"Always"
by Debbie Nockels
COPYRIGHT: February 1993
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are mine (I wish!). They belong to Ron Koslow, who created them, and I'm not sure who else at this point in time.
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How shall I hold my soul that it may not
be touching yours? How shall I lift it then
above you to where other things are waiting?
Ah, gladly would I lodge it, all-forgot,
with some lost thing the dark is isolating
on some remote and silent spot that, when
your depths vibrate, is not itself vibrating.
You and me - all that lights upon us, though,
brings us together, like a fiddle bow
drawing one voice from two strings, it glides along.
Across what instrument have we been spanned?
And what violinist holds us in his hand?
O sweetest song.
(Rainer Maria Rilke)
----------------------------------------------
Slowly, silently, the heavy doors swung open. Catherine caught her breath. The concert chamber was ablaze with light, from the smoky amber flares of a dozen torches set high on the rugged walls, to the tiny, brilliant star-points of the candles flickering not only in the numerous multi-branched candelabra, but also in individual holders set wherever space allowed. Not to mention those held in every hand by the people in attendance. She swallowed, and hoped the tremors shaking her knees - and the rest of her - weren't as obvious as they felt.
"Cathy? Are you all right?"
She looked up into Peter Alcott's concerned face. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Just a bit . . . nervous, that's all."
Peter smiled, his eyes warm with affection, and offered her his arm. "Well, I think that's perfectly normal. After all, brides are supposed to be nervous, aren't they?"
"I guess so." Catherine returned his smile, not without difficulty. She placed her cold hand on his arm; Peter covered it with his own and pressed reassuringly. From inside the hall the soft ripple of music that had been playing came to an end. A low rustle of anticipation arose from the throng.
Where did all these people come from? wondered Catherine, gazing out at what appeared to be a sea of faces, every single one of which was staring at her.
""Almost time now, honey. Are you ready?"
Dry-mouthed, Catherine could only nod, and pray that her legs would carry her through that endless corridor of people to the other side of the room where Vincent waited. The silvery, haunting chords of Schubert's "Ave Maria" now rolled out. Dimly Catherine wondered where Rolley and the piano were situated, since they were nowhere in sight.
"Let's go."
Taking another deep breath and holding onto Peter's life-saving arm for all she was worth, Catherine moved forward into the blur of pale, featureless faces and wavering flames, concentrating fiercely. Beside her Peter kept up a whispered encouragement: "One step . . . now another. That's it, Cathy, you're doing fine. Just take each step one at a time. Look, we're almost there."
Catherine looked up, blinking through the fog clouding her vision, straight into Vincent's eyes, so eloquent of love and joy that her nervousness fled on the instant. Lifting her chin, she looked him full in the face and smiled. And then she was there, with Vincent, and Peter was relinquishing her hand to him. As the strong, warm fingers wrapped around hers, she gave a little sigh, still lost in the depths of that loving gaze.
A cough sounded somewhere to her left. Slowly Catherine turned her head. Father was standing there. He cleared his throat, a portentous sound. Oh, yes, she remembered vaguely, this is my wedding. Father is going to marry us.
How strange, that thought. Vincent and she, getting married. How redundant. No mere ritual, however traditional, however sanctified, could bind them any more deeply than they were already joined. In some fathomless innermost center of herself Catherine felt as if they had always been married, in the truest, deepest sense of the word. She knew they were something that was destined to be; had known almost from the beginning that they belonged together. This ceremony would serve only as a public declaration of that unassailable truth.
The music ended, and in the hush that followed Father spoke. "We have gathered here tonight in celebration, to witness the vows of Catherine and Vincent. The joining of two people in marriage is always a time for rejoicing, but I think no one here will dispute that this particular occasion is something quite extraordinary."
He paused, clearing his throat. "Most of you are aware that in the beginning I discouraged this relationship, certain it could only bring pain and trouble both to Vincent and to our world." He smiled wryly. "Let me now state publicly that seldom have I been so completely wrong - and never have I been happier to be so mistaken. Catherine, you have proven yourself a friend to this community more times than I can count. As for what your love has meant to Vincent, the change it has wrought in his life - well, I only pray that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive my blindness and stupidity."
Deeply touched, Catherine shook her head and blinked back involuntary tears. "There is nothing to forgive," she said softly. "It is natural to protect those we love. If mistakes were made, Father, they were made in the name of love, and not by you alone. That is all past now." Vincent's hand tightened around hers, and she squeezed back.
Father cleared his throat again. "Thank you, my dear," he said huskily. He motioned to them. "And now I believe you have something to say to each other?"
Catherine turned to Vincent, who took possession of her other hand as well. Looking into her eyes, he spoke:
"There was a moment, when the way was still new
and I was afraid to hope.
You put your hand on mine. Nothing ever felt like that to me -
like your touch.
I wanted to weep.
You turned your head and looked at me.
