They both looked at one another, in wonder, trying to comprehend this connection that had developed so quickly between them.
As Catherine took in a deep breath, she then inspected her finger, and said, "It is nothing, really."
To which Vincent concernedly said, "Still Catherine, allow me..."
As he noted the redness, Vincent with concern suggested, "Hold it under some cold water or better still if you could give me a cube of ice..."
After cracking a single cube from her tray, Catherine handed it to Vincent, and watched his hands as he gently held the ice in place.
And so as Vincent took care of her, Catherine, now having time to notice, was soundly struck by how different they actually were.
Here he was this unique towering man, who made her heart soar by his tenderness, and even though there were differences between them, his mythological appearance did not make her turn away, but rather, endeared him more deeply to her.
Meanwhile, one last time, Vincent inspected the burn, wanting to make sure there was no blistering. And as he looked down on her delicate little hand, the smallness and the beauty of it, made him smile.
Tenderly, he raised his eyes to look into hers, and told her, "That should hinder any additional irritation."
To which a captivated Catherine, softly replied, "Thank you..."
And then she asked, "Are you a doctor like your Father?"
Thoughtfully, Vincent answered, "No, although my Father has told me I have the heart of a doctor."
He then went on to explain, "I do have many duties below in my world Catherine, but the most rewarding position I regard, is teaching the children."
As Catherine listened, she tried to imagine what this world of Vincent's could be like where he would be a teacher! Catherine then found herself smiling as she imagined him teaching little children.
Loving children herself, she fondly said, "Kids are great aren't they? The way they see the world...so openly and sweetly."
To which Vincent agreeably said, "Yes..,their untainted perspective on life's events, is reaffirming, reminding us all there is hope..."
Thoughtfully, Catherine then pensively noted, "If only we could all keep our child-like hearts..."
And because of the way Catherine had accepted him so freely, Vincent privately thought...Catherine had managed to accomplish this very feat, and so he told her, "It would seem you have Catherine..."
Being taken off guard by this compliment, she contemplated why he thought so, but felt if she asked, it would seem as though she were fishing, so instead of asking, she simply, and humbly said thank you for his thinking so.
And then upon clearing her throat, Catherine wanted to get back to the case at hand, which was feeding Vincent!
And so as Catherine opened the jar of Salsa, she then noted, "Well, I think everything is ready..."
As they took their nachos out to the living room, they sat and talked about their night, about their tour, about Brigit, Wordswoth, Mr. Smythe and Peter...about everything...simply and totally enjoying this time together.
And as they finished the last chip, Catherine asked, "Should I make another plate?"
To which Vincent thankfully replied, "No thank you...this was perfectly sufficient."
Then he wistfully, and tragically added, "...perfect...everything...was just perfect..."
And though its not certain exactly when things clarified themselves to Vincent...but they had...and he knew he had to put Catherine's welfare ahead of his own.
And because Catherine saw a change in Vincent...she then sensed a tangible pall fall between them, as though he was letting go of their newly connected shared vision.
And because this frightened Catherine, a desperate urgency compelled her to say, "I can't wait until the concert series begins Vincent...after the The Winston-Salem Symphony, there will be a concert featuring music solely for the Violin and Cello..."
But before Catherine could continue, Vincent stopped her tortuous future dreaming, by hesitantly saying, "Catherine...."
But because either she didn't hear him, or pretended not to, she continued, "...of which these minuets, suites and concertos had been written for these instruments alone..."
This time a bit more insistently, Vincent said, "Catherine..."
And because Vincent's tone surprised even himself, Catherine stopped, and looked back at him, as he softened his voice to helplessly repeat, "Catherine..."
And as Catherine's dreams began to crumble and fade, she fearfully, yet resignedly answered, "I am listening."
The silence seemed to be deafening, as Vincent gathered his thoughts, to speak about something he knew was on both of their minds, he lamented, "Tonight Catherine...was the one night I could walk beside you openly, however, we both know...tomorrow, things will be different for us."
With a sadness, he continued, "There is no place for me here in your world."
Knowing this was true, still though, Catherine truthfully answered, "But I don't want to lose you after tonight."
Pensively Vincent then verbalized, "If we were to continue...whatever moments we would share, would have to be secret..."
To which Catherine willingly replied, "I know...I remember you told me your world's safety depended on complete secrecy."
