On the Inside

©Kimber - 2008

Reluctantly she pushed the quilt back a bit and sat up with a languorous stretch.

"Good morning, Vincent." she breathed, running her fingers through her hair so as to feel a bit more presentable.

Vincent smiled and walked quietly into the chamber, having been standing in the doorway in silent admiration.

"I hope you slept well, Catherine." He sat the tray he'd been carrying down on the bed next to Catherine and pulled a chair close. He took the quilted cozy from the pot and poured a cup for her, adding one sugar and a hint of milk, as he knew she liked it. He handed her the cup and began tearing the scones into manageable pieces.

"Mmmm…raisins" Catherine's smile spread at the sight. Vincent spread a small pat of butter on the scone and handed it to her.

"I have no idea how William does it. His are the only scones I've ever had that couldn't double for doorstops."

Vincent chuckled as he poured his own tea. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the compliment. I'll pass it along."

He sat back in the chair, enjoying the aroma of his tea and the vision of his…Catherine. "And what do you have planned for today? I'm afraid most of us will be making preparations for Thanksgiving."

Catherine looked up at him, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "I was hoping I would be able to help in the preparations, Vincent."

"Catherine, you're on vacation and you're our guest. We would never ask you to help when you should be relaxing and enjoying yourself."

Catherine took a bite of the scone as she tried to find a way to make Vincent understand. Her brow began to knit and Vincent's head tilted as he looked at her.

"Tell me."

She sighed and put her breakfast down on the tray. "I don't usually take much time off for the holidays, Vincent. Especially since my father passed, I really haven't felt like observing holidays." She looked down at her hands sitting restlessly in her lap. "This year I thought I'd try to get into the spirit of the season. I thought it would be nice to experience the holidays as part of a…" the briefest of pauses didn't go unnoticed by Vincent "…community."

Knowing what word she'd made sure not to include, Vincent began making adjustments to his plans for Catherine's seven day stay in his world.

They finished their breakfast in companionable conversation about holidays and celebrations and food. As Vincent piled the dishes back on the tray he glanced over at Catherine putting on her robe. Closing his eyes, he sighed quietly.

"Come to the library when you're ready, Catherine. Father is looking forward to a chat with you. He was sorry to miss you when you came down last night."

She turned to face him with her arms wrapped loosely around her waist. "Thank you, Vincent." She beamed a smile and approached him, reaching out to caress his cheek. "For everything."

He returned her smile and took her hand in his. "You are always welcome, Catherine." He gently squeezed her hand, then gathered the tray and left the guest chamber.

Catherine spun on her toes, allowing herself to feel the warmth still lingering from Vincent's velvety voice in the air. Chuckling at herself, she went to the wardrobe to find suitable clothes for the day.

After dropping the tray off in the kitchen, Vincent headed straight for the nursery to speak with Mary. He knew she of all people would understand his mission and know best how to accomplish it.

Lunchtime was easing upon them as Catherine sat in Father's library curled up in the large armchair reading. Pasqual had approached Father earlier as he and Catherine were chatting over a half-started game of chess. Not wanting to let one of the few people he could still best in a match leave, Father invited her to peruse the piles of books while he and Pasqual went over charts on his desk. Having lost herself on Twain's Mississippi, she didn't hear one of the children announce the noon meal was ready. Father was about to cross the room to rouse her when he saw Vincent enter the chamber behind her. Smiling, he tapped Pasqual on the shoulder and directed him to the exit.

The sight of her there, so comfortable in "his" chair warmed his soul. Smiling slightly he silently approached and knelt beside the chair.

"Catherine" the sound was like unrefined silk on her ear, he was so close she could feel wisps of his hair on her cheek. Suppressing a delightful shudder, she closed the book and looked up. He pulled away a bit and covered her hand with his, sliding it down to take the book. "Lunch is being served."

She smiled and uncurled her legs from the chair, taking the hand he offered as he rose. He placed the book on the seat and his hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the hallway.

Everyone was seated when they arrived, talking and laughing and eating. The children were sitting together, on lunch break from their lessons.

Catherine and Vincent gathered their meals and walked over to the table where Father, Mary and two of the older girls were sitting. After seating Catherine, Vincent sat and greeted everyone at the table. Glancing once again at Mary he queried. "You look a bit troubled Mary, is something wrong?"

"Oh no, child, nothing really." She reached out and patted his hand with a smile. "We're just a bit short handed in the crèche this week with all the holiday preparations going on. You know how the children get this time of year with Halloween, Winterfest, Christmas… They're all just a bit restless." She shone a knowing gaze on him. "I'm sure you remember as well as anyone, young man."

Catherine stifled a laugh over her chicken salad as she watched his face turn a delightful shade of rose.

"Yes, Mary, I do remember, thank you." He was suddenly terribly interested in the spinach on his plate as he heard Father chuckle from across the table.

Clearing his throat, Father turned to Mary. "Is there anything we could do to help, Mary?"

"Not really, Father. Just another set of hands to pitch in where needed for a few days, would be nice."

As Vincent felt the tingle of hope across their bond, he felt much better about the deception being perpetrated around him.

"I could help, Mary." Catherine said in an almost shy voice.

Mary looked at her kindly. "Oh my dear, are you sure you want to? You are on holiday from work."

Catherine's face lit up and her voice grew stronger. "Of course! I would love to be…of help...to you all."

Mary noted the slight wistful quality to her smile and realized that, once again, Vincent had correctly assessed the situation. "Excellent! Thank you so much, child." Mary gave her arm a squeeze. "When you're done with your lunch, we'll put you right to work. The younger children are going above to collect leaves and we never have enough eyes to keep the stragglers in line. You will be saving a poor old woman at least one dash across the park."

