journeysch01

Journeys
Lynn

Chapter One
Father came as near to jumping up from his chair as his infirmity would let him. “Why I ever taught you this game is beyond me! Where in H…um, in the world did you get that attack?”
Vincent looked up, bringing his mind back to the conversation. “I made it up. Although I’m sure someone else has thought of it before. But it was rather neat, wasn’t it?” He pushed his chair away from the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I’m sorry Father, I haven’t been a very good companion tonight, have I?”
“Hm! Good enough to trounce me soundly once again! But yes, you’ve been preoccupied tonight, and for several days, Vincent. Is there something I can do to help? I know it’s Catherine you’re thinking about; nothing else pulls you so far away from what’s going on around you. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. No, I must talk to Catherine. But I’m reluctant to do so, we have some…well, I must do it, I’m sure she’s wondering why I don’t come to her.” He got up and began to pace.
“Vincent, I know that this aborted trip of yours to Connecticut was a large disappointment to Catherine. She just has no idea of how unthinkable it is for you, of the dangers you face when you…”
“Stop! That’s enough, Father. Catherine has a very good understanding of all the dangers I face…we face…” He stopped, leaning on a table, his head down, his mane hiding his face. “I prefer not to discuss this subject, if you please. Another game, Father?”
Jacob understood that the subject was closed. “You mean do I want more punishment? No thanks, I think I’ve had enough for one night!” His eyes followed with love and worry as Vincent began to pace again, but he reseated himself at the table, resigned to learning no more tonight of what had upset his son.
Suddenly his head came up, as did Vincent’s; an emergency signal from the pipes brought them both to attention. “Intruders! Old Chinatown subway entrance…that’s been blocked for years!” Vincent jumped up and headed for the doorway at a run, scooping his cloak from the back of a chair as he went.
********

It was a few minutes before Vincent reached the entrance; it was a long run from Father’s study. As he rounded the last bend, he could see two teenage sentries confronting three very large men. There didn’t appear to be violence imminent, and as he drew near enough to see the men, he knew why.

He slowed to a walk, and strode up behind the boys. “It’s all right.” He put a hand on each shoulder. “I know them. They’re old residents. Lon, Allie, Vern…” He moved past the boys to open his arms in a welcoming embrace, and each man was enfolded in turn. “I’m happy to see you again. Father will be delighted! Come on, let’s go to see him. It’s been many years, we’ve got some catching up to do.” Vincent turned back up the tunnel, his arm around the nearest man. “He’ll offer you a cup of tea, nothing has changed here.”
Then he turned back to the young sentries. “I have some things to say to you two, as will Father. We’ll talk later. You may consider yourselves to be in serious trouble.” Two heads went down. They knew they’d overstepped all the rules by showing themselves and confronting intruders.
With a final stern look, Vincent turned back to his guests. “You boys have grown,” he observed as they began the long walk back. All three of the brothers topped his height by an inch and were as broad shouldered as he also. They were a good-looking trio, blonde and muscular. “When you left us you were what, fourteen?”
Lon, who was the usual spokesman for the three brothers, answered. “We were fifteen, nearly sixteen. Papa thought it was time we started bringing in some money.”
“I remember that very well. I have seldom seen Father so angry as he was when your father said you’d had enough schooling. But your father was just as angry. It was a battle of Titans.” Vincent shook his head, amused still at the memory of the raised voices of two strong men who disagreed. “Father wasn’t used to being flatly contradicted, but your father never was afraid to tell him exactly what he thought. Is he here with you?”
“Papa is dead. He died in an argument just like you’re talking about. Just fell over dead. About…when, Allie?…ya, three years ago.”
“I’m sorry. He was a strong man, and a man with a good heart.”
“Ya, a good heart maybe, but he thought he was right about everything…his old country ways were best, he never listened to anybody else.” Lon’s voice showed still a trace of anger at his father.
