down the tunnels, her despair flooded over him and he halted, a terrible thought eating at the corner of his mind. Could it be...was it possible that what she was feeling was...disgust?
Disturbed, he backed against the side of the tunnel and tried to catch his breath. He suddenly felt more afraid than he could ever remember. If Catherine had consciously lived her dream as he had and was aware of the import of fulfilling a physical relationship with him, why was she now feeling remorse?
Confused, he turned away from the direction he had been going and headed down toward a seldom-traveled set of passageways. His long legs moved of their own accord, his eyes blind to everything but his own concern. Another idea gnawed at him and he moaned softly, stopping to lay his head in his hands. Maybe...maybe the reason he had been able to see and live Catherine's dream was because...because it hadn't been Catherine's dream -it had been HIS. His dream, projected to her for her to experience, forced to endure. And that was why he could now sense her shrinking from him.
"What have I done!" he cried aloud and heard the words echo down the throat of the tunnel. He couldn't bear the weight of the guilt besieging him and he began to run deeper down the lightless, twisting corridors in the bedrock. He ran until his legs fought each step, his lungs burning, and then he stopped, collapsing to the floor and letting the tears come as he wept, crushed and ashamed.
Catherine rose from the chaise lounge and went to the bathroom to wash her face. Her reflection in the mirror showed her an appearance she knew she couldn't take to work that morning. Exhausted, she sat on the edge of her bed to phone the office and beg sick, then she laid back on the comforter and tried to clear her mind. She knew without any doubt that Vincent was receiving her emotions at that moment. At times his empathic powers were a blessing, helping him to find her and protect or comfort her when she desperately needed him. But at other times -
She grew fearful. Was he aware of what she had dreamt? It had been a sweet, intoxicating dream and when she had realized it as such, her heart had cracked like fine crystal, threatening to shatter because of the profound loss she felt. Should she go Below and seek him out? Try to explain the tangle of emotions she was dealing with?
She decided to wait - give herself time to calm down and rest. He would come to her tonight. They would talk it out then and accept this experience as one more test they had to endure for the sake of their love.

He had completely turned away from the bond, shutting himself off from the torment of her emotions. Wandering aimlessly for hours, he found himself arriving at the Chamber of the Winds. The bite and buffet to his body helped tear apart the over-laying film of grief until he felt he could reason clearly.
Catherine loved him and had wanted to share his love, his kisses, but the desire to know him more intimately was now repulsive to her because of the dream. And her reaction to the dream when she awoke made it clear that even the thought of being touched again by him was repugnant.
In his heart, Vincent forced himself to see the only possible conclusion. Tonight, he decided, he would go to her one last time with his decision. One last time.
***
The night was kind enough to still the chilling air for the evening. Catherine was comfortable standing by the rail on the terrace, letting her fresh-washed hair dry naturally, warm in a fleece lounging shift. Looking up, she saw the stars were brighter than the lights of the city before her and she closed her eyes, wishing him to come. Her longing to see him was so strong that when he swept over the roof to land on the balcony, Vincent could no longer ignore the bond. He paused briefly.
What is this I'm receiving from you, Catherine? Are you wishing to go on with your life... without me? Apart from mine?
The sound of his landing startled her and she quickly turned to face him. The instant she saw his face, the look in his eyes, she knew he had experienced more than just the emotions of her dream.
"You know?" she whispered.
He nodded, barely, aware of her rising apprehension. "I know what you dreamed, Catherine. And I know what you felt."
Shame heated her face. "You saw what my dream was about?" Unconsciously she lowered her head and hugged herself tightly.
"Yes... "his gentle voice answered. "I felt the dream...and I know what you believed we had done." Don't blame yourself, my Catherine. You have no reason to feel shame.
She turned away from him. Vincent had always offered her his love freely, but it had been a pure and innocent love unsullied by coarseness or vulgarity.