Catherine beamed as she dug heartily into her meal. Soon enough, plates were cleared, tables cleaned, chairs stacked and the children were in the crèche being given their instructions for the leaf hunt. Each child held a small paper sack tightly in their hands as they bounced with desire to go out. Mary clapped her hands and ten sets of small eyes came to rest on her.

"Now listen very carefully to what I say because if anyone doesn't follow the rules no one will be going Above again for a month. Do you all understand?"

A chorus of "Yes Mary" erupted from the group and she looked down fondly.

"Alright. We will be going up for half an hour. No longer. When I say it's time to go, I don't want to hear any arguments. Everyone has a buddy. You must stay with your buddy at all times. There will be three adults going up with you: Rebecca, Catherine and I. You must stay where one of us can see you at all times. If one of us calls to you, you and your buddy come over right away. No dawdling. And NO ONE is to leave the hillside area. We can't risk being too far away from the entrance."

After seeing that they had a proper grasp of the requirements, and knowing there would be some slip ups, Mary smiled at them. "And have fun my dears. Gather as many different colors as you can find."

The children began to bounce again and Mary sighed. "Take your buddy's hand and stay in your groups with your assigned adult."

Catherine smiled as two of the children approached her. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Not more than five years old, they smiled eagerly and said "Yes, Miss Catherine." Walking behind them she guided them to the line of children heading out the door and sighed happily.

Half an hour and one good sprint later, Catherine was carrying one and holding the other's hand as they traipsed merrily back to the crèche. The children were chattering on and looking inside their paper bags at their treasures.

Once at the door, Mary instructed them to put their bags in their name-baskets and go to the basin to wash. Mary walked over to Catherine who was taking off her gloves. Reaching up, she pulled a small yellow leaf from the younger woman's hair. "I'm sure I don't want to know how that got there." Mary smiled and handed the leaf to Catherine who grinned.

"Probably not." she laughed.

Patting Catherine's arm she said, "Now we need to get them together at the table to sort and group the leaves. The older children can work on counting the groups and charting how many of each color we have." Catherine followed Mary as she spoke. "Then tomorrow we will identify the leaves by species and talk about why they change colors and fall. And later in the week we will use the leaves to make decorations for the holiday."

Thinking back on her own private school education, desks and construction paper and preprinted worksheets…thousand dollar curriculums and Educational Technicians…once again she wondered what she had missed.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. The children worked with their foliage-themed math lesson and Catherine earned a new level of respect for teachers everywhere. When the children were released to their parents or guardians at the end of the day, Mary again approached Catherine.

"You appeared to be enjoying yourself, my dear." She lightly wrapped an arm around Catherine's shoulder. Catherine reached up and patted her hand. "I did, Mary. So much. It was wonderful."

Mary squeezed gently and leaned in. "I'm glad. If you don't think you'll be too tired, some of us on nursery duty in the morning will be doing our weekly knitting. We would love it if you would join us."

Catherine deflated a bit and looked down at her grass stained Keds. "I'd love to Mary, but… I don't know how to knit." She looked up to see Mary still smiling and holding her close

"Not to worry child, not to worry. As Father is fond of quoting: 'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step', or in this case stitch. You won't be the only novice there, although the younger girls will be a week or two ahead of you."

As she talked, Mary guided Catherine out the door and down the hallway to Father's library. Turning to face Catherine at the door, she said, "I'll see you right after breakfast in the nursery, my dear." Giving her shoulder a final squeeze, Mary turned and went in the opposite direction toward the hospital chamber.

From inside the library she heard Father call to her. "Catherine! Would you care to continue our game?" Grinning widely she spun on her heel and entered the chamber.

Stepping down she said, "I'd love to!"

)0( )0( )0( )0( )0(

The next morning brought more tea, blueberry muffins and Vincent's warm smile to her chamber. Breathing in the soothing aroma of the tea, Catherine glanced at him through the lazy steam.

"I can find my way down to the dining hall for breakfast, you know."

Setting his cup down on the tray, Vincent sighed and leaned back in the chair, elbows on the arm rests, fingers folded loosely in front of his chest. Picking and discarding words until he found the most appropriate ones.

"I'm afraid I must admit to a bit of selfishness when it comes to you, my dear Catherine." He tilted his head slightly, both glad of and amused by the shy look on her face. "I can't resist stealing a few brief moments alone with you before I begin my day."

Tearing a piece off the muffin in front of her, Catherine gathered her frayed wits, sent spinning by the only man who could do it. "I'm glad."

"What do you have planned for today? You seemed to enjoy your afternoon with the children yesterday."

Seeing her face drop a bit he asked, "Did something happen?"

"Oh no! Yesterday was wonderful. I truly enjoyed my time with the children. And I am in awe of Mary's resourceful teaching skills."

"Yes, we are very lucky to have her among us." he said, still wondering what cloud had crossed her peaceful brow.

Catherine nodded and took a sip of tea. "This morning I will be helping in the nursery."

Still at a loss, Vincent continued, "I've seen you with the young ones, Catherine, so I know the thought of spending time with them can't be a concern for you. What is it?"

She heaved a sigh and covered her face with her hands. Vincent could sense her discomfort and leaned forward. "Please, Catherine. Whatever it is, it can't be this terrible."

Peeking up into his loving blue eyes, she dropped her hands. "The ladies are going to be knitting this morning.", as if that explained everything quite clearly to even the blindest bat.

