Candle To Candle (4)

Catherine continued in the same even voice, "It sounds like the really important part is making that commitment to each other, and acknowledging it in front of their community, people who mean something to them. It's as binding as any set of legal papers. More, actually--a contract can be broken. But a true union of minds and hearts is forever." Catherine stopped suddenly, no longer trusting her voice.

Vincent took a deep breath and spoke again. "What you say is true when both people have chosen a life Below. But for someone who had to maintain a life Topside as well, it would be very difficult."

"Would it?"

"Above, such a person would not be viewed as married at all."

"Well, what would that really matter?" Catherine asked, her voice back under control. "Lots of people stay single nowadays, especially if they have careers. Oh, I suppose people around them might speculate. Maybe they'd assume the person was afraid of being married just for her--or his--money. If the person were a woman, say, they might think she'd just missed the boat, since there are more single women than men. Maybe they'd think she was gay ... or carrying on a long-time affair with a married man."

"Surely it would be uncomfortable for someone to be the object of such speculation."

"Vincent," Catherine replied, "I think you overestimate people's curiosity about others, especially those they only know casually. Most people are much too concerned about their own problems, or acid rain, or inflation, to spend much time wondering about their colleagues' private lives ... especially if they seem to lead very dull ones."

"Surely it would be difficult for ... for a woman such as you describe to keep such an important part of her life hidden."

"Perhaps," Catherine agreed huskily, "but only because she would be so happy, and so proud of her husband she'd want to shout the news out to everyone. But silence would be an awfully small price to pay to protect something that meant so much to her."

Suddenly Vincent rose and stood with his back to her, his hands gripping the mantle. For a long moment, there was nothing to be heard but the crackling of the logs. Vincent's voice was so low Catherine could barely hear it, but there was no mistaking the undertone of astonished wonder. "Her husband ..." In one fluid movement, he turned and sank to his knees before her. "Catherine--dearest Catherine--will you marry me?"

Unaware of the tears that ran unchecked down her face, Catherine sank into the depths of his eyes. "Yes. Oh, yes. Yes!" She threw her arms around his neck, burying her damp face in a cloud of gold. Home at last.

"Catherine, perhaps we should move. You must be cold." Without exactly discussing it, they seemed to have decided to seal their bargain immediately--too immediately to take the time to climb an entire flight of stairs. Vincent was still puzzling out Catherine's remark that 'right here on the Oriental' was the perfect spot. It sounded like a quote, but Vincent was quite sure it must be from something he hadn't read ... not that he'd been in any mood to request footnotes at the time. Vincent really didn't want to move, but he didn't feel the cold like Catherine did--besides, he was supremely comfortable, with her draped over him like a blanket. Still, it would be ungentlemanly not to make another attempt.

"Catherine--dearest--wouldn't you like to move? The fire has gotten quite low, since we haven't been paying attention to it."

"We haven't?" Catherine mumbled into his chest. Raising her head, she grinned at him. "Oh--you mean the one in the fireplace over there. I guess it could stand another log. But don't you dare move from this spot until I get back. We have things to talk about."

"Surely," Vincent suggested as she stood reluctantly and moved toward the fire, "there are more appropriate places to talk?" Watching Catherine stoke up the fire wearing nothing but earrings was really quite pleasant. He stretched luxuriously, unaware that the unconscious seductiveness of that action nearly caused Catherine to drop the poker as she turned toward him from the now-blazing fire. Grabbing an afghan from the sofa, she spread it over them both as she quickly settled into her former position.

"Vincent, dear," she informed him, "the most appropriate place to do something is not necessarily the only place."

"Are you by any chance referring to our recent activities?"

"Beds are fine places to make love," Catherine announced, "but floors in front of fireplaces make a nice change, don't you think? You certainly seemed ... energized by the novelty." Since Vincent could not contradict that argument, he said nothing. "As a matter of fact," Catherine continued, "I was noticing how sturdy the kitchen table is."

"Catherine!"

Between Vincent's startled twitch and her own laughter, Catherine managed to fall off her beloved and land beside him on her back, still giggling helplessly. "Oh, Vincent," she managed to gasp, "the look on your face!" Getting herself under some semblance of control, she kissed the tip of his nose apologetically before continuing. "I was only kidding. I have too much respect for the nation's artistic heritage to risk a Stickley table that way. Besides, how would we ever explain to Father how we got the splinters?"

"I am sure he is a sufficiently skilled diagnostician to determine that," Vincent replied dryly. "It occurs to me," he continued, "that being married to you is going to be even more interesting than I dreamed."

"You don't know the half of it." Catherine promised. "So-- when do you want to do it?"

