SWEET SURRENDER

A VALENTINE STORY

(PG -13)

by Linda S Barth

“But William can’t be sick – he promised he’d help us!” Samantha’s eyes widened in panic as she grabbed Mary’s arm. “We can’t do it without him!”

“We need him!” Geoffrey frantically turned his head from side to side as if searching for a rescuer. “We don’t know how to do this by ourselves!”

“Everything depends on him! Everything!” Jasmine’s wails triggered a screech from the young boy at her side.

 “It’s all ruined now!” Eric’s eyes clouded with tears behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “It’s not fair!”

Samantha burst into tears as well. “What are we going to do?!”

What on earth has gotten into these children? Mary shook her head as she gently but firmly disengaged her arm from Samantha’s grip. It’s only a Valentine’s Day project, not the end of the world!

She sighed heavily, and although she doubted anyone would hear her above the ever-increasing uproar, she was determined to make an attempt.

“Now, children, try to calm down. Surely there’s some way we can solve this problem, but all this commotion is not helping.”

As the children’s high-pitched clamor continued to escalate, even Mary’s serene demeanor reached its breaking point. “That’s enough! Everyone needs to stop talking right now and give me a minute to think!”

The children were shocked into silence. The requested minute only lasted three seconds, but it was long enough for Samantha’s tears to vanish, replaced by a sunny smile. “Are you going to do it, Mary?”

The others crowded around the woman who had become a mother to them all. “Yes, Mary, please! You can help us!”

Mary frowned sadly as she looked down at their hopeful faces. “Oh, children, I wish I could, but it’s impossible. With Brooke, Olivia, and Lena down with the flu now, too, there’s only Jamie to help me take care of the babies. As it is, I’ve had to leave her alone with all of them, and it’s far too much for one person to handle. No, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid helping you is out of the question.”

“What about Cullen or Father?”

“Can we ask Rebecca?”

One after another the children called out the names of other adults. With a tired sigh, Mary patiently explained why their various duties would keep them from assisting with this latest problem, especially since those who were still healthy had already taken on extra tasks essential to keeping their world functioning as normally as possible.

The children’s voices slowly tapered off. Mary hated to disappoint them further, but there was no other choice. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your plans just won’t work out after all. I know you’re disappointed, but there’s nothing more to say. You just can’t do it all on your own, and there is no one else available to help.”

A rich, husky voice rumbled from the chamber entrance. “How about me?”

Vincent strolled into the midst of the unhappy group. He smoothed Samantha’s tangled hair, offered Eric a clean handkerchief, winked at Jasmine, and patted Geoffrey’s shoulder. His gaze flowed from one distraught face to the next. “I heard your voices as I was passing by on my way to the hospital chamber. It sounds like there’s quite a crisis going on. Is there something I can do to help?”

Mary shook her head. “Oh, Vincent, I wish you could, but you have more than enough to do as it is, and I don’t think you want to get involved in all this. In fact, I’m sure — “

Before she could say another word, the flustered, frantic children interrupted. “He can help! He can do it!”

“Please, Vincent, say you will! Oh, please!” Samantha’s belief in her hero’s ability to perform minor miracles was unshaken. “I know you can save us!”

He smiled down at her. “Of course, but first someone must tell me what catastrophe has occurred. Then we’ll see what we can do about it.”

“Really, I don’t think you should make any promises!” Mary gestured toward a laden worktable. “You don’t know what you’re getting into!”

But in response to a tug on his sleeve, Vincent turned from Mary and crouched down at Eric’s eye level. “Eric, would you like to explain?”

The boy nodded, all traces of his tears now smudged away on his shirt sleeve. “It’s the cookies!”

Vincent’s expression grew puzzled. “Cookies? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“For the Valentine’s Day party!” The sadness in Jasmine’s eyes had disappeared. “”We need to bake lots of cookies. William showed us a recipe, and then he got sick. But now we have you!”

