Candle To Candle (2)
"What?" Catherine was so startled she dropped her string of popcorn. "Vincent, it's in Brooklyn! Even if we had time to walk that far, none of the deep Tunnels go under the river. The ones that do are too public."
"We'll walk part of the way," Vincent explained calmly, "and take the subway for the rest. With the holiday crowds, it should be safe enough for you after dark ... or perhaps you should take a cab."
Catherine began to feel like she had wandered into the twilight zone by mistake. Had her beloved taken leave of his senses? Here he was talking about taking the subway together like it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe her attempts to convince him they could have more of a life together than he was willing to admit had been too successful. As she tried frantically to think of an appropriate response, she suddenly remembered just how Vincent was used to taking the subway.
"Vincent!" she cried, horrified. "You're worried about me riding inside the subway and you plan to ride on it? You can't! It's too dangerous! We're not talking about saving my life here, just going to a party. It's not worth it. I'll call Jenny and tell her I can't come; she'll figure out something to tell her parents--"
"Catherine--" Vincent captured her hands in his and smiled. "I've been riding on the tops of subways for twenty years, and haven't fallen off once. You're in more danger crossing a Manhattan street."
Catherine looked at his sparkling eyes in consternation. One thing she never wanted to do was have Vincent be less than he was out of deference to her. She had a sudden vision of a young boy with wild golden hair, clinging to the train's roof in exhilaration, able to forget for a little while how constricted his life really was. Able to pretend for just a moment that it wouldn't be that way forever.
For so long, all she had been able to think about were the fears and self-doubts that kept Vincent from consummating their love, and how she could convince him that completion was not only possible, but inevitable and right. That was so monumental a task, she had barely given a thought to what came after. Now, feeling the touch of those gentle hands that had at last given her the love she knew they could, Catherine realized that an even greater challenge lay ahead. Building a life with this unique, precious creature before her would be full of such unexpected questions. There was no model for it; they would have to move carefully, making their own path. But make it they would, and the journey began now.
"All right, Vincent," she said, sounding braver than she felt. "But you'd better not make a habit of it if you have any concern for my blood pressure."
A moment after Catherine knocked on the Aaronsons' door, it was opened and a wave of light, sound and delicious smells poured into the corridor and surrounded the smiling figure of Jenny's mother. "Cathy, dear, I'm so glad you were able to come. We don't see enough of you these days."
Catherine gave Leah Aaronson a hug. "I know. I promise one of my New Year's resolutions is to say 'no' a lot more often at work. I know it's important, but so are family and friends."
David Aaronson came to add his greetings to those of his wife, and led Catherine through the throng to say hello to Jenny's oldest brother. His visit from California was the reason for this exceptionally large gathering of the clan. After saying hello to the whole family and admiring the baby, Catherine was handed from one Aaronson to the other, talking to people she hadn't seen in years, and several she was sure she'd never met before. The only Aaronson that didn't seem to be in evidence was Jenny.
Catherine hoped Vincent wasn't too bored, waiting for her in the tunnel that ran below the apartment house across the street. She tried to open herself to all the sights and smells and sounds around her, letting her feelings of warmth and friendship for these people flow through their bond. If he couldn't be here with her, Catherine wanted to share this with him as much as she could.
Suddenly the crowd parted and gave her a glimpse of Jenny, trapped in a corner by a group of young cousins engaged in some cutthroat dreidl-spinning. She was scowling suspiciously at a gangly youth as if she suspected him of rigging the game. Looking up suddenly, her eyes met Catherine's. Doing her best to look nonchalant, Catherine smiled and waved. Jenny stared at Catherine a moment as if puzzled by something, then her eyes widened. Climbing over the Aaronson cousins, oblivious to their protests, she approached with the inevitability of a tsunami.
"Hi, Jenny," Catherine greeted her.
"Hi, nothing, Chandler," Jenny countered. "Come on."
Catherine found herself dragged down the hallway into a bedroom populated solely by a mountain of coats. "All right, pal," Jenny ordered, "give."
"Give what?"
"Cathy, if the electricity went out right now, a room with you in it would still look like a hundred menorahs on the last night of Hanukkah."
"Jenny, nobody else seems to have noticed anything. I can't imagine what you mean." Catherine knew this was a game she'd already lost, but it was fun anyway.
"Bull, Chandler. You forget who you're talking to."
"Whom," Catherine corrected primly.
"Whom, schmoom," Jenny dismissed her. "Don't change the subject. Something's happened, and it must be pretty big to get you to look like that. What ... ohmigod." Jenny grabbed Catherine's arms and grinned from ear to ear.
