Beauty and the Beast

37th Anniversary 2024

****

Together Forever Volume VIII:

I have Spread My Dreams

Treasure Chambers.com

September 25, 2024

*****

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

W. B. Yeats

1865–1939

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

*****

*The 2024 Treasure Chambers digital online zine is an amateur publication and is not intended to infringe upon the copyrights of Ron Koslow, Witt/Thomas Productions, CBS or any other holder of “Beauty and the Beast” copyrights or licenses. Our only intention is to have fun.

**We hereby give permission for the readers to print, copy, or share this zine for PERSONAL USE ONLY and NOT for sale or resale.

All future rights to original materials herein are reserved to the individual authors and artists who created them. Please contact them individually if you wish post or use their work in any way.

***All art and original work in this publication

have been used with permission.

*****

Beauty and the Beast

37th Anniversary 2024

Together Forever

Volume VIII

I Have Spread My Dreams

TreasureChambers.com

September 25, 2024

Featuring stories, art, and poetry, inspired

by the characters created by Ron Koslow

and so beautifully brought to life by

Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman

from 1987-1990

This is a Treasure Chambers Publication

*****

Acknowledgements

OnZine Host

Angie

Editors

Barbara Anderson

Linda O’Leary

Contributing Authors

Allison

Angie

Barbara Anderson

Cindy Rae

Janet Rivenbark

JessRae

Jessica Rupe

Judith Nolan

Mel

Michaela Buzsaki Struchova

Terri Hanauer

Contributing Artists

Barb Gipson

Barbara Anderson

Judith Nolan

Lynn Wright

Mel

Michaela Buzsaki Struchova

Letter From the Editor

Dear Dreamers,

Welcome to the 8th annual TreasureChambers.com Free Online Zine Together Forever Volume VIII, I Have Spread My Dreams. This is our yearly love letter, not only to the show we all love, but also to all of the fans who have kept this beautiful dream alive for so many years.

This is an All-Season, All-Genre Zine, so hopefully whatever your preference is, you will be able to find something you enjoy here. For the reader’s convenience, the stories are organized into three sections: Classic, SND, and Season 3 & Beyond. Incredible art and poetry can be found scattered throughout this volume.

We would like to express a huge ‘Thank you,’ to all who have contributed to the zine this year.

We would also like to extend a heartfelt ‘Thank You!’ to Terri Hanauer who so graciously shared her experiences on the set of Beauty and the Beast, as well as a sample of her own original poetry.

Besides the zine, we also try to keep our Dream Keeper’s Index and the Chamber of Remembrance up to date. We add names to the latter list each year as members of the cast and creators pass away. Sadly, this year is no different. In the year 2023-2024, we have become aware of the passing of five Beauty and the Beast alumni, as well as eleven others who died before that, but we were previously unaware of.

If you are aware of anyone who has inadvertently been left off either of these lists, please contact me at Bangkokbarbara@yahoo.com and we will edit the list for next year.

Thank you, again, to all of our faithful fans, without whom all of the work that goes into these zines would be wasted. Thank you for coming back again and again.

Your Editor, Barbara Anderson

Table of Contents

Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven W. B. Yeats

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Letter From the Editor

Table of Contents

*****

Classic

Come Rest Below by Barbara Anderson

Beauty and the Beast Behind the Scenes by Terri Hanauer

The Wedding Ring by Terri Hanauer

The Loan of a Brownstone by Judith Nolan

Catherine Kissed Me by Barbara Anderson

Dear Vincent by Barbara Anderson

Melanie Safka Tribute: To Dream a Theme by Allison

The Gift by Judith Nolan

Don’t Leave! by Judith Nolan

The Compliment Game by Allison

The Courtship of Kanin Evans by Cindy Rae

Don’t Judge a Book By Its Cover by Allison

The Mirror Sees All by Angie

The Outsiders Missing Scene by Allison

Classic Round Robin: Enduring by Judith, Allison, Angie, Janet Rivenbark, Barbara Anderson, and JessicaRae

*****

She Never Died

(aka SND)

I Need A Candle, Rebecca! by Cindy Rae

Impressions by Michaela Struchova

To Road Goes Ever On And On by Michaela Buzsaki Struchova

Compassion by Jessica Rupe

Matchmaker, Matchmaker by Janet Rivenbark

*****

Season 3 and Beyond

Yet, She Knew! by Angie S3

Catherine’s Blessing: Remember Love by Barbara Anderson S3

A Spot of Tea by Mel

Hurt Drabble by Mel

Hunter’s Moon by Mel Alternate Beginning/S3

Birthday Drabble by Mel

A Season 3 Round Robin: Secrets by Jess, Mel, Barbara Anderson, Allison, Cindy and Janet Rivenbark S3

Come Back Again by Barbara Anderson and Cindy Rae

*****

`Come Rest Below

by Barbara Anderson

*

The time has come, my lovely friends,

to talk of Tunnel things:

of beasts, and love, and candle wax,

of poetry, and dreams.

*

The world Above can wear you thin,

its burdens weigh you down.

Come rest Below a little while.

Let peace erase your frown.

*

A spiral staircase leads the way

to adventures yet unknown.

A fairytale that never ends

will soon to you be shown.

*

There’s Vincent, he’s a hero here

Below where he resides.

Catherine is his one true love,

You’ll find her by his side.

*

Father leads this Tunnel home.

He guides his family well.

Mary is a trusted friend,

your troubles you can tell.

*

William is the Tunnel cook.

Pascal, he mans the pipes.

Mouse invents, and seeks, and finds,

(And sometimes even swipes.)

*

Jamie fiercely guards her friends.

She’s loyal, brave, and true.

Her crossbow ever by her side

will always see her through.

*

So many more you’re bound to meet.

Prepare to have a ball.

Pull up a chair and have some tea.

We’re sure you’ll love them all.

*

So come Below and rest awhile.

Let go of all your cares.

You’ll see, each one will slip away

as you descend the stairs

*****

Beauty and the Beast;

Behind the Scenes

by Terri Hanauer aka Jenny Aronson

***

Terri Hanauer as Jenny Aronson

I remember my audition for the part of Linda Hamilton’s best friend on

Beauty and the Beast. I had played several best friends at that point, and I was hoping to one day be the lead who had a best friend. But when my agent called with the appointment, I was excited. I’d read the sides and saw that a lot of my scenes would be on the phone. I loved acting on the phone. You had to really listen as if there was an actual person on the other end. So, I dressed in a cute mini skirt, tights and fun top. I also wore a cool brooch my first husband had given me. It had a rabbit on it, and I thought it would bring me luck. I also brought my phone.

Now, no one had cell phones then, so I actually unhooked my home phone, brought it, put it on the desk of the casting person, and read the scenes as if the casting person, Penny Ellers, and I were the best of girlfriends. It worked! I got the part. Later, when I spoke to Penny, she commented on how natural I was and how much she loved my brooch. So, as a thank you to her, I sent her a note with as cute a brooch I could find.

Working on the set of Beauty and the Beast was such a pleasure. I worked in the above world, so my cast mates were mostly Linda and Jay Acovone. Linda was one of the loveliest actors I’ve ever worked with. She was friendly, kind and generous. As was Jay. And he was very funny. So you can imagine my reaction when I showed up at wardrobe one day and they were fitting me with a dress to wear to a funeral.

“A funeral?” I asked. “Who died?”

Wardrobe people are usually one of the first crew members to know what’s going on with a show. They have to read all the scripts and plan costumes way in advance. They’re also pretty much sworn to secrecy. So, no one told me who died.

I showed up at the location, a cemetery in Los Angeles, took my seat with the other mourners, and was told then that the character who died was my best friend, Catherine. My tears were real that day!

Though we never worked together, I would often see Ron Perlman in the makeup trailer, getting his amazing makeup done. It took hours. He was kind, funny and very patient.

Looking back, it was one of the best shows I worked on. Thank you for this opportunity to bring it all back.

***

Here’s a bit more about me and what I’ve been doing since Beauty and The Beast:

I continued to work as an actress and photographer in the States and Canada appearing on countless TV shows and at the Mark Taper Forum and Arena Stage Theatre. Then I realized I loved directing. I’m now a multiple award-winning Los Angeles theatre director, most recently winning the Broadway World Los Angeles Best Director Award. My first feature film, Sweet Talk, is streaming on Gravitas Films. I directed a season of HBO Cinemax’s Zane’s Sex Chronicles, and Amazon’s Smothered. I’m a graduate of AFI’s Directing Workshop for Women. I’m also a graduate of Toronto’s York University with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree.

Stevie Wonder blessed my baby when I was nine months pregnant, magician Doug Henning hypnotized and sawed me in half when I was his assistant and the hugging saint, Amma, hugged me. I enjoy family, fashion and float tanks.

I write as well! My debut book, The Party – How to Have Fun While Finding True Love, has just been published.

TerriHanauer.com https://terrihanauer.com/

ThePartyTheBook.com https://thepartythebook.com/

Thank you! And Happy Anniversary to Beauty and the Beast!!!

XxTerri

~~~

The team at Treasure Chambers would like to extend a huge ‘Thank You!’ to Terri for sharing your experiences on the show and wish you the best of luck in all your current projects.

~~~

The Wedding Ring

by Terri Hanauer

I tried on my mother’s clothes

she was already in the ground

lying beside my father

so I didn’t think she’d mind

It was the dress from that photograph

when she was 20 in Prague

It was black and white

but I had a feeling the dress was emerald

wool with long sleeves and a thin belt around the waist

I tried on the shoes. Heavy black thick straps and heel

nylons with a seam down the back

She had a gold tooth so I put that on, too.

I let my hair be wavy like hers

with two clips pulling the sides back

The hat was black with a thin net veil

Her stride was long and strong

she had no idea where she was headed

When I was ten I stood in front of her dresser

the round mirror with me in the middle

It was eight o’clock

middle of July

the lamp was on

I took off

my clothes and put on her pearls

and then her lace blouse

I heard laughter

it wasn’t coming from the living room

it was the neighbors next door

standing on their back porch

watching my shadow through the pull-down shade

laughing at me

I crouched down

lay on the floor for half an hour. Shaking.

No more to see

they went back into their house

For my wedding

I wore my mother’s ring

the one she carried throughout her life

the one that held in its

brilliance the facets of

the women who had come before

I married them all

They put their arms around me

and held me close

Today I wear my mother’s kindness

at least I try to

Oh, and I thought you should know

the neighbors have all died

Copyright 2024 Terri Hanauer

*****

The Loan of a Brownstone

by Judith Nolan

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love…”

William Shakespeare

~~~

Catherine completed her arrangements and turned to walk quickly back across the bullpen of the D.A.’s office. She looked ahead, half expecting the chair beside her desk to now be empty of its most recent inhabitant.

As she’d spent valuable time working things out, she worried that her star witness, a very scared and scarred young woman, would change her mind and run from the office, if she was left alone to dwell on her misfortunes.

She knew Carol Stabler was too unstable and too frightened not to think about running. Catherine sighed. She could privately admit she had once been like the young woman. Just trying to get by in New York City and make it through each new day without getting hurt or worse.

‘That was before Vincent came into my life and changed it forever…’

“Oh, thank goodness…” She breathed a long sigh of relief when she saw Carol was still sitting beside the desk.

But the other woman did look scared and about ready to bolt. She was holding on tightly to her empty Styrofoam coffee cup as she looked around.

Okay, we’re all set,” Catherine hurried up to her. “You’re not going back to your apartment.” She sat down in the chair next to her witness.

Carol stared at her in confusion, her hand trembling. “Where am I going, then? Home with you? Where do you live? Is it far?”

“Ah, no. I’m afraid that’s not a very good idea. I’m sure Marty Belmont already knows where I live.” Catherine did her best to keep her tone low and reassuring. “A friend of mine is renovating a brownstone in the Village. There’s not much in it, but it’ll be a lot safer than your place or mine. No one will know you’re there.”

She leaned closer. “She said the power is on and the phones are working. Someone’ll meet you there with a key. When you get inside, be sure to lock yourself in and don’t open the door to anyone. Not a single person, okay?”

The other woman swallowed tightly. “Okay…” Now that a decision had been made, she seemed disinclined to move from the brightly lit, crowded office space. She smiled with tight determination. “I’m ready to do this.”

“Good girl…” Catherine nodded as she looked up at a clerk who was hovering nearby. “Larry’ll give you a ride over. I want you to call me as soon as you get there. I need to know you’re safe. I’ll come on over with dinner when I’m finished here. We can have a glass of wine together and talk about what’s going to happen next.”

She tried to make the fraught transition sound as normal as possible. Like two new girlfriends catching up over a shared meal.

Carol’s quick-paced breathing hitched as she tried not to cry. “There’s no turning back, huh? This is it. My new life.” Despite her taut smile, her bottom lip trembled.

“At least, until the trial is over.” Catherine shook her head as she leaned an elbow on the partition wall behind them. “You can do this. You know you can. You need to start believing in yourself.”

She paused, knowing she had to ask, to make things as clear as she legally could. “Carol, are you truly sure you understand the risks? Don’t do this for me. I don’t want you to do anything that doesn’t feel right. You have to want to change your life.”

Carol’s shoulders stiffened, and the frightened look in her eyes receded slightly. “I’m doing this for me. I’m sick of being the old Carol. The woman that men think they can walk all over and use as they see fit.” She held onto her smile as she raised her chin, even if it still trembled.

Catherine nodded her quick approval. “Okay. Then the first step is to get up out of that chair and go with Larry. He’ll make sure you get there safely. And remember to lock the door behind you as soon as you get inside and don’t open it to anyone. I’ll let myself in with my own key.”

“Okay…” Carol inhaled a steadying breath as she suddenly stood up and collected her things.

“I’ll see you when I get there tonight. And please don’t worry.” Catherine nodded encouragingly as she watched her witness leave the bullpen, following Larry’s lead.

She released her pent-up breath cautiously. There was nothing more to say.

~~~

“I honestly don’t know what to say…” Jenny Aronson breathed in a deeply shocked tone. “What is there to say?”

She turned to Catherine and threw her arms around her to hug her tightly. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay. That nothing bad happened to you here.” They were standing together in the dilapidated and gloomy foyer of the brownstone.

She kissed her friend on the cheek before she drew back, looking at her seriously. “I got such a fright when you telephoned me afterwards to tell me all about what happened here. I mean, I was happy to lend you my latest renovation project for a night or two, because you asked me for it. You know I never have a problem with helping you out.”

She hitched a ragged sigh. “But this?” She trembled. “Now three bad men and one young innocent woman have been killed here. None of it makes any sense that I can see. But I always had a bad feeling about this townhouse. The first time I viewed it, it gave me the shivers. And then I had a dream about it just last week.”

Her lips tightened. “Well, it was more of a nightmare. I just knew something awful was going to happen here, and it involved you. I almost called you that day. Wish I had, now. I’ll be changing my realtor as soon as I get back to my office. The guy sold me some bad karma and nearly got you killed, Cathy.”

“I’m truly sorry, Jen.” Catherine put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I don’t know what I can tell you. Someone tipped Belmont off about Carol’s whereabouts. Joe’s still investigating, and we’ll find out who it was.”

It had been five days since Carol Stabler’s tragic death, and the scene of the crime had just been released to its owner. Jen took possession of the keys and insisted on coming right over. Catherine had accompanied her.

Of course, the townhouse now looked as if nothing terrible had happened there. Jen had paid for the top clean-up crew in the city to erase every trace of the bloody chaos that had been made. But now the ground floor smelled of enzyme cleaners and hydrogen peroxide. The strong aroma had made both women catch their breaths as soon as they stepped inside.

Catherine frowned at the staircase and then the small hallway to the basement. She felt deeply grateful that all of Isaac’s hard training had kicked in when Belmont attacked. The foyer was where the most destruction had been done to him and his men. That was the only area that had yet to be rectified. No amount of cleaning could solve the stark issues there.

“It’ll be all right…” Catherine hugged her good friend closer and tried to keep her gaze away from the wreckage of the smashed door that led down into the basement from the foyer. Down there, was the ragged hole Vincent had smashed through the brickwork when he’d rescued her from Belmont and his intention to kill her.

Jen pointed toward the open doorway with one accusing finger. “And what the heck did that? And who made that great hole in the brickwork down there? The police told me all about it. They said the door looked like an elephant had run through it.”

She shook her head. “So many questions without any answers. It’s just like being trapped inside one of my best-selling crime novels. Lieutenant Herman said those three men killed that sad, young woman upstairs, and then they were all mauled by a lion or some big cat that came up from beneath the city.”

She withdrew her horrified eyes from the devastation and frowned at Catherine. “I’ll never feel safe on the subway again. I mean, I know you like being thrust into dangerous situations with bad men. But I prefer to read about crimes like this, not be a part of one. I won’t sleep for a week after this.”

She drew her woollen coat closer around her body against the creeping chill of the drafty townhouse. “This place feels bad now. The vibes are all over the place. I was project managing it and I had such plans too. But not anymore. I’m putting it back on the market. My new realtor will have to do his best to gloss over the worst of the circumstances. I’ll have to accept a hit on the price, though.”

“Well, I’ve been given permission to fix that door and brick up the hole in the basement,” Catherine tried again to make amends. “Let me do that for you, at least. Please, Jen. I… may know someone who is skilled in repairing this kind of old brickwork. I promise that hole down there won’t be detectable once he’s finished.”

She inhaled quickly. “I’ll pay for everything, of course. Just give me your keys, and you don’t have to come back here once we leave. I’ll take care of it all. Afterwards, let’s phone Nancy up in Westport and ask when we can go up for a long weekend. It’s time the Radcliffe girls got together again.”

Her friend frowned as she considered her closely. “Now, that’s about the best idea I’ve heard in months. But, right this minute, I’m going to need a very stiff drink. Or maybe two.”

She shook her head slowly. “And I guess you’re never gonna tell me what really went on here that night. Or who did punch that hole clean through three layers of brick and broke down a solid wood door to rescue you from those bad men? Cause, I’m sure it was a him and not an it.”

She raised one forefinger and waved it knowingly. “Now that would make a great crime novel. Lieutenant Herman said there are some pretty strange things going on in this city. And it looks like there’s some even stranger things going on underneath it...”

She shivered again and turned toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s you and I get out of here and find a wine bar. There’s a bottle of great white that has our names written all over it.”

~~~

“How are you feeling now?” Vincent asked Catherine gently, as he held her close. “I’m very sorry you had to see that.”

They stood together on her balcony. Somewhere a clock chimed midnight.

“There was no other way. I know that,” Catherine whispered into his vest. “Belmont wasn’t going to stop until I was dead, like Carol.”

“I’m so glad you understand…” Vincent sighed deeply. “I could wish it could have been any other way, but –”

“No, Vincent…” Catherine pulled back to seize his forearms with both hands and shake him. “There wasn’t any other way. We both know that. Someone told Belmont where Carol was hiding from him. I’m going to find that person and make them pay. I’m only glad Isaac’s training kept me alive until you could reach me.”

“Then we shall leave talking about it for another day,” Vincent replied gently. “You should be resting now. You’ve had another very long day.”

“I am… tired,” Catherine admitted, taking his hands in hers. “But first, I need to ask you something. A favour.”

“Please, ask,” Vincent encouraged her. “If it is within my power to make it so, then it shall be.”

“Thank you.” Catherine nodded. “The… hole in the brownstone’s basement wall that leads into the tunnels. It needs to be sealed up again. The police are already investigating and if –”

“If they got too far down the tunnels, then they will become a danger to us. Tomorrow is Saturday, so no workmen will arrive to discover us. I will get the supplies I need and send four of my people up to the upper levels tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you below in the basement at nine o’clock and guide you to the tunnel. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Do you mean I may finally get to meet some more of the people who live down there with you? I only know Mary and Father.”

“I think it’s about time…” Vincent smiled as he cupped her cheek in his warm palm. “Mouse and Winslow work fast, and they’re discreet. James and Edward will work from the townhouse side. They will complete what needs to be done and leave discreetly when the coast is clear.”

“I have the house keys. Jen gave them to me. I’ll get them for you in a minute.” Catherine moved her cheek against his skin, loving his gentle touch. “I’ll bring some hot coffee and see you Below tomorrow morning.”

She sighed deeply as she went back into his arms. “But, for now…”

~~~

“Hey! Watch out for the way you’re slapping that mortar around,” Winslow complained as he jumped back out of the reach of Mouse’s over-enthusiastic trowelling.

“Wasn’t doing nothing that didn’t need doin’,” Mouse replied in an offended tone as he deftly cemented another brick in the wall and reached for the next. “You’re I’ too slow, old man. You can’t keep up.”

“Who’re you calling old, you little pipsqueak?” Winslow muttered as he redoubled his efforts into a brick-laying race to be the first to finish the next course.

The two of them jostled each other for room in the confined space as they worked from the tunnel side on completing the triple brick repairs to the large hole. Being smaller, Mouse could duck under his larger friend’s arm.

As soon as they arrived at the site, Vincent quickly introduced Catherine to the others. James and Edward were two tall, silent men who were already working from the townhouse side. They quietly declined her offer of hot coffee and would soon be walled up on the other side.