Vern spoke for the first time, his voice hoarse, as if he didn’t use it much. “We’re better off without him.”
Lon spoke sharply to Vern in the eastern European language of their father’s homeland. Vincent caught some of it, something he thought about respect for the dead.
Vern dropped his eyes to look at the ground. “Ya, ya.”
They walked on in silence for the most part. Vincent remembered that they had always been rather silent kids; he’d thought at the time that they were afraid to talk, afraid of their father’s disapproval. But the silence was companionable, so Vincent didn’t try to make conversation. When they reached the library they found Father sitting at his desk in a characteristic occupation, studying a map. As they entered, he raised his head.
“Is everything all right? What was…Well, look at this! These are the intruders? Well, well, very welcome ones! Hello boys, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He came around his desk to embrace all three men. “Vern, Lon, Allie, it’s good to have you back.”
Lon smiled at his brothers. “I told you so, he can still do it. You can still tell us apart? It’s been ten years.”
Father shrugged. “I have no problem with telling you apart. Triplets you may be, but you’re three separate people. Three very large people, too.” He added, laughing. “Well, in ten years I expect there would be some changes, and the most certain one is that you would get bigger. Your father must be pleased to have three such strapping sons. Is he with you?”
“Papa’s dead, Father. Three years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You must miss him very much.”
“…Sometimes.” Lon looked back at Vern with a stern command in his glance.
********
Catherine crouched on her knees in front of the fire, her head down, drying her hair in the warmth of the blaze. In a minute she straightened, tossing her hair back. Her hairbrush was in her hand, but she didn’t use it. Her body stilled as she stared into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. She stared for a long time without moving at all, but at last her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. She hadn’t seen Vincent for nine days, since the night after her disastrous attempt to give him a time Above, away from the tunnels, to bring to him some of the joys of that other world that he saw only in the light of the moon and stars.
He had come to see her on the night following his refusal to join her in that adventure that she had planned so carefully, longed for with such passion, anticipated with such joy. He was very much aware of her disappointment and his guilt had brought him to her to make another apology.
“Catherine…I came only to tell you again how sorry I am that I disappointed you. I should never have started it, never have let you believe for a minute that such a thing could happen. I feel how desolated you were, how sad you still are. I am very sorry that I showed such poor judgment.”
They were standing on the balcony side by side looking out over the city. Vincent paused, but Catherine made no answer. She continued to gaze at New York spread out below.
When he got no answer, Vincent began to speak again, a bit uneasily. There was an emotional storm brewing in Catherine; he could feel it, but was at a loss to know its cause. “I should have realized how much pain it would bring you to be disappointed. I was careless of your feelings and those of the family Below….”
Catherine turned to him, her eyes blazing as the storm broke. “Stop it! Stop apologizing for the cowardice and selfishness of other people. Stop telling me that you’re at fault because others…beginning with Father! No, don’t you DARE try to defend him!” To Vincent’s astonishment, she actually stamped her foot. “They’re nothing but a bunch of…of leeches! They all waltz in and out of the tunnels at will, spend days in the park, go shopping, go to concerts, live just as much and as often as they want to in the world Above! But let you suggest that you’d like to spend a week, one week…out of a lifetime!…seeing what everyone else has taken for granted all their lives, and you’d think the world was going to come down around their ears! I am so angry with them all! I can’t believe how they use you and use you and expect you to just…just knuckle under.”
Vincent said nothing, staring at her, stunned by the violence of her tirade. Then he turned back to the view of the night sky. After a minute he said, very low. “And I do, don’t I?…knuckle under.”
“Always, Vincent.” She held her breath, hoping against hope that his admission meant that he was considering a different response to the tunnel folk’s importunities.
Vincent remained gazing at the stars for a moment. When he turned again to look at her, she saw with a sinking heart that he had rallied his defenses, that he was prepared once again to bury his emotion under a calm exterior. “Catherine, it’s true. I do…knuckle under. I am unable, or I suppose you would say unwilling, to hurt or disappoint them, or to frighten them. They were frightened, Catherine, frightened of what could happen were I not there to defend them. What can I do against that? They are helpless to defend themselves; I must be there!”
