Page 4 of Eternal Obsession

With a subtle glance, I instructed Alex to be quiet.

At the age of nine, Catherine was a delicate-looking child, with fine features, a small build, and thick blond hair that fell in familiar golden waves down her back.

“You are both so late!” she obviously said for Alex’s sake, having expected only me. “Still, you are here now. Ready for our forbidden nightly swim?”

I forced a smile. “You go on, Catherine, and we’ll join you.” I drew close to Alex. “We mustn’t tell her anything, not until we have discovered what it’s all about.”

Alex grasped my arm. “We must speak with Father in the morning.”

My reply was interrupted by a loud splash. Catherine had jumped into the cold water. Alex quickly undressed, then pushed past me and joined Catherine. Together, they swam out, away from the rocky shoreline. Unsettled, I glanced back at the castle walls, the many rooms and prominent turrets, and wondered if the recent events of the evening were a dark portent.

On hearing both Catherine and Alex call to me, I too undressed before wading into the chilly waves and pushing off from the rocks toward them. When I caught up, we all tread in the water while looking back at the castle’s looming silhouette. I sighed, much relieved that things seemed to be slowly returning to normal. Our nightly swim had become somewhat of a routine in the summer. We had been strictly banned from such behavior, but had defied our parents. It had been I who taught Catherine to swim. I watched her with pride, she seemingly unaware of my attention.

Catherine laughed, pulling at my arms, and then pushing me away playfully.

Her expression turned to terror. “Where’s Alex?”

I searched the surface. “No!”

We’d swum out too far, near the undercurrents.

“Alex?” Her voice was high-pitched, panicked.

I recalled where we had last seen him, swam in that direction, and dove down, frantically scrambling with outstretched hands. Lungs bursting, I returned to the surface empty-handed, gasping for air, only to dive again into the deep. My heart pounding, I grappled in the blackness. As if by a miracle, I felt Alex’s hand lashing out and grabbed hold.

Swimming with all my might, I thrashed with my legs to speed our ascent, out from the wrenching current. My lungs were bursting. I ignored the strain, determined to rise with Alex or not at all. With all my strength, I yanked him up, his head now out of the water. Gasping for air, we both coughed and spluttered. Alex clung to me as I guided him to the water’s edge. Catherine, a slower swimmer, followed behind. I pushed Alex, shaken and weak, up onto the bank. For a moment, he lay quite still, reeling with fear, staring blankly. I pulled him toward me and embraced him.

I caught my breath and turned awkwardly to help Catherine out of the water.

I shrieked.

Catherine had disappeared.

“Stay here,” I ordered Alex and plunged back into the water, my arms reaching out, feeling blindingly in panic. After minutes of tirelessly searching, I caught sight of her. Catherine had been dragged down by a strong current and held there. She had been swept along the water’s edge and onto the rocks, where she clutched at the jagged granite. Recovering her balance, Catherine pulled herself up onto the rocky bank, safe again on dry land. We ran toward her, helping her away from the water’s edge. We collapsed by the wall of the castle, shivering in shock. I took Catherine in my arms, cradling her. She flung her arms around me and held me close. Alex covered her with her own dress before continuing to dress himself.

“I saw her!” she panted.

I glanced at Alex. “Saw who?”

“She came to me. St. Catherine of Alexandria!”

I dressed her, slipping the garment over her head, then pulled on my own clothes.

I had no idea what she was talking about and hoped she would not mention it again. I lifted Catherine into my arms and carried her up the stone stairwell and through the castle, closely followed by Alex.

“Take me to her—to the painting of her,” Catherine pleaded.

“Tomorrow night,” I said.

Catherine sobbed.

I carried her through the main hallway and into my father’s drawing room. We all left a trail of dripping water in our wake, and I hoped it would dry by morning. Not wanting to cause either Alex or Catherine further distress, I remained calm, though I didn’t feel it and wondered when my heart would stop racing.

Catherine settled in front of the painting by Raphael.

The portrait had been presented to my father as a gift of gratitude from a wealthy Italian merchant for the assistance he had received following the sinking of one of his vessels. The fine painting now hung in the drawing room of the castle, positioned left of the fireplace, large in its frame and spectacular in color. Catherine peered up in awe at the painting of St. Catherine of Alexandria, mesmerized.

Appearing so immaculate in her sainthood, St. Catherine gazed dreamily at the sky. Her vibrant blue dress extenuated her full and womanly frame, her hand placed over her right breast toward her heart in a feminine, humble pose.