A small chuckle escaped his lips and he looked down for a moment to compose his face for his obviously upset companion. "I'm afraid I'm still at a loss to see the problem…"

"I've never knitted a stitch in my life!" she huffed in frustrated embarrassment. "Not only won't I be any help, I will be a distraction to them, having to teach me!"

Finally having the whole picture spread before him, Vincent was again able to relax. "Catherine, you have to understand the way we do things here. Aside from the academic classes the children receive, we don't have the luxury of formal training in necessary skills. Everyone learns these things in the apprentice-style immersion instruction. Anyone who comes here to live and join the community is given the option of learning a skill if they choose. For those who return Above, it helps in their re-acclimation to be able to enter the work force immediately. For those who remain here, it's a valuable contribution to the community."

Letting his words sink in, Catherine's face began to brighten. "Oh!" she smiled, and broke a larger piece off her muffin.

Retrieving his cup, Vincent sat back again watching Catherine happily munching her breakfast. He took a sip and mentally reviewed his schedule for the morning.

Two hours later Catherine found herself in a cheery, well-lit chamber. The walls were decorated with bright colored pictures and textured hangings. Sparsely padded futons were strewn everywhere and babies sat or crawled happily around on them among the toys. Two of the older girls sat in the middle watching and playing as the young ones explored.

She and four of the other women sat in comfortable chairs in the front of the chamber, needles in hand and yarn baskets at their feet. After the initial introduction to needles, yarn, tension, gauge, casting on and basic stitches, Catherine was left with instructions to make a 12" x 12" block.

An hour later, after many false starts, ripping out, recasting, slipped stitches and overall frustration, she had about half the block done. The ladies around her were chatting amiably, needles flying, soft clicking a background to their conversation. But for Catherine, the only thing filling her mind was the project before her. 'Through, around, pull back, slip off' kept repeating in her head as she concentrated on the process she'd been taught. 'Through, around, pull back, slip off' over and over until the last stitch was off the needle and she switched hands. Remembering to reverse the stitch on the odd row she focused on 'Through the back, around, pull through, slip off'.

Nothing entered her conscious mind again until she heard the voices of the ladies around her grow louder. Looking up, she saw Jamie enter the chamber carrying a book. The ladies greeted her warmly and Jamie smiled. She returned the greeting and sat in the large chair by the door.

"Class is over for the morning then?" Mary asked as she spread the front panel of the sweater she was making out on her lap.

"Yep, and I have to read three chapters of Jane Eyre by Monday." Jamie heaved a weary sigh and opened the book she'd brought along.

"Oh!" Rebecca sighed. "I've been waiting for this all week Jaime! I never have time to read these days and this is my favorite book."

Mary picked up her needles again and motioned to Jamie. "Where did we leave off, my dear?"

"We're starting Chapter 21." Settling back, she began.

"Presentiments are strange things; and so are sympathies; and so are signs; and the three combined make one mystery to which humanity has not yet found the key."

Catherine found more of her focus drifting off with the story as her hands began to make the stitches almost of their own accord. Before she knew it, it was an hour and a half later and Jamie had stopped to get a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner. Catherine looked around her to see Mary up and tucking children in for morning naps. Rebecca was switching needles and the two other girls were helping pick up toys and putting them in baskets.

She glanced down in her lap and was quite astonished to see almost 18 inches of swatch sitting there. She picked it up to hang in front of her and examined her work. At the bottom were several rows of tight, uneven stitches with occasional gaps or bulges showing prominently. A small gasp of frustration escaped her lips and she started to take the project off the needle. Mary moved behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"No, don't rip it out, child." Mary sat down next to Catherine and took her hand. With the other she spread the project across their legs. "You see this part here at the bottom? The stitches are tight. The tension in your mind was coming out through your hands. You were focusing on it so hard, you were forcing the needles and clenching the yarn. But here, in the middle, the stitches begin to loosen a bit, there are fewer gaps. And here, at the top, the yarn was free and the needles could move. The stitches are firm and even…" Mary brought out the ruler and checked the gauge. "It's perfect" she smiled at Catherine. "Now cast this off and we will label it and put it in your chamber."

Catherine glanced uncertainly at Mary. "Why would we keep this?" she asked. "It's awful and you couldn't use it for anything."

In her peripheral vision, Mary saw Vincent leaning against the chamber door. Rebecca looked over at Catherine and said, "We always keep the first one, no matter how awful it is." As the other girls returned to their seats, they nodded in agreement. Shari, the youngest, remarked, "And mine was five different KINDS of awful!"

Mary laughed and reached over to pat the girl's arm lightly. "But we kept it nonetheless." she said. Turning back to Catherine, she pointed again to the swatch. "This is a map. To look back at where you were and see how far you've come." Catherine glanced down at it again. "Whenever you feel you can't or think something is too hard, you will have this to remind you; that you can, and it's not." Mary patted her cheek. "So cast that off and we'll start you on a baby blanket. We can never have too many of those."

And with that, Mary sat back in her chair and picked up her needles. Jamie moved toward the chair to resume her reading, but at that moment Vincent stepped into the room.

"Good morning, ladies." They all looked up and greeted him quietly so as not to wake the babies. He looked into Catherine's upturned eyes and smiled at the warmth there, just for him.

Walking over to Jamie, he put his hand out for the book. "Why don't you sit and listen for a bit, Jamie. You've read two chapters already. Rest your voice."

Jamie gladly relinquished the book and sat on a cushion on the floor. No one would pass up a chance to listen to Vincent read. He settled his long frame into the chair and opened the book to Chapter 23.

Catherine finished casting off her swatch and folding it carefully beside her chair. Taking up the soft yellow yarn Mary had placed in her basket, she carefully formed the slip knot around the needle and proceeded to cast on the necessary number of stitches for a small baby blanket.