"Do it?" Vincent asked, astonished. The woman was insatiable.

"Get married," Catherine reminded him. "Remember?"

"Well--" Vincent stalled for time as he switched mental gears. "We should allow enough time for everyone Below to prepare. This will be a very important occasion for them."

Catherine hugged Vincent. "I can hardly wait to tell everybody. Knowing how happy this will make them gives me almost as much pleasure as knowing how happy it will make us."

Vincent hugged Catherine back, rubbing his cheek against her head. "We need to allow enough time for Devin and Charles to make the necessary arrangements. I would like Devin to stand beside me."

"I thought you might. And I'd like Jenny. Do we get more than one each?"

"If you wish," Vincent replied. "Do you have someone else in mind?"

"Yes--and I think you do, too. Someone to whom it would mean a lot."

"Mouse."

"Yes," Catherine agreed. "He absolutely worships you; he'll be beside himself when you ask him. And I'd like to ask Jamie. She's a good friend to me Below--and besides, she's the only one who can keep Mouse in line."

Vincent tilted Catherine's chin so he could look into her face. "Do you think six weeks would be long enough?"

Catherine smiled lovingly at her husband-to-be. "Great minds with but a single thought. Our anniversary?"

"Are you sure," Vincent asked, "that it would not cause you pain? You have other memories of that day that are not pleasant."

"All the more reason," Catherine announced emphatically, "to exorcise those demons once and for all."

They lay quietly for a long time after that, listening to the crackling of the fire as it died to embers. Finally they rose, collected their robes, and turned out the lights. As they sleepily mounted the stairs toward their bedroom, they speculated on the effect their announcement would have Below. Basking in the glow of anticipation, they finally slept.


* * *


"Oh, Cath, tell me everything," Jenny begged. "What did Mouse say? Jamie? Father? Did they go as crazy as I did?"

"At least," Catherine laughed. "I don't think Father was surprised, exactly, but he knows Vincent. I'm sure he wondered how long it would take his stubborn son to allow himself to dream of the next logical step. My guess is he thought it would take a lot longer."

"He may know Vincent," Jenny admitted, "but he doesn't know you as well as I do. You lawyers are a devious bunch, putting ideas into people's heads in that sneaky way you have."

"Vincent would have dared to think of it himself, eventually," Catherine replied seriously. "But it would have taken a long time. He still had some idiot notions about tying me to a limited life with him instead of all the dazzling possibilities I could have Above. I knew after we agreed to get married he'd have a reaction."

"So what did you do about it?"

Catherine looked astonished at herself, and a little sheepish. "I got mad. Would you believe I actually yelled at him?"

"Yes, I would. What did you yell, exactly?"

"First I set him him straight about my dazzling life Topside. I've tried to tell him before, but I guess I was a bit more ... emphatic this time. I let him know in no uncertain terms how shallow and unsatisfying it was ... how I've done more real living since I've known him than I did in the three decades before."

"Good start," Jenny said admiringly. "Then what?"

"Then I accused him of insulting me by assuming I was still so shallow that I'd come to regret my choice if I got a better offer. I pointed out that I'd had one from Elliot I thought I couldn't refuse, and the prospect made me so miserable I could hardly bear it. I told him I'd never been happier in my life, goddammit, than I was with him, and then I threw a pillow at him and started to cry."

"Wow!" Jenny exclaimed, impressed. "What happened then?"

"I think he finally got the point," Catherine smiled. "And then we made up. Exactly how is none of your business," she said firmly, forestalling her friend's next question.

"Oh, I can imagine." Jenny looked at Catherine speculatively. "It must be pretty wonderful, given the way you've been looking and acting ever since Winterfest."

Catherine looked at her hands. "It is. I find myself thinking the most astonishingly trite things."

"Like, 'I never thought it could be like this?' I'd be willing to bet you've even said it.'"

Catherine groaned and hid her face in her hands. "Guilty," she mumbled through her fingers. She removed her hands to reveal a suspiciously pink face to her erstwhile Maid of Honor. "But it's true! Making love with Vincent bears about as much resemblance to making love with anyone else as--as Chartres does to a McDonald's."

"Do you think it's just because you love him so much more?"

Catherine leaned back in her chair and pondered for a moment. "That's certainly part of it. But not all. For one thing, Vincent's more concerned with pleasing me than himself."

"And ditto for you, I'm sure."

Catherine smiled. "I suppose so," she admitted. "There's also the bond. He can always tell through that what I like best. But I've also gotten pretty good at knowing what he likes. Not that it's difficult ... his responses are so innocent, so completely honest."