“You must. There is no way for you to free yourself from…from virtual slavery. Is that what you’re telling me?”
He looked at her silently.
“Yes, I guess that’s what you’re telling me.” She turned away from him, struggling to contain a sudden rush of tears. As the tears subsided, she continued, “You’re unwilling, and that is the word, unwilling, to reach out to see a little piece of the world you’ve been barred from all your life, because you don’t want them to worry.”
After a moment, the answer came. “Yes.”
“You are wrong, Vincent.” Catherine turned to look steadily into his eyes. “You are doing this to yourself. And perhaps there is more to it than your care for the people Below. There are other ways to solve their problem; you are not indispensable. Perhaps under it all, you’re afraid yourself to take the risks involved.” She looked at him speculatively. “Yes, that’s possible…and understandable. But for whatever reasons, you’re throwing away not just the chance we had yesterday, but every chance you might have in the future.” Her eyes never wavered from his. “I’m bitterly angry with you, Vincent, for the very first time. I’m angry because you have given up.”
He didn’t answer, and as she stood looking at him, she realized that he couldn’t. The calm exterior had cracked; his throat was closed by emotion. In a moment, tears welled in his eyes. He took a deep breath, held it, looked up at the sky, stood a moment more, then let it out slowly as his tears came under control. He put his hands on the rail and leaned forward, his head hanging down, his face shadowed by his hair. He turned his head after a moment to stare at her, his eyes still holding the remnants of his tears. A moment of complete stillness, while his eyes bored into hers, then suddenly he wheeled and reached for her, not with his usual gentleness, but hungrily.
Catherine was stunned by the way he took her into his embrace. He held her with his right arm around her waist, his long fingers spread down over her hip, and the other arm in the middle of her back with his elbow bent to let his hand cradle the back of her head. The result was that she was held against him tightly for the whole length of her body. His face was pressed into her neck, and she felt his lips move against her skin.
His arms tightened around her. “Catherine, Catherine…don’t be angry, please, please! Your anger destroys me…don’t leave me, oh don’t…” His voice was hoarse, husky, broken; his words were spoken against her throat. “When I have you here in my arms, how can I ask for anything more? For whatever time it lasts, I’ve got this…oh, Catherine, I need you so…” His arms tightened yet again. “Let me…let me hold you, I dare not ask for the world too, only let me be with you, and hold you…and love you…” His words trailed away in a smothered sob.
Catherine’s heart swelled with her love at his words, but before she could answer his arms moved to gather her closer and she felt his lips again on her neck; he was kissing her. With amazed joy she felt his mouth move over her skin. His heart was racing; she could feel it even through his heavy clothes so tight was his embrace, and her heart matched it. As she held her breath in anticipation, his mouth began to move up the side of her neck. It traveled with excruciating slowness up to the angle of her jaw, under her ear. There he stopped, moaning softly as his lips opened to let his tongue feel the smooth skin and taste the essence of her body.
He drew his head back then, to look at her face. His own eyes were hazy, unfocused; he looked as if he were sleepwalking. His gaze moved over her face, and stopped at last at her mouth. With agonizing slowness, his head came down, until his lips just barely touched hers. He stopped there with the slightest contact, the lightest touch of his lips on hers. She heard a soft sigh and felt his warm breath, and he spoke against her lips almost soundlessly, “…my love…” Then his mouth came down on hers fully, softly, open and gently searching.
After a moment’s stunned uncertainty she returned his kiss. Her hand caressed the side of his face and her lips moved against his, wanting to feel every part of his mouth, to savor all of him in this moment out of time, this longed-for and unexpected joy. And Vincent too searched out every soft surface of flesh. His tongue stroked the inside of her lips, moving inquiringly into the corners, sliding softly over the fullness of her lower lip, exploring her and just feeling her in his arms and under his mouth, before his tongue slid farther into her mouth to deepen the kiss.