"You did it, didn't you."
"Did what?" Catherine couldn't keep this up much longer; an equally flamboyant grin kept struggling to take over her own face.
"You know damn well what! You and Vincent! Tell me this minute or I'll go push your face in the chopped liver."
"Well, if you put it that way ..." Catherine couldn't hold it in any longer. "Yes. YES. YEEESSS!!"
Jenny shrieked and hugged Catherine with such abandon they both fell over on top of the coats. "Good grief, Jenny," Catherine giggled. "If anyone comes in now they'll have a whole new theory about why a nice girl like me doesn't have a boyfriend." That set them both off again, and it was several minutes before either of them could manage to sit up. After wiping her eyes and straightening her hair, Jenny took a deep breath.
"Cath, I am so happy for you. I can tell by the look on your face it was wonderful."
"Yes, it was," Catherine whispered, hugging herself. "I can still hardly believe I'm not dreaming."
"Damn!" Jenny exploded, practically jumping up and down in her excitement. "I wish we weren't stuck at this party. Not only would I like to tell that gorgeous guy of yours how smart he is, I'd like to get you back to him. I can't believe you bothered to come to this shindig--I know you'd rather be with Vincent, especially now. I can't believe you could tear yourself away."
"Jenny, you know your parents really counted on me coming," Catherine reminded her. "They've always been so nice to me, and I've hardly seen them lately. Besides, they're so concerned about me being alone since Dad died." Catherine sighed. "I could hardly tell them I'd be spending the holiday with the city's biggest extended family."
"Turned out to be quite a holiday, didn't it?" Jenny grinned. "You sure got some present, and it's not even Christmas yet. Of course, I guess this qualifies as 'the gift that keeps on giving.' We've gotta get you back to Santa Claus as soon as possible."
"Actually, that won't take as long as you think," Catherine revealed. "You're right about not being able to tear myself away. He's just across the street."
"Across the--" Jenny stared. "You mean there are Tunnels in Brooklyn too?"
"In every borough," Catherine told her, "but only the ones in Manhattan are really lived in."
"But how did Vincent get across--no, don't tell me, I can take only so much at once. Just when I think I've gotten used to the idea of the Magic Kingdom ... "
"Jenny, you learned about it less than two months ago. It does take some getting used to ... although you got used to Vincent amazingly fast."
"Yeah," Jenny agreed, "in some ways that was the easiest part. I already knew you loved the guy, and when I met him, all I could think of was at last you'd found the right one, and he wasn't some egotistical Yuppie clone."
"Understatement of the century," Catherine smiled.
"No, seriously," Jenny insisted. "Remember, I've known you since we were freshies at dear old Radcliffe. Your track record was not too impressive then."
Catherine winced. "I was young ... "
"That's what Nancy and I kept telling ourselves. Then you actually decided to marry Stephen Bass--I can't tell you how relieved I was when that fell apart. And Tom Gunther ... look up 'prick' in the dictionary and there's his picture."
"You really worried about me, didn't you?" Despite the bantering tone, Catherine could hear the seriousness under Jenny's words.
"You bet I did," her friend agreed. "You never believed you were worth much for anything but decoration--everybody assumed you were just a shallow rich kid, until you believed it yourself. You kept picking guys that thought so too." Jenny looked at Catherine thoughtfully for a moment. "I guess that's why when I met Vincent, none of the strangeness mattered. All I could see was that you'd finally met a man who not only thought you were worthwhile, but had even gotten you to believe it."
Catherine was so moved by Jenny's revelation she didn't know what to say; she sat with her eyes on her lap, stroking someone's fur muff.
Jenny stood up decisively. "Come on, if we don't get out of here soon people are going to talk. You can mingle for a little while longer, then we'll sneak out of here so I can get you back to Mr. Right and tell him how good he is at picking women. Besides, I'm dying to see if he looks as pie-eyed as you do."
Less than an hour later, Jenny and Catherine were climbing a ladder down into the tunnel where Vincent waited. Jenny clutched a large bag of Hanukkah cookies in her teeth, since Catherine had mentioned how much he liked them. Jenny was a little worried about her reception--this was not exactly an occasion covered by Miss Manners. What was the appropriate way for congratulating a furry hunk on having the good sense to start sleeping with your best friend? She'd only met the guy six weeks ago, after all, even though she'd been dreaming about him and Cathy since the beginning. When she finally met him, his appearance neither frightened nor repelled her. She was too delighted to discover that for once her dreams hadn't been full of the ambiguous symbolism that so often frustrated her, but perfectly literal.