“We need a grown-up ’cause we’re not allowed to use the ovens by ourselves,” Eric explained.

Vincent’s heart thumped as he straightened and shot a desperate look around the chamber. “And you’re sure there’s no one else available to help you?”

“We don’t need anyone else because now you’re here!” Geoffrey chimed in. “You can do anything!”

“It will be easy for you!” Samantha took Vincent’s hand and all but dragged him toward a cookbook lying open on the nearby worktable. “See, there’s only about twenty steps in the recipe.”

“Only…twenty?” Vincent’s eyes widened in something close to panic. He began to mumble what he hoped would be a believable excuse for the imminent retraction of his vow to help. But with one look at the quartet of upturned smiling faces, he knew his fate had been sealed.

Trying to quell the churning in his stomach, he quickly scanned the directions for pink-frosted, heart-shaped sugar cookies. Even if the recipe was beginner level for the least-skilled baker Above or Below, it was quite another thing for him. He could teach a class on nearly any subject, lift heavy burdens that would crush another man, tame Father’s temper when no one else would dream of trying, and offer words of compassion to touch a troubled heart unreachable by others.

But when it came to baking, Vincent had always been completely hopeless.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to make an escape. He took a deep breath.

“Surely there must be someone more qualified who’s available for this project.” He looked past the children to catch Mary’s eye. The quick shake of her head told him everything he did not want to know.

“With so many of the adults ill, there’s truly no one else, and the children’s party is tomorrow.” Mary offered him a sympathetic shrug as she began to make her retreat. “I’m sorry, but I did try to warn you. And now I need to return to the nursery.”

With a tiny pang of guilt and a large measure of heartfelt sympathy, she paused at the threshold and looked back at Vincent. The expression on his face as he was surrounded by a swirl of excited would-be bakers made her bite her lip, and she tried to suppress a smile. “Good luck, Vincent,” she called before hurrying away.

“I’ll certainly need it,” he muttered under his breath before turning his attention to the enthusiastic brood surging past him, already wielding an assortment of mismatched bowls and spoons, bulging bags of sugar and flour, numerous cookie sheets, and far too many jars of candy sprinkles. “I’ll need a lot of it!”

* * *

Three hours later, Vincent collapsed on his bed, deeply grateful for the soothing peace and quiet of his chamber after an eternity trapped in chaos. He sighed heavily. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? The children had looked to him for leadership, instruction, and guidance, but his lack of expertise had left him no more capable than they, and he’d quickly regretted his impetuous offer to help.

He winced as he pictured the condition of the kitchen as they had left it. Only moments after Mary had deserted him, a fifteen-pound sack of flour had been knocked from a countertop, splitting its seams and spilling its contents in a powdery cloud that coated nearly everything in the room. Seconds later, Geoffrey dropped a large bowl of bright pink candy sprinkles, and before Vincent could warn him away, Eric stepped on them, slipping and sliding helplessly before upending the pitcher of water he clutched in his hands. Despite immediate mopping, sticky footprints could still be seen where they’d dried to a glazy sheen on the stone floor.

He sighed again. At first, it had seemed as if somehow all might be well. The children had listened attentively as he instructed them to make a list of tasks and choose which ones each child would undertake. As they’d followed his directive, he grabbed a few minutes to read the recipe at least three times. This doesn’t look too difficult after all, he’d told himself. It looks like careful measuring, sequencing, and timing are the most critical factors. I’ll just keep the book right here where I can refer to it if needed, and —

Ear-splitting screeches and ominous metallic crunching had interrupted his hopeful, if delusional, musing. Emotions already on edge, Samantha and Jasmine had argued over who would cut out the first batch of cookies, the result being tears, high-pitched protests, and a crumpled tin cookie cutter, its former heart shape mangled into something unrecognizable under Jasmine’s stomping foot.