Soon the warm black velvet of Vincent's voice began to wash over her as the next phase of Jane's life was about to begin.

"A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favor even singly, our wave-girt land."

Catherine's gaze switched between the man seated before her and the needles in her hands; her mind's eye seeing stitch patterns and a sunny English countryside. The sound of quietly clicking needles and sleeping children a soothing background.

Catherine had read Jane Eyre several times in her life, but never had she "felt" the characters so alive as when Vincent read them. As he spoke Rochester's words to Jane, telling her she must go to Ireland, Catherine could feel Jane's fear and pain.

But then, as he continued, she started to hear something…not completely in the "voice" of the book. Her eyes were drawn up to meet Vincent's. He was still saying the words on the page, but the book lay open, flat and unseen in his lap.

"'It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Janet?'"

Catherine felt her own heart still along with her hands as Vincent continued the monologue, his eyes a deep, dark blue.

"'Because', he said 'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you…especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left rib, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt: and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.'" And Vincent's voice dropped ever so slightly. "'As for you-you'd forget me'"

He brought the book back up from his lap and continued as Catherine clasped her hands in her lap to sill their shaking. As he read the argument and proposal, she worked to steady her breathing. By the time Adele had announced the splitting of the chestnut tree, Catherine was able to return to her knitting with some semblance of composure.

Vincent closed the book and rose from the chair. He handed it back to Jamie and walked over to Mary and Catherine. "I'll leave you ladies to your work, then."

Mary reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you for spending some time with us, dear. We don't see enough of you." She smiled and went back to her sweater.

Catherine gathered herself and looked once again into his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Vincent." She smiled as well and put the force of her love behind it, willing him to feel it as well. He bowed slightly to the group and left the room. Catherine sighed and slumped quietly back in her chair, slowly working the needles in her hands.

Mary spoke gently but firmly. "Time to prepare for lunch, ladies. The children will be waking soon and there will be no time after that." Everyone put their work away in their baskets and rose to start preparing the meal for the babies.

The afternoon was filled with singing, reading and fingerplay. Diaper changes and clothing changes and more running than Catherine would ever have though necessary for infants who could barely crawl.

That evening at the dining table she marveled to her companions at the speed and dexterity of those children. "And I swear I had only turned my back for a second to get the block he threw and when I turned around he was half way across the room about to pull a pitcher on his head!" Mary and Father both laughed fondly and Vincent chuckled softly at her awed and enthusiastic tone. Catherine had always loved children and often interacted with the older ones, but her first full day with the babies brought such a feeling of joy to her heart. Vincent wanted to reach out and touch her, to share the feeling with her.

As they left the dining hall together, Vincent leaned down slightly toward his petite companion, "Would you care to take a walk before retiring, Catherine?"

She beamed up at him and wrapped her arm around his, "I'd love to."

He returned the warm smile and eased his pace to match hers. As they walked they talked about everything and nothing between companionable silences. As Catherine was starting to tire, she glanced around them, finally recognizing where they were going. Squeezing his arm in anticipation she said, "The Great Falls!"

He laid his large hand on hers and looked into her eyes. "I know how much you love it there."

Another 15 minutes found them sitting comfortably together against the rock wall, wrapped warmly in his cloak. The smell of the water in the air as the breeze wafted up from the river below was rich and fresh. One of the things Catherine always found amazing about the majority of the tunnels, but especially these areas so near the water, was the lack of musty, heavy air.

She remembered her trips as a child to different historical buildings and natural underground formations. The first thing she always noticed as she entered the enclosed spaces was the almost oppressive smell of mold and mildew that permeated the areas. But here, in the tunnels almost every area had a fresh clean smell and feel to it.

Settling more comfortably against his shoulder, his arm enfolding her, she sighed and listened to the water's melody. Vincent moved his head slightly and placed a small kiss on the top of her head. "I don't remember ever feeling you so…content…my love." He rested his cheek on the spot he had previously kissed adding his sigh to hers. It took a few moments for what he said to filter down to the thinking portion of her brain, but when it did, her eyes slowly opened.

Catherine brought her palm flat against the broad expanse of Vincent's chest and levered herself gently up. Vincent felt her move and raised his head to meet her eyes as they searched for his. He smiled, tilting his head slightly to the right. Hooking his finger delicately under her chin, he closed her slightly gaping mouth and continued along her jawline to cup her cheek. Catherine beamed and moved her hand from his chest to the back of his hand, holding it in place as she turned and placed a kiss in the center of his palm.

Vincent reached up with his free hand and guided her back to her original position, curled warmly against his side. Wrapping both his arms around her and pulling her close he whispered into her hair, "I am so very happy to have you here, Catherine. With us…with me."

Burrowing deep into the warmth of him, Catherine felt her head spin from the smell of candle smoke and leather and him. They often hugged and sat close but never had she been so engulfed by his body or his presence. At that moment she felt like the most loved woman on earth. Knowing she needed to speak no words, she once more released a sigh of contentment and listened to the shuush of the water as it accompanied the beat of her dearest love's heart.

)0( )0( )0( )0( )0(

After breakfast Mary whisked Catherine away to the crèche. Together they patiently guided the youngsters through the Calendar Time, picking a leader and reading the morning message. Acknowledging the need to burn off some of the excess pre-holiday energy the children were vibrating with, Mary called for music and movement time.

Then it was time to string beads and feathers for necklaces. The younger children worked on making patterns in their necklaces, while the older children worked on grouping, adding and subtracting with the beads as they strung. After snack and story it was time for free play and Mary pulled Catherine aside for a moment.