After that first night when they had talked for hours, Cathy had told her that Vincent felt the way Jenny did, like they had known each other for years. Maybe it wasn't so surprising, after all. They had one very important thing in common. They both loved Catherine and wanted her to have the happiness she deserved. Jenny was almost as ecstatic as Catherine that Vincent had finally decided only a life with him would give her that happiness. She grinned as well as she could with a bag of cookies in her mouth. Boy, the next fifty years or so were going to be real interesting. She was determined she'd be around to watch.
Reaching the tunnel floor, Jenny turned around, bag of cookies still in her teeth, to find Vincent's smiling eyes looking directly into hers over Catherine's shoulder. They were hugging as if they'd been apart for about a year. With a final squeeze they separated enough so both could face Jenny, who saw that Vincent's smile wasn't limited to his eyes. Realizing Miss Manners was sure to advise against speaking with a bag in one's mouth, Jenny hurriedly removed it and extended it toward Vincent. "Happy Hanukkah," she managed to croak out. "L'chaim."
"L'chaim," Vincent repeated. "A very appropriate sentiment, since I have never felt more alive." He looked at Catherine, who gazed up at him like he was a combination of God and lunch.
Jenny couldn't stand it anymore. Miss Manners be damned. She threw her arms around the two of them, almost in tears. "God, I am so happy for both of you!"
Entangled in a three-way hug, Catherine and Jenny weren't sure whether to laugh, cry or both. Vincent was dazed by the feelings coursing through him, both Catherine's and his own. Having spent his whole life preparing to face pain, he found himself inundated by more joy than it seemed he could possibly hold. He realized in some amazement that he would have to learn at last to deal with happiness. What a welcome task that would be ...
Jenny extricated herself and attempted to regain her composure. "Those are Hanukkah cookies," she explained, gesturing toward the rather damp and now very wrinkled bag. "Cathy said you really liked them. I know you like latkes even better, but they don't exactly travel well."
Vincent acknowledged her gift with a smile. So far, he'd done more smiling in the last ten minutes than in the six weeks he'd known Jenny. "Perhaps soon you can come and make some for us." Us. What a lovely word.
"Oh, you bet!" Jenny agreed. "Any time!" She took Vincent's hand, and Catherine's. "Look, I have to get back to the party, or my parents will call the police. I'll come and see you soon, OK?" She shook her head in wonder. "You know, Hanukkah presents are supposed to be just for kids. But you two have given me the best one I've ever had."
The trip back to Manhattan was uneventful, but Catherine didn't breathe easy until she descended the ladder in her basement and found Vincent waiting as calmly as if he'd taken a more conventional means of transportation. She insisted she didn't need Vincent's help to retrieve things from her apartment. Riding on the subway was enough excitement for one night. She made him promise to stay rooted to the spot until she returned. Catherine had always intended to spend Christmas Below, but she had counted on going home the night of Winterfest and coming back later. Now she was planning to stay right through until Christmas night. Too bad Cinderella was going to turn back into an overworked ADA on December 26. Catherine smiled happily as she packed a small suitcase. True, she and Vincent would have to take up the duties of their daily lives all too soon ... but they would never be the same again. Discovering the shape and direction of those lives--that life--was going to be a glorious adventure.
They stopped by Vincent's chamber so he could pick up more clothes also, then took themselves to the room full of roses where they had spent the previous night. They had intended only to drop off the clothes and return to help with the holiday preparations. They did manage to get the extra clothes put away, but the presence of the huge bed, and the roses, and the fact that it had been hours since ... It was a long time later before Catherine realized neither of them had really had any dinner. She sighed happily as Vincent began nuzzling her neck again. They had water, they had each other, and they had a whole bag of Hannukah cookies. Who could possibly need more?
They made up for it at breakfast the next morning. Going to bed as early as they had meant they were actually able to squeeze in some sleep. Catherine was discovering to her great pleasure that Vincent's reknowned stamina was good for much more than running through tunnels, but it wasn't infinite. Now that she and Vincent were one in every way possible, Catherine felt even more a part of his world. Although both duty and friends kept her tied to the world Above, her father's death had severed the last family tie. Neither his family nor her mother's had been large, and now there was no one left. Sometimes, wrapped in the love of Vincent's world, it truly felt like Father and Mary were her parents, Jamie and Rebecca her sisters, Mouse the somewhat disreputable younger brother. Now that the last barrier between her and Vincent had crumbled, now that their dream of a life together was beginning to take on the texture of reality, Catherine realized how relieved she felt, knowing this world, like Vincent, could be part of her life forever.