What's going through your mind, Vincent? What must you think of me now? Have I shocked you? Angered you? Disappointed you? Do you see me differently, in a whole new light? Please...don't condemn me for those dreams I kept from you...dreams I can't control when I'm asleep.
When she refused to face him, Vincent's spirit sank. Now he knew she was repulsed by him, his appearance, all that he stood for. He ached to hold her one last time and without knowing it he took a step toward her .
She heard him move and whirled back to face him. ..No! Don't...touch me." She covered her eyes with her hands.
Oh, God, I can't bear for you to touch me right now, even though I want so much for you to hold me. But if you did you'd know the truth...the truth that I still want you and desire you. The truth that I don't feel guilty about what I dreamed...only that you found out about it.
You would suffer. The innocence of your love would suffer. I've betrayed that innocence and I'm sorry. I'm so ashamed. How can you stand there, so far away from me, just looking at me after what happened last night? Dammit- why can't I read YOU?
Her throat began to ache with tears she fought to hold back. .'Vincent...I'm sorry " she began.
He knew what was coming. She was dismissing him, taking it upon herself to end it, anxious to be rid of him and unable to wait for him to make the move.
"Catherine...let me speak," he begged. Her hands clutched the front of her gown and he winced.
Have we come to this ? That you feel the need to cover yourself? Hide from my eyes ? Not want my presence around you? My heart is breaking, knowing I'm losing you. I may not be in your eyes any longer the man you thought you loved, but with all the love I forever will carry for you, I will end this terrible impasse between us. For your sake.
His voice hardened. "Catherine, we can't go on. What happened...is too much for either of us to bear. We have to end it now before...before something happens that would totally destroy any love we have left for each other ."
Catherine nodded, numb, unable to speak, unable to look at him.
I've gone too far. I've overstepped the limits we had subconsciously placed on each other. And you, my only love, my Vincent, cannot begin to understand. Yet, can you forgive me ? If it does not disgust you too much? If you have any love left for me, can you do that?
She stepped away from him to look out over the city. He was leaving her. He was ending it. Part of her heart was tearing... and the pain grew and became fear.
How can I live, go on, and work and survive the rest of my life without him? My whole world is in his arms, the strength of his love. How can I even stay in New York with him Below?
She no longer tried to stop the tears.
Vincent felt her fear.
You're afraid of me now, of the beast that I am, that you see. This close to you, the power of your emotions is burying me. So strong I can almost sense what you're thinking. You want to leave the city? Why? To get away from me? To be rid of all the memories here?
Catherine, don't you know that once I leave I will never return ? You will never have to see or hear me again. My self and my world will cease to exist for you... even though I will carry you as part of my soul for the rest of my life.
"It was an impossible dream, Catherine," he choked. "I can't bear to put you through that kind of misery again... so I must leave you. I won't ever bother you again. But if ever you should remember me, know that what we had was beautiful. And let it help you someday find a better life than I could have offered you." He turned to leave.
At the sound of him going away, grief struck her hard and without mercy. Catherine sobbed and reached out to steady herself as the unbearable agony flooded her heart. Tears blinded her; she could feel herself sliding to the floor. Without knowing it, she cried out. The words were incoherent, but the shock and the sound of her pain enclosed Vincent like a black abyss and he turned back to reach blindly for her, enveloping her within his arms and his heart.
Starved for his warmth and embrace, Catherine clutched him, crying. She placed soft kisses on his neck and jaw, begging softly for him not to leave her -not to empty her life of him, her only source of love.
As his mind cleared, he instinctively tightened his embrace, pulling her against him, their bodies becoming as one as their hearts, their souls melded and healed in the strength of their love. She reached up, drawing his face towards her, and kissed him, tasting both of their tears. He tightened his grip, his need for her love overwhelming when suddenly, like the sun breaking through storm-blackened clouds, he realized how wrong he had been. How utterly wrong both of them had been. And then the terror at how close they had come to losing all of it nearly overwhelmed him.