None of them wished to waste time lingering this close to the surface and possible discovery by nosy neighbours. Mouse shuffled his feet and was silent as he peered shyly through his bangs at Catherine while Winslow shook her outstretched hand with hearty bonhomie.

They had already replaced the old-fashioned door to the basement with one Mouse had salvaged from another, unoccupied building site where the workers had left for the weekend.

“Taking, not stealing,” he replied defensively to Catherine’s raised eyebrows and questioning look. “Needed a door. Found one just lying out there.”

“Keep working, you two,” Vincent ordered in a low voice as he cleared away more of the broken bricks. “You could be heard this close to the surface. We need to get this done in case someone comes.”

Catherine had been helping him with stacking the broken bricks against the tunnel wall. Now she was standing to one side, pouring hot coffee from a thermos into cups for all of them.

“That Lieutenant Herman worries me,” she said softly as she handed out the hot beverage. “He’s already been coming around and asking questions I can’t answer. Joe wants to know what I know. They’ve opened an investigation into Belmont and his henchmen.”

“All you can do is keep stalling Herman,” Vincent replied as he accepted his coffee with a nod of thanks. “Once we’re done here, we’ll come back tomorrow with more supplies and brick up this whole section. Then we’ll add false walls and rock falls to make it all look as if it’s been abandoned for years. Then they won’t be able to get too far or too close.”

“I can only hope that will finally satisfy him,” Catherine replied as she drank her coffee. “I keep telling him I don’t know anything.”

She welcomed the warmth of the brew in the chill of the tunnel. “I’ll need to make it up to Jenny. She’ll be taking a loss when she sells this place. I’m going to take her away to Westport as soon as Nancy says she’s free to visit.”

“I’m truly sorry, Catherine…” Vincent paused in his renewed labours to draw her close and hug her tightly. “But Belmont wasn’t going to be stopped any other way.”

“I know that…” Catherine sighed into the soft warmth of his grey vest. “I feel so sorry for Carol. She didn’t deserve to die like that. She was trying to turn her life around. She had everything to live for.”

“Then we will honour her memory by doing our best to save more lost young women like her,” her love replied as he kissed her hair. “Lady May always has room for more waifs and strays. I will go and see her.”

Catherine drew back to frown up at him. “Lady May? Who’s that?”

“We’re finally done,” Mouse interrupted. “Looks good as new.” He frowned. “Well, old, anyway.” He shrugged as he hooked a thumb at the repaired tunnel wall.

Edward and James appeared silently out of the shadows. They were carrying leather bags of tools.

“It looked good from our side.” Edward nodded as he handed Catherine the house keys. “It will stand for another hundred years.”

He glanced at Vincent before they both turned and disappeared back into the darkness. They made almost no sound as they walked away.

“Well, I guess that’s that…” Winslow nudged his workmate with one elbow to the smaller man’s ribs. “Come on, then. Get moving and pick up your tools, Mouse. Enough with the chattering. I swear I can smell William’s pot roast and fried potatoes from here. And ain’t nobody gonna get in my way of getting my share. After all this bricking up work, I’m starving.”

He placed his large hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “You comIng?” he asked with a lop-sided grin. “Or you staying awhile?”

His thoughtful gaze shifted to Catherine. “I say, bring your lady along with you if you want. She looks like she could do with some feeding up. There’s always room for one more in William’s dining room. It’s about time we all got to meet her properly.”

He chuckled as he turned away to shepherd Mouse ahead of him, and they both walked away down the tunnel carrying their burdens as they continued to argue with each other. Their voices echoed hollowly in the darkness.

“Shall we?” Vincent offered softly, sweeping his arm out in a courtly arc. “If you wish to, that is. Or shall I guide you back Above?”

“After watching all of you men work so hard, I think I could manage to eat a little pot roast,” Catherine answered him with a shy smile as she repacked her carry bag. “And I would love to meet more of your friends.”

“Come along then. Or there won’t be anything left if Winslow gets there first…” Vincent slung a companionable arm around her shoulders and they turned to walk down the tunnel as they laughed quietly together.

~~~

“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold…”

Zelda Fitzgerald

*****

Catherine Kissed Me [1]

by Barbara Anderson

~~~

Catherine kiss’d me, ere she returned,

To the world Above she lives in.

I stood there struck and stunned to see

That she would thus approach me.

I scarce believed with my poor charms

That she could not resist me.

Fate, you cruelly cursed my life,

Now you’ve sweetly reimbursed me.

The journal, which I do record

My struggles and defeats in,

Will now forever testify to

The fact that Catherine kiss’d me.

Say I’m lonely, say I’m sad,

Say that laud and honor missed me.

But my full heart shall ne’er forget

The moment Catherine kiss’d me.

*****

Dear Vincent

by Barbara Anderson

Dear Vincent,

It’s been months since you returned me to my world., and yet I can’t seem to forget you or all that you did for me. Sometimes I almost feel that you are with me in spirit, giving me the strength to pick up the shattered pieces of my life. Sometimes when I’m frightened, I swear, I can hear your voice telling me that I have the strength to overcome what happened to me… telling me that what happened to me would make me stronger.

When you said it to me that day, I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be true. I believed you were merely trying to comfort me like someone comforts a frightened child with platitudes and tender lies.

But it was true.

How did you know?

I wish I could tell you in person that I actually am learning to be strong. Stronger than I ever imagined I could possibly be. It’s an amazing feeling. I’m beginning to feel powerful. I’m beginning to believe that maybe I can help others in the way you’ve helped me.

I have a job interview with the District Attorney’s office tomorrow. There must be countless people in this city, who have been victimized in the same way I was… or worse. Maybe I can advocate for them… find justice for them. Maybe I can even find justice for myself.

Thank you, Vincent. Thank you for believing in me.

-Catherine

*****

Melanie Safka Tribute

1947-2024

To Dream a Theme

Compiled by Allison

~~~

“I got a call from my agent the other day telling me about a new TV show being proposed to CBS.” Lee Holdridge told Melanie Safka.

“They liked the theme music I submitted for the opening sequence. They were curious what it would sound like with lyrics, and I immediately thought of you.”

“You want ‘me’ to pen some lyrics? Why don’t you want to do it?” Melanie questioned.

“You have a way of telling a story with your lyrics. Give a listen, ponder the music.”

“What type of TV show is it?”

“CBS is calling it ‘Beauty and the Beast’. It’s the story of a man-beast who rescues a woman dumped in Central Park and develops a bond with her.”

“Interesting,” Melanie was intrigued by the concept of the story.

So, Lee gave Melanie a CD with the theme music, and she took it back to her studio. She called Lee the following day and told him she had the lyrics completed.

“That’s fast. I thought it would take you a couple of days at least.” Lee was amazed at how fast she had the lyrics.

“Yeah, the minute I got and heard the piece of music you wanted the lyrics for, I had the lyrics in my head,” Melanie told him.

“Can you meet me tomorrow so I can listen to what you came up with?”

“Tomorrow is fine.” Lee gave her the address to the studio he was using at the moment. He told her if they wanted to hear it with a full orchestra setting afterwards, it could be arranged.

The next morning, Melanie went to meet Lee and found that Paul Junger Witt was there as well. Lee introduced Paul as one of the executive producers of the show and he wanted to hear the lyrics as well before making a final decision.

Lee sat at the piano and Melanie sat next to him. As the music started, Melanie took a breath and started to sing. When the music ended, you could have heard a pin drop. The room was so quiet.

Paul Junger Witt just sat there and stared at them.

“Well?” Lee asked.

“What did you think?” Melanie asked.

Paul Junger Witt took a deep breath and said. “Melanie, I only have four words for you.”

“Four words? What are they?”

“Melanie, you got this.”

“Lee, don’t change a thing. Get to the studio and get this recorded as soon as you can so we can add it to the show. Thank you both.” Paul said with a smile.

The song was actually added to a flashback sequence during the episode ‘A Distant Shore’ when Catherine was flying back from Los Angeles to New York after a difficult case.

Lee and Melanie went on to win an Emmy for the music and lyrics for ‘The First Time I Loved Forever.’

~~~

Credit goes to TelevisonAcademy.com for their interview with Lee Holdridge.

Credit goes to Tim Quinn–In Words and Music for his interview with Melanie Safka

*****

The Gift

by Judith Nolan

“There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour…”