It was more wonderful than she had dreamed. When he raised his head at last, her lips followed his with an involuntary motion, unwilling to end such rapture. He moved his mouth down to the side of her throat once more, kissing her with rapt attention to the smooth textures of her skin. His mouth dropped down farther then, to the base of her throat, and further yet to the opening of her robe. She moaned with pleasure as he neared her breasts, and her nipples stood up through the soft slippery silk, begging for his mouth. Then he raised his head to look down at her breasts.
Catherine thought later that it would all have happened, it would have been so perfect, if she had only had a moment’s patience. It was the sight of her naked breast that shocked him into awareness, and she had done it herself. Watching his rapt face and feeling his hot breath on her skin was too much; she couldn’t wait an instant longer. She raised her hand to push her robe and the nightgown strap off her shoulder. The silk robe slithered down her arm, carrying the gown with it and baring her breast to Vincent’s sight.
He stared for a moment longer, then his head jerked up suddenly. The soft mazed look in his eyes turned to alarm, and it was over. He turned away from her instantly and began the ascent to the roof. Before she could draw another breath, he was gone.
********
As Catherine sat in front of the fire, musing on what had happened nine days ago, she gazed down unseeingly at the hairbrush in her lap. If I had just not been so impatient, if only… Then she smiled ruefully to herself. What point in worrying about it now? Maybe it would have happened, but probably not. Vincent would have come to himself in a short time anyway; she was sure of it when she thought about it with more coolness. She shook herself mentally, and began to brush her hair. He’ll come, I know he’ll be here; I know he can’t stay away. God, I hope it’s not much longer; I miss him so much. How long was he going to be able to stand it? How long was she?
She straightened and picked herself up off the hearthrug. Get a grip, girl. He’ll come to you pretty soon…if he’s all right. Suppose something’s happened to him? He goes so far away down Below when he’s upset. God! If he doesn’t come tomorrow night, I’m going Below. She settled herself on the couch with a book, but reading was beyond her, her thoughts turned only to Vincent. She got up restlessly, fixed a cup of tea, came back to sit down again. In a minute she put down the book and looked around the room for some occupation. The volume of sonnets that sat on the coffee table caught her eye.
When the knock on the door came, Catherine was lost on a romantic cloud of verse. Surprised, she got up slowly and moved across the floor. Who had got to her door without announcement, some neighbor in the building? She put the chain into its slot before she opened the door.
It was Eliot Burch. “Eliot?” She was bewildered. He was the last person she expected to find at her door.
“Cathy, how wonderful just to see you. Can we talk?”
“How did you get up here? Is there some reason why you’re here, Eliot? I don’t really have anything to say to you. I don’t…”
“The doorman remembers me. Yes, there’s a reason. I miss you, and I need to see you, just see you for a little while.” He looked down at his hands. “I love you. That’s the only reason.” He raised his eyes to hers again. “Please?”
“Eliot, I just can’t do this. I thought you understood that everything is over.” Her voice and her face were not welcoming.
“Don’t, Cathy. I know it’s over, but I’m right at the end. Please.” His face showed desperation.
She noticed for the first time that he needed a shave; that was not like Eliot. She sighed. Damn! She felt sorry for him! “All right, Eliot, come in.” She shut the door, took the chain off, and opened it again for him to enter.
He sat down on the love seat nearest him. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging limp, his head down. “I don’t know what I’m doing, or feeling, or where I’m going, Cathy. The project is gone, but that’s not it. There’s always another project.” He didn’t look at her, still staring down at his hands. “Burch Towers was my dream, I guess you know that if anyone does. But it’s you, Cathy…it’s you. There’s another project, but there’s not another woman. Not for me. Not ever.”
