Catherine sat at her dining table ignoring the cup of tea she’d just poured. Distracted by the view beyond the French doors, she watched sparkling snowflakes in haphazard choreography swirling a frosted blanket over the dark … balcony.

That word … a knife to her heart.

Balcony.  Heart.  Both barren places. 

Except for the persistent pain only a heart could know.

It had become an ordeal, enduring the days that accumulated into months, all ashen in the grief of loss, all following her to bed to attend her frequent waking hours during the long, empty nights. 

Work suffered.  She was ashamed of her mistakes and … indifference.  The latter was the worst embarrassment, yet a melancholy hopelessness had supplanted all intellectual and emotional investment in the cases on her desk.

A shaky breath taken … to hold back … she wasn’t sure what.  There could be no tears left to cry. 

She rose to retrieve a quilt from the foot of her bed and wrapped herself in it before settling on the loveseat.  It was early, too early to contemplate the start of yet another disheartening day.  

Her rest brought an intriguing dream.  It nudged her to consciousness. 

How unexpected to feel energized … and … animated.  With purpose.  And hope.

To have a plan.

She left the coverlet in a heap and went to her phone to dial Joe’s number.  He’d been concerned and offered, more than once, any help, be it a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.  Now he was glad to grant ‘whatever time’ she needed.  Thanking him, she’d begun to apologize again for the problems her … negligence … had caused in the office but he interrupted to suggest that, as a favor to him she promise, on her return, to be the ‘old’ Cathy.  They laughed and Catherine thanked him before replacing the receiver. 

He didn’t hear her murmur, “I can’t promise to return, Joe.” 

She switched the answering machine to OFF.  No reason to collect messages.

The two small pieces of luggage landed with echoing thuds at the foot of the old iron ladder.  There was a pang of sad memory as she climbed down with no welcoming assist from strong hands, or the accompanying sound of her name prayed with gratitude and love.

Vincent, we’re about to learn a new way of being together.

The thought encouraged her as she lifted both bags and set out.

The ways change. 

He’d once told her that and she supposed tunnels she’d known might no longer lead where she needed to go.  Perhaps he’d seen to it, to keep her out.  No, on the off chance she did come to find him, Vincent would want her to arrive safely. 

Unwelcome.  But safe.

The old way served and she soon found herself near enough to Father’s library to hear raised voices.  Judging by the argument it was a council meeting.  Then came the soft voice commanding attention with manner and wisdom that calmed and reasoned so that the next bit of conversation was too quiet for her to hear.

Catherine passed unseen and headed to the guest chamber she thought of as hers.   Candles lit, empty bags tucked into the bottom of the wardrobe, her things neat in the drawers, she made herself comfortable in the old rocking chair.  Vincent would come this way to return to his chamber.

Once he’d have been aware, have felt her presence in the Tunnels. 

And once … she shuddered at the horrific memories … he’d almost died.  Somehow that did not seem to distress him as much as losing their connection.

Well, then he’ll be surprised. 

She would not envision other, less promising responses.

How could you not know that after goodbye must come hello, my love?

He appeared.  Silent.  Staring. 

Rising slowly from the ancient rocker and without seeking permission in word or gaze, she approached and raised her arms to encircle his neck. 

Stepping even closer to him she realized he hadn’t moved to embrace her.  Hadn’t moved at all.

She pressed her length against his for one long moment then brought her arms down and just looked at him.   

“Will you come in and sit with me, Vincent?”

He was shaking his head ‘no’ but something in her eyes shone so brightly …  

She sat on the edge of the bed and he stood, just three steps into the chamber.  

“I cannot continue without you.”

His regard dropped to the threadbare carpet at their feet.

“Vincent, there is an answer for us.  We need to admit and believe that.  And together we need to find it.”

“I thought we had,” he said, looking at her.

If emotional wounds bled, she thought, we would be ankle deep in blood.

“Parting is the wrong … it is not the solution for us.  It does not bring hope or peace.  We can recognize the honest, the true way for us because it is overflowing with joy and unshakable faith in our future.”

He stepped forward to stand before her. 

“Catherine, remember the time you told me,” he held out his hands, “these were your hands?  I wanted to believe you.  I wanted it so much.  Yet in my soul I knew I was being dishonest, daring to think there could ever be … life … for me … with you.  Because of these,” he said, “because of all that contradicts and … endures impossible … between us.  I have no place in your world and you cannot surrender … everything … to exist in …”

She stood, reached out to take his fisted hands, brought them to her lips and kissed the back of his fingers.  He permitted it, with closed eyes, but beheld her with a yearning she could not name as she began to speak.

“Surrender?  No, it’s the opposite, Vincent.  It is claiming all that I need to live.  You.  There can be a life with me.  Let me show you how.”

“You cannot live here.”

“I’ve moved in.” 