Charles Dickens

~~~

“It is good to see you, Catherine. I have missed your company these last two weeks.” Vincent moved to one side to allow Catherine to step over the broken brick threshold of their meeting place beneath her apartment building.

“I know. Me too. It’s been more than two weeks,” she apologised softly as she laid one hand on his forearm. “Joe asked me to go up to Providence to help Edie out with one of her more difficult investigations. She’s been swamped and badly needed my help. You remember that she took the job with DA’s office up there as the head of the Domestic Violence Bureau after I refused to go.”

“I remember…” Vincent replied gently, knowing that had been a very difficult time in their budding relationship.

He shut his mind to the chilling and painful memory of the two men who had drugged and kidnapped him, then confined him to a cage to be studied and dissected like a dumb animal. Catherine had saved him then with her bravery and raw courage.

He inhaled deeply. He would not allow that dreadful memory to spoil their reunion.

Catherine saw his expression and compressed her lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you over the memory of that time.”

She shook her head. “I guess sending me up there was Moreno’s way of getting back at me for turning the position down after he recommended me. He doesn’t like it when his people don’t toe the line.”

“Please forget it. It’s all in the past…” Vincent put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You are back now…” he murmured against her hair. “That is all that matters. And now we can spend the evening together before you must go back Above.”

“Yes…” Catherine sighed as she rubbed her cheek lovingly against the ribbing of his grey vest. “I’m looking forward to it. I have missed this… And you…”

She hugged him tightly before she stepped back out of his embrace. “I’ve been bringing some things down for all of you. I found stuff I don’t need around the house.”

She indicated a large cardboard box behind her in the corner of the sub-basement behind her. “I had been adding things to it now and then before I was called away. I didn’t think you would mind if I made some donations to your world.”

“How could I mind when these things are being given with love?” Vincent asked gently as he stepped over the threshold and bent down to pick up the box. “I will look forward to seeing what you have brought for us.”

Catherine watched him anxiously. “They are just some things I thought might be useful to you.”

“Well, you have been busy. This is curiously heavy,” Vincent replied as he stepped back into the tunnel. “As soon as we reach Father’s chamber, I’ll send out an invitation on the pipes for people to gather.”

“I hope everyone will be happy with what I’ve brought for them,” Catherine worried. “I tried to think of everyone.”

“Then, come with me, and we will find out. If we hurry, we’ll have some time to share them before we all sit down for William’s grand feast. Lady May and David have sent us down a great number of goods we usually don’t see. William has been drooling over it all for the last four days. Father isn’t at all sure we should accept such extravagance. He had started to say we really should send it all back. He was overruled by a majority vote.”

He chuckled quietly. “And that was before he uncovered the greatest gift of all. Even the Father could not resist the blandishment of two jars of Russian Beluga caviar.”

“Amazing…” Catherine shook her head as they turned and walked down the tunnel side by side. “I still can’t get my head around the fact that you have David Bowie as one of your Helpers. It seems too fanciful.”

Vincent shrugged. “Over a recent game of chess, he told me that he realised he’s lived in New York longer than he has lived anywhere else. He found it amazing. He never thought he would become a New Yorker. Now he wants to give back to those less fortunate than himself.”

“Well, I think it’s wonderful, and he is a very generous man.”

“David is thankful that he is always treated as one of us, whenever he comes down here. He wouldn’t have it any other way, and we respect him for that.”

“I’m glad…” Catherine linked both hands around Vincent’s upper arm, and they walked on in companionable silence until they reached the entrance to Father’s chamber.

Vincent followed his love inside and placed the large cardboard box in the middle of the floor. Seated behind his desk, Father looked up from his reading. He took off his spectacles and frowned at them.

“Catherine? How lovely and unexpected to see you. Ah, what do you have there? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Just some things I no longer need,” she replied quickly, knowing the old man’s strict rules about anyone who tried to give too much or more than they could afford.

She remembered Vincent’s comment about the beluga caviar and tried not to smile. It seemed that even a stern follower of the rules, like Father, had his price. An expensive one too.

The old man had often said the tunnel world could not become entirely dependent on the world Above. That would destroy them. They had to stand on their own two feet as much as possible. Catherine respected his cast-iron views, even though they irked her at times.

“I’ll go and tap out an invitation on the pipes,” Vincent said, watching his wary parent talking with Catherine.

He walked back up the steps and out into the tunnel beyond. He picked up a nearby stone and tapped out a quick invitation for those who could be spared from their duties, to come to Father’s chamber. Soon, many of the denizens of Below were packed into every available space, breathlessly waiting to see what Catherine was going to hand out.

They still had William’s grand feast to look forward to, and now there were gifts. There was a heightened buzz of excitement as Catherine bent down to pull open the flaps of the large box.

“Go on, open it,” a small child’s voice called impatiently. “Let’s see what you have in there.”

“It’s almost like Christmas,” another commented breathlessly.

“Better than Christmas!” Kipper nudged his neighbour to quieten them. “I bet Vincent knows what’s in the box. He brought it in. I saw him.”

“Please be patient, everyone,” Vincent cautioned, holding up his hands as he stood beside Catherine, his curiosity also piqued about what could be in the box. He too leaned forward to see what his love had brought down to his world.

“There’s plenty to go around,” Catherine assured him as she began to hand out small gifts and trinkets to eager hands.

Handfuls of clothing followed along with books and games. It seemed there was enough for everyone. Chattering people began to filter out of the chamber, eagerly discussing their new treasures as they hurried toward the dining room.

“Thank you…” Winslow leaned closer to accept his gift. “Let’s see what this is...” He unfolded an oversized leather jacket. “Oh, will you look at this! Thank you, Catherine! It’s perfect!”

“I thought you might like it.” Catherine smiled up at him. “It’s just a few odds and ends I’ve been collecting up from around the house. You’ll find a better use for them than I will.”

She avoided Father’s critical eyes. Even though he was now standing close and looking on with quickening interest, he seemed to be reserving his decision until he saw all she had brought down from Above.

“Things you found around the house, you said…” Vincent chuckled as he leaned in to pick up a folded item from the box. “You should learn to remove the price tags from your ‘odds and ends’.” He held up the tag on a lovely tartan wool scarf.

“Okay, I’ll do that next time…” Catherine smiled as she pulled a large black and white sweater from the box.

She sat back on her heels. “My father bought this when he took up skiing and then put it in a drawer after just one trip down the slopes. I think he spent more time on his back in the snow than on his skis.”

She got to her feet and held the garment up to measure against Father’s chest. “What do you think?”

She didn’t notice Winslow moving closer with a deeply envious look on his face. His eyes were fixed on the sweater, and they glowed with need.

Just then, Cullen and Jamie appeared at the entrance to the chamber. The woodworker grinned when he saw Father holding up the sweater with a deeply dubious look on his face. “It’s him. Father, that is definitely you. You could start a whole new, underground fashion.” He chuckled at his own wit.

Father looked down. “This sweater?” He took it from Catherine’s hands and stared down at it with disbelief in his eyes. “Are you sure? I mean, they’re not really my colours.”

Cullen nodded gleefully. “Oh, yeah. It’s you, all right. Everyone will be able to see you coming!” He slapped his thigh with glee.

Winslow didn’t comment. But he did ease even closer, quite forgetting the jacket he still held in his hand. He licked his lips as he frowned at what he now desired.

He glanced quickly at the others and wondered if Father would trade once Catherine was gone. He hoped none of them wanted the sweater as much as he did.

Father shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, it’s… uh… just what I need for when I… um, go skiing in the winter.”

Everyone left in the chamber laughed at his comical expression. The old man put the garment aside and seemed to forget about it. Winslow picked up the leather jacket and threw it over his arm, waiting for his chance to do a trade.

“Oh, I almost forgot…” Catherine reached back into the box. “There is one more thing. I – I brought something for Mouse. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was him. Where is he?” She took out a blue metal box.

Winslow shrugged, still focused on the sweater. “Oh, he’s supposed to be here. I told him to come. But he was in a world of his own. Mouse isn’t exactly the most dependable when it comes to –”

Right then, Mouse came rushing into the chamber. His face was smudged with dirt, and he was out of breath and red-faced. In his haste, he nearly fell headfirst down the steps. He saved himself by grabbing for the rails and grinning at his audience.

Father frowned up at him. “As Winslow was saying, Mouse hasn’t entirely grasped the concept of time.”

Remaining at the top of the stairs, Mouse grinned his unconcern. “Time? Easy. Early? Come before Mouse. Late? Come after. Come too late, and there’s no dinner left at all.” He grinned as he pointed toward Winslow’s ample girth before he vaulted over the stairs using the handrails and hurried to stand next to Vincent.

“Hi, Vincent,” he said softly. “What going on?” He glanced down at the open box.

Father sighed. “Yes, I see we shall have to be more specific in the future. Well now, tell me, Mouse, what have you been doing?”

“Working…” Mouse replied evasively. “Got lots of stuff to do. Important stuff. Need more time. Always do.”

“I see…” Father raised his brows. “Something useful, I hope?”

Vincent interrupted their conversation quietly. “Catherine has brought you a present, Mouse.” He pushed the tinker gently forward.

“Okay good, okay fine…” Mouse said doubtfully, his wide eyes growing more round still as he saw the blue metal box Catherine held out to him.

He touched it with a dawning smile that made him look even more boyish. “Tools? For me? All mine?”

“All for you.” Catherine nodded and held the box while he opened the lid and stared inside in amazement.

Mouse gazed down at his gift before his wondering eyes travelled to each of his companions. “Look. New!” He picked up a spanner with great reverence. “Shiny too!”

Cullen leaned closer to peer at the gift. “Expensive,” he murmured in an envious tone. “Better take good care of them, Mouse. Don’t want to see any rust.”

Winslow sighed and looked impatient. “Uh, just say thank you and get it over with, Mouse. We all got places to be and food to eat.” He sniffed the air and licked his lips.

Mouse bobbed his blond head. “Thank you.” He grinned widely as he caressed his new tools with loving hands. “All mine…”

Catherine smiled at his diffidence. “You’re welcome. I’m just so glad I could help out.”

Vincent cocked his head at the message being tapped out on the pipes. “It seems our feast is now ready. Come quick or go hungry, William says.”

“Then we’d better go quickly,” Catherine replied with a smile as she accepted Vincent’s offer of his arm.

They walked up the steps and disappeared through the chamber entrance, followed by Jamie and Cullen. Mouse laughed as he skipped after them, clutching his gift close to his chest. Father turned away to fetch his walking stick.

“We’d better get moving too…” Winslow sidled up to the old man and hovered at his elbow. “Um, about that sweater that Catherine just gave you…”

“What about it?” Father adjusted the fit of his stick before looking up. “It’s a very fine sweater.”

“Yeah, it is. But you can come clean with me.” Winslow looked around. “There’s only you and me here now…”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Father prevaricated, starting to walk away toward the chamber entrance.

Winslow hurried to fetch his leather jacket. “Do you want to trade?” He held it up by the shoulders, turning it back and forth to display his wares.

“Well… I…” Father stared at it as if he’d only just seen it. “It is a very fine jacket.” He glanced from the tan garment to the black and white horror of the sweater.

“Yeah…” Winslow nodded, putting his gift aside to pick up the discarded sweater. “But so’s this. But I reckon that jacket will suit you better than this.” He waved it at the older man.

“You may be right…” Father fingered his bearded chin with one gloved hand. “I have never been a fan of such somewhat garish garments…” His brow wrinkled up into a deeply worried frown. “But what if Catherine finds out? After all, she did intend that sweater to be for me. It was her father’s.”

“It’ll stay as our secret.” Winslow picked up the leather jacket again and held it out while keeping the sweater close to his chest. “I promise, I won’t wear it in company. How does that sound? I’ll keep it for special occasions.”

“Like a date?” Father chuckled a little.

“Yeah, well, I get my share of lovin’. Don’t you worry about that,” Winslow shot back, advancing the jacket closer to the old man’s free hand. “Deal?”

Father sighed. “All right, since you want it that badly. Deal.” He waved one hand toward his bed alcove. “Leave it in there. I’ll hang it up later. If we don’t hurry, there will be nothing left of this magnificent feast we’ve been promised.”

“Okay, good. Okay, fine!” Winslow tossed the jacket onto the bed, folded the sweater up, and put it behind Father’s desk. “I’ll come back and fetch it later when everyone’s gone.”

He grinned widely as he ran up the steps behind Father and accompanied him out of the chamber and into the tunnel beyond. “Good trade.”

*****

The hour was now very late, and the grand feast was winding down at last. Many happy and well-fed people were milling about, helping to clear away the leftovers, and or chatting in small groups. The children had already been sent to their beds.

Catherine arched her back as she stretched her arms above her head. “Well, I guess I’d better be going…” she said regretfully. “I have some files with my name on them that I must get to in the morning. Or Joe will kill me on Monday.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “Well, it’s now this morning, anyway. Thank God, it’s Saturday.”

Vincent stood up from the seat next to hers. “I’ll guide you out. I won’t be long, Father.” He nodded to his parent, who was seated on the other side of the long table.

Father smiled. “It has been such a pleasure to have you with us, Catherine. Do please come down again as soon as you are able.”

“I will…” Catherine promised with a smile. “And thank you.”

Father nodded. “Catherine, your gifts have brought much joy today. Everyone is talking about it. Thank you for that and your many kindnesses. We will put everything to good use.”

Catherine smiled. She knew this was the old man’s way of saying she could now bring down more for their world as long as she didn’t go too far.

Catherine did her best to hide her smile. ‘Such as bringing down too many jars of Russian beluga caviar…’

She shook her head as she laid her hand on Vincent’s arm. “I wish I could do more. There are so many things I wish I could give you.”

Vincent put his hand on her shoulder. “But you already give a great deal of yourself, Catherine. Your generosity and friendship, to all of us. There is no more precious gift than that.”

Catherine raised frustrated shoulders. “You know what I mean.”

Vincent nodded. “Well, with what our friends bring to us, and what the world above casts aside, we have everything we need.”

They turned together and walked from the dining hall and out into the tunnels. They walked in silence, each deep in their private thoughts.

It was only when they had nearly reached the surface that they stopped. Vincent turned and quickly put himself between his love and whoever was now following them.

They didn’t have long to find out who it was. Out of breath and panting, Mouse came rushing out of the shadows and ran up to the pair.

“Mouse…” Vincent relaxed with relief.

“Vincent! Catherine! I’m… glad I, glad I caught you,” the tinker managed to puff.

Vincent frowned with concern. “Is something wrong, Mouse?”

The tinker shook his head vigorously as he pulled the small bundle from his jacket pocket and handed it to Catherine. “For you. A gift, from me. You give, I give. The way it’s done.” He backed up and put his hands behind him.

Catherine was deeply touched by his gesture. “Why, thank you, Mouse.” She took the bundle and began to open the ragged piece of old, cross-woven brown fabric.

Mouse quickly put out one hand to prevent her. “No! Not here. Better at home. Get mirror. See how it looks. It looks fine. Beautiful like you.” He blushed to the roots of his tousled blond hair.

Catherine smiled a little dubiously. “Okay. Thank you, Mouse.”

“Great!” Mouse bobbed his tousled head. “Have to go, now. Help Father. He’s lost without Mouse. Gotta ask Mouse. Mouse, do this. Mouse, do that…” He hurried away, back into the shadows, still muttering.

Catherine looked down at the bundle. “Do you think he…”

Vincent smiled. “Stole it? Mouse hasn’t taken anything for weeks. Well, wherever he found it, you can be sure it came from his heart.”

“And his heart is as big as this whole tunnel world,” Catherine replied softly. “Just like yours…”

She tucked her gift into the pocket of her coat and once more accepted her love’s proffered arm. They smiled at each other as they continued their journey to the surface. They would enjoy the small fraction of time they still had together before the impending dawn forced them to be apart once more…

*****

“There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humour and hurt…”

Erma Bombeck

*****

Don’t Leave!

By Judith Nolan

“You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together...”

Nicholas Sparks

*****

Vincent sighed as he stared at the beautiful picture of Catherine in her elegant Halloween costume. His heart ached with a sense of impending loss. Their precious time spent together was always so short. More often measured in minutes, rather than hours. They were bound by circumstances constantly beyond their control.

Tonight – this singular night of the year – could have been so different. He had such hope. And still, evildoers had gotten in their way, once more. He wished they could have had more. So much more of everything. But, time, most of all.

He knew he would never forget this night and could revisit it often in his dreams. But now he needed to return Below. He had stayed too long as it was, and Father would soon begin to worry. Discovery could be just around the corner by some stranger who got too close or saw too much. It was a risk he was not prepared to take.

“Good night…” He sighed again, more deeply, as he turned to leave.

Catherine had been watching him, seeing his inner struggle, and her heart missed a beat. “Don’t leave!” she begged earnestly. “She told me that this is a special night. Samhain. When the walls –”

Vincent turned back to her, drawn inexorably to her beauty and spirit. “—when the walls between the worlds grow thin… and spirits of the underworld walk the earth.”

He stepped closer with dawning wonder in his expression. Could it be possible, after all? He fought against the rational dictates of his mind. ’Go now, while there is still time…’

Catherine smiled with earnest expectation as she shook her head. “Vincent, we can’t waste it. We just can’t!”

He gazed at her for a long moment before finally shaking his head in agreement. “No, we can’t. There is still time before dawn. Not much…”

“Yes, there is.” His love gave him a radiant smile as he turned to walk beside her.

Vincent inhaled deeply as Catherine tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She had always put her trust in him to keep her safe. Now, it was her turn to guard his secret from prying or suspicious eyes.

Love swelled within him, making it difficult to breathe. “I will need to find a way to send a message down to Father,” he said, as they walked arm-in-arm down the street. “He will wonder where I am and once the sun rises…”

“Of course…” Catherine replied quickly, knowing he always had pressing duties, no matter what time of night.

It was a simple matter of finding the right building with pipes that ran down into the ground. Vincent picked up a nearby rock and tapped out a message.

The answer was almost immediate, and he smiled. “Pascal says, ‘Hello, Catherine.”

She frowned. “How does he know you are with me?”

Vincent shrugged. “Because I told him. I made no secret of my determination about coming Above tonight to meet Bridget. Father knows I am now with you.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Catherine replied as they walked back onto the sidewalk. “And that we could help Bridget find her father again before it was too late for both of them.”

“Yes…” Vincent lifted her small hand from his arm and kissed the backs of her fingers before he tucked her hand back into his possession. “Shall we go exploring?” he asked with his eyes shining with keen expectation.

“I would love that…” Catherine wondered about his sudden boldness but didn’t question it as she put her other hand around his arm and hugged it close to her chest as they walked on.

Arm in arm, they saw the city together for the first time. From Broadway to Times Square, then the Rockefeller Center and the Guggenheim.

Vincent pointed out the ethereal beauties of St. Patrick’s Cathedral with the moon riding high overhead. They walked on to the majesty of the Empire State Building before they stopped to study the glittering lights and illuminated signs of Time Square.

The city buzzed and flowed around them in an endless rush of people and cars. Even though it was now very late at night, many revellers seemed reluctant to go home and back to their everyday lives. This night was one of magic and balefires.

Seeing that his love was beginning to tire in the early morning cold, Vincent pulled off his cloak and enclosed her in its warm folds. He raised one hand to hail a passing hansom cab and they settled into the comforts of the leather seat as their horse trotted through the crowded streets.

Finally, they passed the lights of the Metropolitan Museum and Vincent delighted his love with stories of seeing the museum from the underside when, as children, he and Devin often penetrated it from the basement level and saw wonderous things in the vast, cavernous spaces.

He chuckled softly. “We often ‘borrowed’ items which interested us. But we always returned them, eventually.”

“I’m seeing an entirely new side of you tonight, Vincent,” Catherine marvelled. She too began to laugh softly. “I wonder if there are any outstanding warrants for the two of you.”

Pride filled her love’s look of disbelief. “I doubt it. Our ‘borrowing’ was never discovered, as far as I am aware. Nobody ever came to the areas we inhabited. They were forgotten places, full of shadows, mystery and treasures.”

He raised his shoulders. “I’m sure I could still find my way inside. The entrance is well hidden behind some enormous mahogany Victorian display cabinets that do not appear to have been moved for years. We were always very careful about how we came and went. We never left any trace of our having been there.”

Catherine hugged his arm to her. “I never knew you were so incorrigible and daring as a child.”

“Of course.” Vincent laughed. “Devin was always an excellent teacher. I refused to let him go anywhere without me. He showed me incredible things long forgotten or lost. All of them were secrets we kept between him and me.”

“I wish I could have seen you, then…” Catherine confided as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “So young and so eager to learn…”

She shook her head. “But if Father had ever found out what you two were up to…”

“We would not have been able to sit down again for at least a month,” Vincent completed her statement with a rueful look. “He always said that Devin took things too far. I tried to tell him it was my idea, but he never listened.”

All too soon, the sun began to rise above the city and shine on the Statue of Liberty. They walked slowly into Queenborough Park, reluctant for their night to end. Catherine has returned Vincent’s cloak. She paused ahead of him to allow him to catch up with her.

She linked her hand through the crook of his arm once more. “It has been truly magical. Beyond anything I have ever imagined. I know it’s impossible, but I wish we could be together like this again. See everything once more.”

She glanced up at her love wistfully. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I don’t have any urgent files demanding my attention.” She sighed, long and regretfully.

“If only we could,” Vincent replied softly, laying his hand over hers where it rested so trustingly on his arm. “But we both know it is truly hopeless to wish for more than we have already had. This was a singular night.”

“Yes, it was…” Catherine nodded as Vincent guided her to a park bench on the side of a path that paralleled the river. The Queensborough Bridge filled the immediate horizon as the sun rose beneath it and then shone through its elegant metal tracery.

Vincent stared at the scene. “You know, I’ve lived here all my life, and yet, it’s as though I’ve never seen this city until tonight. I have now seen it through your eyes.”

Catherine smiled sadly. “You’ve seen so much of the violence and hatred of my world. I wanted you to know there’s beauty, as well.”

Vincent turned to look at her as he replied softly, “Oh, I know that, ever since the night I found you, Catherine.”

Their look of longing held, and time appeared to stand still. Catherine lifted one hand toward him as they leaned closer to one another, becoming lost in each other’s eyes as they drew toward an inevitable conclusion and...

From their right, an early morning jogger appeared, sweating and out of breath. He jumped to a halt. “What the…! Geez! You gave me a real scare. Hey, man, Halloween was yesterday!” He laughed at his own humour as he danced from foot to foot before he ran on. But the jogger’s unwelcome advent had broken the delicate spell.

“It is time…” Vincent grimaced as he rose slowly to his feet. “I must go…”

“Wait…” Catherine put out one hand to detain him as he drew the hood of his cloak about his head and settled it over his mane.

“I’m sorry…” She shook her head as she allowed her hand to drop, knowing it was not fair to try and detain him any longer. The daylight world was now awake, and it was too dangerous for him to linger.

“Yes…” She nodded with deep regret as her love turned to her.

“What more is there to say…” he whispered as he raised his hands in despair. He stared at her with intense longing in his eyes before he turned and walked slowly away.

Catherine turned to watch him leave. She smiled softly as she turned back to stare at the sunrise. The golden orb outlined the bridge and the city skyline beyond the river.

Then something Vincent had said began to tug at her mind and heart. ’The entrance is well hidden behind some enormous mahogany Victorian display cabinets that do not appear to have been moved for years. We were always very careful about how we came and went…’

She swallowed tightly as she tried to remain seated, even as rising excitement began to fizz through her. ’Nobody ever came to the areas we inhabited. They were forgotten places full of shadows and mystery…’

“Why not?” she whispered. “Where’s the harm? It’s not as if we’re going to borrow anything. We would only be looking…”

She rose to her feet before her practical lawyer’s mind could throw up rational arguments and objections to override her excitement and she abandoned the whole idea. She hitched up her full skirts and hurried after Vincent.

He was far ahead but walking slowly with his head down in a way that spoke of his disappointment over leaving her. Catherine began to run, her clothing billowing all around her.

“Vincent!” she called, dropping her skirts to wave at him and gain his attention.

“Catherine?” He stopped and turned, his face filling with wonder and concern. “What is it?” he asked looking all about for any signs of impending danger. “Did you see something?”

“No, it’s all right…” Catherine reached his side and took his arm between her hands as she caught her breath. “The museum…” she said, gripping his arm tightly. “You said you were sure you could still find the tunnel entrance into the basement level.”

“I did…” Vincent scanned her face with worried eyes. “But what are you asking of me? I have not been there in years.”

“I want you to take me there,” Catherine begged. “I want to see all the things you saw as a child. Wonderous things, you said.”

“You’re tired,” Vincent replied with compassion. “You’re not talking sense.”

“I’m not tired,” Catherine replied quickly.

“Catherine…” her love said warningly.

“All right, maybe I am a little tired,” she confessed. “But if you take me home right now, I can have a shower and sleep for a few hours. Then, I’ll get up at noon, have something to eat and then get dressed in sensible clothes. I’ll meet you below at my basement entrance at two o’clock.”

She looked up into his dubious expression. “Please, Vincent. I want to play truant for once. I don’t want to go back to being good. Not just yet. It has been such a magical night. I don’t want it to end. Not yet.”

She leaned into him. “The museum closes at 5.30 every evening. You said no one goes to the places you found. We can spend hours just looking around. We will certainly not be borrowing anything this time.” She shook his arm between her hands, trying to force his agreement when she saw his scepticism.

“I should not have told you…” he murmured, as he turned and encouraged her to walk with him. “I will take you home. The tunnel entrance is very near. We must get Below.”

“And after you take me home?” Catherine insisted, still holding his arm as they walked. “What then? Will you do as I ask?”

Vincent sighed as he held open the rickety door to a dilapidated and abandoned warehouse for her to pass through before him. “If it means that much to you…” He shook his leonine head as he guided her into the building. “But we cannot linger….”

“I won’t,” Catherine promised him with a beaming smile. “I’ll be as quiet as the proverbial mouse. You’ll see. No one will ever know we were there.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Vincent commented drily as he showed her the way into the underworld that would lead her home. “More than you could ever know…”

*****

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet…”

Plato

*****

The Compliment Game

by Allison

This story begins with an excerpt from the ending of

‘Sibling Ribaldry’ by Olivia K. Goode”

~~~

I will accept that as your concession speech, Devin.” Catherine offered him her hand, which he kissed with a courtly bow before Cullen and William flanked him, and the three began to laugh and talk among themselves.

As they prepared to exit the dining hall, Father told Zach that he wanted a research paper with plays, acts, and scenes for every item written on his arm. “If you’re going to quote Shakespeare’s less complimentary passages, you’ll at least be informed as you do it!”

Catherine returned to Vincent’s side and put an arm around his shoulders. “Compliments! That’s a wonderful idea! Devin – Tomorrow night, let’s have a Shakespearean compliment contest!”

Devin asked if they could compete in teams. Catherine agreed as long as she got Vincent. Devin called dibs on Father. As conversation returned to normal, most people began to file out of the hall.

Devin gave her an exaggerated salute, and said, “I confess it, Chandler; you have a filthier mind than me.” Devin leaned over to Vincent, “Seriously, little brother – you let her kiss you with that mouth?”

“Absolutely,” said Vincent, staring at her luscious lips, “for ‘there’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.’” And with that compliment, he kissed the victor.

~~~

The mood in the tunnels was filled with anticipation. Wisps of conversation floated about regarding the upcoming game between Vincent, Father, Catherine, and Devin.

Whispers bounded about the trouncing Catherine gave Devin the night before.

“Who would have thought that insults would be so enjoyable,” one person mentioned.

“I wonder what compliments they will come up with tonight,” another person said.

As the whispers continued, Vincent looked at Catherine. “I saw Devin pouring over ‘The Complete Works of Shakespeare’ in Father’s study earlier.” Vincent said as they strolled through the tunnels.

“After last night’s challenge, Devin has his reputation to protect.” Catherine acknowledged.

“You surely surprised him, Catherine.”

“I surprised myself,” she responded.

Vincent looked on Catherine with a love that transcended time. A love that marveled in his senses, a love he knew would last forever.

~~~

As soon as the evening meal was concluded, the dining tables were pushed to the walls, and the residents formed a circle and waited for the upcoming exhibition between Devin, Father, Vincent, and Catherine. A quiet murmur went through the crowd as the four ‘combatants’ entered the challenge arena.

“Mary and William have graciously volunteered to referee, do you accept?” Father asked.

“We do,” Catherine said with a smile.

“As the ones’ challenged, we claim the right to start,” Devin announced.

The two groups moved to either side of the dining room. A chair was placed on the side Devin went to, a sure sign for Father’s comfort. Mary and William placed chairs within the circle created by the residents and settled down to judge the contest.

Devin and Father could be seen whispering to each other as they eyed Vincent and Catherine, who were sitting confidently opposite them. Catherine tapped Vincent on his arm and motioned for him to lean closer.

“Vincent, would you mind terribly if we ‘let’ Devin and Father win? They’ve been against each other for so long, it would mend a lot of fences between them.”

Vincent bristled at the thought of losing to Father ‘AND’ Devin but agreed with Catherine’s reasoning and agreed to throw the match.

“But we do have to make it competitive enough so as not to make them suspect we’re throwing the contest,” Vincent cautioned.

As Vincent and Catherine continued to plan their strategy, Devin and Father were doing the same.

“Do you honestly think we have a chance, Father?” Devin inquired.

“Against Vincent ‘AND’ Catherine? After last night? Most certainly not!” Father snorted.

“You don’t think they would ‘actually throw’ the contest, do you?” Devin asked in disbelief.