Arriving late to the festivities, Kipper had raced into the chamber carrying three dozen eggs newly donated by a Helper, most of which never made it to their destination on a worktable thanks to his collision with an unnoticed crate of apples. And only Vincent’s lightning-fast reflexes had kept Eric from striking a match to light the oven and quite probably his sleeves, hair, and eyebrows.

By some secret telepathic language known only to children, several others had learned of the adventure unfolding in the kitchen and had swarmed in to join them. For a moment, Vincent entertained the wistful hope that the new arrivals might improve matters. Yet they’d only added to the uproar as each wanted a turn breaking eggs, sifting flour, and measuring sugar — until they discovered the far more exciting allure of squashing chunks of cookie dough into an unsuspecting victim’s hair, tossing globs of frosting at one another, and pilfering samples of the few cookies they’d actually managed to bake.

Vincent couldn’t remember how he’d eventually managed to corral and herd them all to the bathing chambers. After leaving them once again in Mary and Jamie’s expert care, he’d dragged himself back toward the kitchen, taking some comfort in knowing that at least the children soon would be clean and presentable. But it would be hours before he’d be able to rid himself of the mess that now coated his hair, face, hands, and much of his clothing. And he didn’t even want to think about how the kitchen must look.

It was far worse than he’d imagined. The chamber was a bakery turned battle zone, and only the miraculous sight of eight dozen completed cookies safely secured on a shelf helped him suppress a weary roar of frustration. Right before his eyes, the usually well-behaved, polite, cooperative children had turned into untamed “Cookie Monsters,” each and every one determined to enjoy a rare escape into wildly enthusiastic mayhem. It was something he had never experienced before — and which he vowed to never experience again.

At least, he reminded himself weakly as he temporarily abandoned the kitchen and staggered to his chamber, no one had burned their fingers on the oven; no one had drawn blood or maimed a body part, nor made themselves sick eating raw dough and scoops of icing. It was small comfort, but he could not think of anything better.

Groaning, he burrowed deeply into the quilts on his bed, feeling dried sugar rasp against his skin as he buried his face in a pillow. Every muscle in his body ached, and he felt the pounding in his head increase as he remembered he would soon have to rise and return to the disaster area for clean-up duty. On any other occasion, he would have instructed the children to do their part in it as well, but this time, he admitted to himself, he was less than enthusiastic about getting involved with them again.

Rolling onto his back, he tried to fight a deep desire to drift into sleep, but his eyelids felt as heavy as the cast iron pan Samantha had managed to drop onto Kipper’s foot. He could still hear the shrieks. Eyes closed, he promised himself he would get up in just another minute or two. Or three. Just a short nap and then he’d feel much better…

When he heard a soft, breathy voice call his name, he slipped willingly into what must be a wonderful dream sent by some benevolent angel to help soothe away memories of his culinary nightmare.

“Vincent? Vincent, are you asleep?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured contentedly as he reached for a pillow, curving his muscled arms around it, pressing it to his chest. “Catherine…”

Catherine beamed as a tingling warmth rippled through her. In recent months, their physical relationship had advanced, although not far or fast enough. Now, as she watched him in his half-waking state, she loved knowing that he dreamed of her in his arms and in his bed, which was exactly where she wanted to be.

Aware that all the adults in the tunnel community were exhausted from shouldering a  greater workload than usual, she was reluctant to wake him from his much-needed rest. But their time together was always measured and far too brief, and she couldn’t resist. Moving closer to the bed, she stroked her fingers through the tangled mass of his bronze hair, frowning slightly at an unexpected sensation of stickiness and grit. “Vincent, please wake up,” she coaxed. “Please, Vincent.”

“I’m awake,” he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down the surface of the pillow. “Catherine…so soft…so…”

Her smile grew as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Vincent, wake up. I have   something I want to give you…something I think you’ll enjoy very much…”

He moaned softly and cuddled the pillow closer. This really was a wonderful dream! Her sultry invitation, the sweet warmth of her breath teasing his skin. He could barely wait to discover what would happen next.