"I am having some of the older girls clip pictures from magazines to have for the children when they make their placemats tomorrow. Would you care to join us after lunch?"

Catherine was pleased at the opportunity. The younger children were precious, but she thought it would be nice to interact with the older ones for a change as well. Silently acknowledging her time Below was growing short, she wanted to experience as much of it as possible.

After herding the children through lunch and settling them down for naps, the older girls all gathered in the supply chamber to the side of the larger class space. A short coffee table sat in the center of the room and the ladies were seated haphazardly around it. Mary and Rebecca sat to the side in rocking chairs sorting through the magazines to find ones appropriate for the task at hand; while Catherine, Kindra, Samantha and Jamie took up spots on cushions on the floor. Each had a pair of scissors and a stack of magazines and on the table was a growing pile of cut out pictures. The children would use these to make collages of things they are thankful for on placemats for the feast.

Mary scanned through a Better Homes & Gardens from two years ago and glanced up at Kindra. "Have you heard back from Julliard yet, my dear?"

Kindra let her hands fall in her lap. "Well, I did get a letter inviting me to audition."

The other girls all gasped. "That's wonderful, Kindra!" Upon seeing Kindra's less than enthusiastic expression she changed tack. "Is there something wrong?"

Kindra sighed. "I met this boy when I was taking one of my EP courses at NYU…"

Jamie rolled her eyes and ripped a page out of her magazine loudly. "Oh brother."

Kindra huffed indignantly. "Just because you're not interested in boys, Jamie…"

"Well…"

Both girls' protests died as Mary interjected. "Girls, please."

"How long have you known this boy, Kindra?" Rebecca asked, handing her a Reader's Digest.

"A couple of months now. We met in the library." A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she remembered. Rebecca and Mary shared a glance then went back to sorting.

Samantha, however, was very excited for her friend. "How old is he, what's his name, what does he look like…" They all laughed at her enthusiasm and Mary reached over to pat Samantha's head.

"Yes, Kindra, do tell us a bit about him, if you don't mind."

Her smile said she wouldn't mind in the least. "His name is Kyle. He's 20 and he is so…" A blush came to her cheeks, "Well, I think he has the most beautiful eyes. They are as blue as a robin's egg and clear as a stream."

Catherine joined in the smiles and glances with the older ladies as she saw the blissful look on Kindra's face. 'Ah, to be young and in love.'

Samantha squirmed until she could no longer contain herself. "Has he taken you on a date?"

"A few." Kindra looked down at her task. Mary could sense there was something troubling the girl.

"Kindra, tell us, sweetheart."

Not knowing where to start or what to say, she floundered for a moment. "I like him very much. We enjoy the same books and music. When we're together he makes me feel like the only woman in the world."

"But..." Rebecca prompted.

"But, lately he says he wants…more." She quickly added, "I remember everything you and Father have told us about sex and I would never be unsafe." Mary let out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding. "But I have such strong feelings for him…Sometimes it's all I can do to remember my name when we're together."

"Is he pressuring you in any way, dear?"

"Well…no…kind of…well…I don't know." She visibly deflated at the last statement.

Catherine spoke up. "What is he asking you to do?"

Kindra's body curled up on itself a bit. "This is so embarrassing."

"Nonsense. We're all women here." Samantha sat a bit straighter at that remark. Being the youngest in the room at 14, the thought that she was one of the "women" filled her with pride.

"Well," Kindra fought to find words that would come out without making her want to crawl in a hole. "He says everyone does it…"

"They all say that." Jamie stated, then ducked her head at Mary's stern glance. "Sorry."

"He says that it's not really sex, and no one has to worry about pregnancy, and it doesn't take very long, and…"

"I see." Mary raised her hand to stop the girl before she made herself more uncomfortable.

"Well, I don't." Samantha injected in dismay. Thinking about the classes she had been taking with both Mary and Father, nothing she remembered fit that criterion aside from masturbation.

Mary put her magazines down and gathered all the girls into her gaze. "She is talking about oral sex. Where one partner gratifies the other with oral stimulation to the genital area."

Samantha sat wide eyed for a moment while the concept sank in. After a moment, Mary continued. "It has been quite a few years since I've been Topside, but even when I was your age boys were making those justifications. And I know for a fact that not everyone was doing it."

Catherine spoke to Kindra, "I live up there every day and I know for a fact that not everyone is doing it now either."

Mary nodded in gratitude and continued. "Any interaction of that kind, regardless of what part goes where, is sex. And I don't need to remind you that even this activity can result in an exchange of bodily fluid. So while you don't have to worry about pregnancy, you do have to worry about sexually transmitted diseases."

Kindra sighed and shook her head. "I know what you're saying is true, Mary, but what if I love him?"

Mary paused for a moment, measuring her words carefully. To discount the girl's feelings would be to lose her voice in the girl's heart and mind.

"Sweetheart…the early days of any relationship are full of powerful feelings. And we know love is the most powerful of all. But we must learn to temper these feelings with our rational minds, as unromantic as that sounds."

Kindra smiled.

"You're 17. You have a long, full life in front of you. There are so many places to go, things to do, people to meet… If you're lucky, you'll fall in love many more times during your life.

But you'll never get another audition at Julliard. And if you're accepted, there is a whole new horizon of wonders to explore. Give yourself a chance to experience the things that will help you learn and grow as a woman and a person. Sex will have a place there too, when the time is right."

"But how do you know the time's not right now?" Kindra asked with a mixture of trepidation and confusion.

"Because you know, my dear. Choices of this magnitude shouldn't be made lightly. And if you truly listen to your heart and your mind, you will know what's right because it will truly feel right."