William was pleased to see Catherine devouring twice as much breakfast as usual. He took it as a compliment to his cooking, since clearly she didn't eat enough Topside. Maybe Vincent thought she was perfect, but William believed she needed fattening up. As a reward for her appetite, he allowed her one of the coveted spots on the cookie-decorating crew, while Mouse dragged Vincent off, reminding him of his duties as director of the children's production of A Christmas Carol.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Father found himself awake very early. He had been much in demand during the furious holiday preparations to give advice, mediate disputes, and patch up children whose urge to decorate inaccessible corners was greater than their balance. Years as the Tunnels' only resident physician had long ago cured him of the need for much sleep, so he made himself a pot of tea and brought it to the study. The peace and quiet was like a balm; there had been precious little of it this holiday season.
He sat back in his favorite chair, letting the tea warm both his hands and his insides. The midwinter festivities seemed more lavish than usual this year, and Father began to examine why this was so. He thought back to Winterfest, where Vincent had seemed to be the center of attention. The children had surrounded him all evening. Every girl-child old enough to walk wanted to dance with Vincent; time and again Catherine had to drag him away from partners who barely came up to his waist. It didn't take a great deal of insight to recognize that the community knew only too well how close they had come to losing Vincent not long ago. Paracelsus' death, and Vincent's close escape from it, were cause for rejoicing. This year was the darkest they had known for a long time; it made sense that their yearly celebration of light would be greater.
Father suddenly realized how little he had seen of Vincent since Winterfest. He smiled, thinking that Catherine's presence Below had something to do with that. Unlike the days after her Father died, when her constant closeness had been so troubling to his son, Vincent now seemed content, even happy to have her here. Father admitted to himself how much he had come to rely on her presence as well.
Suddenly Father had an overwhelming desire to talk to his son. Vincent usually woke quite early, but often stayed in his room reading, so as not to disturb others. Reaching his son's chamber, Father was surprised to find it empty. Where could he be at such an hour? As he continued to stand there, it slowly occurred to him that this chamber felt like it had been uninhabited for some time. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Vincent near this room since before Winterfest. No emergency could have called him away; the pipes would be full of such an event. Surely he had not gone to find Catherine so early in the morning ... He stared at the empty room for a long time, then went back to sit in his study with his pot of tea and think.
The morning of Christmas Day found him there again after breakfast, but this time his peripatetic son made an appearance. Father motioned Vincent to sit in the chair beside him.
"I'm glad to see you," he smiled. "We seem to have been ships that pass in the night of late."
"Indeed, Father," Vincent agreed. "The children seem to think of me as a freighter, since I spent most of yesterday moving furniture and carrying heavy objects from place to place."
"After the year we've had," Father said with feeling, "it gives me great happiness to see you enjoying this time of celebration. Catherine, too. She seems to be in the spirit of the holidays as well. I'm glad that being among us has helped ease her pain over the family she has lost."
"She loves us all very much," Vincent answered softly. "I believe she truly regards us as her family now."
Father spoke again in an even tone, looking at the table rather than at his son. "Her closeness was so troubling to you when she stayed Below with us after her father died. I'm glad to see that no longer seems to be the case." Vincent said nothing. "You know," Father continued, "I have finally admitted to myself how much I have come to be grateful for her presence as well. When you were having those terrible nightmares this past summer, and took so long to recover, I came to rely on her greatly."
"She has been reluctant to talk of it to me," Vincent confided. "I remember being convinced the Beast would win this time, and being weary of the battle ... I remember deciding there was only one way to protect those I loved. I remember Catherine suddenly there before me, screaming my name as she saw my claws aimed at my own throat. I remember thinking, just before I lost consciousness, that I could not bear to give her the pain my death would cause."
Father closed his eyes at the memory of how close Vincent had come to the brink, and how only Catherine's love had kept him from taking that last leap into the dark. Half a year later, the recollection could still cause him to shudder. "When you were in the coma, she was down here every night, watching you, talking to you. Even after you came out of it and the nightmares began, she stayed, hoping her presence would somehow soothe you."
Vincent shook his head in wonder at being loved so much. "All she would say to me about that time was that it gave her the opportunity to become closer to you."
"It did," Father agreed. "During your convalesence she came Below night after night, even though you were asleep most of the time. We would sit here, alert for any sounds of distress from you, and talk for hours on end."
"About what?"
"Mostly about you, of course." Father seemed a million miles--or six months--away. "She was hungry for every scrap of information about your past, especially the time you almost died before, after Lisa left. Anything that could help her understand your pain and help you deal with it."
Part Three
BATB Home