He looked up then and as he looked his gaze was blurred somehow, as if he saw the future, or perhaps the past, rather than seeing her. Her annoyance with him disappeared as she looked at him. She straightened and began to give him her whole attention; there was something in his eyes that made her uneasy. Perhaps he truly was desperate.
She shook her head, and spoke more gently to him. “What can I say to you? It’s over between us. It never really even started. Let go, Eliot.” She hesitated, weighing prudence against the need to make him understand, and then she spoke slowly. “You must let go of it, of me. It’s not just what happened between us. There’s someone else, Eliot. There always has been.”
His head came up, his eyes clear now, his keen mind again in the present. “Someone that you love?”
“Very much. With all my heart. I’m sorry, Eliot, I really am. There just isn’t anything at all left for anyone else. I’ve given all I am to him.” Her face softened at the thought of that love.
“Yes…yes, I see that. I see it in your face.” He smiled a little, ruefully. “I guess I should be glad for you, Cathy, that you’ve got someone who means so much to you. I…I am glad.” He shook his head, amazed at himself. “I am. I feel better, somehow, knowing that you’re not alone. I guess that’s crazy.”
“No, it’s not crazy, it’s very kind. Thank you. You know, Eliot, in spite of all our differences and the trouble we’ve made for each other, even when I was hating you, I’ve always liked you.”
He flinched. “Ow! The coup de grace! But thanks, I needed to hear that you don’t hate me. And thank you for seeing me. It was very much needed. I won’t bother you again like this, that I’ll promise you.” He got up, stood looking down at her for a moment, then walked to the door and turned back to her. “If I can ever…ever do anything for you…or for you and him, just ask, Cathy.”
Catherine’s legal instincts brought her to attention. An offer, perhaps never to be made again! “Well, as a matter of fact, you can. You can lend me your jet.”
Eliot stared at her for a moment, stunned. “My God, Cath! Just jump right in at the very top, don’t settle for anything less!” Then he grinned with those smiling eyes that were one of his greatest charms. “But it’s all right, it gives me a chance to redeem myself with you, and that’s worth a great deal to me.”
She shook her head. “This is just a favor. You don’t need to redeem yourself with me, Eliot; redemption comes from inside yourself. Find something to give yourself to, anything, anything at all that will get you no return but the satisfaction of doing something that legitimizes that good side of you. I know it’s there, I’ve seen it.”
A wry grin emphasized his rueful acceptance of what she said. “Well, even without redemption the jet is yours. Anywhere, any length of time, no questions asked. Period.”
Her smile was brilliant. “Thank you, Eliot.”
He put his arms out and pulled her against him for just a second, his face buried in her shoulder. Then he turned and was gone.
********
Vincent didn’t come the next night, which was Friday. Catherine waited until an hour after dark, and then she dressed for a trip Below. As she crossed the living room to the door, she paused for a second to glance at the bulging briefcase sitting on the floor by the dining table. But only for a second, resolutely she turned away and passed through the door.
As she descended the ladder from the basement she felt his presence behind her, but not his hands guiding her to the ground. That told her something about his state of mind. She turned to face him with some trepidation. “Vincent? I had to come, I’ve missed you.”
“And I you, Catherine. Very much.” His face showed tenderness, but he came no closer.
She moved closer to him but was careful not to touch him. “Can we talk? I think we need to talk.”
He stood silent for a long moment. Then he let out his breath in a sigh. “Yes, yes, of course we need to talk. But…I’m afraid, Catherine.” He glanced away from her for a moment, but his eyes were drawn inevitably back to her face. He couldn’t look away for long; he hadn’t seen her for ten days. “In these last days I’ve given a great deal of thought to…us…and I have a clear idea in my mind about where our relationship should go, where it can go. But when I’m with you…I’m afraid I won’t remember what…what I need to remember.” He pause for a moment, then with a deep breath, continued. “I…I’ve been delaying seeing you, hoping to find something…some place inside myself, a solid place to stand. But there’s quicksand inside me, Catherine. There is no solid ground.” The admission cost him something; she could see the pain in his eyes plainly.
