TIMES OF TROUBLE

by JoAnn Baca

And in those times of trouble when you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home.

~ John Denver, Perhaps Love

The pipes were just chiming 6 a.m. He opened his eyes to see the letter on his pillow.

How had he fallen asleep? How had he slept through her finding paper and pen, her leaving his chamber?

He sensed that she was no longer Below. His heart, which had only recently begun beating again after it had cracked in despair at her flight to Westport, threatened to break once more.

He rose, pulling on his robe. At his oaken table, he pushed aside his journal to lay the letter flat on its surface. He lit it a fresh candle from the guttering one that was the only light in his chamber. The gloom dissipated before his eyes, but not from his heart. Now her words were starkly clear against the crisp whiteness of the notepaper.

A sigh shuddered through him, and he stared at the rock ceiling of his chamber with troubled eyes, gathering his courage, before his gaze fell once more to read the words she had written…

I know. I made a promise. Last night when I ran to you at the Park entrance, you heard me say that what we have is all that matters, that it’s worth everything. I begged you to forgive me for doubting that…as I knew you wanted me to. It was the only bargain you would accept. And I was desperate and heartbroken enough to endure what that meant.

You agreed so readily, relief in your voice, that for a moment I believed it could be enough for me. What we had was our devotion to each other and our belief in some intangible dream…but we also had our enduring separation, our banishment of longing. I had fled because I wanted more. But in Westport I realized I couldn’t bear the loss of what little we did have…what little you would allow us.

You made me say it. Almost as if you had formed the words for me. But how I ached while speaking those words. You must have felt that through our Bond – how bitter the betrayal of my own feelings, the desperation that drew me back to accept whatever you would give me…the crumbs that I knew I would grovel to keep.

I was willing to go along with whatever restrictions you demanded in order to have you in my life.

Vincent bent his head, tears coursing down his lightly furred cheeks. Catherine’s words dissolved into puddles of lost dreams. He knew she wrote the truth. From the depths of her heart, she had expressed all he had never let her speak aloud. A pain rose from deep in his chest. What had he done to her…to them both?

With great care he slipped the top page of her missive over and read…

And then you kissed me.

Right then, you pushed the boundary of “everything” into a new dimension. And we both found out something: the world didn’t crash down around us. We survived that kiss. Almost as if it were fated.

Did you think that one desperately desired kiss would be enough for me?

You are not a stupid man, Vincent, but you made an egregious mistake in that moment.

You opened the door to possibility.

So…what happened after is all totally, completely your fault. I take responsibility for only one thing: I broke my promise to you.

Vincent sighed again and covered his eyes with one shaky hand. She was right. It was his fault – and the consequences were reverberating now. What had he done?

He thought back to those hours together. The kiss that had shattered them both…the headlong rush to his chamber…the abandoning of clothes and discretion…the new definition of “everything” they had crafted with each kiss, each touch, each murmured declaration of love…

Then the hours they had spent loving each other in every new way they could think of. The sudden release of mental and physical tension held rigorously in check for so long. The consummation of long-denied desires finally set free. Their expressions – with and without words – of every need, of every longing. The sating of cravings without restraint.

It had shattered him utterly. He had fallen into sleep with an exhaustion so deep, so complete, that he had not felt her leave his side.

What had he done?

He shivered with the remembered agony of joy.

And now she was gone. As he had feared all along. As her words said plainly.

It was all his fault.

A sound from his chamber entrance startled him: the soft padding of slippered feet approaching him from behind. There was a muffled thump as of a bag being dropped to the carpet.

Arms wound across his shoulders. Warm breath tickled his ear as Catherine spoke. “I went Above to get some clothes.”

His heart once more soared to the heavens. He turned to gaze up into her beloved face. She was smiling tenderly at him.

“I’m not sorry, so don’t expect an apology. I said that what we had was all that mattered but…I lied. I think if you hadn’t kissed me, I’d have tried to keep that promise, even though it would have killed me. But…” She leaned down to press her lips to his with the same depth of love he had marveled at in the long hours of the night. Then she murmured, “Sometimes promises can’t be kept.”