Kindra nodded. She knew the truth of Mary's words because she could feel them resonating in her. She stood up and walked over to Mary, the only mother she'd ever known, and knelt before her chair, accepting a warm embrace. "Thank you, Mary."

"You are very welcome, dear."

From across the table Jamie spoke up. "So if we're all done with the mushy stuff, can we please get back to work?"

Three balls of crumpled paper flew at her and Mary laughed quietly as she watched the paper fight ensue. Sitting back in her rocking chair, her heart soared to see Catherine there, on the floor, in the middle of the fray, laughing and playing with the other girls.

)0( )0( )0( )0( )0(

The next morning, the day before Thanksgiving, found her once again reclining on her bed watching Vincent through the steam from her tea. He was chatting idly about his coming day when he felt her gaze. He could sense no discomfort from her so he stopped his monologue and looked back, humor and curiosity in his eyes.

"What is going on in that lovely head of yours, Ms. Chandler?"

She smiled and sipped her tea. "A great many things, Mr. Wells."

"No doubt." he nodded and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. "Anything you'd care to share?"

"Someday."

"Someday soon?"

"Perhaps." She set her tea cup down on the tray. "Although 'soon' is a relative term."

Sitting up, he collected the dishes and walked to the door. Much to Catherine's surprise he sat the tray in the hallway outside and turned back. With three great strides he was in front of her, one knee beside her on the bed and his hands on the headboard bracketing her in. Crystal blue eyes shifted to almost navy as they bored into hers. Catherine's breath left her in a rush and every nerve in her body jumped to life with the current flowing from him. He slowly leaned in, taking in the scent of her hair, reveling in the energy generated in the ever decreasing gap between them.

His voice came out as a wispy growl. "How…soon…relatively speaking?"

Her senses were fast becoming overloaded and she reached a trembling hand out to touch his chest, to complete the connection that teased her.

"Very soon…" she whispered, turning her face up to his. "I hope."

And now Vincent's senses were under attack. He had been in complete control at the start of this pleasant little game but, almost without his input, the gap between them was becoming non-existent.

The briefest brush of her lips on his chin took his breath away and he could feel the building desire rise in answer from her. Closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath, he put his forehead to hers. "My god, what you do to me."

"No more than you do to me." she brought her hand to his cheek. He chuckled lightly at the truth of it.

Vincent pushed away, adjusting his leg to sit where his knee had been. Unable to completely relinquish the contact, he leaned over her, resting his left hand on the bed beside her hip. His eyes roamed over her face as she searched his. Catherine reached out and took his other hand in hers. "Something is different, Vincent." It was both a statement and a question and he acknowledged it as such.

He inclined his head, allowing his eyes to drift from her face down to their entwined hands resting on his knee. "Yes." He stroked her fingers gently. "Although I can't explain it with any certainty." He paused to collect his thoughts.

"When you came Below before…when your father passed…the feelings I sensed from you were so…lost…conflicted… You were trying to find yourself and your place without…" She reached up and caressed his cheek again, drawing his eyes up to meet hers, encouraging him to continue.

"I was glad to be here for you when you needed me…Glad that I could comfort you during that time…But it was difficult for me…to have you so close…to feel you so near…" He sighed.

"This isn't the same. Since you've been here…so near…I've been very…aware…of you." He rose suddenly, needing some space to begin this portion of what he needed to say. Walking behind the chair, he grasped the back of it tightly, subconsciously mindful not to tear the fabric.

"You…are different, Catherine." He looked up to meet her eyes. A calm smile radiated back at him. His grip on the chair relaxed. "I thought it was wishful thinking on my part. Some need of mine to have you feel…things…that you never could." He felt drawn to her smile as he spoke. "That morning…when I came down to read to you…" Catherine nodded, her eyes bright, sending him strength. "I didn't imagine that. That's when I knew it was real…"

Catherine rose from the bed and crossed over to Vincent, putting her hand over his heart, feeling it race underneath his soft vest. Looking up, she stepped into him. "Yes, Vincent, it's real."

His hands rose along her arms, slowly stopping to cup her face gently, the feelings so much stronger with the physical contact.

"I do love you my most beautiful darling…" Catherine tilted her head up, but Vincent pulled her into a chaste embrace, struggling to quell the trembling in his soul. Catherine held him tight, sending him all the love and understanding she could, quashing any disappointment and frustration with what strength she had left.

That afternoon in the crèche the children were putting together their collage placemats from the pictures taken from the magazines. Their eager voices gently overlapped as they passed around glue and traded pictures and stories. Catherine and Mary were standing back watching with shared pleasure.

From the back of the room a particularly loud laugh rang out. Catherine's eyes sought out the source, but when she found it, it wasn't the cheerful sight she was expecting. Little Caleb stood with his back against the wall, head down, looking at the crumpled picture in his hand. One of the older boys was laughing and trying to draw attention to Caleb and his picture.

Mary started to move, but Catherine reached out to touch her arm. Her eyes displayed a desire to try and help. Mary smiled and patted Catherine's hand, then stepped back and let the younger woman pass.

"Everyone back to the tables please." Catherine said loudly, clapping her hands. The small crowd that had started to form immediately quieted and returned to their places.

Caleb remained where he was, tears beginning to well in his small brown eyes. He was trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the picture by pressing it against his shirt.

Catherine knelt down in front of the small boy and reached out to brush a curly bang out of his eye.

"Are you ok, Caleb?" He sniffed and nodded, pressing the picture tighter to his chest. "I'm sorry some of the others were laughing. That wasn't very nice." He nodded again. "Do you want some help putting your picture on your placemat?"