“To put us on better terms with each other, it’s a possibility. We can’t let them know we suspect them of anything. I want to win fair and square... But... we must make an effort.”

~~~

“Hear ye, hear ye. This compliment challenge is hereby open.” William announced to the crowd. “Gentlemen, lady,” he acknowledged Catherine. “Let the games begin.”

The contestants seemed evenly matched. When one would say a quote, another would immediately follow.

“Thou are wise as thou are beautiful.” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act 3, scene 1) Father gave a brief smile to Mary after he said his line. Mary blushed at the compliment.

“Your bum is the greatest thing about you.”(Measure for Measure, act 2, scene 1) Devin gave a wink to Rebecca and Brooke. Both girls’ cheeks blushed as he turned away.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”(Tempest, act 3, scene 1) Vincent said to Catherine with a slight bow.

‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you.” (Much Ado about Nothing, act 5, scene 1) Catherine responded with a smile.

And soon compliments flowed from all four, and the residents listened and marveled.

“Stray lower, where the pleasant fountain lie.” (Venus and Adonis) Devin said with a flourish.

“Devin, are you bragging?” chimed a voice from the crowd.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Devin crowed himself.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, thou are more lovely and more temperate. (Sonnet 18) Shakespeare knew everything,” Vincent commented.

“He certainly did,” Father agreed.

“An angel is like you, and you are like an angel,” (Henry V, act 5, scene 2) Father had this dream-like look in his eye. Everyone knew who he was thinking about. Father blushed slightly and bowed his head.

“So is mine ye enthralled to thy shape.” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act 3, scene 1) A voice sounded.

Soon others were shouting out compliments.

“Oh beauty, till now I never knew thee,” (Henry VIII, act 1, scene 4) Came another voice from the crowd.

“My dearest partner of greatness.” (Macbeth, act 1, scene 5) Kanin bowed to his wife, Olivia.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” as she kissed him on the cheek.

William held up his hand for silence so Devin or Father could deliver their next quote.

“You kiss by the book.” (Romeo and Juliet, act 1, scene 5) Devin leaned against one of the pillars lining the dining room after delivering the line he came up with.

“Uh, Devin, that’s not exactly a compliment,” Mary told him.

“I disagree,” William countered.

“She’s telling him she doesn’t like the way he kissed her,” Mary countered.

“She’s joking that he gets kisses according to an instruction manual and doesn’t deviate from the rules. She’s not comparing it to anyone else, but to love stories and etiquette she’s familiar with.” William pressed his advantage as he leaned over and kissed Mary on the lips.

Mary blushed and stuttered out, “I’ll allow it. Please continue.”

William smirked as he looked at Father. “Yes, please continue.”

Devin was the first to continue. “Goddess, nymph, perfect, divine.” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act 3, scene 2)

“By the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honor, truth and everything. I love thee so.” (Twelfth Night, act 3, scene 1) Father looked pointedly at Mary after that line.

“I’ll smother thee with kisses.” (Venus and Adonis) Vincent glanced at Catherine.

“After last night, she deserved them,” Devin joked.

“On the touching of her lips, I may melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried a second time with these arms.” (Pericles, act 5, scene 3)

“I do love you more than words can weld, the matter dearer than eyesight, spare, and liberty.” (King Lear, act 1, scene 1)

“Oh, I wish someone would use some of these quotes on me,” Lena sighed.

“Would you swoon?” Cullen teased.

“Depends on the quote and the guy,” Lena teased back.

“Oh-ho, she sure told you,” Pascal commented.

“Hear my soul speak, the very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service, there resides to make me slave to it.” (Tempest, act 3, scene 1) Samantha quoted.

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.” (Much Ado about Nothing, act 5, scene 2) Kipper replied with a twinkle in his eye which Samantha immediately noticed.

“His good remembrance, sir, lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb.” (All’s Well, act 1, scene 2) Geoffrey came up with one.

“Now children, let the adults play,” Mary scolded them gently with a smile.

“She’s beautiful and therefore to be wooed. She is a woman, therefore, to be won.” (Henry VI, act 5, scene 3) Devin made a pointed gesture to Catherine.

The men in the crowd snickered, while the woman groaned their protest. Catherine furrowed her brow as she considered what, if anything, would be the proper response to this.

“O, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side.” (Measure for Measure, act 3, scene 1) Catherine placed a hand in Devin’s shoulder.

“Now Devin, Catherine---I will allow these quotes.” Mary told them. “But please stick to the game plan and not start the insult game again, please.’

“The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.” (Measure for Measure, act 3, scene 1) Father walked over and kissed Mary’s hand with great exaggeration.

“If music be the food of love, play on.” (Twelfth Night, act 1, scene 1) A voice shouted from the crowd. “Go for it, Father!”

“Once he kissed me, I loved my lips the better ten days after, would he would do so every day.” (2 Noble Kinsmen, act 2, scene 4) Devin sauntered around the room, impressed by his quote.

“You have witchcraft in your lips.” (Henry V, act 5, scene 2) Kanin chimed in from the back of the crowd.

“Hey, no kibbitzing from the peanut gallery!” Devin told the unwanted heckler.

William raised his hand for silence. “We will have none of that now. This is between our four combatants, not the entire community---yet.”

“Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth, to be a liar, but never doubt I love.” (Hamlet, act 1, scene 5) Vincent paced around the open area, almost challenging anyone to doubt his comment.

“Words are easy, like the wind, faithful friends are hard to find.” (The Passionate Pilgram) Devin immediately followed.

“With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come.” (Merchant of Venice) Father rubbed his chin to emphasize his comment.

“Again, that is not necessarily a compliment,” William told Father.

“Oh. Very well. A-hem. ‘Did my heart love till now? Foreswear it sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this nite.” (Romeo and Juliet) Father quoted with great flourish.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” (The Tempest) Vincent countered as he glanced at Catherine.

‘How far that little candle throws his beams so shines a good deed in a weary world.” (Merchant of Venice) Narcissa commented as she came into the room.

“For she has eyes and chose me.” (Othello) Elizabeth stated as she, too, entered the room.

“Thank you, Elizabeth and Narcissa. But since this is between our combatants, you must refrain from quoting Shakespeare.” Mary looked to Father, who graciously acquiesced.

“For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?” (Much Ado about Nothing) Devin sent a meaningful look at Rebecca.

“Shall I make a list?” Rebecca teased Devin after this quote.

“Me, bad parts? You jest!” Devin teased back.

“I’ll follow thee and make a haven of hell to die upon the hand I love so well.” (Midsummer Night’s Dream) Father intoned.

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.” (Much Ado about Nothing) Catherine blew a kiss to Vincent.

Vincent looked at Catherine as he delivered their next quote. “If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.” (Shakespeare) He paced from Father to Devin and then back to Catherine.

“Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.” (Merchant of Venice) Father teased Vincent.

Soon the spectators noticed it was taking Vincent and Catherine longer and longer to answer Father or Devin. After waiting a few minutes, Father looked at Devin, then at Vincent and Catherine.

“Do you concede?” Father asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“What, are you quitting?” Devin questioned.

“It seems ‘Fortune favors the bold’. Yes, we concede to Father and Devin-----this time.” Vincent said with a smile.

“I declare Father and Devin the victors of ‘The Compliment Game.’ William announced. “And in honor of their victory, I invite all of you to enjoy the cake and juice I’ve set out.”

Mary added. “Congratulations to the winners.”

Vincent walked over to Father who whispered, “Thank you.”

Then Vincent walked over and embraced Devin. “Vincent, thank you. I’ve never felt as close to Father as I have tonight. And I have Chandler here to thank for it.” Devin hugged Catherine as he expressed his gratitude.

“At least you made it ‘look’ like you weren’t throwing the game,” Devin teased.

“Whatever do you mean?” Catherine tried to look insulted by Devin’s comment but failed.

“The next time you are Below, I request a rematch, and Devin....” Vincent said as he stepped up to his brother. Leaning into his right ear, Vincent whispered, “No mercy!”

Devin visibly paled at that remark. Catherine smiled as she heard Vincent’s whispered comment. They joined Father at the table, and soon everyone was enjoying the dessert presented.

“I wonder what the next contest could consist of,” Mary stated as she drew close to the others.

“We shall have to wait and see,” Father put his arm around Mary and held her close.

Vincent, Catherine, and Devin smiled at the couple and then at each other, happy to be in each other’s company. Soon it was time for Catherine to return Above in order to prepare for work in the morning. They whispered their goodnights and were seen slowly making their way to Catherine’s threshold. Father, Mary, and Devin went to Father’s study to discuss the night’s events.

‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.’

*****

The Courtship of Kanin Evans

by Cindy Rae

*****

One of the most beautiful scenes in the show is the opening of “A Gentle Rain,” where Vincent lights many candles, and Catherine brings out-of-season lilacs down to what fandom has dubbed “The Anniversary Chamber.” It’s a visually gorgeous beginning. And the romantic undercurrents are, well, breathtaking, to say the least.

But this story isn’t about that, exactly. It isn’t about that story, which began so beautifully, yet told a much sadder tale. It’s about something else. Something more toward Kanin and Olivia’s beginning, rather than the events that happened later.

On the rewatch, you catch this exchange between Vincent and Catherine:

~

Catherine: “Was Olivia’s first husband this romantic?”

Vincent: “How can I judge? I didn’t even know Kanin was this romantic.”

~

Well, well, well, and you don’t say?

The sight of the Anniversary Chamber, the interaction between first Catherine and Vincent, then the obviously much-in-love Kanin and Olivia, lets you know one thing:

That this is a story that just plain wanted to be told.

So, I did. Sometimes the muse just plain nags you like that. I can’t help it.

I’ve read (and very much enjoyed) the stories that tell us what happened after “A Gentle Rain.” But I don’t know that there are many that tell us about what happened before that episode. This is my humble attempt to rectify that.

And I realized, (as I started to consider things) that Kanin and Olivia’s anniversary celebration (complete with baby Luke, for Kanin and Olivia) possibly put their initial romance in close proximity to what would have been the events of the pilot, time-wise.

In other words, the two couples might have been falling in love with each other at just about the same time.

That was too lovely an observation to just let pass by, so…

Please accept this little offering in the happy spirit with which it is intended.

~~~

Prologue

April, Come She Will

~~~

That fated month where no one realizes exactly what’s about to happen, but we all know something amazing is.

~~~

Kanin Evans had a history. But it was an Above history, and only Kanin himself knew it. He’d lied to gain entrance to the World of the Tunnels, and like any good fabricator (and twenty-year-old Kanin had been a very good fabricator when it came to that), he knew that he was a liar, too; that he’d betrayed the trust and goodwill of everyone around him. It was a fact he couldn’t escape, even as the world Above was a place he couldn’t call home ever again.

That truth (the truth which only Kanin knew) was part of what made him so helpful, so eager to be of good use, and so willing to put the needs of others before his own, especially in those early days.

It formed his character, Below. It was his way of apologizing for a sin no one else knew he’d committed. He tried to be a better man than the one who had sought refuge in the tunnels. He just did.

But time had an interesting effect on fabrications (and on fabricators), in that the jagged edges of the lie, the ones that had once been cuttingly sharp and apt to prick his conscience, well, those edges had been worn smooth with acceptance over the passing of many years.

Kanin discovered that nothing feels more true than a lengthy, oft-repeated lie, even to the teller. Like a pair of comfortable work boots or a frequently worn shirt, the lie was something he wore as easily as he wore his work gloves or his patched chinos. It became a part of him. It just did.

So, Kanin didn’t have to work so hard to tell the made-up story of where he’d come from or how he’d come to need the Tunnels. Those things had been accepted –and then mostly dismissed –as facts long ago… by everyone.

Everyone, including Kanin.

They were still lies, of course. Kanin had no illusions about that. But they were lies that no longer needed to be told, and retold, as the days slid into weeks, and then to months, and then to years.

There was a certain comfort in that, for Kanin. Yes, he still had an Above history. But it was a history that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. (Even if the reason for that was ignorance of the facts rather than the acceptance of those.)

There was comfort in that, too. It felt good to be accepted. It just did.

The people around him now felt they knew all they needed to about him: that in spite of his initial, quiet, even withdrawn beginnings, that he was (and pretty much always had been) seen as a good man who worked hard, and who helped others. He asked for almost nothing, tinkered with objects (and jobs) both large and small, and seemed almost eager to earn a place Below, as if he was still afraid he’d be sent back Above, if he failed to consistently prove his worth.

And he never drank. Ever. Not at his first Winterfest, nor his fifth, nor his twelfth. He was polite about it, yet firm, and as unwavering in that as he was about little else.

It was a trait some found endearing, even if they didn’t know the cause.

He wore spectacles to read, was reserved and self-contained, and above almost all else, he seemed to have a knack for doing what some said maybe couldn’t be done, as if whatever had happened to him before, the situation had been so impossible as to make him think that almost everything else was possible, given the chance.

It was a thing about him that others accepted and even admired.

Those who lived in the tunnels when Kanin had first come down also realized that the intervening years had made him more approachable and at ease as he lived his life below the city streets. It was that way for many who sought the world Below as a refuge, and there was no reason it should be different for him. Indeed, among the Tunnel Folk, the first few years were generally deemed to be the hardest. It had been that way for Kanin Evans, too. In that way, Kanin was relatable to everyone.

And being relatable made him even more accepted.

Unlike some others, he even went Above, occasionally, as the situation warranted it. He could be counted on to trade what little money the Tunnel Folk had to buy a new drill bit, a set of chisels, or a decent mallet when those needs arose. He was comfortable with doing that. Not all were.

His Above forays were brief but usually effective. He was comfortable, Up Top, or at least he wasn’t uncomfortable, there.

Olivia, on the other hand, was not comfortable in the world Above, either in it or with it. Tunnel-born, she was possessed of a dark, casual kind of beauty. She wore her hair loose, and long, and cut into the bangs of her girlhood. She was gentle, generous of spirit, and kind. She loved others freely, having been raised to do just that.

As a child, she’d played in the maze without incident and knew enough to know she shouldn’t have. She’d jumped naked into the falls, been nursed through a bad case of tonsillitis by Father, and learned to dance at Winterfest.

She’d adored her parents, an older couple who passed away before her first marriage. She also loved learning how to bake fresh bread, learning how to sew, and the taste of strawberry jam.

Younger than Vincent by several years, she never knew a time when he wasn’t there. She just didn’t. He was a constant in her life, like her hand-embroidered apron or her favorite beige chemise.

Like him, she considered herself a citizen of the Tunnels. Unlike him, she seldom longed for more.

The passing of her parents (and they went fairly close together for that) had been eased by the support of her extended Tunnel Family, and she’d grieved her folks with quiet grace. Pascal had helped her through it. He’d known what it was like to lose a father.

She’d had her heart broken only once, in early adulthood, by a man who’d been Below less than a handful of months, before they were wed. The match had been born of impulse and perhaps a bit of leftover grief on Olivia’s part.

In time, and much to her dismay, Olivia became painfully aware of the saying, “Marry in haste, repent at leisure.”

It had been a hard lesson to learn.

Ultimately, her husband had decided that Tunnel life was not for him, that though he was grateful for the refuge the World Below had afforded him, he wanted to resume his life Above.

Also ultimately, Olivia had decided to stay right where she was, even if that meant she had to let him go. There had been tears (on both sides) at their parting, but only so much acrimony.

After all, neither one could help what the other was.

Vincent had helped Olivia to see that. At the time, Olivia had been grateful for his support, and his wise counsel.

As one year slid into the next for her, the pain of the parting had lessened to almost nothing. Olivia considered herself a no longer married, childless woman. One who was raised on the song of the pipes, and one who’d taken her first lesson on those at the feet of Pascal’s father. She’d loved the Elder Pascal very much. And she’d loved all that he’d taught her.

Vincent, older and more bookish than Olivia, had always been a friend. He had listened to her stumble her way through Treasure Island after she’d first learned to read. Vincent had shared the book with her to give himself something to do in the hard years after Devin had left.

Olivia had known that Vincent needed the company. She hadn’t minded being that for him.

She loved Vincent in an unspoken, simple, sisterly way, even though their lives often seemed to go in different directions. He was a constant in her life, like the sound of the pipe song or the rush of the Great Falls.

But the two rarely spent the day in each other’s company: Vincent’s great strength kept him working wherever hard labor was needed, and he loved to explore the reaches of their mutual home. Olivia was more content to stay closer to her Chambers, or to the rooms she most often helped out in, like the Chandlery or her personal favorite, the Kitchen Chamber.

Olivia considered herself a fair cook and often took over for William on days when he needed the break. She often did the same for Rebecca. Being useful made her feel good. As good as being kind did.

If asked, she’d tell you she was generally a happy person.

A person who’d been roughly ten years old the day twenty-year-old Kanin Evans had shown up in the Tunnels.

Back then, the years between them were a gulf neither could cross, not that either one of them was looking to.

All of which was to say that neither Kanin nor Olivia were looking to fall in love, and even if they had been, they weren’t necessarily looking to do that with each other.

But, as a certain springtime came to New York, Kanin Evans, now a tunnel dweller for fourteen years, and gratefully content to be so, was possessed of a life that was about to change.

And it was about to change forever.

It was April, 1987. And April, it seemed, was about to do that for quite a few people.

~~~

Chapter One

Laundry Day

~~~

Where small things become large, and if Catherine had never come to the Tunnels, the whole thing might not have happened, anyway.

Because real life is like that sometimes.

~~~

“She’s gone, then? The Topsider woman?” Olivia asked Mary. They were washing clothes together in one of the antechambers off The Great Falls.

Mary nodded, adding a small piece of unscented soap to her washbasin. “Just today. Vincent took her back up. I suppose things can get back to normal now,” Mary replied, scrubbing Vincent’s pillowcase on a washboard for him. “Can you get the bandages out of that wicker basket for me?”

Olivia nodded and took a long bundle of cotton wrapping out of the basket. The bandage was the one Catherine had unwrapped from her badly damaged face just that morning.

Olivia put the dingy cloth strips in a bucket of bleach water to soak. They could be used again, as the need arose, as long as they were cleaned properly. She tossed a white undershirt of hers in with them, along with a pair of cotton athletic socks. There was no sense letting good bleach water go to waste.

“Kipper says Vincent sent him clean to Chinatown to get tea for her,” Olivia commented, pushing the fabric down in the bleach bucket. The bleach found a small cut on her hand and made it sting. She paid it no mind.

Mary looked up from her chore. “He did? William said she liked his potato soup. Or at least that’s what Vincent told him,” she replied. She moved the pillowcase into a large tub of rinse water, dunked it several times, then wrung it out hard, squeezing all the water out that she could.

The arthritis in her left knee twinged a little as she rose from her chore. She didn’t complain about it. It wasn’t her way.

Mary knew that she was nearly done here. Olivia, on the other hand, was just getting started.

The older woman shook out the pillowcase, pinned it to a long clothesline, and let the off-white fabric drip on the stones. It would air dry in time. Beside it hung more of Vincent’s bed linens: an additional pillowcase, plus the top and fitted sheets that Catherine had slept on while she’d stayed Below.

They were all drying on the line as they dripped on the rocky floor. Whatever scent Catherine had left on them, it was being erased by Mary’s earnest efforts. Even though she didn’t think of it in those terms, Mary knew it was true.

Time to set things to rights. Get things back to normal, she mused, pleased with her handiwork.

“Speaking of potato soup, I hope we’re having some later,” Mary said, conversationally, as she took the rest of her cake of homemade soap out of her pocket and tossed it back into her laundry basket. Like its owner, it was plain, effective, and unscented. Mary had never cared much for heavy fragrances.

Olivia differed from Mary in that regard. She liked lilacs. She always had.

Still working on her own clothes, Olivia smiled. “William makes the best soup. I bet that Topsider woman never had better, Above,” she replied, feeling in her heart that whatever it was the Above world had to offer, that most of that could be beaten by what could be had here, Below.

A familiar male voice gave answer to her. “Her name was Catherine, if we’re talking about the woman who’s been in Vincent’s Chambers the last ten days,” Kanin Evans said from the doorway. His dirty clothes were in a green army duffel bag, slung casually over his shoulder.

“We were,” Mary replied, brushing her hands down her apron. “I just hope… well. I hope Vincent is all right from it,” she said, knowing that she was gossiping, just a little.

“Why shouldn’t he be?” Olivia asked dismissively. “It was her that was hurt, not him.”

Mary exchanged a look with Kanin, and the look spoke volumes.

“You know Vincent,” Kanin said kindly, settling his duffel down on the stones, and opening it. He put grated soap into the bottom of a large metal washbasin, then poured a bucket of water over that to get the lather to rise. Work clothes went in: heavy jeans, a denim jacket, an assortment of plaid work shirts, and a pair of thrice darned socks.

“Well, I need to see to the hospital chamber before it gets much later. Father’s still finding things out of order from the night Vincent brought Catherine down,” Mary stated.

“You want I should bring Vincent’s bedclothes back to him once they’re dry, Mary? And the bandages, to Father?” Olivia offered.

“It would be a help. Thank you, yes, Olivia.” Mary replied.

With an economy of movement she was known for, Mary finished gathering up her things and made her way out of the chamber.

“Work to do. I don’t think she ever stops,” Kanin said, nodding toward the doorway, and Mary’s departure.

Olivia nodded. “I think you’re right.”

She gestured toward the deep basin of clear rinse water. “The rinse water’s barely used. We can share, if you want,” Olivia offered, wringing out a section of bandage. She placed it in the large enamel tub that served as the rinse cycle, for tunnel clothing.

“Thanks. Don’t know if you want my shirts mixing in with the hospital things, though,” Kanin replied, settling a washboard into an oaken tub. It was clear that he had some scrubbing to do.

Olivia eyed the long strips of bandage. “Should be okay. Father will boil them all before he uses them, right enough. You know how careful he is.”

She paused.

“What do you think Mary meant about Vincent being hurt?” Olivia asked, wringing out more of what had once been a white bed sheet, cut into long lengths, for Catherine’s bandages.

Kanin glanced over at the lovely young woman next to him. Eyes cast down, she seemed intent on her chore, but there was a subtle frown line between her expressive, dark brows.

He’s your friend. So, you’re concerned for him. Vincent had a woman in his bed and in his care for ten days. A young woman. A Topsider woman. Who knows what that means for him? Kanin thought but didn’t say.

His reply was as tactful as he could make it. “He broke all the rules to bring her down. He took care of her every day for more than a week: tended her hurts, fed her, talked to her, read a book to her. I heard his voice from outside the doorway when I brought him the map that showed him that her apartment had tunnel access.”

He let Olivia digest that.

Kanin kept his voice soft and as matter-of-fact as he could. “Vincent… he might have come to care for her, Olivia.” Kanin tacked on.

Olivia glanced up, and Kanin was struck by how innocent she looked. Her wide brown eyes were lovely and clear. She’d been a married woman. She knew how things were between the sexes. Still, she was that rare creature who still seemed innocent, for all the experience she must have had.

“You think he might?” she asked.

Kanin nodded. He’d heard Vincent’s voice as he read. And he’d seen the way Vincent had looked at his charge on at least one occasion.

“I think he might,” Kanin replied.

Olivia frowned a little, not liking the idea that Vincent might get hurt.

“It’s impossible, though. She’s a Topsider. And she has a boyfriend. The papers said so,” Olivia insisted as if that settled things.

“And she’s rich,” Kanin added as if anyone needed one more reason why things between Vincent and Catherine seemed utterly impossible.

He finished scrubbing his shirt, wrung it, then carefully dunked it in the rinse basin, where it mingled with the bandages Olivia had tended.

Together, the two tunnel dwellers worked in silence for a while.

Then Olivia glanced his way as she scrubbed her own shirt. “I don’t think she’s… Catherine is… Tunnel kind,” Olivia said, with no accusation in her voice. It was simply how she saw things.

“Not everybody is,” Kanin agreed with her at least that much.

Olivia nodded at that. “When Don left, it was because he knew he couldn’t stay here, anymore. He had family, Above. A sister and some nieces.”

Did he now? I guess I can relate. It was a thing Kanin could think but never say.

Olivia, unaware of his wayward thoughts, continued talking about her ex-husband. “He said he missed watching baseball on the TV and working on cars. He said he was sorry, and I knew he was, but, well, we all know this life isn’t for everybody.” She said it simply, and without rancor, as she wrung out the shirt and tossed it into the tub of rinse water.

“People come here. But not all of them stay… or are meant to,” she reasoned, dunking an apron into the wash. It bore gravy stains from the last time she’d helped William make pot roast. She gave it her attention, as Kanin watched her work, out of the corner of his eye.

Oh. I see. There it is. You were left once. By a Topsider man who decided he couldn’t stay. Like Vincent was left. You know how that can hurt. That’s why you’re not letting this go so easy.

Kanin looked down and watched her hands at their chore. Her fingers were long, white, and lovely. The nails were close pared, but there was an elegance to them he’d never noticed before as they dipped in and out of the foamy water.

The third finger of her left hand had once worn a wedding ring. But there was no trace of that now.

“No. Not everybody stays… or is meant to,” he agreed.

Don should have realized he wasn’t going to stay down here before he asked you to marry him, Kanin thought, but again, didn’t say.

He picked up a filthy pair of white socks and made to toss them into his wash bucket.

There was a smile in Olivia’s voice as she gently reproached him. “Don’t do that! Those are white! Or at least they would be if they were clean!” The smile was on her lips, even as it was in her amazing eyes, and she gently tugged his dirty socks out of his hand, meaning to put them in the bleach bucket, before her, the one that had contained Catherine’s bandages only minutes before.

Kanin turned to face her fully as she smiled at him.

It was the oddest thing – that smile. It was something that Kanin had seen before on her. Olivia was, by nature, a thoughtful, generally happy person. She smiled at William, and Father, and Vincent, and Mary, and Rebecca, and Pascal, and Randolph, and at all the children in turn. On occasion, she’d even smiled at him when he’d brought her something she’d needed or happened by him while he was on sentry duty.

But this smile, for no real reason he could name, was different. In a room that smelled like bleach and whatever floral soap she favored, with a low fire going in the brazier to keep the room warm and help get the hanging clothes dry, this smile was aimed at him fully.

And she was offering to help him with something.

Her long fingers brushed his, accidentally, and the incidental contact sent something like a mild electric shock up his arm.

Olivia.

For a brief, blinding moment, it was the only thing he could think. Just her name. Just that.

His socks were in the bleach water before he even knew what to say.

He looked down into his wash bucket. His very dirty jeans were making the water grey.

“W-what should I do with my tan shirt?” Kanin asked, realizing he’d just stammered a little.

He kept his eyes fixed down, realizing too late that he should have washed the light-colored shirt before he’d tackled the very grubby denim. Also realizing that his arm still tingled a little.

“Um… I’ll take it and put it in with mine,” she replied, a little breathlessly. “Then you can, uh… rinse it there.”

Did you feel it, too? He wondered. He wasn’t sure. But something in her voice indicated to him that maybe she had.

She took his shirt, and it too was sinking into her wash water before she realized she might have made a slight error.

“Uh-oh. Hope you don’t mind smellin’ like lilacs,” Olivia said, watching his shirt sink into her wash tub.

Olivia. Lilacs, he thought.

He gave his head a slight shake to clear it.

I don’t. I don’t mind at all, Olivia, Kanin thought, glad to have a name for the fragrance she obviously preferred.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. Thank you.” He reached into her bucket to wash his shirt, struck by how intimate a thing it was to be touching her clothes as he touched his own.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, blushing a little, for no reason she could name.

After a moment, it was Kanin who spoke up and said something she didn’t expect:

“Don was a fool. This life might not be for everybody, but I promise you it’s the only one I want,” he stated emphatically, being as honest with her as he could about that. I’m not like him. I’ll never leave this place, not willingly.

She smiled again at his declaration that this life, this Tunnel life, was the only one he wanted.

“Me, too,” she returned, watching as his socks mingled her undershirt. They looked companionable, as they swished around in the water together and brushed against each other.

They looked like maybe they could belong together. Maybe.

“Me, too,” she repeated, not knowing why she did that. Her hand tingled where it had brushed Kanin’s, and she put both of them down in the bleach water to stop the sensation. After a minute, she pulled them back out, one of his newly cleaned socks in her fist. A small cut showed on the back of her left hand.

“Your hand is cut,” Kanin said, tugging the sock away. He let it drop back into the bleach bucket as he held her hand, lightly, inspecting the damage.

The electric sensation happened again.

“J-just a small one.” This time, it was Olivia who stammered, ever so slightly. “The bleach makes it sting. It will be all right.”

She was talking faster than she needed to, feeling very aware and a little more breathless, for the first time in a very long time.

“We’ll make sure of that,” Kanin said, turning her hand so he could assess the small cut. It was nothing, but suddenly he wished Catherine’s bandages were dry so he could bind it for her.

He also realized that he was fighting the urge to plant a kiss there on her offended flesh. After a moment, they both had to acknowledge that he’d held her hand a touch too long. He let it go.

“I… I was going to take Vincent’s bedding back to him after I hang up my things,” Olivia said. “Would you… would you like to help me?”

If you’re asking, ‘Do I want to be with you? The answer is, ‘yes.’

If it gave him an excuse to be there with her, he was for it. Olivia, it seemed, felt much the same.

“I would. Very much. I’ll help you, Olivia,” Kanin replied, the words fraught with a deeper meaning.

Internally, a distant alarm bell started ringing inside him. You can’t offer her more than friendship. She doesn’t know what you are.

He ignored it.

She smiled yet again, and she blushed becomingly to go with it. Kanin temporarily silenced any wayward thought about the past he might have had. She was enchanting. She just was.

Whoever Don was, he might have held you. But he never had your heart. Not truly, Kanin realized, pleased with the knowledge.

“Okay,” she said simply.

“Okay,” he returned.

The blush deepened a little. “You, uh, you can call me Livvy. If you want,” Olivia invited.

Livvy. Yes. Her parents had called her Livvy. Don hadn’t, but her parents had. People who loved her had called her Livvy.

Kanin wondered if he was about to be included in their number. And he still wondered if he had a right to that, considering all the things he knew about himself that she didn’t.

He had no answer for any of it. But he knew that in front of him, with the air scented with lilacs and bleach water, Olivia was waiting for his answer.

“Okay, Livvy,” he said, returning her shy smile with one of his own.