And then hesitantly, Vincent added, "These secret moments Catherine...will be stolen from all others in your life...as Peter said...leading another kind of a life, which no one can be privy to IS difficult, and takes a toll on ones heart."
To hide his anguish, Vincent looked downward, as he continued, "I am wondering if it is right of me to ask this of you..."
With a look of committed faithfulness, Catherine passionately replied, "You're not asking Vincent...I am freely giving..."
As they stood looking into each others eyes, a silence fell over them once more, as they both were realizing the intensity of their relationship, and at the speed of which they were traveling.
It was then the dawn was breaking, and because of the dispersing darkness, Vincent resignedly whispered, "Catherine, I really must go."
Looking outward too, and seeing the sun's rays peeking above the horizon, Catherine looked back toward Vincent, and in a tragic, controlled manner, she tearfully said, "Vincent I am afraid. After all you just said...I'm wondering if I will see you again..."
To which Vincent carefully, and with much emotion said, "Catherine, know this, I deeply feel all the things I know you are feeling..."
And so armed with this measure, Catherine passionately said, "Then you understand...I cannot imagine my life without you now...."
With a resigned sigh, knowing it would be impossible to separate himself from Catherine, Vincent too replied, "Nor can I..."
As Vincent brought Catherine to him, he encircled her within his cloak, and helplessly said, "It is no use Catherine...you are a part of me now..."
And so as they walked uncertainly out onto the balcony, Vincent gave her one last embrace.
With hope, Catherine tearfully declared to him, "Don't forget me Vincent. You've captured my heart."
He in reply, spoke from his heart, and in an impassioned whisper, Vincent said, "You also have taken my heart hostage, along with my soul."
Vincent then slowly released her from his embrace, and as Vincent went over the balcony wall, he said, "Till we meet again Catherine..." and then made an astonishing exit.
Since leaving this way was totally unexpected, a thought crossed Catherine's mind, when earlier at the party, as Vincent looked over the terrace wall, and she wondered if he was going to leap from it...evidently...he was!
But being worried for his safety, Catherine anxiously whispered, "Vincent! Be careful!"
To which Vincent could be heard by her as he scaled down the side of her building, saying, "Be well."
Then Vincent was gone.
And so Catherine stood there alone, now understanding full well what Shakespeare meant when he spoke of "A Sweet sorrow," because that is the feeling she now owned as Vincent left her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning as Catherine awoke, the sun was peeking at her through her window.
And as her new book caught her eye on the nightstand, she picked it up and flipped to "A Night-Piece".
As she read it once again, now knowing these words are the words that had not only touched a mysterious stranger, but she now knew it was Vincent's heart they touched.
It made her so sad, to think Vincent saw himself as the pensive traveler on a lonesome path. Although she herself, knew these feelings, for she too has felt that way for so long.
Vincent however, has changed this for her. She knew he was the one she had been waiting for and felt this to be true, because she had been totally swept off her feet, so sweetly and completely.
She then thought of how she wished she could tell Jennifer about Vincent. And wondered how will she ever explain Vincent's truths to her Dad? Though these were all real concerns and issues Catherine will have to face, she did not want to face them today. For she longed for Vincent, and she could not wait to see him again.
Opening up the doors to the balcony, Catherine walked out pondering how wonderful their time together had been. Feeling now, as if last night had been a dream, discernible amorous thoughts of Vincent washed over her, and she could not think of anything else.
Catherine then looked down upon the little bench, and there sat a book! It was William Wordsworth's Complete Poetical Works. "First Edition"!
Catherine spoke aloud, and excitedly said, "Vincent must have left this here, while I was sleeping!"
Embracing Wordsworth to her heart, she wept as this gesture pleased her so much.
As she looked down at this book from Vincent, she had the proof she needed, that last night had not been a dream. It had happened, her feelings were true, and Vincent was real. And the fact he gave her his coveted copy of Wordsworth, proved even in the cold light of day, he too still felt the same about her.
Catherine then opened the book, and excitedly, she saw an inscription from Vincent.
Running her finger over his written word, she dreamily said, "What beautiful handwriting he has."
Catherine then sat down upon the bench, as she read the recognizable verse. In Vincent's own hand, he wrote:
But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss? That thought's return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more That neither present time, nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore Be well Sweet Catherine Vincent As she closed the book, a sad smile came to her, wondering what was to come...