"No trying to be cool? No looking like he's trying to remember what that diagram on page fifty-six looked like?"

"Hardly. I also wonder ..."

"What?" Jenny prompted when Catherine remained quiet.

"I wonder if the bond isn't beginning to work a little in the other direction. Lots of times it seems like I can sense his feelings in a way I couldn't before--at least not often. Maybe it's just that being around Vincent has developed my intuition."

"Could be all of the above," Jenny suggested. "If I were you I wouldn't worry too much about analyzing it. Just be grateful for it."

"Oh, I am," Catherine assured her. "I am." Catherine's reverie and Jenny's amused contemplation of her friend were suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. Jenny stayed alert as Catherine went to answer, hoping it was something innocuous. She relaxed as Catherine re-entered the library, grinning and shaking her head.

"What is it?" Jenny was dying of curiosity.

"Would you believe a telegram?" Catherine replied. "From Devin."

"A telegram? You're kidding! Who sends telegrams any more?" Jenny was looking forward to meeting this strange brother of Vincent's. "Why didn't he just call you? The Adirondacks aren't that far away."

"Devin never got over all the Sherlock Holmes stories he read as a child." Catherine handed the piece of paper to Jenny. "Besides, Vincent will enjoy this better than a phone call."

Jenny took the paper and read.

HOT DAMN STOP SMARTS RUN IN FAMILY STOP CHARLES
AND SELF BE THERE BELLS ON STOP LOVE TO BE BEST MAN
STOP CAN ALSO OFFICIATE IF NEEDED STOP SEE YOU
APRIL FOOL

"Can also officiate?" Jenny looked confused. "What does he mean?"

"God," Catherine realized, "I'd better not show Father that part. I presume he means he paid twenty-five dollars once to become a Minister in the Universal Life Church," Catherine laughed. "Strange as it seems, that lets you perform legal marriages."

"Are you going to take him up on it?" Jenny asked dubiously.

"No--only one role to a customer in this wedding."

"So who is going to do the honors? Father?"

"That's what I thought at first," Catherine replied. "But then I came up with another idea, and talked to Father and Vincent about it." Catherine curled up on the sofa next to Jenny. "Most of the time, for a strictly 'Below' wedding, Father or another Council member officiates. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided to have it done by clergy. One of the Helpers is an Episcopal priest. I've met him before, he's a really fine man."

"Is that so important to you?" Jenny asked. "You're a good person, Cathy, but you never struck me as being terribly religious, in the formal sense."

"I'm not, particularly," Catherine agreed. "But I want this to be as much of a marriage as possible without endangering Vincent. Maybe we can't have a marriage that's exactly legal-- but at least it will be sacramental." Jenny touched Catherine's hand. "I think that's wonderful. I'm sure it will mean a lot to Vincent."

Catherine squeezed Jenny's hand gratefully. "It will mean a lot to both of us." She was quiet for a moment. "But there's more to it than even that."

Jenny looked at her friend sharply. "Do I detect a shift into lawyer mode?"

"There you go, being intuitive again." Catherine's face suddenly looked serious, and more that a little pained. "I've never been able to forget that time Vincent was captured by Hughes, and how lucky we were that I got him back before word got out. I keep wondering what I could do if something like that happened again, and we weren't so lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Vincent's greatest protection is the fact that, legally--as far as Topside is concerned--he doesn't exist. But if he ever did get captured, that could work against him."

Jenny's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You mean, if he has no legal existence, he has no rights either."

Catherine nodded. "And without a legal marriage, I'd have no rights as his wife, no way to protect him. But there's church law, and civil law. If we were married in a religious ceremony, that could make for an interesting legal tangle. At least it would give me some ammunition."

"Wow. What a thought." Jenny shuddered. "Let's hope it never comes to that."

"Amen," Catherine agreed emphatically. "But if it did-- well, Vincent's protected me more times than I can count. I have to protect him in any way I can." They sat in silence for a moment, then Catherine shook her head as if to clear it. She stood and turned toward Jenny. "Enough of this. It's getting late, and we have a dinner reservation Chez Tunnel. Let's go."

After dinner, the members of the wedding party split up according to sex. Vincent and Mouse went off with Father, while Catherine, Jenny and Jamie huddled in Jamie's chamber. Catherine remained standing while her two attendants flopped onto the bed. "Well, your brideship," Jenny inquired brightly, "what's the plan? Are we going to wear pink chiffon and picture hats?"

"Bite your tongue, Aaronson," the bride replied, looking like she'd bitten into a lemon. "This is a Below wedding, and it's going to look like one." Catherine began to pace. "Since the bride's family traditionally pays for the wedding, I'm being indulged. But I don't want things to get too fancy--it would make me uncomfortable in front of people who have so little."