Catherine stood and held out her hand. Caleb looked from her outstretched hand to her eyes, and seeing what he needed to, he let go of the picture with one hand to take hers. She led him back to his place and let him sit in the small chair again. Pulling another chair close to him, she sat and put a hand on his arm. "Can I see your picture?"

He pulled it away from his chest slightly and glanced down at it. Then he looked around the table at the other children, some of whom were still looking at him curiously. Then he looked at Catherine again, the vulnerability clear in his face.

"It's ok, Caleb. We're all your friends." She gathered all the children's attention with her glance around the room. "Maybe if you tell us why the picture is special to you, it will help everyone understand."

A dubious look appeared on his face at that suggestion, but a small girl from the far table said, "Yeah Caleb! I'd like to hear!" Mary walked up behind the girl and smoothed her hair, smiling broadly down at her. Looking back up at Caleb she said, "Yes, dear, I'm sure we'd all like to hear." She moved across to the seat where Caleb's earlier tormenter was seated and laid her hand on his shoulder.

Caleb looked at the picture again, then handed it to Catherine. She took it with a bright, reassuring smile. Squeezing his arm gently, she turned the picture to the rest of the room. Everyone looked as Catherine asked. "So what does this little guy remind you of that you're thankful for, Caleb?"

He looked up at the picture of a little pig with his front hooves on a short wooden fence rail, his snout poking out next to a small white flower. A couple of the children giggled a bit, but Mary shushed them quietly. Caleb took a breath and looked up at Catherine. "That's Wilbur."

Catherine smiled in recognition and nodded her head encouragingly. Caleb's face brightened a little and he went on. "He's from Charlotte's Web. Before my mama left, we read a chapter of it every night at bedtime." His little eyes started to fill with tears but a hint of a smile formed as he remembered. "We would lay on my mattress in the corner and I would put my head on her so I could see the pictures and she would read. I could feel her voice. It was fuzzy and warm. And I liked hearing about Charlotte taking care of Wilbur. Saving him from getting killed. Kind of like what a mama does. 'Cept when they go away." His face fell again and he looked back down at his placemat.

As Catherine wrapped her arms around little Caleb, Mary squeezed the shoulder of the older boy and looked down as she felt him slump slightly in his chair.

"That's a wonderful memory to have, sweetheart." she said. "And a perfect piece for your Thanksgiving placemat. Wouldn't you say so?" All the children nodded or voiced their agreement and Catherine gave Caleb a glue stick for his picture.

)0( )0( )0( )0( )0(

The remnants of a most beautiful dream floated away on the scent of pumpkin muffins as Catherine awoke on Thanksgiving morning. Feeling a slight flush in her cheeks, she thought about hiding beneath the quilt for a while longer. Realizing the folly of trying to hide anything from her current visitor, she lifted up a bit to see him standing in the doorway, eyes bright and the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Well, you might as well come in then." She scowled a bit as she brushed the hair out of her face, only slightly annoyed at his reaction. He moved across the room in what could only be termed a saunter to put the tray on the side table.

Shifting slightly, he sat next to her, hip touching hip on the edge of the bed and looked up into Catherine's slightly surprised eyes. 'Yes, definitely a smirk' she thought absently as the flush she had earlier been trying to hide spread slowly down to meet the flock of butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

His long, strong fingers rose to gently brush the remaining errant hair from her face, trailing his nails gently along her scalp as he tucked it behind her ear. She felt the warmth of his hand as it came to rest at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The wide, low cut of the neckline on her nightdress offered no barrier between their skin, and Vincent could feel the slight tremors begin in her, both through his fingers and through their bond. He felt an answering stir deep within and took a slow, deep breath.

The encounter yesterday had kept Vincent sleepless most of the night. He had intellectually resolved himself to a pursuing a more physical relationship with Catherine, but there was still a part of him that needed proof, that needed to be sure…

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he gently pulled her closer. She leaned forward bringing her hand up to his other arm, lightly grasping his shirt sleeve to steady herself as her body began to run riot again, almost overloading on the intensity of his eyes...the warmth of his hand…the smell of him as his face neared hers.

Vincent felt for their bond, expecting the desire he felt, but not the chaos of other emotions swirling there; anticipation, hope, trepidation, longing… His internal struggle to weather this rising storm was reflected in his eyes and as Catherine looked into them, she saw the sky blue of them darken to mirror the depths of the sea. Her breathing began to come more quickly as he brought her forehead to his. She closed her eyes and the other senses heightened. Her fist tightened on his shirt as his lips touched her temple.

He could smell her now so strongly it almost overrode his thought process. The stirring was becoming a more insistent call as he trailed down to her ear, brushing the shell with his lips, breathing her name lightly against it. His hand began to softly knead the muscle of her neck and he felt her breath catch, the torrent through their bond beginning to coalesce from a confused mixture of conflicting emotions into a stronger one of love… desire … yes, and joy, he couldn't deny it.

Hearing her name in his warm breath on her ear was an exquisite torture. The years of restraint and denial had taken a toll on her reserve of self control. Her entire universe had become the points where his body touched hers. She brought her other hand up to grasp the arm now doing amazing things to her neck, running her fingers gently over the hard muscles of his forearm as they moved. She turned her head slightly to take in the scent of his hair, to feel it on her cheek. It was becoming decidedly warm in the chamber and most of that warmth was centered in Catherine's lower abdomen.

