Charles tore the brown paper apart and stepped back, staring at the canvas; through the slit he saw a lock of golden hair, an eye, a nose and a smug smile. He took a sip from his glass and pressed his lips together. This is strong, he thought, balancing the glass on his hand as he stared at the strange mirror he had uncovered. After twenty years, it still brought too many memories. They felt as if they weren't his. The lawyer stepped back and sat on the couch.
A deep voice came from behind.
"I assume those were hers"
"Are you Death?" Charles commented, mockingly toasting with his glass.
"I mean you…" no harm. Vincent didn't utter the last words; it seemed futile when the man's eyes looked so clear.
"I guess it's pointless to ask how you entered"
Vincent walked slowly around him.
"You are puzzled"
"You are fearless" Vincent stated in answer.
"It's useless to be afraid"
Catherine's father, Vincent thought. The scholar's gaze went to the bright images before the both of them.
"Your wife had an incredible talent"
"Some people say so" Charles answered with a smile.
"Your daughter…"
"Leave her out of this."
Charles had stood, no longer relaxed, and now he looked around. Vincent retreated further to the shadows.
"I would never hurt her."
The older man opened his mouth, frowning, and what Vincent felt from him… it wasn't quite the response he had been expecting. Very slowly, he explained:
"I realize that to you I am a stranger but… Please, know this: that I have and will protect Catherine, watch over her and love her, always."
Charles chuckled, then laughed. A spider trembled in its cobweb, and Vincent's claws became fists.
"Protect… watch… love"
This man's pain came in waves, and Vincent gasped as if drowning when it washed over him.
"I am not Caroline Chandler" the beast pointed out.
"Caroline was the best…" Charles' voice shivered "the best person anyone would expect: the prettiest classiest woman, the kindest wife. She wasn't guilty…"
"… but of loving too much" Vincent added quietly.
Charles looked straight to the darkness, and to him.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I came for Catherine."
Charles narrowed his eyes.
"She is in danger" Vincent continued, "and this secret you keep would save her"
"Do you think I would have kept it from her, if that was the case?"
"Love has blinded you"
Charles shook his head, but his back was now to the visitor. He was walking towards another picture. A deer. It would have been sleeping, but Vincent's empathy said otherwise.
"A bullet?"
"A game"
"Was it you?"
Charles shrugged.
"She took good care of the animal… until it…"
"As she did with Catherine"
Charles's jaw clenched.
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The park was green and smelled like spring, and Gem was sneezing at every flower its doggy snout could find. The ball hit just before her.
"Bring it, Gem" Cathy called. "Come here"
Charles put a hand on her hair.
"Leave her alone"
His dad's hand was heavier as she tried to look up –higher than his colorful Sunday suit. His shoulders were low and his nose, red like a clown's. Beyond his head, there was blueness and white soft clouds, and the upper branches of a tree.
"Come here, you two"
Mommy's extended hand held a basket; daddy hurried to take it. A yellow cloth had blossomed like an ugly flower on the field. Cathy's belly growled, anticipating pastries and soft drinks and candies. Gem wouldn't get any because bad dogs didn't deserve children getting in trouble for them.
There was also another man, already sitting in front of mom. Catherine narrowed her eyes –she faced the sun- as she looked at him. She didn't know him. He looked like Peter in some funny way. A Peter with an angular nose, and golden skin.
"Look, mommy!" she complained while running. "Gem won't listen!"
"Let her be."
Cathy had forgotten the dog already, her eyes on the cake.
"Carol, you're spoiling her" daddy said.
Cathy stack out her tongue.
"I understand that you haven't been well." The strange man also sounded funny. "How are you feeling today?"
"Very well, sir, thank you" Cathy answered, remembering her manners for a second before turning her eyes to her mother's hands, hoping that had earned her an extra slice.
"I'm glad" the guest said. "What happened?"
"More, mommy, please?!"
"I know, Cat." Mom smiled at her; but she had stopped serving for a moment. "So… you're a lawyer."
"No, Charles and I met in high school. I'm a doctor."
"Oh, great! Do you know Dr. Alcott?"
"I haven't had the pleasure, I'm afraid. I've read some articles of his, though. He has an interesting point of view concerning birth defects"
The cake was great: sweet and creamy, just as she liked them. Mom had baked it as Cathy watched from the distance she was allowed to –she couldn't wait to eat them, even before all the ingredients were mixed, so Carol had established some rules. The new component mom had been using came in a flask like those carrying medicine, so Cathy didn't mind not trying that one beforehand; medicines tasted bad.
"Dad, may I climb that tree later?"
"No, you may not, Cathy, and you know it" daddy was firm. "We spoke about that. You're still sick."
"But I don't feel any pain, dad!"
"Cathy, the doctors are still looking for what you have. You can't take chances."
"I'll be careful, I promise!"
"Catherine, no!"
She flinched and her eyes filled with tears. Dad rarely yelled at her, never in front of strangers. Even he noticed, for he looked one side and the other and muttered an apology. Cathy had never felt so ashamed.
"Charles, go" mommy said. "I'll take care of her"
"You always do" he answered, but there was something in his voice.
Biting her lips, Cathy held her temper. Big girls didn't throw tantrums; dad had said so. But she wasn't hungry anymore. That's why she let Gem finish her cake. Daddy had lost his appetite too. The doctor also let his plate on the blanket, and they walked away together. Eventually, Cathy couldn't see them.