~~~

Chapter Two

Intermezzo

Where Vincent struggles with the beginnings of the Bond, and Kanin begins to understand that both of them are men who might be falling in love with women they can’t have… but for different reasons.

~~~

In the weeks that followed, Catherine remained Above, had her surgeries, healed from that without anyone ever reading her the last chapter of Great Expectations, quit Chandler and Coolidge, applied for a job at the District Attorney’s Office, and set about at least some of the changes that would re-make her life.

They were all things she had to do. So, she did them.

For most of the Tunnel Folk, however, life returned to normal. Which is to say that it returned to the thing that it was before Catherine Chandler had crashed, so unexpectedly, into their lives.

For Vincent, however, it didn’t.

It didn’t, because it couldn’t.

Kanin, closer in age to Vincent than anyone else in the tunnels, thought he understood; because since the day Catherine had gone back to her world, things hadn’t really returned to normal for him, either.

In the first week or so after laundry day, Kanin had tried being near Olivia more often.

And then, terrified of what might be happening between them and knowing he could never be completely honest with her about who (and in some ways ‘what’) he was, he’d tried to stay away from her.

It hurt. But like lying, the sting grew less with time. – Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But then he’d see Olivia again, on her way to the Laundry Chamber, again, or coming out of the Chandlery, or William’s Kitchen. He’d see her, and the longing would begin anew.

She seemed to be waiting for him to make some move. He knew that. And he knew he was rebuffing her as gently as he could.

“Coming to supper?” she’d asked one time, as she’d bumped into him in the hallway. Her invitation was clear.

“No,” he said, even though he’d been about to do just that.

Her disappointment was plain on her face. Unlike him, she wasn’t as adept at covering her true feelings.

“I uh… I have to go to the Pipe Chamber,” Kanin had added quickly. “I think Pascal needs me for something.”

And he’d walked the other way, leaving her standing there.

He was aware that he was cutting her off and not liking why he felt he needed to.

I don’t want to lie to you, Livvy. Everybody else I can take. But you?

He avoided her the next day. And the next. He didn’t like that development, either. And that was an understatement.

As recompense, he volunteered for the heaviest, dirtiest work. Also, the jobs that took him away from the areas Olivia frequented. Like the ones where new chambers were formed for those who wanted to come down.

It hurts, Kanin thought, one evening, watching Vincent punish a wall with a heavy mallet for being in his way. The two of them were making a new chamber. Out of necessity, they were pushing out, against the edges of their home. The other rooms were full, so it was time to make more.

A piece of granite broke off, and fell near Vincent’s feet, smashing into smaller pieces as it did so.

The big man seemed to barely notice, as he continued pounding at the wall in front of him.

Kanin knew the feeling. It was something he’d been doing himself the past few weeks.

We’re two men… well, two males, at least, in our thirties and in our prime. And we think we’re falling in love with someone. And we’re afraid of what that means, Kanin mused, watching Vincent take a hard swing at what was shaping up to be the doorway to the chamber.

A new family wanted to move in. They needed room. It was a common problem, lately.

Still, Kanin recognized the hard swing of Vincent’s hammer for what it was: Vincent was using the chore as a way to blow off steam, as a way to keep his hands busy, while his mind was somewhere else.

Kanin was pretty sure he knew where “somewhere else” was. Or more specifically, who “someone else” was.

“Just a little wider on the doorway ought to do it,” Kanin said easily, clearing the rubble Vincent was making out of the way. He tossed it into a woven carry-all.

The rocks would all need to be carted somewhere. Some of them would probably go into making a false wall, or some such, but most of them would end up dumped someplace, the Abyss, more than likely. Keeping the stones clear of Vincent’s feet was Kanin’s job at the moment.

Vincent kept swinging, not acknowledging his companion’s comment verbally.

Doorway. Why do we call them doorways when there are no doors down here? Vincent thought peevishly.

It was an irritating bit of mental flotsam, and it showed in how he swung his hammer. Rotating around, Vincent’s massive shoulders helped bring the head of the hammer down for another mighty blow.

Behind him, Kanin kept up his unanswered commentary: “They’ve got four kids. Hey! Easy there, big guy. You’ll break the handle, swinging it that hard.”

Kanin dodged a piece of flying granite as it sailed past his ear. This far back, he should have been out of range. Should have been.

Vincent, not turning, felt the hickory handle shudder in his hands. Hard.

The big beast knew Kanin was right. Much more of this, and he’d splinter the wood and render the valuable tool useless. Vincent checked his swing before he could shatter the handle with his next blow.

The hammer hit, less satisfyingly but less dangerously this time. He let it drop, allowing the tool’s own considerable weight to bring it low. He knew he was breathing hard.

“Four children.” He set the heavy hammer down at his feet and leaned on the handle. “That will be… challenging to provide for.” He gulped in air.

Kanin nodded, watching the larger man struggle to regain his equilibrium.

“The youngest is legally blind,” Kanin said. “Father says we’ll manage. But we’ll need to figure out how to accommodate for that.” He was having one conversation but thinking another.

You’d stay here all night if I hadn’t stopped you. Seems like you’ve got it as bad as I do, my friend, Kanin thought.

Vincent, sweating in the cool air, was due for a break. Past due. He left the hammer leaning against the stones, then turned his back to the wall. Kicking some of his recent rubble aside, he slid down to a sitting position. Kanin came over and followed suit.

Vincent regained his composure, even if he couldn’t quite regain his normal sense of optimism. “This place can be… perilous enough for the sighted. Perhaps Father should reconsider.”

Vincent eyed the archway of the newly-forming chamber. His mouth was set in a grim line.

It wasn’t like Vincent to let someone’s limitations stand in their way, and both men knew it.

“Narcissa has trouble seeing, and she seems to navigate it well enough,” Kanin observed, uncorking his waterskin. He took a long drink and then offered it to Vincent, who accepted.

Narcissa has more sight than most people know, Vincent thought, letting the tepid water soothe his parched throat. It was only then that he realized how long he’d been working without a rest.

“I’m… I’m sure we’ll make it work,” Vincent replied, returning the water skin. Kanin set it down between them.

“Yeah,” Kanin said noncommittally, looking at the two days’ worth of work Vincent had accomplished in a handful of hours.

“Something on your mind?” Kanin asked conversationally.

Vincent paused and considered the question. Yes. Yes, there is something on my mind. What an appropriate way to put it. ‘On my mind.’ I can sense her. Right now. I can feel what she’s feeling. She’s busy. The day has been a long one. She’s tired, and she wants to go home, but she can’t… not yet.

“What time is it?” Vincent asked, by way of answer.

Kanin checked his wristwatch. “Six-fifteen. Past dinnertime,” Kanin prompted.

“She’s working late,” Vincent said, the words out of his mouth before he could call them back.

“Who is?” Kanin asked the question in his friendly blue eyes.

Vincent realized his mistake. “We. I meant to say, ‘We are working late,’” Vincent said, avoiding eye contact.

Sure, you did. No, you didn’t, Kanin thought but knew better than to say.

He had no idea that Vincent and Catherine shared a bond. But he knew the look of a man who was thinking about a woman. It was one he was starting to recognize in his own mirror.

Kanin rubbed his palms together, thinking as he did so.

“So… Do you think Olivia has eaten already?” Kanin asked, changing the subject.

Olivia? The question turned Vincent’s leonine head.

Vincent, grateful for the change of topic, wasn’t I enough to be fooled by it. It was now his turn to shoot his friend an interested look.

Blue eyes met blue. Much was revealed in the shared glance.

“She takes supper early. A habit from her mother, I think,” Vincent replied carefully.

Kanin nodded at that. “I… the thing is… Vincent, do you think you could … maybe… oh, I don’t know. Put a good word in for me? With Olivia?”

Vincent continued to assess his friend. Olivia? You and Olivia?

Vincent had been much too absorbed with his own concerns to realize that something was brewing between his two friends.

He gave an encouraging reply. “If you wish. But I cannot think of anything I could say that her own eyes couldn’t tell her, Kanin. She knows you to be a fine man.”

Kanin smiled softly at the praise, even if part of him felt it was undeserved. One of us is a fine man. And deserves the love of a good woman. The other one is me. I know it’s wrong for me to want this. But I can’t shake this feeling of wanting to be near her. I’ve tried. And I can’t.

“It’s just… I don’t know. When I first came down, she was just this little kid, you know?” he said, by way of explanation.

Now it was Vincent’s turn to smile. “I think she has not been that for some time, my friend.”

Kanin changed from rubbing his palms to scrubbing them on his jeans. His expression grew thoughtful.

“Do you think… do you think we all deserve a chance at love, Vincent?” Kanin asked. “No matter what we’ve done? Or who we are?”

It was a question Kanin had been wrestling with lately. Hard.

It was one Vincent had been wrestling with, as well.

And it was a loaded question, to be sure, but Vincent didn’t understand the subtleties of it, when it came to Kanin.

“I think… every person has a right to such a thing,” he replied evenly, still thinking they were talking about Kanin.

Good. Then you agree with me.

Kanin rose.

“Fine. Then that means you do, too,” Kanin stated. He hefted up the woven basket full of sharp stones and put the long carrying strap over his shoulder.

I… what? Vincent thought, taking a moment to catch up. On the one hand, yes, he’d fully meant to include himself in his statement. But on the other hand…

“Time to call it a day,” Kanin instructed, hefting the load.

“I suppose it is,” Vincent agreed, offering to help carry. Kanin declined.

“You get the tools.”

Vincent did so, gathering up several chisels and the heavy mallet. Kanin, who could have been walking ahead of him, instead waited.

“Perhaps… Olivia came later to dinner. She might still be in the dining hall. Perhaps even… looking for you,” Vincent suggested, lifting the heavy canvas bag full of tools.

Kanin nodded and turned his attention to the only “she” Vincent might have been speaking about earlier.

Catherine. She’ll be off work soon. Though I have no idea how you know she’s still working, Kanin thought.

“Maybe she will,” Kanin replied, the knowledge that Olivia might be waiting for him lightening his step.

In his sensitive mind, Vincent felt Catherine also setting aside her work for the day. She was tired but determined.

“I should have stopped sooner. I hope she’s there for you, Kanin. I hope I didn’t keep you too long,” Vincent said.

“If you did, there’s always tomorrow. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see her today,” Kanin returned.

Indeed. If only I could see Catherine. Today, tomorrow... any tomorrow. That is, any tomorrow except the actual tomorrow. The summer sun refuses to set. I don’t remember it being light for so long. I feel…trapped, inside these walls.

The weight of the tool bag pulled on Vincent’s shoulder. Kanin was similarly burdened.

“I’m… I guess I’ve been thinking about Livvy... Olivia... a lot lately,” Kanin admitted simply, interrupting his thoughts.

Vincent, for his part, knew the feeling of thinking about a woman. And as feelings went, it was starting to become one he knew very well.

“Perhaps you’ll think of a way to see the woman who seems to… fascinate you so,” Vincent consoled, very much doubting that Olivia was still in the Dining Chamber.

Kanin paused his step and turned. Blue eyes locked with blue again. “Maybe you will, too,” Kanin replied.

Vincent said nothing to that, but the look on his face spoke volumes between the two men.

I do not think so. But that doesn’t mean I don’t value your acceptance that I could, Vincent thought.

~~~

Chapter Three

Out on the Perimeter

Where Kanin schemes just a bit to be near Olivia, because love makes us do crazy things, sometimes.

~~~

“I’m telling ya. The right kind of chisels? The right kind of knife? You can carve the Mona Lisa out of a piece of scrap plywood,” Cullen enthused, showing off his favorite set of carving tools.

“You don’t say,” Kanin replied, humoring the other man.

Talking about woodworking was a thing Cullen had been doing for the past hour, ever since Kanin had come into his shop, asking questions.

“Carve it, burn it in, paint it… you can sign your name with a hot nail… or slam it in there with a sledgehammer,” Cullen continued, putting away some of his hammers. Each one seemed to have a particular spot on his workbench.

“And you taught yourself?” Kanin asked, hoping his interest didn’t seem feigned.

Cullen nodded. “A hundred percent. Never did anything like this Up Top. But I guess… well, I guess we all figure out what we’re good at, down here.”

Kanin inclined his head, knowing it was true. “I guess we do.”

“Sure. And you can use any tool. Anything metal, especially. Heat the point on a screwdriver and burn an image into the wood. Like painting a picture. Or signing your name. Not as smooth as a pen, but it lasts forever,” he stated.

Cullen held up an example of a time he’d done just that. Again, Kanin nodded his understanding.

And then... an opening. One Kanin had been waiting for.

“Thing is… I really do wish I had another day.” Cullen rubbed his scruffy beard thoughtfully. “Mouse has been telling everybody it’s his birthday tomorrow. And I really need some more time to finish his present. Even if it isn’t his real birthday.”

The older man sighed and tugged a long wooden box over. It had Mouse’s name carved into it and clearly held spots for various tools. It was missing a carrying handle and clearly needed to be finished.

“I think he decided a long time ago that the day Vincent found him counts as his birthday,” Kanin replied, admiring the piece. He seized on the opportunity he’d come in here to find.

“So... how much more work do you need to do on it?” Kanin asked.

Cullen shrugged, the motion lifting the flannel shirt he wore. “I need to stain it now, then give it time to dry. Then attach two long side pieces and a thick wooden dowel to carry it by. I’ll probably have to turn that on the lathe. There’s nothing sturdy enough among the scrap.”

“Sounds like you need the evening,” Kanin nudged.

Cullen lifted his shoulders again, defeat in the gesture. “Yeah. But I’ve got sentry duty this evening.”

I know you do. And I know who has it with you. Perfect.

Kanin had wanted to find a way to take Cullen’s shift on sentry duty this evening without making it obvious that he’d come in here with that very goal in mind.

“Um… say, why don’t I take your shift so you can finish up here? You should be able to get it done, and—”

“Nah, I couldn’t ask,” Cullen waved away a dismissive hand. “It’s almost out on the perimeter. You pitched in for me last month when—”

“You had the flu. It was okay,” Kanin interrupted. “If you feel that bad about it, you can take my shift, Thursday. We’ll trade.”

Cullen dug a wadded piece of notebook paper out of his breast pocket and looked at some scribbles on the note, checking his schedule. “I, uh, well, that might be okay. But Pascal and I are going mapping Friday. Might be gone for a bit. We could use a third.”

Kanin shook his head, politely refusing. “I’ll take your turn at sentry, though. It’s not a problem. Mouse would be disappointed if he missed out on this,” Kanin said, indicating the toolbox.

Kanin zipped up his jacket. He knew when to leave. And that time was “now,” when it sounded like the issue had been decided. He moved toward the doorway, giving Cullen no time to protest further.

“Well, if you’re really okay with…”

Kanin stepped into the tunnel hallway, as Cullen’s voice drifted out behind him.

A few steps farther down, he began to whistle.

I love it when a plan comes together, he thought.

~~~

Sentry duty had been a thing that was accomplished in pairs for almost as long as “sentry duty” had been a job. In case of intruders or some other mishap, it allowed one person to keep an eye on what was going on, while the other went back to make a report, get help, or tap out an important message on the pipes.

On calm nights (and most nights were calm) it ensured that both parties stayed awake. Sending two people to work together was a way to help the time pass easier.

Easier… and better, Kanin thought, setting down a small basket. He hoped it looked like his own late-night meal and not the picnic for two he intended it to be. William had made crumb cake. Kanin knew Olivia had a fondness for it, so he’d snagged a couple pieces. Well, that and some sliced apples. And a roast beef sandwich, conveniently cut in quarters. And a thermos of lemonade.

He knew he was early, on purpose. He spread out a small blanket, settled himself down in the sand, and pulled a book out of his knapsack. He hoped he looked casual, for when she appeared.

Which, a few minutes later, she did.

“Kanin! Didn’t think I’d see you here. Cullen, okay?” she asked breezing in, her own canvas bag for the evening in tow. She was wearing a blue skirt and a white blouse, with a patchwork brown vest on top. A multicolored crocheted wrap draped across her shoulders. The skirt had deep pockets, and two drumsticks protruded from the left one.