Vincent followed her jawline with is lips, supporting her as her head fell back in invitation. His other hand, almost of his own volition came up and slid along her waist to the small of her back, moving up as his mouth found the pulse point in her throat. A slight whimper escaped her and he felt it run along his lips and trail down his spine. As he took a breath to steady the trembling beginning in his own body he caught the faint aroma of…Catherine…of her body's reaction to his touch. At that moment the call became a roar, deep within a part of him was urging, almost demanding he take possession of the female in his arms. For a brief moment panic rose, fear that he would answer the call despite his intent.

But in that same moment, almost as if she felt it as well, Catherine's hand released his sleeve and came up to caress his hair, both reassuring and asking him to continue his attentions. As quickly as it had come, the demanding urgency was gone, replaced by limitless love and desire for his beautiful partner. Desire that could be controlled, directed by his will to a slow, steady campaign of seduction, not to possess her but to captivate her. To bring her pleasure in a way only he could through is perceptions in their bond. He knew with final clarity that as a man, he could provide everything she would need, and to his never ending wonder, everything she would want as a woman and a life mate.

With one final sensuous kiss to her deliciously exposed collarbone he raised his head, meeting her deep green eyes, misted ever so slightly with the passion he knew they both felt at that moment.

"My best beloved" he said as he smiled at her flushed beauty. He moved his thumb to brush her lower lip, reveling in his mind as she kissed it. "My most beautiful darling" Her glowing smile warmed his soul and he leaned into her palm as she cupped his cheek, expressing his feelings to her through the words of the poet.

"i love you much (most beautiful darling)

more than anyone on earth and i
like you better than everything in the sky

-sunlight and singing welcome your coming

although winter may be everywhere
with such a silence and such darkness
no one can quite begin to guess

(except myself) the true time of year-

and if what calls itself a world should have
the luck to hear such singing (or glimpse such
sunlight as will leap higher than high
through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each

nearness) everyone would (my
most beautiful darling) believe in nothing but love"

He took her hand and tenderly kissed her palm. "I love you, my Catherine."

"And I love you, dearest Vincent."

Their first kiss was not tentative or chaste. At first Vincent was almost undone by the sensation of her soft mouth under his. As if his nerves were on fire and numb at the same time. As she increased the pressure slightly, he again felt and heard the small whimper from her. She folded her legs under her and raised herself to her knees, both hands going to his shoulders. He responded by deepening the kiss, parting her lips to taste her. Vincent's hand went around to her back to steady her, pulling her firmly against his body while burying the other in her hair at the back of her neck. Slowly he began to lay back on the bed, holding her tight, bringing her down on top of him, never breaking the kiss. Feeling more stable, Catherine's legs moved to straddle his hips as she brought her hands up to stroke his face.

Most inconveniently, the tapping of the pipes told them it was mid-morning and they both had duties to perform in preparation for the Thanksgiving feast. Regaining their composure and deciding it would be best to perform these duties with food in their stomachs, they brought the tray onto the bed and sat together against the headboard, eating and discussing their plans for the day. Both knew the previous topic would be discussed in much greater depth at a later date.

The Dining Hall was simply decorated by the children with drawings and foliage from the park Above. All the Tunnel Dwellers who weren't on guard duty were present and loudly expressing their admiration for the lovely decorations and placemats at the tables. The children smiled at each other in pride. Catherine and Mary looked at them from their place at the front table and did the same.

Father rose and called everyone to order. "Since it's inception as an official holiday, Thanksgiving has been a time for family to come together and celebrate, to enjoy the time when those most immediately related to each other can spend time with each other. Winterfest is our time to celebrate and thank our friends and helpers Above. This is our time to celebrate us. Our community. Our family."

He reached down for his cup of punch and raised it. "To all of us, and the love we share." Catherine looked down to pick up her cup, but what met her eyes when she looked up made her put it down again lest she spill it. Tears welled up as she saw Father looking directly at her and smiling the warm smile he reserved for "his children". Mary, who was sitting on her right, reached an arm around her shoulder and held her tight and Vincent gently took hold of her hand. Turning to his father, Vincent silently thanked him, love shining in his eyes. He knew this had been a long personal struggle for Father, to accept and trust Catherine. That he also welcomed her as part of their family was the greatest gift Vincent could ever ask of his parent. And it had been given freely, without the asking.

Father gruffly cleared his throat as he sat and motioned to the room. "Yes…well now…dig in everyone. William and his helpers worked hard on this wonderful looking repast. T'would be a pity to let it go cold."

Catherine sat for a moment, just listening to the happy, comfortable sounds around her, letting them flow over and through her. She looked around the table at Father and Mary, Pasqual and the empty chair still left for Winslow, and into the lovely, loving eyes of Vincent. He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear. "I feel your happiness, Catherine. Tell me what you're thinking."

She smiled and leaned into him. "Even as a child, I had only Mom and Dad. When they were gone, I felt so disconnected, like there was no place I truly belonged. No real home. There was an empty space there that even your love couldn't fill completely." She looked up at him and was gratified to see understanding in his eyes.

"And now?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Now…it is filled with this place, these people…and you…and maybe someday…" She let the sentence drift away, unfinished but finished.

Vincent kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek against it. "I have found, my Catherine, that our world is full of unimagined possibilities." He smiled as he felt a jolt of surprise and blossoming hope through their bond.

Releasing her, he motioned to the serving plates in the center of the table. "Now eat, Catherine, before William becomes offended and Mary scolds you for being too thin."

Catherine smiled fondly at that thought, but took and extra yam just to be safe. As she ate and talked and laughed with those around her, she was quite surprised to discover that she didn't dread returning Above or to work as was usually the case when her visits Below drew to a close. She knew now that she wasn't a guest here anymore, it was her home, and she would carry it with her Above until she returned.

As she felt Vincent's thigh brush hers, she knew that that would be very soon indeed.

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