"I'm sorry, Cat" mommy said. "You father is nervous"
Mommy's skin felt fresh and soft, and smelled like violets. Cathy liked being hugged. It was almost worth the trouble.
"Do you want to climb?"
Cathy's sobbing stopped.
"Yes" she answered warily, barely daring to hope.
During a moment, mom said nothing; then, Cathy sat down again and looked into her eyes. Mom's eyes were similar to hers, and her smile too; specially when both were being bad girls.
"Then go, Cat" she smiled. "But hurry" Cathy was already standing when she heard "Let's not tell dad"
That was always their promise. Cathy nodded as she ran, beaming, to the closest tree –her favorite. The breeze under her made her feel free. She didn't feel the roughness of the wood, the little scratches in her hands and knees. The main trunk finished too soon. Cathy sat where its branches joined, like in a throne, and looked away. From this place, she could see a lot of things, and no one saw her, because no one looked up. There was a woman with a cat, all dressed in pink. There was a man dressed in gray torn fabrics; he seemed like a homeless person but he was fat and she liked his smile. Another man dressed like dad, but it couldn't be him, because he was crying; another tree hid whatever company this one might have had.
Cathy rolled over herself and climbed up. The branch gave birth to others and became thinner. Cathy looked down and smiled at her mother.
"Can you climb farther, Cat?" mom challenged.
Cathy nodded before really evaluating the next branch. If not, she wouldn't have. Even she could see it wouldn't support her. But she wouldn't get back on her word (a challenge was a challenge) so she tightened her jaw and went forth.
Then she got dizzy, and grasped the branch harder, and blinked, trying to see clearly. Her hands seemed slower than they used to. Her eyelids were heavy… heavier than in the morning, when mom woke her up for school.
She never heard the crack, though she did see her mother beside her before fainting; mom was smiling like an angel.
Cathy woke up in the hospital.
"Mom?"
Daddy sobbed a smile.
"She isn't here, sweetheart"
Cathy remembered cries, and mommy's voice, calling. She wondered what that meant. But as she moved, her thoughts wavered in another direction.
"Where's my hair?" she asked, still groggy.
"They had to cut it, sweetheart. To fix your head."
"Was it broken?"
"Yes. You have been sleeping for quite some time, now"
She never got to see Gem again. It ate something poisonous at the park; they found it dead in the middle of the yellow cloth, lying on the base of the cake. Though she'd learn of that much, much later, being already a teen. For the time being, they'd tell her the doggy was spending the holidays in a farm, barking at all the little chickens and eating lots of bacon and generally being happy.
That was also the last time she saw mom. Daddy said she had died; later, when she asked, daddy explained she had been sick for some time. Cathy thought that's why she seemed like an angel in her last memory of her. But she missed her.
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"She must hear it from you" Vincent said quietly.
Charles felt his pants where his gun used to be.
"Would you kill me, to protect the secret?"
The hand grasped just air. There had been no reason for carrying a gun in his own attic.
"Carol's destiny is my business, not yours."
"It concerns Catherine"
"Why would you care? As far as I know, she is married to someone else"
Vincent's deep, low growl was startling just to himself; Charles couldn't hear it.
"I will tell her" Vincent warned "tonight; you might want to call her first."
"I need time… to meet her… a nice place… It's not a matter to discuss over the phone"
Vincent pressed his lips together, looking at the man. He was -quite obviously- lying. Even if not… even if he planned to tell her…
"There is no time to waste. She is in danger, and she is not the only one" Diana appeared briefly in his mind, dressed in shorts and shirt, a book in a hand as the other one grasped a beer. "Once again you must choose between her wellbeing and that of your wife… just this time, Caroline is a memory, and Catherine, a living human being… and your child"
The word echoed in the room for a long time, until Charles realized the oppressive presence was gone.
"Are you in there?" the lawyer asked. When no answer came, he hesitantly walked to the shadows. No fist met him there, no knife. Just silence. In a way, he feared it more. His glass shattered to small pieces and he gasped and cursed feeling the painful pricks in his hand, blood falling on the image of the deer.
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"Who was it?"
Garson's hand rested on the woman's back, as he looked through the window.
"Catherine's friend, it seems"
"Friend?"
"She says Catherine is in danger"
"In danger! I told you… I told you she needed me!"
She was now grasping his shoulders, her nails piercing them. He looked deep into her eyes. There was no way to separate the genuine worry in them, from that of her sickness.
"Do you really have nothing to…?"
"Where's Max?"
He disengaged from her violently and walked away.
"Please, Gar…"
"It's not the time for you to see her" He clenched his teeth, then added: "The detective… She asked about you… and me…"
He looked at his beloved, as she covered her face.
"Did he figure it out?"
A heartbeat later, the door thumped as the man left the room.
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Preview:
Catherine straightened on her seat. In the record, Bennet was obviously watching the balcony. She didn't want her to do that. It was her secret place –Vincent's haven-, she didn't want a detective looking at there. Or in there. And Bennet had walked towards it. In Catherine's mind there was the image of herself, placing her hand against the cold glass, willing her body to slip through it. But it must mean nothing to Bennet. Yet the image in Catherine's mind didn't go away.
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Review?