The wrap that had covered her shoulders was about to serve as her blanket for the floor. It disappointed Kanin a little that she hadn’t simply sat on his.

Can’t much blame her though, can I? I’ve barely said a dozen words to her, since the last time I blew her off.

“Cullen’s fine,” Kanin answered. “Had to finish a present for Mouse. You can… you can sit by me if you want to, Livvy. It’s a little chilly for June,” he explained, telling her why she might want to keep her wrap.

It was a flimsy excuse. The June night wasn’t actually “chilly.”

But if Olivia knew it was an excuse, she decided to play along.

“Oh! Thank you!” Her smile was the bright, lovely thing Kanin had come to know. She gave it away often, and near as he could tell, without reservation.

She scooped up her wrap, shook it out, and returned it to her shoulders.

“I uh… I guess things have been busy lately,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t press him for an excuse as to why he hadn’t seen her more often.

“I guess they have. I wanted to knit Mouse a vest for his birthday, but it looks like it’s just gonna be a scarf this year,” Olivia said, indicating that she had been busy as well.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“Did you get him something? Not that you have to. You know it’s not a rule.”

Kanin nodded. “Set of pliers. Well… half a set. Two of the five are missing. And they’re pretty old. But they’re still in good shape,” Cullen replied, happy to watch her as she dropped her bag and settled herself down on his blanket.

“Well. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, too. You know how he loves tools,” Olivia replied.

I do. What do you love, Livvy?

She fidgeted with the contents of her bag. “I brought a thermos of coffee. You’re welcome to share. But I gotta warn you, I like it sweet. Sarah says it’s a wonder I don’t have cavities, as much sugar as I put in.”

So… you like lilacs and you take a lot of sugar in your coffee. Good to know.

“I like sweet,” he replied, meaning it in more ways than one.

She unscrewed the cap from the thermos and poured the cup, offering him the first sip. He kept his mouth to one side of the plastic, knowing she’d use the other.

It was indeed sweet. Very.

Olivia chuckled as he tried to hide the face he was making. “Told you,” she said.

He cleared his throat, smiled, and handed the cup back to her. “That you did. I didn’t think you could get a whole bag of sugar in there.”

“My Papa took it the same. He used to tell Mama, ‘Just keep stirring it in until the spoon stands up in it, Janice!’”

She laughed at the memory, and Kanin realized how much he liked it when she did that. It made his heart leap, a bit. He knew if he touched her now, he’d have the electric feeling he’d had back when they were in the Laundry Chamber, together.

Down, boy. He shook himself mentally.

“I better go check the hallway,” he said, rising to go look out through the loose brick. The night was calm and sweet-smelling. Her lilacs were in bloom, somewhere.

“All clear,” he said, knowing it would be. They’d have heard anyone in the area long before they’d seen them, more than likely.

“Should be quiet. Last time we had any trouble, it was near Sam Denton’s place,” Olivia said.

“You had sentry duty there?” Kanin asked, not liking that part of town for her.

Olivia shook her head. “I went with Vincent. Took Sam a basket and a book of crossword puzzles to go with his medicine. He’s looked better. I kinda wish he’d come back down for a spell. But I don’t think he will.”

Kanin didn’t think so, either. For good or ill, Sam Denton’s son, Mitch, was due to get out of jail within the year. Sam probably wanted to be there for him. An idea which had questionable merit all the way around.

“Vincent will keep an eye on him,” Kanin said.

“I suppose.”

She was leaning on one hand, a Tunnel Venus, reclining on the small blanket he used to cover the foot of his twin-sized bed. He wondered if he’d ever be able to use it again without thinking about her.

“Livvy, I… I…”

I what? I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you? And I’m maybe more afraid for you, if that’s right? I want to be with you, yet there’s a part of me that doesn’t dare? Hell.

“…I um… I brought some cake in my bag. Just in case you want something sweet to go with your sugar,” he finished lamely, kneeling back down beside her.

“No, thanks. I’m full from supper. Maybe later,” she declined politely, trying to read him.

I keep thinking you’re gonna say one thing. Then you say omething’ else. Have you always been like this? Or is it just me, who’s now noticing? Olivia wondered.

“I like it that you remembered to call me ‘Livvy,’ though,” she said, looking down. She blushed a little, as he settled himself back down on the blanket with her.

I do not remember the last time a woman other than you blushed, in front of me. Or if one ever did. But Lord, I like it. Like you. I like you so much, Livvy, he thought.

She tugged her skirt out of his way. She was about to ask about the book he’d been reading when he spoke first.

“That’s quite the set of sticks you have there,” Kanin observed as she arranged her skirt back around her. She had to adjust the two drumsticks so they wouldn’t poke her in the side.

She touched them fondly. “Habit. Been carrying them with me a long time, especially for sentry duty,” Olivia replied, grinning down at them a little.

She tugged them free of her pocket, and it was only then that Kanin realized how truly impressive they were. They were much thicker than regular drumsticks, and longer by a good bit they reminded him very much of the ones Pascal often carried with him. Made of turned oak, they were sturdy, easy to use, and made a good, ringing sound, on the pipes. Any message rapped out by them would travel far.

She handed them over, and he rolled the smooth wood around in his hands, a moment.

“Looking a little rough on this one side.” He inspected it. “Might get you a splinter. Best be careful, there,” he said, before giving them back to her.

“I will,” she replied, touched by his concern.

“Looks like they were something that was part of a chair leg,” he observed, watching her slide the sticks back into her pocket.

“Table leg, I think,” she corrected. “Pascal’s father gave them to me.”

Pascal’s father? He’d passed away more than a decade ago. She’d have been a child, then.

“You must have been young,” Kanin observed.

Olivia nodded. “I was. It was the only time I was ever lost.”

Lost? You?

“It was Up Top. I was… well, I was terrified to tell you the truth. It was Big Pascal who found me.”

Really? He thought, remaining silent in hopes that she’d tell the story. She did.

“It was winter, and so cold! We all went up to the park to skate. Winslow took us, and the lake was frozen solid. All the Topsiders were there, and a bunch of us kids, just sliding around on our shoes, pretending we had real skates.”

He nodded as her dark eyes looked back, in memory.

“Randolph was there, and Simon, falling down every step but not wanting to be left out. There was music coming from somewhere, and I never wanted it to stop, ever! I love music. Much as anything!”

Do you, now? Kanin thought. He was already planning to find a music box for her.

“Well, the music kept on, and the crowd got bigger and bigger. We just played and played, sliding all around in this huge, great oval. And the snow was all pushed back to the sides, piled way up high. So high you couldn’t even see the park in some spots. And I just kept wrapping my scarf around my head, because my ears were so cold!”

She shivered with remembrance and rubbed her hands together against a chill she wasn’t actually feeling but was clearly remembering keenly.

“Sounds like you were having fun,” he commented.

She nodded her assent. “Well, I musta gone a little too far or got turned backwards or omething’, because before I knew it, I didn’t see Winslow, or Randolph, or anybody I knew. I looked around and didn’t recognize anything.”

“How old were you?” Kanin asked, aware that all this must have happened before he’d come down.

“Oh, seven or eight, I think,” she confirmed. “I remember I was so cold I was wishing I had money so I could buy a hot chocolate like some of the Topsider girls had. I was wearing my thick stockings and socks over that, and a dress and coat. My feet were sliding in leather-bottomed boots, and my mittens were unraveled on the thumb.”

She looked back, with her deep, brown eyes full of a child’s recollections. A worry line was beginning to mar the space between her brows.

“At first, I wasn’t so worried,” she confided. “I just thought I’d keep going in the same direction as most everybody else, and I’d eventually find our people. But I skated, and skated, and there were so many people there! I couldn’t find anyone I knew,” Olivia recounted. “I was getting tired. And with the snow covering everything, it... well, it made every place look the same as every place else. The trees all looked the same, and the benches. Everything was white. Everything was... covered up,” she said, trying to explain.

Kanin nodded that he understood.

You must have been scared, he thought, not wanting to interrupt her.

“Well. After a while, it started to get dark. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I knew my Mama wouldn’t like it that I’d stayed out so long. Everybody must have gone back in. I thought they forgot about me. Or something.”

Kanin had immediate sympathy for the young, frightened girl she must have been.

“What did you do?”

She shook her head. “I hoped maybe they were behind me, skating the way I was. I tried to go back against the crowd, but that was hard. People kept bumping into me. Somebody shouted at me. So... I stopped skating and walked to the nearest sidewalk.”

“Smart,” Kanin complimented.

Olivia shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. All the sidewalks looked the same to me, but I hoped that if I just followed one, that it would take me back to the drainage tunnel or something I recognized. But I was wrong. I was actually going the other way, clean across the park.”

“You must have been terrified,” he said.

Her long fingers picked at her skirt. “I guess I was. And it was getting darker. And that’s when I really started to get worried. I don’t think… I don’t think I ever understood just how big New York was, until that moment. I knew I couldn’t leave the park. But I couldn’t find my way down, either. I guess I was kinda going in circles there for a while.”

“You must have been close to panic,” Kanin sympathized.

“Oh, I was… for sure, I was,” she agreed. “But you know the rules; how we have to stay secret. If I cried, if I asked for help, someone Up Top would know I was lost and maybe call the police to try and help me. So, I just walked in the crowd, trying to look like I belonged, trying to find something I recognized, some landmark, or some way home. But the snow was coverin’ everything, and it all looked so different!”

“What happened?” he asked. “Surely they must have come looking for you.”

Olivia nodded, the motion sending her brown hair over her shoulders.

“Well, Winslow thought I had gone back down early, with Rebecca, on account of I was cold. But they said ‘no.’ My Mama had been expecting me a while and thought maybe I had come back in a different way or something and had maybe stopped in to get a cup of warm broth in the kitchen. So, by the time everybody realized I was truly missing, there was a ruckus, for sure.”

“I can imagine,” Kanin said.

“They were all out hunting on the skating pond, but I was gone from there by then. Mama was probably scared as I was. Papa, too. It was Pascal’s father who put out an “all quiet” on the pipes, and they waited to see if I’d call.”

“Is that what you did? You tapped on the pipes?” Kanin watched her lovely face, seeing the traces of fear that were still there, as she relived her childhood misadventure. Her tension eased, as she recalled her rescue.

“Sure did. Right as it was full dark and the park started to empty out, I found one of the water fountains, and I knew the pipes went down. I managed to find a piece of broken sidewalk. I pried it loose from the snow and picked it up and banged on that pipe as hard as I could.”

“Thank God you did,” he replied, not wanting to think of what might have happened to her otherwise.

“Worked like a charm. Pascal’s father must have been the closest to me, listening with that stethoscope of his, the one Pascal still uses,” Olivia said, as Kanin nodded.

No wonder you don’t like to go Up Top, Kanin realized. No wonder there was never any question that you wouldn’t go with your husband when he left. You’re afraid of it, up there. You almost always have been. It looks too big to you. And that was just the park!

Olivia’s look of consternation changed to one of relief. “Before five minutes went by, there he was, Big Pascal. He was scooping me up off the concrete near the water fountain, telling me I was going to be okay.”

“You must have been so relieved.” He wanted to reach for her hand, then thought the better of it. It was too soon.

Olivia nodded again. “I cried into his shoulder. I was so happy to see him. Inside an hour, I was safe and warm again, and back home. And I never wanted to go back skating, again!”

I bet you didn’t, he thought. Skating, or anything else that had to do with going Above.

Olivia touched the tip of the sticks. “Well. After that, Big Pascal gave me these and told me to keep ‘em in my apron pocket. That if I ever got lost again, he’d hear the sound and come get me. No matter what.”

Kanin looked at her soft, delicate fingers as they touched the wood. He wondered, for a moment, what they would feel like if they were touching his skin.

“I don’t think you’re ever going to get lost again,” he replied. Because… I think… I think I’m going to make sure you don’t.

He turned away from her and unpacked his knapsack to give his hands something to do.

“Apples!” she enthused. “I love apples. Almost as much as crumb cake.”

He made a mental note of that, as well.

Apples. Lilacs. Music. Sugar. Crumb cake. Got it, he thought, making a list.

When he looked back up at her, her soft brown eyes looked happy. And very tender.

“You were kind to bring them,” she complimented.

Kanin sighed. No, you won’t get lost. But I just might. If I keep looking into those eyes… I just might. Can I do that? Is it a sin if I do?

It was a daunting thought, and it had the effect of giving him a good mental slap.

Danny’s terrified face flashed briefly before him, as it did almost daily.

Kanin sighed, having no answer for any of his questions. The rest of the night passed uneventfully. And far too quickly, for Kanin’s liking.

~~~

Chapter Four

To The Tunnel-Born

Where Olivia has something on her mind. And somebody. And she’s in a sharing mood with Vincent.

~~~

The next week, Olivia was on kitchen duty. It was a chore she liked and one that usually made her happy. It gave William a day to rest, and it gave Olivia a chance to bake her mother’s Irish soda bread (a thing she almost always did when she was in the huge kitchen), and it gave her time to let her mind wander as her hands stayed busy.

He's avoiding me again, Olivia thought, Kanin is.

She sifted flour into the bowl as she thought it. In spite of the sweet evening they’d shared, she hadn’t seen him for several days.

Oh, well. There was no help for it. He knew where she was and knew where she laid her head.

She recalled their last evening together as she worked. Kanin had even walked her back to her chamber after sentry duty.

He’d waited politely outside while she’d gone in, and placed her drumsticks on top of her dresser. She’d hoped he might kiss her goodnight, or at least ask when he could see her again.

But he hadn’t done either of those things.

And now, it seemed, he was busy again. Off on some mapping trip with Cullen and Pascal. One he hadn’t mentioned to her during sentry duty.

Oh, well, she thought again. Maybe they were just friends. Maybe she was misreading him. Maybe a lot of things. Olivia didn’t pretend to know.

Olivia added in some eggs and kneaded bread dough as she checked the note William had left for her.

Potato soup was on the menu for the day, something that required a lot of peeling and chopping, but not so much more effort than that.

Oh, well, Olivia thought, for a third time. Gonna keep me busy.

Vincent, as if on cue, trundled into the room, bearing the wide food cart. It was loaded with bags of rice, and vegetables, and bushel baskets full of russet potatoes. The rice could be stored and set back for when their food supplies ran low. The fresh produce couldn’t be.

“Mr. Lee sends his regards,” Vincent said, hefting a huge bag of rice, and settling in its customary place on the set of deep shelves William referred to as “the pantry.”

“He’s always so good to us. Is that fresh parsley behind those carrots?” she asked.

“Straight from his own window box garden,” Vincent replied, setting it on the counter for her.

“I could use help with washing and peeling the potatoes if you’re of a mind,” Olivia said, stopping him before he could consider leaving.

Vincent paused. “I can. But… isn’t it Sarah’s turn, on the roster?” Vincent asked, setting a basket of potatoes on the counter. He tossed them in wash water and retrieved a paring knife from William’s butcher block. Nothing in the block matched, but all the knives were sharp.

Olivia nodded. “She was trying to work with a leather belt, last night, and she cut her hand. It’s deep, and Father put stitches in her palm. Says she’s to keep it as still as she can, and she’s not to get it wet for a few days,” Olivia explained, tossing flour on the dough she was working with so it wouldn’t stick to the butcher block.

Vincent inclined his head in an understanding gesture and selected a russet potato from the deep bowl of water that contained it.

For a while, they worked in silence, together.

“She’ll be okay, Vincent,” Olivia reassured, taking his silence for concern. She pounded on the bread dough. Maybe a little harder than was called for.

When he looked up at her, Olivia realized she was half-right. Vincent was concerned about something. But it wasn’t the state of Sarah’s hand.

“I know Father took good care of her,” Vincent replied.

Olivia paused and returned his glance, letting her hands rest. She knew something was bothering him. And not just “today,” for that. He’d been quiet lately. Quiet since Catherine’s return. Noticeably so. And for Vincent, that was saying something.

“Sometimes, I think life would be easier if a couple of stitches cured any hurt,” she said. “But it’s not that simple, really. Is it?” Her voice contained a world of sympathy for him. And maybe a little for herself.

Vincent dropped his gaze. “No. It isn’t that simple,” he admitted.

She put a dash of salt in the bread, then another one, and set it aside, for a moment.

We’re both in a mess. And for all that, I think you’re in more danger than I am, she thought. And it was easier to focus on him than it was on herself. Kanin Evans was a puzzle she just couldn’t solve.

“Then again, perhaps nothing is ever as easy as it might seem,” Vincent added, resuming his chore.

I guess not, she thought, again including both of them in her estimation.

Olivia’s voice dropped low, taking on a kind, sympathetic cadence. “I think you’re a good person. You always been good to me, Vincent. Like a big brother. One I never had. You know I would never say anything to hurt you, don’t you?” she asked.

I know. And... here it comes, he thought.

“I know you wouldn’t. I care for your feelings as well, Olivia,” Vincent replied, knowing he was about to get a piece of her mind, whether he wanted it or not.

“You been… different, since… well, since April,” she led.

They both knew it was true. There was no sense pretending otherwise.

“I guess we both kind of know why,” she qualified. “Not different ‘bad.’ And maybe not different ‘good,’ either. But… different. You know?” she asked.

He did. He did know. Intimately.

“I know,” he replied simply.

She sighed. “It’s… if I thought there was a chance of it, even a chance, you know I’d tell you—”

He cut her off. Wherever her sentence had been about to go, Vincent clearly wanted it to remain unsaid.

“I am not the only one who is different lately, Olivia,” Vincent observed, clearly trying to deflect her.

Olivia looked down, aware that she’d probably overstepped. Also, aware that, for his part, Vincent wasn’t wrong.

“I… I know. I know I have been. For a while, I thought… well. It doesn’t matter what I thought. And I know that for me, too. It’ll pass. That’s what I’m trying to say to you. For you. For me. It’ll pass. It just will, Vincent.”

Will it? He wasn’t sure he agreed with her.

Her soft voice was a little unsteady as if she was trying to convince herself, as well as him. “And after it does, you’ll… you’ll still have all of us, and we’ll have you. A-And so will I… have everyone, I mean.”

‘This too, shall pass?’ I don’t think so, Olivia. For either of us. Any of us, he amended, including Kanin in his musings. I’m changed. You’re changed, as well, or you’re changing. So is Kanin. So is Catherine. We are… none of us what we once were back in April, my sweet friend. None of us.

For a long moment, Olivia mistook his silence for agreement.

Olivia began scooping the huge ball of dough into an old Pyrex bowl and set it near the warmth of the oven. Time to let it rest. After the dough rose, she’d divide it into loaves and bake it.

Vincent watched her work. “So… you think I should not pursue this? Not… follow what my heart may be… leading me toward?” Vincent asked, curious as to what she thought. She was Tunnel born. And though he hadn’t been, it was close. He considered them kindred, of a sort, for that reason, if for no other.

Olivia shrugged, clearly bothered by something. “I think your heart can lie to you. Mine did.” She shot him a dark-eyed look, and for a moment, he saw her old pain. But it was there, then gone. The dissolution of her marriage may have wounded her, but it didn’t haunt her.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “But breaking a heart sure is easier than putting it back together.”

She shook out a tea towel and covered the bowl of rising bread dough. “Plus… she’s a Topsider, Vincent. Not like us. She doesn’t even know who we are, not really.”

And you have experience with people who say they understand what we are… and then leave, Vincent thought, but didn’t say. He went back to the task in front of him.

Behind him, Oliva took a second bushel-basket of potatoes off the cart and began washing them. She stood next to him, companionably.

“She may be okay… but she’s not one of us,” Olivia concluded, feeling the need to drive that point home to Vincent. “Not like you, or me, or Pascal.”

Vincent realized she’d just named three of the people who had been in the Tunnels since the day they were born.

And what about Kanin? Kanin, who came down when he was twenty? Is he ‘one of us,’ Olivia? He is. You know he is. One needn’t be born to this place to be a part of it. Most aren’t.

He said as much.

“One needn’t be born here to belong, Olivia.”

She stepped away from him and the potatoes and pushed the Pyrex bowl closer to the warm stove, clearly fidgeting with it. “Maybe not. But it helps,” she replied tersely, wanting to give it no more thought than that. “Topsiders… they’re not bad. They just don’t understand.” She shrugged her apron-clad shoulders as if that settled it.

Vincent felt the urge to defend the woman he was growing increasingly connected to: “Catherine can change. She can learn. She is learning, Olivia. I can…”

…sense it from her… I can feel it happening to her… for her, he thought.

“I know she can,” he said weakly, not wanting to reveal to Olivia that he could increasingly sense Catherine’s moods.

Olivia wasn’t sure she liked what she was hearing. She loved Vincent. But she knew how dangerous ‘hope’ could be for him. Especially this kind of hope.

I ain’t saying she’s bad. But that doesn’t mean she’s good for you, Olivia reasoned internally.