“You’ve moved …” 

Without leaving him space to argue or complain, she lowered her voice to ask, “Will you at least grant that we love each other?”

He spoke to the stony ceiling.  “Love is not enough.  Love cannot provide all the answers or solve all the difficulties.”

“Perhaps not, but it lays out that hopeful, blessed path to joy.  I’m willing to walk it with you, Vincent.  Will you come with me?  See where it leads us?”

He backed away and she had to release his hands.

“I’m needed until evening.  I think,” he hesitated, “I think you should return Above … now.”

He was almost into the tunnel when she said, “I will fight for you.  For us.  For as long as it takes, Vincent.”

He continued out after the briefest hesitation.

She picked up a sweater and left to find Father.  She’d get permission to stay.

Five days had passed.  Vincent’s chamber was only a short walk from hers but he did not pass or visit again.  She’d left him to his thoughts.

It was early when Catherine stretched and got out of bed after another good night’s sleep. The days were pleasant, too, if a bit strained when Vincent was present.  That wasn’t often.  He was avoiding her. According to William, he frequently chose to eat earlier or later than everyone, sometimes taking his meals back to his chamber.  This morning, she hoped to catch him.

The dining area was deserted.  The cook was busy but he smiled at her and waved a huge wooden spoon in welcome.  She called a hello and sat where she was not visible from the entrance.

Vincent didn’t notice her until he’d seated himself with a cup of coffee and a serving of oatmeal.  It would have been unforgivably rude to leave just as he saw her and she took advantage of the enforced courtesy, moving to sit opposite him.

“Good morning.  How are you today?”

He’d lowered the mug and moved his hands out of sight. 

She could have cried, seeing that.

“Fine.”

She offered a smile saying, “So am I.”

He nodded.

Guess it’s still my turn then.

“What are your plans for today?”

“Classes.”

“What times?” 

I can play this game better than you, Vincent.  Lots of practice with hostile witnesses.

He stared at the bowl of cooling cereal while answering, “All afternoon.”

“I’m free this morning too.  Shall we take a walk when you’ve finished breakfast?”

If he felt trapped his pride would not allow him to admit it.

“Catherine,” he’d looked up, “you should go home.”

“I am home.  Where you are is home for my heart.  You once told me you held my heart, remember?”

Of course he remembered, but he chose not to agree.

“There is nothing for you here.  I can offer you nothing, Catherine.”

“Have your breakfast, Vincent, and we’ll go to the Falls and talk.”

“I’m not … hungry,” he said.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

He sat there long moments, just staring at her, at a loss for argument, she supposed. As he rose to dispose of the tray and the untouched food she breathed.

When he returned, she dared to hold out her hand.  With a shake of his head, as though telling himself not to … he took it.

The walk was silent except for a few comments she offered, expecting no response and getting none, and their encounters with Mary at one junction and Mouse at another.  Both behaved remarkably well, considering everyone had to know there was something … momentous … happening between Vincent and Catherine.

At the Falls he spread his cloak on the granite shelf where they’d sat together what seemed like years ago.  He did not sit, choosing to stand a short distance away, though he was careful not to block her view of the rainbows and mist.

“Do you still love me?”

The question drove him a few steps further from her, but she heard his ‘Yes’ above the roar of the falling water.

“Thank you.”

That surprised him, she thought, because he half turned to look at her.  She offered a placid expression, nothing more, though he seemed to be expecting something. 

Giving up, he resumed his absorption with the view.

“Do you want to make love with me?”

She saw his whole body respond with a deep inhale and he said, “Please, Catherine, don’t do this.”

She went to him, knowing that to get away from her he’d have to jump into the depths of churning water.  Not a practical option, but he … might …

Wrapping her arms around him she kissed his strong back and said, “I must ‘do this’, Vincent.  I love you.  All of me loves all of you.  I cannot live without you.  I want to make you happy, give you all that you want and need and deserve every day that is left to me.  Will you let me do that? Vincent?”

She felt encouraged.  He’d made no effort to move out of her arms. 

“I cannot, Catherine.  You should go home.”

Harsh words.  Yet their bodies remained pressed tightly.  She kissed his back once more.

“Don’t.”  She heard such suffering in the syllable.  “Please.”   

Now he was shifting, gently, to face her, and since he’d not touched her hands, she clasped them at his back, so that their bodies remained very close.

“I love you.” 

She would tell him over and over until he listened to her heart.

He touched his forehead to hers, the words pain-filled, spoken in a tortured voice of their own, “And I love you.  But it is an impossible love.  Yes, I would … wish … to … lie … with you, Catherine, but even that fantasy is a … a blasphemy.  What am I?  Part of me is a monster.  You’ve seen … it.” She felt an anguished rumble in him as he corrected, “You’ve seen me. What I become.”

