THE MEMORY OF LOVE

by JoAnn Baca

Originally published in the 2013 Conzine

Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble when you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home

Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door
It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more
And even if you lose yourself and don’t know what to do
The memory of love will see you through

Love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel
For some a way of living, for some a way to feel
And some say love is holding on and some say letting go
And some say love is everything, and some say they don’t know

Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it’s cold outside, thunder when it rains
If I should live forever, and all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you

~ Perhaps Love by John Denver

As Catherine took the last step down from the ladder at her threshold, excited young voices greeted her.

“Thanks for coming, Catherine!”

“Catherine! Hi!”

She peered into the gloom and recognized a smiling Geoffrey. Beside him, gangly-limbed Zach stood, grinning and waving. They didn’t look worried about anything.

“Boys,” she said, acknowledging them. With a confused look on her face, she added, “What’s the emergency?”

As she approached them, she noted the guilty flush beneath Geoffrey’s freckles.

“Uhhh, well…” He cast a desperate look at Zach, tongue-tied.

“It…it all depends,” the older youngster said, swallowing hard as he thought of his next words. “We think it is. Maybe you will, too.”

His hopeful eyes made Catherine determined to accept whatever they felt was important was worth this unplanned visit Below. Draping one arm around each boy’s shoulders, she turned them all in the direction of the Hub. “We’ll walk and talk.”

The explanation flowed as they trudged through the passageways, Zach taking the lead, with Geoffrey adding side notes to emphasize their concerns. It took some time for them to get to the basic point: Vincent missed her.

In the weeks since Vincent’s collapse in the cave, weeks filled with worry and non-stop vigils at his bedside while he tossed and moaned and did not awaken, Catherine had been by his side almost constantly. Even once he opened his eyes – with no hint of recognition in them, only confusion – she had stayed. His memory began a scattered return, surfacing between long periods of restorative sleep. And still Catherine remained, sharing nursing duties, helping to change his sheets, reading to his slumbering form, doing anything asked of her so as not to leave his side. She had gone back Above only grudgingly, as Father’s increasingly stark “hints” that her presence was not necessary caused her to worry that if she didn’t go willingly, she might be escorted out…and discouraged from returning.

Since then, she had visited only when invited, which was sporadically, always with Father close by, and only for a few minutes each time. Father advised her that Vincent would later express confusion over her presence, along with a generalized frustration over his lack of recollection of recent events. Even then, Catherine would have argued, but for the ace that Father had played: his fear that her presence would trigger horrifying flashes of memory that could cause Vincent’s hard-won and continuing recovery to regress.

Today’s summons Below due to an emergency had been a ruse, perpetrated by youngsters unaware of Father’s concerns about Vincent, but well-intentioned nonetheless. How could she make them understand that she was staying away for Vincent’s own good? She determined to make a visit – a brief one – and slip away before facing Father’s disapproval.

When the boys began leading her towards Vincent’s chamber, Catherine said, “I probably should go in alone.” If Father was with Vincent, she didn’t want any blame to fall on her two companions for their innocent desire to help their teacher and friend.

Zach hesitated, and Geoffrey nudged him. “Come on, Zach.”

Catherine hugged them both. “Thank you for caring so much about Vincent,” she murmured. “Now go.”

She watched as they headed away from Vincent’s chamber. Once the boys had turned into another passageway, she heaved a heavy sigh and, resigned to the potential for argument or anger from Father, called out for entry.

“Vincent, it’s Catherine. Would you…”

Before she could finish, his voice called out, “Please, come in!”

She peeked inside before entering. He was alone, sitting at the battered oak table that had served her in his illness as desk, dining counter, and nap nook. A journal was open in front of him.

“If I’m interrupting,” she said as she entered the chamber, apologetic, “I’ll come back another time.”

“No, please stay.” He rose, then waved a hand over the open journal. “I’m actually reading. My memory is still so…” He let his comment fade away as he slipped a bookmark into the journal, closed it, and set it aside. “These journals of mine have helped me greatly.”