“People can change… and then they can change back,” she replied, returning to his side. She began pushing the potatoes around in the water. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she knew she was right about this. Experience had taught her as much. Both past experience... and the more recent kind. Kanin’s vicissitudes were clearly wearing on her.

Vincent, for his part, knew she was speaking from past hurts, as much as anything else, and perhaps, a bit, from a current one. He knew Kanin had wanted to be with Olivia, more. And then, that he had volunteered to go on the mapping expedition with Pascal and Cullen, one that he hadn’t been planning to go on… until he did.

I don’t think Kanin is ‘leaving’ you, Olivia. I think, perhaps, that he’s trying to find himself, though, Vincent thought.

“Hearts can change… and break. And hearts can mend. Your heart can mend… with or without stitches,” Vincent answered deftly.

There was no sense telling him her heart wasn’t in a bit of turmoil right now. “I guess,” she said glumly. She dunked several potatoes under the wash water.

“Kanin isn’t a Topsider, Olivia.” Vincent was just that blunt. By saying his name, Vincent brought Kanin into the room with them.

Her brown eyes came up from her chore. “I guess he ain’t,” she replied tersely, giving him a level look. “He’s… he’s okay. We’re friends. That’s about it, I suppose.” She didn’t know how else to characterize them, lately.

“Are you so certain?” Vincent asked, sincerely wanting to help. Just because his love life was going nowhere, at present, didn’t mean hers couldn’t be fulfilling. Besides, Kanin had asked him to put in a good word.

Olivia shrugged and wiped her wet hands on her apron. Kanin was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, leaving her feeling like there was a piece to him that was missing, a piece she simply couldn’t find.

She was right about that, of course. But it didn’t help for this. She could only go with what she knew.

“He’s nice,” she allowed. “He’s always been nice.” Nicer since the day that Topsider woman went back Above. I thought maybe we were starting something. But…

“And maybe I could care,” she allowed. Maybe I already do. “But he blows hot and cold. Worse than anything. One day I see him… then… it’s days. Or weeks. Weeks, Vincent.”

You should try months, Vincent thought, knowing he was doing just that.

“Kanin often puts the needs of others before his own. He is, as you say, a good and faithful man. I’m sure he has his reasons, Olivia,” Vincent said, having no idea what those might be.

Olivia looked sad. “I guess. But… I want someone who knows. I want someone who’s sure. So sure that there’s no room for doubt. So sure, that there’s no room for… anything, anything but him, and me, and... and maybe even a baby one day, and the life we get to make together.”

Vincent remained still. I see. So, Kanin’s hesitancy leaves you feeling unsure, also.

Then, I wonder if Catherine feels that way? If she thinks of me… and wonders? If she feels … uncertain… and… wishes?

Before they could speak further, the big pipe above them rattled to life. Insistently.

Vincent was needed in the Eastern Tunnels. Winslow’s staccato message made it sound urgent. Vincent could understand the message as easily and immediately as Olivia could. It was a gift all Tunnel-born people shared.

Olivia gave him a rueful look, as she translated. “That’s bad. Eastern Tunnels. Sounds like the main pipe is fixing to bust open again,” she said, taking the paring knife from his hands. It looked like she was about to have a lot of potatoes to peel.

“So, it would seem,” Vincent replied, giving over the chore to her.

Vincent knew two things: one, that there was no resolution for any of them, at the moment. And two, it was going to be a very long day.

~~~

Chapter Five

Mirrors

Where we realize that the members of our separate quartet are going through some very similar things. Because it just had to be that way. Our couples are becoming mirrors of each other. Even if they’re all unaware of it.

~~~

For a time, Vincent knew almost nothing more about Catherine. Aside from her miraculous reappearance, (and the papers did carry that news, and then it was forgotten,) there was no mention of her. She did not write him any messages and leave them tossed at the bottom of the ladder above her threshold. She did not try to find her way back down to him. She did not try to re-enter his world.

And for his part, Vincent was much the same. He did not try to contact her again, did not try to maintain any “connection” between them. He knew she was re-establishing her life, Above, just as he was trying to do that, Below.

He didn’t know what to do about their forming bond, or even if he needed to do anything about it at all. Some days, it felt like a very distant thing. Some days, it felt much closer, as if it was bringing her to him. He wondered it if would vanish as mysteriously as it had appeared. He wondered if he would mourn it if it did.

~~~

Catherine, for her part, seemed content with the changes she was making in her life. If that life didn’t fully resemble the one she’d lived prior to her attack, it at least bore enough similarities to that to give her some sense of peace, as she healed. She was in her home. She was amongst her people. Her days went as they would have.

Her work life was different, however. She was no longer the boss’s daughter, strolling in at noon and out for long lunches. She was no longer bored or feeling suffocated by a sense of ennui. She was committed, and busy. She was learning the ropes and pushing her own limits. She was training with Isaac Stubbs. She was leaving parts of her old life behind, as she formed the new one.

Catherine had dreamed about Vincent, at least once. And in that regard, time was fading the edges of those April days, until they began to take on a soft, dream-like quality.

She knew, of course, that the attack, and all that followed after had been no dream. The deep scar on her cheek told her as much, even if the rest of her life was telling her something else.

She often wondered how he was. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Then, she wondered why she wondered.

Vincent, of course, knew that they were still connected; the bond told him as much.

He simply had no idea what to do about that, considering that he still carried vestiges of his old life, inside him.

It was a time of transition, for both Catherine and Vincent, as they changed from who they had been to who and what they were to become.

~~~

And then there was Kanin. For a time, after returning from mapping, Kanin knew almost nothing more about Olivia. Aside from seeing her by chance in the Tunnels, (And that could be avoided. Their paths didn’t naturally cross) he knew little of her days, or what occupied her.

He didn’t try to align his sentry duty with hers again, and he didn’t seek her out in the laundry, at mealtime, or in any other place. If he saw her, he saw her. If he didn’t, he didn’t. Life moved on, as it always had, for both of them.

The scars of his old life kept nagging at him. The sight of a little boy’s terrified face remained locked in his conscience.

But so did a yearning for something more, in his life; a Below life he’d lived for over a decade, now.

As Kanin wondered how to expand the limits of his life Below, Vincent was wondering how to do that, Above.

Or even if he should. Such considerations felt like madness.

~~~

Olivia, for her part, seemed content with the life she’d always led. Familiarity did that, for her, as it bred the peace that had always marked most of her days. She was in her home. She was amongst her people. Life was, if not exactly ‘good,’ was not exactly anything bad, either. Like the change she’d described in Vincent, she knew that it simply ‘was.’ She didn’t feel the need to understand much more than that.

Her days went as they often did, at the steady, sometimes slow pace that often marked the unusual world she’d been born into. Routine gave her hands something to do. So, she did those things.

Her heart, however…

She understood that for a moment, some great change seemed as if it might be about to take place with her. That the steady pace of her days might, just might, be about to be interrupted by something. Perhaps something momentous. Something wonderful.

But she also understood that it might not.

Life was life. She understood its vagaries. And Tunnel life often had more of those than most.

Unlike Catherine, she didn’t exactly seek the changes that were coming for her. But like Catherine, it seemed she was powerless to resist them, or their momentum.

It was a knowledge that sometimes made both women feel uncomfortable, even as they knew they had to continue on.

~~~

The water in the Mirror Pool was its customary, still, starlight-reflecting self. Kanin sat next to it, taking a certain amount of perverse pleasure in disrupting its flat stillness with the occasional pebble. The rings of water spun outward.

I wonder if she’s thinking of me. And if she is… I wonder what she thinks? He mused, watching the ripples hit the edge of the framing stones.

There was no need for him to think of the name “Olivia.” These days the feminine pronoun stood for only one tunnel dweller.

It’s after dinner. I wonder if she notices I wasn’t there? I wonder if she looked for me…

Then:

I wonder how long my family looked for me, Above.

The last was an intrusive thought, and it was the kind Kanin couldn’t help. Like seeing Danny’s face, unbidden, the life he’d led before this one still crept into his thoughts. Falling in love with Olivia didn’t change that.

But, for a reason he couldn’t name, falling in love with her did seem to help with some things. He knew he’d once been part of a family. He’d liked that.

Mentally, he changed the subject back to the original one. Idle thoughts about a life he no longer lived were easily dismissed. Sometimes.

The stone sank with an ungainly, unsatisfying plop. He tossed in another one.

She was… distant this morning, when I saw her outside the Chandlery. Talking with Rebecca. She was wearing a knitted shawl. I wonder if she made it, or if it was something she found? Maybe it was a gift from someone. For Winterfest, or her birthday. Mouse liked his scarf. I wonder when her birthday is? I wonder if…

Vincent, searching for a quiet place where he could be alone with his thoughts, was three steps into the room before he realized it was already occupied.

Kanin looked up.

Vincent. And looks about as happy as I am.

“Vincent,” Kanin acknowledged, sitting up a little straighter.

“Kanin,” Vincent returned, stopping where he was. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he added, noticing the ripples in the pool.

He’s troubled… and also here to think. I don’t think I need to wonder too much about ‘what.’ Or in this case, ‘who.’

“Did you see Olivia at dinner?” Kanin asked, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t thinking about her.

Vincent nodded and accepted the question as an invitation to come further into the chamber.

“I did. She sat near Sarah and Pascal.” Vincent came closer and settled his big body down in the soft sand. “I took a bowl to Father, and we played chess. So, I can’t tell you much more.”

Kanin tossed another pebble into the water. “Pascal is a good man. When I first came here… it was his father who… who helped me get used to the place. Helped me learn pipe code. I even stayed in the Pipe Chamber with them… for a while.”

“I remember,” Vincent said. “Pascal was close to your age, but after a while, it was you and Winslow who became all but inseparable.”

The rippling water in the Mirror Pool was slowly shimmering back into its calm, sky-reflecting self. Vincent liked it better, that way.

“Winslow. Yeah. It was him who first put a hammer in my hand. Old Pascal made me feel welcome, here, like this could be my home. But it was Winslow who gave me purpose.”

Kanin sifted his hand through the soft sand, searching for another pebble; but seeing how much Vincent obviously enjoyed the pool’s flat, unruffled calm, he put the impulse to throw stones aside. Stars began to shine, on the surface of the water.

I guess this is the safest way for you to see those, he realized, not wanting to take the gift of that away from his friend.

Funny. I remember sitting on the hood of my car, looking up at the stars and drinking a bottle of beer. About an hour before I ran into another car with it…

And there it was, again. There wasn’t a day that went by that Kanin didn’t think about Danny Davis. Not one. But like the other thoughts about a life he no longer claimed, he dismissed it. Again. It was a thing he was very accustomed to doing.

He wondered if Vincent, like him, was contemplating the past, and then dismissing it. He bet he was.

After a few long moments of silence, Vincent changed the subject.

“Pascal thinks the maze might be taking on groundwater faster than any of us realized; that we may need to extend the barriers in the area,” Vincent said. “Perhaps you and Cullen might go down, again? Use Pascal’s maps? Take a look? Invite Winslow to join you,” Vincent prompted. Few knew how to read the stones better than Winslow.

“I trust Pascal to know what he’s talking about.” Kanin shrugged. “I swear that man can tell if it’s raining in the Bronx, by the sound on the pipes.”

His fist tightened in the sand, as he said it. Vincent didn’t miss the gesture.

“Pascal is a good man… and a good friend. And I… I do not believe he is a rival for Olivia if that’s what you are fearing,”

Kanin sighed. “I’m not. But it… it makes more sense for her if you think about it.”

Does it? Vincent couldn’t follow the comment. Largely because he knew there was no spark of attraction between Pascal and Olivia. The two had been more like brother and sister, most all their lives.

“He’s as Tunnel born as she is,” Kanin clarified. Peace be damned. He located a pebble and tossed it in, disturbing the water once again.

Vincent considered Kanin’s assessment as he studied the now-roiled water. It was a good indication of just how unsettled Kanin was feeling.

“Pascal lives for the Pipe Chamber. I don’t think he’s found a woman yet, who can… command his attention,” Vincent said, watching the ripples spread out. And you are fabricating rivals where none exist. Why, Kanin? I wonder…

“So… how about you? How’s your… attention, these days?” Kanin asked.

I think of her. Every day. Something that started out small has done nothing but grow, inside me. I sense her each morning, and then sometimes, during the daytime, when she’s busy. At night, I feel that she is often still working, ensconced inside an apartment that is twenty stories off the ground. I feel her working through her changes. I feel her trying to build a life of purpose. I feel her—

“Vincent?” Kanin prompted.

Vincent realized he hadn’t answered Kanin’s question.

“My attention is… divided. Uncertain. My… situation is not the same as yours,” Vincent dodged.

Oh, isn’t it? Kanin thought. We’re both falling in love with someone. And it’s someone we both think we can’t have. The reasons might be different, but the results are still the same.

“Seems to me neither one of us is getting what he wants,” Kanin opined, feeling a little sorry for both of them.

The stonecutter stood up and brushed the sand off his chinos. “You probably came in here to be alone. And to think,” Kanin said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

The pond was clearing, again. And in it, the gently twinkling stars shone brightly.

What a sin if this is one of the only ways you ever get to look at those, Kanin thought.

“You know… almost all the apartments off the park have a balcony. I bet the stars look amazing from up there,” Kanin nudged.

“I’m sure they do,” Vincent replied. And what you’re suggesting is… perilous, and… amazing. How amazing it would be …

“Yeah. Catherine lives off the park, doesn’t she? East Side Deb, and all?” he asked, quoting the newspaper headline about her disappearance.

She did. They both knew she did.

They also both knew that what Kanin was suggesting was dangerous, for Vincent. And that it was dangerous in more ways than one.

“She does,” Vincent allowed.

“Buildings like that… lots of fire escapes. Freight elevators around the back. Ways to… well. Ways to get up there. If… if you ever wanted to do it,” Kanin said. No reason we should both be miserable. Come on, Vincent. Give it a try.

Kanin saw the idea take shape in Vincent’s mind, as clearly as he saw it reflected in the blue of his uncanny eyes.

He’s thinking about it. How he could climb to her. What route he could take.

Vincent shared exactly what he was thinking. “Below, there’s a tunnel that leads to her sub-basement. Above… not so far across the park …there’s a stand of oak near her building, thick enough to get close.”

That’s it. That’s the way, Kanin thought.

“You’d have to be careful. But it could be done?” Kanin asked.

Yes. No. It’s… impossible. Vincent sighed, for an answer.

“What … what reason could I possibly give?” Vincent asked.

Ah. So, you are thinking about it. And not just today…

“When in doubt… well. You could try leading with the truth,” Kanin suggested.

Vincent stared at the other man.

The truth? How, when I’m not even certain of what that is? What do I tell her? That I need to… give up the dream of being a part of her? A dream I’m having both waking and sleeping? That I want to see that she’s well? That I feel her, increasingly, each and every day? That sometimes… I swear I can all but tell what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling, as she changes?

“Perhaps,” Vincent replied carefully.

But what about you? Wanting to help Kanin as much as Kanin was clearly trying to help him, Vincent gave voice to the thought:

“And what of you? Will you tell Olivia the truth?” Vincent asked.

Kanin kept still, even as he shook his head, mentally. No. If there’s one thing I can never tell Olivia… or anyone… it’s the truth. The truth about why I came here, what I did. How I lied, how I’m still lying.

I can dare to hope for some things. But never that.

“I mean… the truth of what is in your heart,” Vincent qualified, sensing some unnamed storm brewing, inside his friend.

Kanin looked back at the bright, still water. Even that reminded him of Olivia. How calm she was. How steady. How when she smiled, something seemed to shine, within her.

I love her. I think I’ll always love her, Kanin admitted to himself.

“I might… I might be able to do that,” Kanin answered.

The two men nodded their farewells to each other.

After the stonemason left, Vincent turned his gaze back to the light-spangled mirror pool.

The stars. The stars, from her balcony. The stars, and a following moon…

A decision Vincent was barely aware of making was being born.

I could go. Go to her balcony. Bring her “Great Expectations,” perhaps. If I wait until late, take the drainage tunnel out…

~~~

Chapter Six

Two Sticks, to Find Your Way Home

Even as Vincent considers offering Catherine the last chapter of Great Expectations, Kanin, too, has a gift to give.

~~~

When Olivia found Kanin, she was more curious, than annoyed. And that was saying something, considering he was, even now, in possession of the two sticks Pascal the Elder had given her, so long ago. Sticks he’d clearly liberated from her Chamber, without asking.

It was the height of rudeness, to do such a thing, though in his own defense, he’d left her a note confessing to his little bit of larceny, and he’d told her where the sticks could be found.

Woodworking Chamber.

I have them.

For you.

…the note had said, simply.

He hadn’t even signed it. And she hadn’t needed him to.

He was working steadily, and he was working up a sweat, doing it. In a chamber used mostly for woodworking, he was sanding her sticks, on a huge wheel that turned by pedal power, as he passed the wood back and forth across the sandpaper surface. It was a homemade version of a large belt sander, and it wasn’t the easiest tool to use, in here.

“Kanin?” she asked, entering curiously. “Whatcha doin’?”

Kanin glanced up at her, then resumed his chore.

“Making you something. Making them better. You keep on like they were, you’ll pick up a splinter. Almost done.” He pushed the pedals faster, and the sandpaper-covered wheel spun. Lightly and deftly, he passed one of her sticks across it, making it perfectly smooth.

“I’ll need to put a coat varnish on them. They’ll be less likely to splinter, then. It’ll make them stronger, make them shine.”

He stopped pedaling and let the wheel slow down as it would. Rising, he carried the newly sanded stick over to a workbench, where its twin waited.

“You might want to not get lost for a few hours. Just until the varnish dries,” he instructed, sitting down.

Or maybe, for instance, you could stick close to me, he thought, but didn’t say.

“What uh… what brought this on?” she asked, looking at the subtle chaos that was a work bench Cullen often used. Kanin had clearly been rifling through the tools, searching for what he wanted.

“Funny story about that. I talked to Vincent. Or he talked to me. Not sure which one is more true, really.” He looked down the stick like he was looking down the barrel of a gun, testing it for straightness. He seemed satisfied, as he picked up the other one, and did the same thing.

He then eyed Olivia. “I think he might be fixing to go see Catherine, just to let you know. I have a hunch.”

“Catherine… Catherine from Topsider?” Olivia’s voice betrayed her amazement. Then…

“Kanin, that might not be a good idea for him…” Olivia fretted.

Yeah. Because he might get hurt. We all might do that, Livvy. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

“He might,” Kanin admitted. “We all might, Livvy. Or maybe we all might find something… something wonderful. As a reward for our bravery – for taking a chance,” Kanin replied.

“We.” All of us. You’re talking about all four of us. Even as you’re just really talking about you and me, Olivia thought.

Olivia looked at the area he’d been working in. A small brazier was lit, its warmth making Kanin all the warmer. A screwdriver was being heated in the flames. As he set one of the sticks down and rolled it, gently, to make sure it was perfectly even, she realized that one of the sticks now bore writing, near one end. When the stick stopped moving, she saw what he’d done.

“You… you carved my name on one?” she asked, pleased at it. For a crude tool, he’d used the screwdriver to burn her name on the shaft of the stick, near the bottom. How pretty. But… I didn’t ask you to.

Kanin nodded, trying to gauge her expression. “Thought I should. They look a lot like Pascal’s. This way, you won’t get mixed up,” he explained.

Her shoulders gave a small shrug. “Should’ve asked,” she returned, aware of his trespass.

Yeah. I should have.

“I know,” he answered. “But I was afraid you’d tell me to get lost, myself.”

Her lovely eyes widened, a little. “You’re just… I don’t understand you, Kanin.” She frowned at him, her confusion evident, on her lovely, guileless face.

“You’re here… then you’re not. You’re about to do something nice for me then… go missing a while?” she asked, sincerely puzzled by him. That had been a pattern with them, thus far. Kanin didn’t pretend to not know what she was talking about.

“No,” he stated. Simple. Direct. Complete, as a sentence.

Olivia kept her peace, clearly hoping he’d say more. She folded her hands in front of herself, the picture of feminine patience.

You’re going to have to do better than that, Kanin Evans, she thought.

“I… I plan on kind of the opposite, Livvy. I plan to get in your way. ‘Til you decide maybe I should come stay with you,” he replied.

He stripped off his work gloves and held his bare hand out to her.

Olivia studied his upraised palm, not sure if she should reach for it; for him, and for all he was offering her.

One week you barely see me, and now it’s… now it’s you want to be in my way until you’re in my bed. I’ll give you this, you don’t do things by half measures.

She felt unsure. “Kanin… maybe we shouldn’t. We both know what we’ll feel if I touch you,” she said, concerned for both of them.

“I know. I’m… I’m lying if I say I’m not counting on that, a little, Olivia. Livvy. My Livvy.”

He kept his hand outstretched.

Olivia’s head spun. My Livvy. He wants me to be his Livvy. A chance. A leap of faith. He wants me to take a leap of faith. Take a chance on him. What if I do? And what… what if I don’t? Will I always wonder if I should have taken the chance?

In that moment, Olivia realized that she understood some of what Vincent was feeling, as well.

