She’d come running, and I held her as tightly as she held onto me for a blindingly bright and thankful eternity.  Blotting out the dark eternity in which I’d almost lost her.  My arms pressed her even closer.  I could feel her heart beating with mine.

“Catherine, it’s cold out here.  You must go inside.”

She leaned away to see my face.  “Not without you.  Come in.  Please.  You can’t leave me now.”

“No,” I said, “I cannot leave you.”  There was no hesitation in my admission.

We parted so that she could take my hand and lead me through the opened French doors, across a threshold I’d never before braved.  As I stepped into her home, I knew why I’d feared doing it for so long.  I kept the realization to myself.  She needed me to be … for her … completely.  I would be that.

We approached the small couch.  With a look of such wanting, a wanting that equaled my own, she was inviting me to join her there.

“Catherine, I will wait for you while you dress and dry your hair.”

“Sit with me for just a moment first?”

I gathered her so close that she was on my lap.

“You’re shivering.  You should dress, Catherine.”

“Not yet.  I can’t be without you.  Not yet.”

And so we sat in a tight embrace, each of us remembering, and trying not to remember … when our hearts had known … goodbye … and our lives had ended.  For I died on that lakeshore as surely as she in those dark waters.

“Catherine …”  She was crying, softly at first, then with great sobs that had her clinging to me.  “Catherine, it’s over.”  I said it many times.  “You’re safe.  We’re together.  You’re safe.”

When she quieted, I stood and carried her to the bedroom, set her down, repeated my suggestion that she dress.  And come back to me so that I could hold her again. 

“You’ll wait?  Promise?”

I promised, a hand over my heart, and her smile was real.

I stood at the glass door to look out at the world beyond.  A world that was nearly deprived of her.  Once more my hand went to cover my heart, and I shed my own tears at what had almost happened.

When I heard the hair dryer go silent, I turned.

If it seemed my heart had stopped when I felt her … go … I had an opposite sensation at the sight of her, so much love in her smile, in her eyes, in her hurried step.  In her … coming … to me.

“Vincent, I want never to be apart from you.  Never.”

Once again, I lifted her into my arms to carry her back to the little couch, to hold her.  “I know the same prayer, Catherine.”

She shifted a bit to wrap her arms around my neck and ask, “How can we …”

I watched as her eyes closed against the truth, the hopelessness of our desire.

“Look at me, Catherine.  Please.”

For the moment, I lost all sense of place and time in her sad gaze.  Then I heard myself say, “You declared your love … for me.  Do you remember?”

“I meant it, Vincent.  Then.  Now.  For always.  Can you … bear … the knowing?”

I urged her so close that I immediately apologized, loosening my hold, fearing I’d hurt her.  But she would not be eased away.

“Vincent, tell me.  Please.”

I touched my lips to her hair, admitted, “I am … honored … Catherine, and yes, I more than ‘bear’ it.  I hold the precious gift, the blessing of your vow, you, in my heart, for I love you with all that I am.  I have loved you forever.  That I have not told the words before now … forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.  I’ve known, Vincent, and I’ve hoped you would tell me, and you have.  I am grateful for all that you are, for all the love you offer and lavish upon me.  We love each other.  I can imagine no greater happiness.  I feared, when I said it, that you … chose … not to hear the words.  That they were … unwelcome.  For comfort, I told myself you were too caught up in everything you’d suffered, done to save me, too … relieved … to be able to respond in that moment. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Perhaps you weren’t, Catherine, and … perhaps … I gave little awareness, at the time, to what you were saying, only that your voice was further proof you lived …   an experience of you alive and given back to me.”

“You’re not … unmoved … by the knowing.  And not … troubled … by the reality of our love.  That’s all that matters.”

I almost chuckled, admitting, “I am assuredly …moved.  Thankful.  Maybe overcome.  And I am about to say, ask something, that I need … you … to hear.”  She might have held her breath as I whispered the words, “May I kiss you?”

“Oh, yes, Vincent, please,” she sighed, as she brought her lips to mine.

_______________

soon, H
June 2025