She hesitated, even though she wanted to rush to him and hug him as hard as she could for a long, long time. But when he took a step forward and then opened his arms to her, she exhaled deeply and ran into them. Her relief brought tears to her eyes…even as his strong embrace nearly took her breath away.

“Thank you for being here,” he murmured, his warm lips close to her ear.

Her fingers gripped his woolen robe tightly, tugging him even closer. “I’ve missed you so much.” Her words were muffled as she pressed her nose against his chest, taking in the familiar scent of him.

They stood, locked together in a tightening embrace, for a long minute. Catherine felt Vincent’s cheek rub against her hair. She pressed a kiss to the lapel of his robe, wishing it could be his lips, and mouthed the words I love you silently against the worn fabric, her breath pushing the words close to his heart.

He seemed a bit breathless when he finally released her, although his hands only moved to grasp her upper arms, not to move her away but to keep her close. He stared down into her eyes, and his gaze shifted to take in her other features, lingering at her trembling lips. He glanced up quickly to catch her gaze, but she didn’t notice, as hers had drifted to his own unique mouth. So when he slowly bent to kiss her, surprise sparked through her body before a suffusing warmth replaced it, and Catherine felt herself melting against him once more.

His mouth lingered upon hers, pressing gently, until they needed breath, although both of them sighed at the parting. Slowly, Vincent released her, his hands traveling down to hers, clasping them and raising them to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, and only then, finally, did he step back from her and let her move away.

She had no clue what to say or do. Astonishment and a sharp pulse of desire had combined to rob her of speech. Finally, she managed to say, “I’m sorry I arrived unannounced. I know Father won’t be pleased. But…”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘Father won’t be pleased’?”

She cocked her head to the side, her frown mirroring his. “He hasn’t wanted me to visit unless he contacts me first. You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, Vincent swept one arm to the side, indicating she should sit. She moved past him, surreptitiously inhaling his scent once more, turned the massive oak and velvet chair to face his bed, then sat. He bent to seat himself across from her.

“I understood, from my journals, that in the past he had… mixed feelings… about our relationship. I didn’t realize they still existed.”

His blue eyes focused on hers so intently, Catherine had to force herself to get her brain and mouth engaged. “Once you exhibited memory loss on such a broad scale…which included much about our relationship…he decided to, as he called it, ‘simplify’ your life.”

“’Simplify’ it…I see.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “My journals make it clear to me just how integral you were…you are…to my life, to my happiness. So while I respect his professional judgment, in this case his concern is misplaced.” He looked up to meet her eyes. “I thank you for coming and for explaining why you’ve stayed away. I had thought…”

Vincent rose and began to pace. “So this is the reason you have not come often since I began to recover.”

She frowned once more. “Not entirely. He told me my presence might trigger some horrible memories, things that could set back your recovery. I couldn’t take that chance.”

Vincent seemed to contemplate her revelation for a long moment. Then he shook his head, as if dismissing it. “I’m better now,” he advised her. “Even had that been a good plan, it’s no longer necessary.”

Eagerly, she asked, “So your memory is returning, you’re remembering more?”

He stopped his pacing and gazed down at her. “No. Nothing, really. But my journals…have been a revelation. Thoughts of you fill their pages. I feel as if I’ve gotten to know you again from reading them…even though the words spark no actual memories. But I’m seeing you…us…as an observer might, realizing the depth of our feelings for each other…realizing also how certain fears of my own had constrained me.

“These fears seem odd to me now. Perhaps because I recall so little of things in my past that led me to develop them. And I’ve gone back years in my journals, to before we met.”

His eyes filled with tears. “How lonely I’ve been in my life. How conflicted. But I don’t have any recollection of the pain I felt, the anxiety, the dread of…connection.”

She leaned forward, taking his hands in hers, and gazed up at him. “This was a lifelong struggle for you, from the little you’ve shared with me.”

“I’ve been wanting to see you, to speak with you about these things, for so long. But I began to worry that your feelings for me might have changed due to my illness.” He smiled sadly. “You’ve apparently been quite patient with me.”

This caught her by surprise – What an understatement! – but she managed to reply with a heartfelt, “You’re worth it.”