What he said next was even more painful for him. Catherine knew he’d prefer to forget that their last encounter on her balcony had ever happened, but his conscience wouldn’t let him ignore it. He forced the words out; she could see the effort plainly. “Before we say anything more, I must beg your forgiveness for my…wrongdoing, lapse, failure…I don’t know what to call it. But I certainly had no right to…”
“You have the right! I gave you the right long ago, you know that. The choice is yours, Vincent. It always has been. Don’t punish yourself for what happened; it was not against my will, that must have been pretty obvious.” Her face flushed as she looked at him, but she went on, “I wanted it to happen, Vincent.” She looked down at her hands then, not trusting herself to look at him any longer; she wanted so much to put her arms around him.
In a moment she looked up again, in control once more. “If your choice is not to do what you have the right to do, then I’ll abide by that choice, until the time when perhaps you’ll change your mind.” She smiled, her love plain in her face. “But until that time comes, I give you my assurance, Vincent, that I will not do again what I did; I will do nothing to provoke…any expansion of the situation.”
He shook his head. “The responsibility is mine, as was the fault. But the assurance you offer is gratefully accepted. I will come to your apartment, and we can talk about these things. I don’t think that there is sufficient privacy Below.”
“Now?”
“Yes, I’ll see you there in half an hour.”
********
As Catherine waited for him, she was conscious of butterfly wings in her interior; it was very much like what she felt before making an opening argument in court. The thought made her smile, but the situations were not very different, in truth. By whatever means came to hand, with whatever tools she could find to bargain with, she meant to make him at least accept the possibility of leaving the tunnels to get a glimpse of another kind of world.
After all, I’ve got a jet! She hugged the possibilities of that to her. So many things were feasible with private air transportation. Her mind soared with the promise contained in that thought. The desert, the mountains…there were so many beautiful places where the land was empty of people. Even the shore…there must still be places in the country where the sea crashed in on an empty strand.
As she dreamed of Vincent’s delight in those places, he appeared on the other side of the balcony doors, but so deep in her dream was she that he tapped twice before she heard him.
When she opened the door he stepped inside. Seeing her astonishment that he had entered her apartment at last, he smiled his small smile at her, and said with a certain dry humor, “It’s cold out there tonight. I think we should be physically comfortable during our talk. The mental discomfort should be sufficient to keep us from becoming complacent.”
He changed the subject quickly then. “What were you thinking of, Catherine? When I looked in you were smiling to yourself.”
“I was thinking about…the ocean.” A lame substitution for her real thoughts, but the novelty of his appearance in her dining room had disconcerted her.
“Devin has just appeared Below, fresh from sailing on a three master. You should talk to him about it. A very interesting trip, to say the least.”
“Devin is here?” Catherine was delighted to hear it. “Oh, great, I…yes, I’ll be happy to see him, he always has some good stories to tell.” Devin was the very person she needed to help her in planning. Furthermore, he knew Vincent better than anyone did and she knew that she needed all the help she could get. Vincent was going to be difficult to convince; he’d made up his mind on the subject of travel Above.
They moved into the living room, and Catherine looked around the room rather vaguely, bent to pick up a book from the couch, straightened the magazines on the coffee table, then turned to him, the book still in her hand. “Shall we sit here? May I take your cloak? A cup of tea?” She looked around her once more, looked down at the book in her hand and put it back where she had picked it up. Her nervous tension was evident.
Vincent held up his hand. “Catherine, don’t. I know how you feel; I too am apprehensive about this talk. A cup of tea would be welcome, and I will take off my cloak and sit down while you go to make it.” He looked down at her with tenderness. Then, surprising her, his hand came up farther and touched the side of her face. “We don’t need to be afraid of each other, do we?”