“What you become is a man fighting with all his heart and all his God-given ability to save another.  Too often that other has been me.  I’m sorry for that because I know how you’ve suffered afterward … I’m so sorry.  I want to fix that.  I can fix it.  I don’t have to return to investigation.  Vincent, I don’t have to … return … at all.”

He raised his head and stared at her.

“What?  What are you saying, Catherine?  You know you can’t stay here.  With me.  You know that.”

“Why not?”

She asked with such sweet innocence that he was caught off guard.

Into his silence she continued, “Why not, Vincent?  Why can’t I be with the man I love?  I want a happy-ever-after.  For both of us.  Don’t you?”

He looked away and said, almost to himself, “Fairytales are for …”

“Us.  We are a fairytale.  Something there has never been.  You said it.”

“Beauty and the Beast,” he mumbled.

“Even they had a happy-ever-after life.”

Now he was looking at her, into her heart.  Still held in her embrace.  Wanting what she wanted.  And presenting one more hurdle, “A happy life, yes, but only after the beast turned into a handsome prince.”

She laughed.  Laughed.  And in the wonder of that sound, she confided herself, body and soul.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.  More luminous than any imagining.  Vincent, I love … you.”  She took a breath and vowed softly, “I love you.”

Her hold tightened, her head rested upon his heart and he knew her body … imprinted … on his. 

When his arms came around her, she heard, “Show me then … I’m asking you to lead me along that path you’ve found for us, Catherine.  I will walk it with you.  I … want … more than everything … to walk it with you.”

She raised her head, “A kiss then … as we start living our new life?”

He smiled. 

“A kiss.  Is that all you ask of me?”

“For the moment …” she replied with a mischievous grin.

He chuckled and brought his lips to hers.

All through the day they loved and dozed and loved again in a secret place behind the cascade.

During one of their awake times, while each was just beginning to breathe normally, he confessed, “I used to let myself dream I would bring you here one day and we would …”

“… love each other?” she finished for him.

“Yes, though my imagination was faulty.  It was never as … never like this, Catherine.”

She snuggled closer to him. 

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, most certainly.  You take me to heaven, Vincent.”  She leaned up on an elbow.  “You come with me, don’t you?” She wanted reassurance.

“Heaven, Catherine.  And I thank you.”

“No, thank you for …

“Surrendering?”

“Did you?”

He smiled at her, “Are you asking if I’ve claimed love, claimed you? I have.”

“Would you … maybe … surrender … again?”

“Now?”

“Mmm hmm.”

He grinned and said, “Come be mine, Beloved, and let me be yours.”

“You can’t live down here, Catherine.”

They were on their way back in the early evening, talking quietly, holding hands, pausing every few minutes to share a kiss.  His declaration brought her to a sudden and determined stop.

“And why not?” 

Her expression could, possibly, be described as defiant, he thought.  Definitely … annoyed.

He shouldn’t have just come out with the pronouncement.  It was sure to rile her lawyer’s combative instinct.  And that wasn’t taking into consideration her strong will.

He turned so that she stood in front of him, her hand still in his.  To position himself in front of her … not a prudent move.

She waited for him to arrange the best words to say what he thought needed saying.

“I want …” No. That was not good.  “I think …” He swallowed in the face of her growing impatience.  “Let’s walk,” he coaxed, rummaging for a better presentation away from the intensity of her glare.  They’d gone a few steps when he suggested, “Do you think it would make more sense for us to live Above?  A home with tunnel access?”

She was quiet awhile, but he sighed, relieved, to hear her say, “Yes, you’re right.  I couldn’t just disappear, could I?  And you’d be safe in our own home with alarms and locks on all the windows and doors, and even false walls in every room so that you could get Below should there be an emergency.”

She drew them to another stop.  “I do love you.  For who you are, the way you …

“I promise to put you, your safety and your happiness ahead of my own for all our lives, Catherine, and when I am less than considerate of your feelings … will you forgive me?”

“I didn’t mean to come across so … prickly … just now.  Shall we forgive each other?”

“You are my miracle.  Help me never to forget to be grateful.”

She stood very still, just admiring him.  Loving him.  And spoke a thought, almost under her breath, almost without realizing.

“I hope you’ve given me our child, Vincent.”

His stunned expression told her he’d heard.

“I’ve shocked you?  But I do.  Would … could you … be pleased if it’s happened?”

He didn’t seem to be breathing.

“Say something, Vincent.”

He pulled her against his body and held on tightly, admitting, “I would be … proud … terrified for you … happy … frightened half to death … at your side all day and awake all night to watch over you.”

“Okay,” he heard, mumbled against his chest.  “I’ll not hope.  Yet.”

He loosened his hold and began to laugh. 

They grinned and kissed, embraced and said, “I love you,” the rest of the way back.

_______

what do you think, Hank?
7/23