Then she thought about what had happened between them just minutes before when he had embraced her…kissed her…gone way past anything he had ever allowed between them before. Was that based solely on what he had read in his journals?! They must be quite something!

“We’ll have to make new memories together,” she asserted, then smiled as she added, “and the wonderful kiss we just shared is an excellent beginning!”

He smiled briefly, his posture relaxing. “I wasn’t sure…”

“Be very sure.” She laughed softly. “It was unexpected but most welcome.”

He sat again. “I’m glad. Because I intend to repeat it…often.” He huffed a soft laugh, one filled with relief and perhaps a hint of anticipation.

“What other new memories would you like to make?” Catherine could hardly wait to hear what he had in mind. If that kiss was any indication, he had some great ideas!

“Walk with me?” He stood, eager. “I’d like to get out of this chamber for a bit. Father prefers I not go anywhere alone in case my energy fails.” He smiled again – something Catherine felt she could get used to – and added, “Apparently I’m a handful as dead weight.”

She rose and took his arm. As they headed out into the corridor, she said, “When we brought you back from…from your collapse, it took three men to load you onto a stretcher. So, yes, I can attest to that!”

His eyes grew shadowed. “I’m sorry…even though I don’t recall that time, my journals show that I’d become…somewhat untethered to reality.”

While Father worried about Vincent’s memory of those weeks returning, Catherine didn’t understand how dealing with what had happened could be a bad thing. If it festered in his subconscious, Vincent eventually would have problems again. She agreed with Justice Brandeis, Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

“You were being manipulated, probably drugged. An evil man was trying to coerce you into actions you would not have taken if you were your usual rational self. Whatever is in your journals about that time – take it with a grain of salt.”

Understanding brought relief to his eyes. “I see. That makes sense. Because if I were insane…”

They had turned down one passageway and then another, seemingly at random. Vincent seemed uncertain of where the pathways led. The Mirror Pool should be close by, if she recalled correctly, so she drew him on as she responded, “No one can say what caused your illness, not even Father. But his explanations usually focus on your…differences. I tend to take a more prosaic approach.”

They made a left into one last tunnel that should end at their destination… she hoped! Continuing their conversation, she added, “I don’t know which of us is right, but this was my observation: your illness was receding in the days you spent in my apartment, yet once you returned here, your mind was clouded again. That speaks to me of manipulation in the form of drugs.”

“I read about the time I spent with you. I…broke into your apartment?” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Did I cause much damage?”

“It was easily fixed,” she replied, waving one hand to indicate how minimal her concern was over the breakage. She began to walk again, her hand back on his arm. “But in those days you spent with me, you went from incoherence and weakness to calmly rational and in full possession of your faculties. Yet you returned to the Tunnels, and within a day you were barely functional, raving even.”

He contemplated her words in silence.

They entered the Mirror Pool chamber – much to Catherine’s relief. She was glad her memory of the directions hadn’t faded in the time since it had been a regular spot for their quiet conversations.

She led Vincent to a bench beside the water. As they settled themselves, Vincent placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and gazed at the softly rippling waters.

Time went by. No sounds filtered into the chamber. It was peaceful, calming to the spirit. She was content to stay there as long as he wished to, sitting within the shelter of his arm.

He shifted. She felt a kiss atop her head and looked up. In the half-shadow of the chamber, his eyes glittered, reflecting the torchlight. His kiss this time was warmer, more assured, and once more Catherine surrendered to the feelings it aroused in her. Her hand went to his cheek, and she cupped his face, holding him, anchoring herself, while his mouth tasted hers. The soft down on his face caressed her cheek, her chin. She let her hand drift upwards, burying her fingers in the long tresses falling across the back of her hand.

His lips drifted across her cheek to her ear, and his teeth and tongue began worrying her earlobe. A hot burst of desire flooded through her. When he moved his arms to enclose her in a tight embrace, she flowed against him, her breasts flattened against the hardness of his chest through his robe. Her mouth fell open as she sought more air, and Vincent took advantage, deepening his kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, pulling a moan from deep inside of her.