It was the first time he had touched her since the kiss on her balcony, and somehow that light touch of his fingers on her face calmed her. “No, Vincent, we don’t.” She relaxed visibly, and smiled at him with all of the love that she felt.
He dropped his hand, but remained looking down at her for a minute, until she saw awareness of her physical nearness appear in his eyes. He turned then and walked to the love seat, swinging his cloak off his shoulders as he did so. She watched him for a moment; his grace of movement always drew her eyes. Then she turned to the kitchen.
She returned in a few minutes with a tray holding the teapot, delicate bone china cups, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. When he saw the cookies, Vincent looked up and smiled at her. She poured tea, and handed him a cup, and offered cookies. He shook his head, smiling still. “Maybe later.”
She moved to the fireplace, knelt, and touched a match to the already laid fire. Then she turned to the other loveseat, sat down facing Vincent and picked up her tea, without a cookie. She also had no appetite at the moment.
Vincent sipped his tea in silence, staring into the fire as it consumed the kindling and blazed up, then put his cup down and began. “I’ve thought a good deal about our relationship, Catherine, and still I’m not sure quite how to express my thoughts. I think perhaps the best course is just to say bluntly what I’m thinking. And that is that…this…must not happen between us.”
“Vincent, I…”
“Wait, please let me finish. I want very much to hear what you have to say, but I need to get this out.” His facade of careful serious thought broke for a moment. His hand came up to shield his face as it showed for a moment his pain at the course he felt was necessary. But he lifted his head and began again, with that effort of will that was so characteristic of him. “Let me just finish what I have to say?” As she nodded her agreement, he went on.
“It must not happen, Catherine. I will tell you my reasons for this decision, because what has occurred between us has made straightforward discussion the only option now. There are some reasons pertaining to you, and some fears that I have, fears for you.
"I think you know what my feeling is about you and your life Above. I believe that the freedom of that way of living is far more important for your happiness than you are perhaps willing to admit to yourself. The life I have Below is so…limited, it’s unthinkable for you to live Below all of the time. Unthinkable. And if we continue on this course which began the other night, if it goes to…its only possible ending, I…” He stopped for a moment; the words were coming with great difficulty. “I will keep you with me. I will not be able to let you go away from me again to work Above, where you are in danger and I cannot be there.”
His head dropped down, his hair hiding his face from her. “I should make a final break right now. I know that. It’s the best thing for you; I am not right in any way for you to love.” His head dropped lower. “But I can’t…I can’t do it, Catherine.” His voice was a husky half-whisper. “I am too weak to do what is the best thing for you.” He raised his face, and there were traces of tears there. “I love you too much…too much. I believe that I would die without you.”
Catherine rose to go to him, her heart breaking with his pain. But he held up his hands. “No! No, please, don’t touch me!” She stood still for a moment then sat down again, compliant with his wishes. He sat for a few moments silent, staring at his hands. Then the indomitable will of the man asserted itself again, and he went on.
“My fears for you stem from what I am, and what I am is unknown and unknowable. I don’t know what could happen if I let my feelings for you be...unleashed, how they would express themselves. The…” He stood up and began to pace, then stopped himself and stood still with his back to her, looking out at the night. “The…desire…that I feel for you is so overwhelming, so overmastering, that I’m afraid even to think about what the consequences of it could be. Catherine, you are so fragile. I weigh twice what you do; how can I take a chance that my…passion won’t hurt you? I have no confidence in my ability to hold back if once I come close to…to taking your body for my own…oh, Catherine, I want you so much!”
The last words seemed forced from him, spoken in an anguished voice. He stopped and leaned on his hands over the dining table, his head hanging down. When he spoke again his voice was once more under control. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know better. I promised myself I wouldn’t…I’m sorry.”
Catherine waited a moment. When he said nothing further, she answered him. “How do you think it makes me feel when you say you want me? Do you truly think that an apology is necessary? I’d rather hear you say that to me even just once, than…than anything, anything in the world!