In a heartbeat, he got his wish as the reality of sound and touch told him this was not a dream at all. His eyes shot open to see his beloved gazing down at him with a bemused smile. Blushing, he thrust the pillow aside and pushed himself up to sit at the edge of his bed. “Catherine? I thought I was dreaming…” he murmured, his voice husky with exhaustion and anticipation. “How long have you been here?”

She settled herself on the bed next to him. “Not very long. I didn’t want to wake you, but,” she tilted her head at him, “I couldn’t resist.”

He felt a small smile quirk his lips. “I’m glad.”

Her smile widened. “I’m glad, too.” As she continued to gaze up at him, she noted with growing curiosity some little puffs of white powder that dusted his golden-stubbled nose, along with several smudges of a buttery, pink substance streaked along his cheeks, chin, and forehead. A quick glance downward revealed similar adornments to his clothing.

Apparently intent on doing nothing more than gazing at her, he was seemingly unaware of his unusual appearance, and when he didn’t offer an explanation, she had to ask. “Vincent, what were you doing before you fell asleep?”

It all rushed back to him in a nightmarish torrent, and he groaned, burying his face in his gritty, gummy hands.

That was not the response she had expected. “What’s wrong? What happened to you?” She pried his hands away from his face and noted that they felt like sticky sandpaper.

What has he been up to, she wondered, but before she could ask another question, he answered it. He described the catastrophe in the kitchen chamber, one painful detail after another, and within minutes they both were weak with laughter.

“Oh, Vincent, you’re not serious – Jasmine actually put a raw egg down Zach’s shirt?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, now able to laugh, although it had been far from funny at the time. “It was right after he told her that her baking was going to make everyone sick. Which was when I gave up any hope of regaining what little control I had left. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but it was total chaos in there.” He shook his head. “It was just …unbelievable!”

As his tangled amber mane settled around his shoulders, something tiny, round, and pink tumbled onto his chest, then rolled into her lap. She picked it up between two fingers and grinned as she held it toward him. “Looks like you kept something to remember the afternoon by.”

He tilted his head. “I believe it’s called a candy sprinkle, and it probably got there sometime between Geoffrey dropping a bowl of them on the wet floor and my scrubbing them off Eric as he wallowed in the mess.”

She laughed, then leaned forward to pop the little candy into his mouth, lightly caressing his supple lower lip with her fingertip. To her delighted surprise, he did not retreat and instead permitted their shared enjoyment of this subtle seduction. Thrilled to encounter no resistance, she slid her fingertip between his lips, then waited…

Before he could warn himself not to, he drew her finger farther into the moist warmth of his mouth. She gasped as she felt his tongue swirl over the surface of her skin, and when he slowly pulled away, she sighed longingly.

“So very sweet,” he murmured. They both knew he was not referring to the tiny candy she had offered him.

She felt her heart flutter wildly as she reached up to touch a pink smudge on his forehead. Her eyes sparkling with delight and desire, she stroked it from his face. “And I’ve always known you were very sweet yourself. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to prove it.”

He looked down at the fingertip full of frosting, then watched in fascination as she slowly brought her hand toward her mouth and smoothed the sugary stuff across her lips in an unmistakable invitation. Heart pounding, he hesitated only a moment before leaning forward to press his mouth to hers, nuzzling and caressing the softness she eagerly offered. As she melted into his arms, he took her mouth in heated abandon, deepening their kiss until their tongues stroked and tasted the sweetness of warm hidden places.

When they finally parted, each gasped for breath.

“Catherine, I – I always dreamed that you – this –“ He breathed heavily, struggling to regain his composure, then quickly gave up the fight, willingly losing himself to a swirl of sweet sensation. “Catherine…”

Her entire being melted with sensuous pleasure. Framing his face in her hands, she trailed hot, searching kisses over his skin, licking away the traces of frosting, leaving simmering heat in their place. When she finally reached his lips once more, both were trembling with a desire that would not remain controlled a moment longer.