“Oh! Excuse me! I was…”

Startled, they pulled back far enough to turn and look at whomever had entered the chamber. Rebecca stood there, her mouth agape. After her initial surprise, she replaced the gape with a smile. “Carry on!” She waved even as she turned and fled the chamber.

Vincent and Catherine turned back to each other. “This is probably not the best location for…intimacy,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.

The smiles today – frequent and endearing – were almost as wonderful as his kisses, and Catherine returned his latest one. “Nowhere in the Hub is a good location for it!’ she remarked sardonically.

“Agreed.” He rose and held out a hand to her.

She took it and stood. “I wonder how long it will take for the news to reach Father?”

“Not long, I imagine. But I don’t care.” When she looked at him curiously, he added, “From my journals, it appears I put too great a stock in what others think. I didn’t do many things I wished to, out of fear of their reaction. I recall reading about a trip to Connecticut you wanted us to take…”

Catherine nodded. “Everyone was against you coming. I could tell you were upset, but you put on a brave front for me.”

“I’m not sure I should care as much about others’ opinions about my life. In fact, I would still like to go sometime, if you would still like to take me.”

This topic, so long dead and buried, rose from its resting place like a welcome spirit. Father will have a conniption! Catherine pushed that thought away. Vincent…whatever changes had been wrought in his psyche…was all she cared about. If he was contemplating breaking a few more boundaries, she would be right there with him, keeping him as safe as she could while letting him experience as much as he wished.

“The Thanksgiving holiday is coming up, and I can get away for three days.”

He nodded. “Thank you. After I turned you down before, I wasn’t sure…”

“What did I say earlier?” She smiled.

He caught her meaning. “’Be very sure?’” he offered.

She nodded.

* * *

Father found them as they were on their way back to Vincent’s chamber. He was hurrying towards them so quickly, Catherine was worried he would trip over his cane.

“Ah, Father,” Vincent said before his parent could say anything, “Catherine came down, as if our Bond were calling her to me. And who knows, perhaps it was.”

Both Catherine and Father were dumbfounded over his assertion. She hadn’t expected to hear about their Bond while he was still recovering. She suspected Father was glad it was gone.

Father’s eyes narrowed. “It’s returned?” He was skeptical.

Vincent shrugged.

Father looked at Catherine.

Taking her cue from Vincent, she shrugged, too. “I’m still learning about it,” she added. “Anything’s possible.”

Vincent squeezed her hand, and she schooled her lips to stay in a neutral expression.

“I’m going to rest now,” Vincent announced. “We had a nice walk and an even better conversation. I’ve asked Catherine to come down again, anytime. Her presence has done a lot of good for me today, and I think she will continue to aid my recovery.”

Argue with THAT, Old Man! Catherine thought, using Devin’s favorite nickname for Father.

Whatever Father had wanted to say, Vincent’s comments had taken the wind entirely out of his sails. He merely gave them both a curt nod and turned back towards his library.

“This is a whole new you,” Catherine murmured once Father had retreated beyond hearing range. “I like it.”

‘This was inside me all the time, I am sure of it,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “After reading my journals, I’m convinced I should have been more assertive much earlier with Father. I’m in my mid-30s, after all. It makes no sense to let him hold so much sway with me about my activities.”

“I’ve always thought so,” she mumbled, half hoping he didn’t hear her.

He smiled down at her and responded with a kiss atop her head. “Let’s go plan our trip.”

* * *

As she left the Tunnels, Catherine sought out the two boys who had gotten her Below under spurious circumstances.

“Zach? Geoffrey?” She had called into the boy’s dormitory, not sure where they might be in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. But both boys were inside. They came out, dragging their feet, apparently expecting to be reprimanded.

She wrapped them both in a big hug. At first startled, they soon enough enthusiastically returned her embrace. Catherine kissed them both firmly on the cheek after she’d let them go.

“Thank you both. You have no idea how much Vincent and I owe to you.”

Zach blushed and stammered, “R-really?!”

Geoffrey recovered first. “’OK good’!’ he crowed.

All three of them then quoted Mouse. “’OK fine’!”

* * *

The trip to Connecticut was delightful.

And they made many, many…many wonderful new memories.