“It’s too late now to worry about hiding it, Vincent. I know how much you want me, since you kissed me. I saw it in your face, felt it in your mouth on my skin.” She lowered her head, and her next words were almost a whisper. “I want to feel your mouth on me again.” He was still standing with his back to her, leaning over the table, but he flinched as she said those words.
She sat for a moment, thinking about what she had just said, about his mouth on her skin. Then she raised her head and went on with the matter at hand. “Vincent, it’s better this way, out in the open, because this long silence has meant so much pain for both of us. For me, the pain was never telling you of my feelings, swallowing the words that would tell you of my love and my desire for you. Over and over again, too often, for too long.
“What happened when you were here last was more than all my dreams, more wonderful than I can ever express. And now you’re telling me that it’s all I’ll ever have of you? That we have to go back to being friends? It’s not in the cards, Vincent. It’s not going to happen that way. Not given the way we feel about each other. I can’t just not feel that way, and neither can you.”
There was a long silence. Catherine waited patiently for his response. When he did speak it wasn’t what she had expected to hear. He turned and came back to the loveseat across from her, and sat down. He stared into the fire for a few seconds and then he spoke of the incident on the balcony.
“I know how it happened. I was so frightened when you told me how angry you were. I thought that it could be the end, right there and then. I couldn’t face that; I couldn’t let it happen. I would have done anything at that moment to keep you with me. My…my baser self knew exactly what to do, what would bring you back to me, and I just…did it. My conscious thought was submerged, overwhelmed. I felt as though I were in a dream. And when it happened, when I kissed you, it was so wonderful, the touch of your mouth was so perfect, I wanted to stay in that dream forever. I haven’t forgotten a second of it. I will remember it forever, the feel of your skin, the scent of you…” He threw his head back, his eyes closed.
“I’m right here, Vincent. It’s all right here, and I want you so much.” Her voice trembled on the edge of tears.
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes still closed, but when he opened them and looked at her his will was in charge again. “No. It was a beautiful dream.”
Catherine’s resolve stiffened at his words; her tears were forgotten. “I am not resigned to that!”
“We must be resigned. We must remember it with love, and resignation. Catherine, there is so much more, so much that is wonderful in our relationship. We must not let go of what we can have.”
Catherine shook her head. “We can have it all, Vincent. But I won’t say anything further about this; there doesn’t seem anything else to say. We don’t agree, and I have promised you that I will do nothing further to…entice you. But I am not resigned, Vincent. I will never be resigned.”
She stood up and picked up the teapot. “I’ll make some fresh tea. There is something else I want to talk about. I think another pot of tea is called for; you’re not going to be happy with this one either.”
When she came back from the kitchen he was kneeling in front of the fireplace, adding another log. He looked up at her with a wry smile just touching his lips. “I know what you want to talk about. It’s about my going Above. I have been aware that we aren’t through with it; how could we be, when you feel so strongly about it?”
“That’s right, Vincent. We aren’t through with it. I’m making more plans. If resignation is the order of the day, you’d better resign yourself to hearing a lot more about…shall we call it ‘vacationing’, Above.”
“Catherine, we have been through the reasons for this…”
“I’m not listening, Vincent. I’m determined on this one.”
“Please, Catherine. I don’t want to make you angry again, but I cannot agree that such a thing is feasible.”
“I’m not going to be angry, but I’d like to ask you for a little compromise on this subject. If I can arrange to minimize all of the things to which you object, can I ask you then to look at my plans without making up your mind in advance?”
“I don’t see how that is possible, but I can hardly say no to such a reasonable request. We will leave the matter open for the time being. How is that?”
“I can ask for no more than that. Thank you, Vincent.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Catherine reached for the teapot. They began to talk in their usual vein, and soon they were relaxed and relatively comfortable again. Before long the chocolate chip cookies had all disappeared.

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