Your eyes were filled with dancing light,
and I was bathed in your warmth.
And I believed in that moment that, even for me,
all things were possible.
In that moment, in your light, I felt what it is to be beautiful.
How many lives have been touched by you?
How many lives transformed by your courage to give - and to love?
How many have become beautiful in your light?
We once promised always to share the truth.
Always.
But, Catherine, there is a truth beyond anything,
beyond everything I have ever known, ever dreamed . . .
It is the truth of all you have given, of all you have sacrificed,
for me.
The truth of your love humbled me . . .
silenced me.
And the truth I could never share with you
was the truth of how deeply I love you.
I remember.
I remember every moment - every word -
every look - every touch.
Our love lives - always.
Nothing can destroy it. Not time,
nor circumstance, nor death itself.
It is eternal.
"I love you, Catherine. Always. And I pledge myself to you for all time."
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Catherine felt tears well up. Shakily she said, "Vincent, you told me once that we were something that has never been - that we must proceed with courage and with love until we could pass through our fears and be truly together. I told you then that I wasn't afraid. I never have been, my love."
"I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet, keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before -
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned, so,
Some veil did fall - I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
"I love you, Vincent - always. And I pledge myself to you for all time."
At the piano, Rolley played a few soft opening chords, then Janet - on personal leave from her Broadway show - began to sing in her sweet, light soprano:
Make of our hands one hand,
Make of our hearts one heart,
Peter stepped forward. From him Vincent took the gold ring which had been Margaret's. Reverently he slipped it on Catherine's hand.
Make of our vows one last vow:
Only death will part us now.
Catherine in turn took up the matching band which had been custom-made from her parents' wedding sets, and slid it down Vincent's ring finger. With both hands entwined they stood facing another before the assemblage.
Make of our lives one life,
Day after day, one life.
Now it begins, now we start.
One hand, one heart.
Even death won't part us now.
There was a moment of utter and complete silence, and then the room exploded with joyous sound as everyone began talking at the same time.
"Catherine, my dear, welcome to the community." Father gathered Catherine into a warm embrace, blinking when she planted a big kiss on his cheek.
"Congratulations, Vincent!" William thumped Vincent on the back, causing him to stagger. "You too, Catherine. I know you'll be very happy together." The burly cook moved aside and was instantly replaced by three others.
"Best wishes, my dear," Mary said.
Rebecca moved closer. "Now why would Catherine need good wishes, Mary?" She gave Catherine a teasing look. "She's got Vincent. What more could she want?" Vincent's hand came down on her shoulder and Rebecca turned with a smile of great affection for her childhood friend. Impulsively she hugged him. "I'm so happy for you, Vincent! For both of you."
"It was so beautiful." Brooke's large brown eyes were shiny with emotion. "It made shivers run up and down my arms."
"Me too," put in Samantha, crowding in. "You're the most beautiful bride and groom ever!"
"Thank you, Samantha," replied Vincent, looking mildly discomfited.
Catherine smiled at the young girl. "Vincent is always beautiful," she said, sending a roguish his way through their bond.
"But he's even more beautiful tonight," Samantha persisted stubbornly.
Catherine capitulated. "You're right, Samantha. He is," she agreed.
"In these clothes anyone would look nice," Vincent broke in smoothly. "Sarah and Mary must have worked special magic into them." He indicated his garments - the white silk shirt, white leather vest embroidered with gold, and equally slendid trousers of white corduroy so soft and fine it appeared to be velvet. It had been the two women's joint wedding gift to him.
"They are exquisite," Catherine agreed, caressing her gown. Made of white velvet, silk and lace, it matched Vincent's outfit perfectly, even to the gold embroidery around the neck, sleeves and hem. "I don't know how you found the time," she said to Mary and Sarah, "as busy as you always are."
The two exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Sarah nodded at Mary, her mouth quirking at one corner. "Well, you see, dear," Mary said with an air of apologetic amusement, "we actually started these quite some time ago."
"About two years ago, to be precise," supplied Rebecca. Her smile widened at the surprised looks this got her, especially from Vincent, who after his first stunned reaction turned to Mary.
"Two years ago, Mary? How could you have possibly known. . . ." His voice trailed away in disbelief. Sarah laughed outright, shaking her head with amusement. Mary merely looked patiently and kindly at him.
"It was obvious to some of us how it would all turn out," came a voice from behind Catherine. Jamie stepped into view. "Just in case you don't already know this, Vincent, not everyone agreed with Father's fears about you two. In fact, very few of us did."
Vincent stared as heads nodded in agreement with the teenager's statement. Catherine slipped her arm around his waist and hugged him. "I . . . didn't know," he managed, faintly. "I thought everyone felt as Father did."
"Believe me, Vincent, it was as big a shock to me as it is to you, finding that out." Father's voice was drily rueful. He sent a stern glance around the group. "I only trust that if in the future similar disagreements occur, someone will be willing to discuss the situation with me."