"Catherine," Jamie reassured her, "I told you not to worry so much about that. Everybody Below is so happy you're marrying Vincent you could wear a dress made of dollar bills and nobody would care."

"Now that would be an interesting fashion statement," Jenny offered.

Catherine couldn't help but smile. "Well, I did compromise. I bought tons of old fabrics from some antique clothing dealers, and all sorts of remnants--but they're remnants from very expensive shops. Don't tell."

"Mary and Sarah," Jamie explained, "are looking it all over and they promised to give us some ideas of what they'd like to do by next week. Then we can all decide which we like best. I know they'll come up with something wonderful."

"OK with me," Jenny agreed. "I love the stuff people wear around here. But what about the bride?"

Catherine inclined her head toward the door and Jamie jumped up to pull the heavy tapestry over the opening. To any Tunnel resident, that was as inviolate as a closed door would be Above. Catherine opened Jamie's wardrobe, which never had much in it, and reached back in the corner. Jamie helped her pull out the large garment bag and extract the dress it held. Shaking it out, Catherine held it up against herself and looked at Jenny. "What do you think?"

"It's gorgeous!" Jenny exclaimed. "And unusual--I've never seen a wedding dress made of raw silk before."

"My mother," Catherine said softly, "was an unusual woman."

"Oh, Cath--" Jenny found that the lump in her throat kept her from saying more.

Catherine stroked the fabric lovingly as she continued speaking. "Mom had very simple tastes. She didn't like things that were too fancy or glittery. It's funny--she couldn't have picked a better dress for me to get married in if she were with me now. It almost makes me believe she had a glimpse of the future, and knew that I'd wear it someday--and for whom." Catherine gave an embarrassed laugh. "Silly, isn't it?"

Jenny found her voice again. "I don't think it's silly at all. I didn't know you had your mother's dress."

"I didn't. I found it at Dad's place when I went to clean out the last of his stuff."

"And I gave you a hard time because you wouldn't let me come with you," Jenny remembered.

"You came all the other times, and I couldn't have done it without you. But that last time--I had to do that alone." Catherine continued to stroke the fabric tenderly. "I found this tucked away in an out-of-the-way closet. I guess I always assumed it was in storage somewhere; I never dreamed Dad kept it at home all these years."

"Maybe he liked keeping it close by," Jamie suggested, "because it made your Mother feel closer."

"I'm sure that's right," Catherine nodded. "There wasn't as much dust on this as you'd expect for something tucked away for a quarter-century or so. It makes me wonder how often he took it out to look at it."

"Hey," Jenny admonished, "save the tears for your own wedding, huh?"

Catherine squared her shoulders in determination as Jamie helped her put the dress back in its protective covering. "Right. I've got enough to worry about without that."

"Such as what?" Jenny asked. "Wondering if the groom's going to pass out from excess of ecstacy before the ceremony?"

Catherine tried to pretend she wasn't blushing even as Jamie's giggle told her otherwise. "Such as what the bride's present to the groom is going to be--don't even think it, Aaronson--and the rings."

"What about the rings?" Jamie was concerned at Catherine's sudden unhappy look.

Catherine dropped heavily into the chair and sighed. "I could afford to buy them, but I'm afraid that would make Vincent uncomfortable. I know it disturbs him that he has 'so little to give me,' as he puts it. Even though I've told him a million times that all I need is him ... there's nothing more precious to me than that."

Jenny looked thoughtful. "Cath--your intended has a self- esteem problem that's been decades in the making. You're not going to get rid of it overnight."

Jamie nodded sagely. "Men can get funny ideas sometimes."

That remark brought a smile back to Catherine's face, but only fleetingly. "Even if I could buy them without hurting his feelings, can you see me waltzing into a jewelry store to buy wedding rings? Catherine Chandler, darling of the tabloids?"

"Ouch," Jenny winced. "I never thought of that. You've been doing your best to keep a low profile so they'll forget about you, but that would sure set them off again."

"And I couldn't wear a ring that was too obvious, anyway. Think of what fuel that would be for the DA's office gossip mill."

Jamie had been sitting silently in deep concentration. Suddenly, her face brightened. "Catherine?"

"What is it, Jamie?"

"I think I have an idea. Will you trust me to take care of it? It can be my wedding present to you."

Catherine looked at Jamie in surprise. Jamie was a resourceful young woman, but to depend on her for something so important ... but then, what was family for? "If you're sure, Jamie ... yes, I'll leave it to you."


***

Part Five

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