Groaning hungrily, he urged his love backward, lowering her to lie upon his bed. Her tight hold easily brought him with her, and both moaned with the delicious sensation of his hard muscled body pressing into the pliant softness of hers. Their mouths devoured one another until even the most passionate kisses were not enough.

Raising up slightly on his elbows, he gazed into her eyes and lingered as if to wonder at all he beheld.

“Oh, don’t stop, Vincent,” she urged. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” he promised, his breathing heavy and labored. He reached one slightly trembling hand toward the buttons of her suede jacket, swiftly unfastening and sliding open the edges of the garment, then lowered his head to nestle his face against the softness of her neck. He traced a path of warm, moist kisses along the tender skin revealed by the deeply curving neckline of her blouse, relishing the breathy gasps he evoked from her as he nuzzled his face into the warm curve of her breasts.

Emboldened, he stroked her silk-covered breasts again and again, each firm caress of his hand drawing shivers and gasps from his beloved. Then suddenly he stopped and raised his head before rolling his body slightly to one side. His heavy-lidded eyes squinted in confusion as he realized his sensuous explorations had yielded something quite unexpected.

She whimpered at the withdrawal of his seductive caress. Opening her eyes, she watched as he stared down at the palm of his hand, then raised it to his mouth, sniffing appreciatively before his tongue flickered out to lick at the rough surface. She squirmed impatiently as she demanded an explanation for his inexplicable behavior, then watched his eyes twinkle with laughter and lust as he answered her.

“Catherine, did you bring me a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Yes.” She nodded dazedly, all thoughts of holidays and presents having long since vanished with the unexpected and far more desirable gift they’d just been enjoying. “Why?”

“Was it candy?” he continued, his low, warm chuckle making her melt a little more. “Chocolate candy?”

“Yes, a chocolate candy heart. I know how you love chocolate. It was supposed to be a surprise, but how did you know?”

He turned the palm of his hand toward her. “And you’d hidden it in the inner pocket of your jacket?”

Grinning with sudden awareness, she pushed herself up just enough to see the sweet, sticky mess that had melted and spread from the lining of her jacket onto her blouse. “Well, I thought it would be safe there until I surprised you with it.”

“Oh, it was a surprise,” he reassured her, as his rumbling laugh turned to a low, heated growl. ” I love surprises, and now I’m going to enjoy every bit of this one.”

With growing confidence, he unbuttoned the delicate blouse and spread apart its sweet, sticky edges, revealing lacy rose-colored lingerie that, with a quick stroke of his eager fingers, no longer covered her creamy skin. Feeling her fingers twine eagerly in his tangled hair, he lowered his head toward her breasts once again. The touch of his hot, searching tongue sent surges of molten desire through the lovers, and all thoughts but one slipped away in a heartbeat.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured in delight, gasping at each new sensation as he continued to unwrap and enjoy his gift. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Vincent…”

He did not, however, say another word for quite a long time. With his impeccable manners, he knew it would be quite rude to talk with his mouth full. And after all, the language of love was far more appropriate for wishing his Catherine a very “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

________________________

Author’s Note: I had a lot of fun writing this story. I always wished the episodes might have featured more of the lighter, more romantic, steamier sides of Vincent and Catherine’s relationship, as well as scenes of everyday life in the tunnels. There have been some great fanfics that explore these areas, and I’ve included both in most of my stories.

“Sweet Surrender” is one of my earliest stories. It was originally written in 1995 at the request of a good friend, Rita Davies, for inclusion in her letterzine “Chatterbox,” published in Wales, as part of a special Valentine’s Day issue. Later versions of the story appeared in “Sanctuaries,” a CABB publication, and “Remember Love”, an anthology of my earlier short stories.

This version is the final one. It is steamier than the others, and it has the original ending restored and expanded.

I hope you enjoyed this Valentine’s Day surprise along with Vincent and Catherine!