Somewhat sheepish looks were exchanged, but no one spoke and a somewhat uncomfortable silence reigned for a moment. It was broken by the sound of babyish laughter. Catherine's face lit up, and she turned eagerly.
"See, Jacob, here's Mama," Lena said, approaching with the child. A second later she gasped as Jacob unexpectedly tried to launch himself toward his mother without regard for the distance still separating them, a maneuver which all but catapulted him out of her arms. "Jacob!"
Catherine and Vincent also gasped, but before they could do more than start forward, a pair of wiry hands caught the infant. "What do you think you're doing, little one?" Pascal rubbed noses with him. "Don't you know babies can't fly?" Jacob merely gurgled and kicked. Smiling, Pascal handed him over to Catherine.
"Thank you, Pascal!" said Catherine, with heart-felt emotion. She kissed Jacob's downy head and held him close. "Lena, are you sure you don't mind looking after him while we're gone?"
"Are you kidding?" Lena looked incredulous. "I'll love having Jacob stay with us." Then she laughed, indicating the young girl standing gravely beside her. "Besides, you know how much Katy adores having a 'little brother' to look after. Don't worry, Catherine. It's only for a few days, after all."
"I know," sighed Catherine. She felt warm, tiny arms tighten around her neck and had to blink back sudden tears. "Thank you, Lena. It's just that I'll miss him."
Vincent's arm circled her shoulders. "Catherine, we don't have to leave. We can stay here, you know."
She looked up at him and managed a slight smile. "No, I want to go. I'm dying to see all those places you've been telling me about - the crystal cavern especially." Her smile deepened, growing arch. "Besides, this is the first honeymoon I've ever been on. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Ignoring the knowing gleam in Vincent's eyes, she gave Jacob one last hug and kiss and handed him to his father.
Vincent bent his head down and touched foreheads with his son. They remained in that position for a long moment, silent, then Jacob gave a bounce and flung his arms around his father's neck for an enthusiastic hug. Smiling, Vincent kissed him. "Go with Lena now, Jacob."
Jacob made happy noises as Lena took him back. She said, "I better go put him down now. Come on, Katy, it's your bedtime too." She smiled at Catherine and Vincent. "Almost forgot to say 'Congratulations.' I know you'll be very happy." She walked away, Jacob fitted securely over one hip, Katy holding tightly onto her other hand.
Catherine watched them leave, feeling somewhat wistful in spite of herself. She leaned back against Vincent, sighing as his arms came around and held her closely. "He'll be fine, Catherine. You know he loves being with Katy and Lena."
Catherine nodded. "Especially Katy. Jacob absolutely adores her."
"Vincent, Catherine." They turned to see Father approaching, looking rather apologetic. "I'm sorry to intrude, but the musicians are beginning to play and it's been requested that you two lead the dancing."
Catherine looked up at Vincent, unsure how he would react. The only time they had danced together had been privately, alone in the Great Hall with only the music of the winds. Vincent only smiled and took her hand. "Of course, Father," he said.
Their progress through the crowd to the area set aside for dancing was impeded by the many affectione embraces and congratulations that came their way. Finally they stood in the center of a large empty circle ringled by their smiling friends. "Are you ready?" Vincent whispered, his gaze intent on Catherine's face.
"Whenever you are," she whispered back, feeling her knees grow weak as his voice and eyes worked their usual magic on her insides. The music, when it started a moment later, seemed a miraculous rhapsody to the greater symphony rippling between them, buoyant and sparkling. In Vincent's arms Catherine felt lighter than air, effortlessly matching his powerful grace, floating in some delirious, wondrous world out of time. All too soon the waltz came to an end, and she found herself once again standing in the middle ofa circle of faces, feeling deliciously giddy, staring up into Vincent's intent eyes. His presence, the heat where their bodies touched, sent a sensual thrill throughout her. She swallowed.
A slow, faint smile touched Vincent's lips. As the strains of another waltz reached their ears, he pulled her closer, his hand on her back, caressing through the soft velvet with devastating effect, and swept her into the next dance. Out of the corner of one eye Catherine glimpsed Father gravely swirling by with Mary, and a moment later, Rebecca and Peter, then Joe and Jenny, Mark and Jamie, Brooke and Steven . . . until the periphery of her vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of whirling colors and forms noted only as an indistinct border for her eyes' central image: Vincent's face, dearly familiar, uniquely beautiful; the gentle, deep curves of his mouth; the sprinkling of dusty, golden fur softer than a whisper - but most of all, Vincent's eyes, deeply blue, lambent with the serene joy which ran like sparkling silver through the ceaseless flow of their bond.
Make of our hands, one hand
Make of our hearts, one heart
Now it begins, now we start
One hand, one heart
Even death can't part us now.
Her love.
Her life.
Always.
THE END
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