BETWEEN FATHER AND SON

by Nancy

originally published in the 2014 Conzine

“You blame her?”

“Father, no, Catherine is, by her very nature, incapable of deliberately causing anyone pain.” 

“And least of all you …”

He turned his head away.  “And least of all … me.”

“Then the problem lies where … exactly?”

“I’ve not explained plainly.  Won’t you agree, had our paths not crossed that night, she would have, one day, found love in her world, love coupled with all that is beautiful Above?”

“Had your paths not crossed that night, Vincent, she would have died.”

Exasperation launched him across the chamber where he stood, fists hard against the stone wall.

“I should have heeded your advice then,  never have followed her Above,  certainly not have spent the evening with her?”  His voice faded.  “I said too much that night.  I only wanted …”

 “Leaving aside that heeding my advice part, let us spare an old man who has learned the error of his ways.  Vincent, tell me, what was it you wanted that night?”

“To see her well, of course, but…”  The words did not come easily.  “There was more.”  Facing his Father, he admitted, “I wanted to see her … glad … to see me.”

“And she was.”

“Yes, she was.  And it started then.  For her, at least.”  A pause.  “I think.”

“What is it you think started for her?”

Vincent’s impatient stare required a full measure of self-defense.   “This conversation began at your request, as I recall.”

A moment, a deep breath, a reasonably calm reply to his father’s question, “This love she bears for me.”

“No, son.  That began as a Divine thought when time was not yet real.”

Once again blue eyes challenged, but, this time, with living hope.  “And so do you explain why I’ve loved her from the moment I saw her lying there.” 

Father acknowledged that with an affirming nod.

Back at the desk and perched on an uncluttered edge, Vincent played at squaring volumes into neat stacks.

“She was going to marry Elliot, offer herself in place of his tower, to save me, all of us.”

Father’s shock blurted,  “What happened?  She didn’t, did she?”

“Elliot chose his building.  Can you imagine?”  The forced-casual air lay thick on his words.  The book sculptures grew. 

“But if he had accepted her qualification?  I won’t think of what would have become of you.”

“I’d have … endured.  She intended to give her life as ransom for mine.  Should I simply step off the rope bridge and deny her sacrifice?”

 Tapping on the old pipes, a discordant accompaniment for the dance of candle flame at his elbow,  skittered to silence.  Into the hush, the older man observed, “Catherine has known men all her adult life.  Attracted them.  All her adult life.  She is a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit.  Cultured.  Educated.  A professional.  Wealthy.  Vincent, she’s had many opportunities for lasting relationships, but she’s always sought more than her world offers.  She’s been searching.  Waiting.  For you.”

“Can you honestly believe that, Father?”  There was disdain, with just an edge of wishing, in his tone.

“Yes.” 

“I want to, too.”  Architectural pursuits abandoned, he walked to where his father sat and leaned flat palms on the table between them.  “I want to believe it.  Help me.”

“How deep is your love for her?”

Without hesitation he said, “Deeper than whatever deep means.  In her, I know myself for the first time and I know that I love her, purely and completely.  Father, I need but the certainty that I, my love, is right for her, truly what she wants.”

“Then ask.”  He ignored his son’s grim expression and persevered.  “If you love her,  it follows that you trust her, that you have faith in her intelligence and … in her sanity, yes?  For Heaven’s sake, Vincent, place your reservations before her.  Then listen, very carefully, to all she says.”

 Vincent studied his Father for long moments.  A flood of emotion, love and gratitude and respect, brought him to one knee before the man who had always loved him.  “You are my Father,  chosen for me, the best Father, and  I will always thank you for my life.  Know that.”  A pause, then a soft laugh of quiet confidence, confidence perhaps long present, but too long distrusted.  “Remember Tennyson’s ‘cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt’?  I believe now that I don’t really need to doubt.  Anything.  I think I never did.”  His joy was sweet with happy purpose.  “What I need is to ask her a different question tonight.  When I return, Father, she will be with me.  Will you wait up for us?”

“I’ll be here when you return with Catherine.”  He took Vincent’s face in his hands and placed a soft kiss on  his forehead.  “May God keep you safe.  Bless both of you.  All of us.”  He hesitated, grinned.  “Vincent, I’d like very much to have a part in the wedding plans.”

_________________

ever grateful to Ron and Roy
February 2014