He buried his face in her hair, whispering her name over and over, the joy that he had misread her emotions second only to the ecstasy of knowing she still wanted him, still needed him, and still found him beautiful.
Catherine was numbed by the revelation of how close they had actually come to losing each other and she slid her arms behind his back and pressed herself as tightly to him as possible.
As their feelings calmed and they knew they could both at last think more coherently, Catherine went inside to bring them out warm quilts and they snuggled together beneath them, holding each other closely. There they talked, clearing up every misconception and error, and slowly came to the realization that each of them had been thrilled by the dream... and deeply wished it were possible.
Vincent did not leave her until the first faint signs of the new day.
*** Catherine slowly stepped down off the porch and let the lake gently draw her towards it. A small piece of driftwood lay at the edge of the water and she bent to pick it up, turning it around in her hands. The moon was almost full -its silver light shining like pale snow over the tops of the trees and reflecting like fine jewelry in the water .
Her car was unpacked, the cabin had been cleaned, and she had two days of absolute solitude to soothe her nerves and calm her mind. She needed this time to let her heart mend from the blows it had endured when she had been so sure she had lost the only thing in the world worth living for. She sighed, watching her breath's vapor dissipate In the night air. The scent of pine was heavy, the smell of rich earth intoxicating. It was so cold, yet so still, she could feel the tip of her nose turning pink.
She wanted Vincent to be here, with her, healing her with his presence and his love. She wished she could hold him, giving him her strength in turn, to help him through this no-longer-dark period of their lives.
Absently she tossed the driftwood back into the water, watching the ensuing ripples widen, when a small stone flew by her and skipped two... three... four times on the lake's surface before sinking. She gasped and whirled around to see him standing just behind her. Without a sound she rushed to him, embracing him as he folded the cloak about them both.
"Do you think only danger guides me to you?" he chided her gently. "Don't you know your love lights my path to you just as surely? And the pull of that lamp is even stronger "
"I'm sorry I doubted you," she whispered. "But it's such a long distance."
"No, not really. There's a train that runs but a few miles from here, towards the mountains."
"It doesn't matter now," she said, nuzzling the warmth of his grey woolen vest. "There's only the two of us... here... and I want to remember every moment of this for the rest of my life." She looked up at him. "I've already unpacked and your valise is inside with my luggage."
Vincent guided her back into the cabin and there, by the roaring fire, they sat while he told her of his journey. Catherine found herself frequently reaching out to touch him, to be assured that -this time -he was not a dream, until Vincent captured her hand, pulling her to him, and murmured against her lips, "This is reality, Catherine," and proved it with his kiss.

Part of their shared dream came true in the two days they spent at the lake... and part of it did not. There were walks in the sunlight, sweet embraces when words weren't necessary, and long hours curled before the fire when words were everything as, with shy and gentle honesty, they spoke of the future and what it might yet hold for them. Each of the two nights ended with a tender kiss -and a retreat to separate beds without regret, although not without a look of longing. At least now that longing was acknowledged and understood. And if it created in them dreams of fulfillment, those dreams were no longer things of fear or shame, but moments of renewed hope and possibilities that they might be allowed, someday, to become real.
On the third night they bid good-bye with a gentle embrace and Catherine got back into her car to return to the city alone. Vincent assured her that his return by train would take longer than hers, but promised he would let her know he got back safely.
When she reached her apartment, she unpacked the car and later enjoyed a cup of tea on her balcony, waiting for him. By midnight he still hadn't arrived but she did not worry. She took a shower and went to bed to sleep deeply and contentedly.
In the light of the next morning she woke to find her little red book lying on the pillow beside her. Catherine smiled and sat up, opening the pages to find one marked with a pressed wildflower and the note of love she had dreamed, word for word. But as she read the message, she knew that this time what had happened between them hadn't been a dream.
It wasn't a dream.
The End. . .