Play it safe… the grave is safe. Maybe I’m done with that, now. Maybe it’s time. Time to try. Time to… hope?

“You swear you’re done dodgin’ me?” she asked.

“I swear… with my whole heart,” he answered.

Tentatively, she unclasped her hands and put one forth. Kanin stood motionless, watching her fingers approach his. Right before they touched, she stopped.

“What if… what if we don’t feel it?” she asked, clearly worried at the possibility.

“You really think there’s a chance of that?” he asked kindly.

She looked back down at his still-outstretched hand. It looked larger than her own. Strong, from the work he did. Kind, because it was an extension of the rest of him.

No. I guess not, she thought.

Extending once again, her longest finger touched the center of his palm. The familiar jolt of awareness shot up her arm.

Still there. Home. Feels like coming home, she thought, aware that the sentence was an odd one. ‘Home’ had never felt like this; like excitement and awareness and adventure, and a touch of ‘what comes next?’ all rolled into one.

At almost exactly the same time that Catherine was ending her relationship with Tom Gunther, Olivia also left one life behind as she reached for another one.

Cautiously, she slipped her small hand into Kanin’s, and he drew her closer. With his other hand, he reached down for the pair of sticks and held them between them.

“You get lost, you bang on those pipes, Livvy. I’ll be the one who comes running for you, this time. I promise.”

She looked up into eyes so blue, she’d swear they caught a piece of the morning sky, reflected in the Mirror Pool.

“Kanin… I… we’ve never even talked about this. I… I want a baby someday. Maybe more than one. If that’s not somethin’ you want, then—”

He shook his head, brushing aside her fears. “Not someday. Right away. Many as you want, starting with one,” he interrupted, heady with the knowledge that she’d just consented to be his wife, whether she was aware of it or not.

“Just one to start with,” she breathed, blushing as she did so.

He loved the sight of that.

“Boy, or girl?” he nudged.

“Boy,” she answered immediately. “Luke, if it’s a boy. I want him named after my Papa.”

Luke. Luke Evans. A little boy. Can’t make up for what I did. But maybe a boy. A beautiful little boy, to give to the world. To make up for the one I took from it. Oh, Livvy. You’re perfect, Kanin thought, already envisioning the family they might become.

“I’ll carve his name on the other stick,” Kanin said, his voice a touch hoarse. “Just so you can always keep it close.”

Olivia loved the idea of that. Two sticks. Two sticks, to find your way home. Two sticks, to find your way to a family.

“Could be a girl,” she said.

“Nah. Boy first,” Kanin replied, positive of it. His certainty made Olivia smile.

“Maybe you put your name beside mine,” she replied, grasping the smooth wood with him.

Yes, my name beside yours. Two sticks, to find your way home. Home to me. No matter what happens. My name right next to yours. Always.

“Maybe I do,” he agreed. “Livvy… I guess you know I love you… more than I have a right to, maybe.”

She tipped her head back, expecting his kiss.

“I think I can judge what you have a right to, Kanin Evans,” she replied, standing up on her toes, a little.

His kiss, when it came, was everything she expected, and some things she didn’t. It was fireworks, and awareness, and sensuality, and attraction. It spoke of long nights, entwined in passion, of secrets, whispered in the dark, and fears overcome. It spoke of longing, and of two people who had perhaps been alone for just a little too long.

But beneath that, there was something else. Something that spoke of fidelity, and a long, long-lasting love. Something that told her that, no matter what, he’d love her forever.

Something that told her that he’d stay.

The staying kind, she thought, happily accepting his love and his promise.

Neither of them had any way of knowing what the future would bring. But for now, they knew the present was theirs. Theirs for the taking… and the loving.

When the kiss broke, Kanin spared a thought for Vincent.

I hope he took his own advice, Kanin mused, burying his nose in Olivia’s soft, brown hair. He breathed in the heady scent of his bride-to-be.

I really hope he did.

His attention returned to the beautiful woman in his arms.

Never parting from you, he thought, leaning in to kiss her again.

~~~

Chapter Seven

Hiding Places

Where everyone (and everything) gives up their last hiding places, apparently. Because they had to, or our series can’t commence!

~~~

While Kanin was burning Olivia’s name onto one of two drumsticks, Vincent was methodically ransacking his Chamber.

It’s here. I know it’s here. I didn’t lend it to Father. Or anyone. I didn’t. I wouldn’t have.

He scanned his bookshelf a second, then a third time. Then the nightstand, near his bed. Then beneath the bed, fearing it had dropped there, somehow, and gotten kicked back.

I didn’t put it on the bookshelf. I should have, but I know I didn’t, Vincent thought, checking his writing table – for not the first time, in the last few minutes.

No luck.

He scanned the room, realizing that all the flotsam he’d collected was now making his search harder. He knew his chamber was a catch-all, of sorts, but he rarely lost things, inside it.

There was even a certain order to the chaos of it. Things he’d found with Devin, for instance, occupied a particular shelf inside what had once been part of a china cabinet, while gifts his family had given him were often scattered atop an old dresser. Things he often used were kept on the bedside nightstand, his wardrobe, or his writing table. Childhood toys were kept inside a wooden chest.

But books… well. The books were everywhere.

Vincent opened his wardrobe, riffling through the contents for no particular reason other than he hadn’t searched there, yet. The book wasn’t there. He knew it wouldn’t be.

We were reading together. All but the last chapter. She’d been restless all day, but she fell asleep, at last. I left the chamber to take care of something, and when I returned… when I returned, she’d unwrapped her bandages. She was looking at her reflection, and I startled her.

Vincent remembered everything that ensued. Being struck by the headlamp reflector. Feeling desolate… and then, miraculously, accepted by her. She’d pushed back his hood and given him a wan smile, so gentle and soft, and lopsided, thanks to Father’s stitches in her lip, he wondered if he hadn’t lost his heart to her right then.

I saved you, showed you mercy… and then… you showed it to me, he thought.

He remembered the look on her face. On her face, and in her eyes. Eyes he was really seeing for the first time, as they beheld him.

Such… mercy. ‘The quality of mercy is not strained… it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, upon the place beneath,’ he quoted Shakespeare, internally.

I felt something… move, inside me. Part fear, part… what? Hope? Was I connected to you, even then?

Perhaps… or, if not then, surely later. Later, on the way back to her threshold.

I know I felt you. Inside me. I know I did.

He scanned the shelf in front of the stained-glass window, still hunting, while he remembered the moment that had changed his soul.

We were parting. We had to. You leaned against me. You… embraced me. My heart stopped. My world… shattered. I think I felt our Bond being born, in that moment. I don’t know. I only know I felt you. All of you. All of you, inside all of me. God… where is it?

He scanned the room more slowly, then put his fingers to his forehead, reflexively rubbing the place where the old, hurled reflector, the one Catherine had been trying to use as a makeshift mirror, had struck him.

The cut had bled. But it had healed without a scar.

I wonder… I wonder what you look like, now? He mused, envisioning Catherine much as she had been when she was with him. The crude stitches would be out by now, of course. The swelling would be down, and the redness mostly gone. Her broken rib would be healed. But she’d likely carry scars from the viciousness of her attack. Deep ones. He simply assumed it was true.

And that didn’t matter. Not to him.

He rubbed his forehead, again. The gesture reminded him of something.

The reflector. Something about the reflector…

His eyes went to the shelf on which it sat. Bingo.

After Catherine had left, he’d returned to the chamber, a room that now seemed too empty, and too silent, to him. Catherine had been there for ten days. Ten amazing days. A time when she’d seemed to fill the intimate space, with her small, injured presence.

Time enough to get to know her, and to let her know him, as much as he could. Time to read all but the last chapter of Great Expectations. Time to change his life. Maybe forever, for that.

When he’d returned to the room, sad about her departure, alone again, and at least a little bereft, the reflector bowl was still there on the floor, right where it had dropped when she’d struck him.

At the time, he’d growled at her, in surprise, and she’d staggered back a little, striking the nightstand with her hip, and knocking Great Expectations to the floor.

He’d picked them both up, and, lost in thought, had placed both of them back up on the shelf.

Vincent remembered it, now. And he remembered it correctly. The big, round object Catherine had been trying to use as a mirror was all but completely obscuring the soft white leather of Charles Dickens’ masterwork.

“There you are,” he whispered, tugging the book from behind the reflector bowl. It felt good to have the familiar tome back in his hands, again. Very good.

I’ll take you to her. Leave you as a gift. ‘No shadow of another parting from you,’ he thought, right about the same moment that Kanin Evans was thinking that he would never part from Olivia.

Vincent tugged on his cape, letting his own momentum carry him forward. He tucked the book into a deep, inner pocket, and reached his mind out, for Catherine.

It amazed him that he could do that. It amazed him that he dared.

I feel you. I… feel you, Catherine, he thought, unable to explain the Bond to himself – much less anyone else – any better than that.

She was there, inside his empathic mind. She was at home. The evening had been upsetting for her, on some level, but she was home, now.

You… you did something, this evening. You… changed something. Left someone. Someone you once… hid behind, he thought, aware that the ‘someone’ was probably Tom Gunther. When she’d been missing, in April, the papers had said they were a couple.

She’d broken things off with Tom. Vincent was certain of it, even as he wasn’t sure how he knew. He felt Catherine’s tension, even as he felt it ease. She knew she’d made the right decision.

You’re… determined. Sure. There is strength in you, he thought, not for the first time.

Good, he concluded simply, raising the hood of his cape.

I want to see you. Just to know you’re well, he reasoned, knowing that he was lying to himself, at least a little.

He left his chamber, and his long stride began to chew up the Tunnel ground. It was full dark, outside. He could be where she was in a matter of minutes if he hurried. And he knew he was about to hurry.

The long stride changed into a loping run. He was through the gate and into the drainage tunnel before he could tell himself all the reasons this might not be a good idea.

Take a chance. Do it, he ordered mentally, merging seamlessly into the Central Park night. Ground he would later not remember covering fell behind him, as he made his way to Catherine.

“Sometimes, we must leave our safe places,” he thought, allowing Brigit O’Donnell’s words to bolster his resolve. He’d loved her work since Father had brought him her first children’s book, a library cast-off about an Owl Woman.

It felt good to be moving, felt good to be moving towards Catherine. Moving towards her, after months of indecision, about that.

Wait for me. I’m coming, Catherine. Coming… for you, he admitted. It felt good to be able to say that much, at least. Even if he only said it to himself.

He was a swift shadow in the darkness, as he drew ever closer to Catherine’s balcony, and to the fate that awaited him – awaited both of them – there.

One chapter left. Just one. Do you remember how the story ends, Catherine? Do you?

He achieved the stand of oak, the last concealment on the ground before he’d have to climb. Nighttime shadows lay deep, all around him. The moon he loved was a bare crescent, now.

All the better, he mused, taking it as a good sign. The scant light would help him remain unseen. The universe was helping him to her. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

Do you remember? He wondered again. Pip finds Estella, once more. He does. After all they’ve been through, after all that’s tried to keep them apart. He finds her. And this time, he knows they’ll be together. Always.

Words written nearly a century before he was born came into Vincent’s sensitive mind.

No shadow of another parting from you.

Vincent gave up his last hiding place with barely a backward thought and began his climb to Catherine’s balcony.

As he ascended, he prayed that in some way, some miracle might make the words true for him, as well.

~~~

Epilogue

April, Redux

As a certain anniversary draws close, it’s someone’s Naming Day…

~~~

Kanin Evans married Olivia Huntington before the next full moon rose over New York. They were joined in marriage by Father, who read from a Book of Ceremonies. The bride wore a long white summer dress, a gauzy thing, remade into a suitable wedding gown, with thirty-seven pearl buttons sewn down the back.

She carried lilacs as a wedding bouquet. They surrounded (and nearly obscured) two long, polished wooden drumsticks that poked out of the beribboned arrangement. She smiled every time she looked at them. So did her groom.

Vincent served as best man, while Rebecca stood as maid of honor. William baked a simple white cake for them, and Pascal tapped out “Mr. and Mrs. Kanin Evans!” on the pipes, the moment the ceremony was done. It was a time of joy, in the Tunnels.

Olivia left her chamber for Kanin’s more monastic one, deciding that it wouldn’t be right to ask him to lay with her in a place where she’d done that with another man. For Kanin’s part, he welcomed her into his small space, promising her even before the wedding that one day, he’d make something better for them.

It was a promise that would take him a while to keep.

The night they were married, Olivia conceived their son, a beautiful baby boy.

On his naming day, a day close to the one where Catherine would tell Dr. Sanderle that she’d decided to keep the scar on her cheek, Father introduced the newest Tunnel member to his extended Tunnel family.

“… We welcome the child with gifts, that he may learn generosity. And we welcome the child with a name,” Father intoned, expectation in the sentence.

It was Kanin who spoke up, solemnly, and with pride. “Luke. His name is Luke.”

Luke’s mother beamed, as she cradled her newborn son. A small cheer went up from the gathered crowd, as the tiny, blue-eyed infant was passed around.

“He’s got your eyes,” Catherine told Kanin admiringly, as the baby was put into her arms.

“And his mother’s appetite.” Kanin smiled. Beside him, Olivia playfully punched his arm.

Kanin looked on, protectively. His son was hale and healthy. It was a blessing he knew he didn’t deserve, considering. But it was one he’d accept, wholeheartedly. He still thought of Danny Davis, often. But he was coming to realize that it did no good to chase his ghost.

Kanin reached out and clasped Vincent’s shoulder. “I think I owe this moment to you, Vincent. You, as much as anybody,” Kanin said, sotto voce.

Vincent accepted the compliment, even as he rejected it.

“I’d say Olivia did more work than I,” Vincent replied, as the two women eased away from the men. They were admiring Luke’s upturned nose, and everything else about him.

“You’ll need to enlarge your chamber. Or, perhaps, find another one,” Vincent observed.

Kanin shook his head. “Can’t. There’s another family coming down next week. Got to get them settled, first. After that, maybe.”

Vincent nodded. Kanin still often put the needs of others before his own. It was his way.

“How about you?” Kanin asked. “It’s been… well. It’s been quite the year for you too, Vincent.”

It had been. Quite the year. A year full of change, growth, and wonder, and yes, some sorrow, for all of them. In that way, it had been a year much like any other. And yet, one so wholly different, that Vincent barely recognized himself, sometimes.

Yes. Quite the year. You have a gift for understatement, my friend, Vincent thought.

“For Catherine as well,” Vincent replied, touching her, inside their ever-deepening bond, simply for the pleasure of doing so. She radiated happiness, as she smiled at Luke, and handed him back to Olivia.

Perhaps sensing his mental touch, Catherine looked up at Vincent and turned her smile toward him.

Vincent’s heart swelled. He was in love with her. Thoroughly. And she with him. Though they were each still learning their way through their changes, it was a thing that never ceased to amaze him, even as it empowered him.

“For Catherine as well,” Kanin softly agreed, not missing the exchange between the big beast and his love. “I hope… well. I guess I hope the two of you have a day like this. If… I mean, if that’s what you want, of course.”

And once again, you include me in your love story and think that what is possible for you might also be so, for me. Thank you, Kanin. Thank you so much. I don’t think you can ever understand what that comment means to me. How much… hope it gives me, for the future.

“Perhaps someday,” Vincent evaded, with the ease of long practice.

Perhaps someday, he confirmed mentally.

Catherine, for her part, turned her attention to something Rebecca was saying about the baby.

Swaddled inside a soft white blanket, Luke Evans stretched out one tiny fist, and yawned, hugely.

“Uh-oh. Nap time,” Olivia’s smile refused to dim. But she knew what that gesture meant. “If I don’t put him down soon, he’s going to get fussy,” she explained.

Kanin was already on the job. “I’ll get the gifts. You get him to his cradle. Or we’ll never hear the end of it,” Kanin said, already gathering up the basket full of presents. Catherine’s silver rattle gleamed, atop the other offerings.

Amid farewells and Tunnel well-wishes, the little family made their way through the smiling crowd. Mary tucked the baby’s blanket a little more snuggly, over his tiny foot. Father looked beyond pleased. Mouse stopped them, to explain how to operate a toy he’d crafted, for the baby.

Catherine stood next to Vincent, again, soaking up the happy ambience of the room.

“Naming Day. That was amazing. He’s amazing,” Catherine said, referring to Luke.

“He is. All three of them are,” Vincent replied, knowing that Kanin and Olivia had each endured much, to reach each other.

And so are you, he tacked on, mentally.

“What a year it’s been. So strange to think of all the changes this last year has brought us,” Catherine said. “A year ago, I … well. I was a different person, then.”

Vincent extended his arm and drew her closer. It was a gesture he often made when he stood with her on his balcony, but rarely down here. He had no idea why that was, not really. But he knew it felt good to settle his great palm on the small of her back and close the small distance between them. He knew it was a gesture he could make. He knew he had a right to.

That alone amazed him as much as anything else did.

“I was different as well,” Vincent agreed. “We both were,” he added, hoping the three words conveyed much more than it seemed they could.

Near the chamber’s exit, Kanin hefted their things, as Oliva brushed a calming kiss across her newborn son’s head. He yawned, again.

Different. We’re all… different, now. Changing. Growing. In Luke’s case, being born. In Olivia’s… well. She’s the mother she always longed to be. You… me… Kanin. We are, all of us, changed. Forever.

Luke wiggled a bit, inside his soft blanket. It looked like he was indeed about to fuss. Olivia gave him another kiss.

Luke is Kanin’s link to eternity. No matter what happens, that will always be true. What change could be greater than that?

He turned his attention back to the glorious woman by his side.

And you… you have been the end to my aloneness, Vincent thought, touched by the poignancy of it all.

What a year it had been, indeed. For all of them.

“Will you come to the balcony, this evening?” she asked. It was a request she seldom made, knowing how unpredictable his day could be. But today, on Luke’s Naming Day, the Tunnels felt like the relaxed, convivial place she sometimes knew them to be. Work had been set aside, for the day. They were here to celebrate the birth of a child; a Tunnel-born son, and one of their own.

One Olivia was helping to wave ‘good-bye’ to the gathered crowd, as Kanin wrangled their gifts, and she kept Luke entertained, so he wouldn’t cry.

The little family left the room, taking every good wish with them.

“What do you think?” Catherine prompted, bringing Vincent back to her question.

Vincent considered the prospect of sitting with her on her balcony. The moon would be nearly full. And beneath that, an early spring would be exploding, all across the park.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, a soft kind of joy in his voice.

And he didn’t.

~~~

No matter where you are in your own fairy tale, I wish you love. ~ Cindy

*****

Don’t Judge a Book

By Its Cover

by Allison

~~~

Catherine pulled Edie into the conference room and closed the door behind her. A TV set and tape player were on one corner of the conference table. Edie spied Joe with a bemused expression on his face, standing in a corner.

“Anything wrong, boss?” Edie said with concern, her eyes searching Joe’s face for some clue as to why she was brought to the conference room.

“Wrong? Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. Just something that Catherine found recently and brought to my attention.” Joe took one of the chairs near him.

Edie turned to Catherine. “Girlfriend?”

“Edie, Edie, Edie. You really surprised me this time,” Catherine said with a smile.

“Who, me? What’d I do?” Edie racked her brain, wondering what on earth Catherine could have found that concerned her.

“You didn’t tell me, or Joe. Just kept this deep, dark secret.” Catherine said mysteriously.

Secret? I don’t have any secrets. What should I have told you?” Edie couldn’t recall anything that she kept secret from them.

Catherine pressed play on the VHS player, and it whirred into life. They all stared at the screen as the video started to play.

https://youtu.be/BTZArvbmG_o?si=6kwumGNc_-gQYyIz

“Ah–Ah–Ah....” Edie struggled to say something.

“Edie, you got some ‘splaining to do,” Joe teased.

“Well, you see. I was 19 and had just started Brooklyn College studying computer science. I had always been interested in the theatre. I was going to school full-time and auditioning for work in the theatre when I could, to see if I could do anything with it. At least the computer courses were something I could always fall back on. My advisors said I had an aptitude for them.

“Anyway, my agent at the time called me and said the production team for a movie was looking for background singers... to do call-and-response for a song. Would I be interested in auditioning? I said ‘sure’. I had never heard of the director before, but it sounded like fun”

“We’re certainly glad you didn’t continue your theatre aspirations,” Joe said with a gleam in his eye. “We couldn’t have done as much as we have without your expertise.”

Edie blushed at the compliment. “ I recorded the vocal in a single take in Queens. It was just a session,” said Edie. “It was just me and a rhythm section; none of the background singers were there. And we just went in, and we put it down. They said I was hired and told me to go to Central Park the following day. Shooting for the movie sequence lasted approximately ten days. I saw the movie when it premiered, and it took my breath away, but I realized my heart really wasn’t in it. So, I continued my studies at Brooklyn College and joined the DA’s office after I graduated in 1982.”

“I saw the movie when it came out,” Joe commented.

“So did I,” Catherine said.

“You?” Joe questioned. “I didn’t think an uptown girl like you would be interested in a movie like that.”

“I wasn’t, but my so-called ‘boyfriend’ was and talked me into seeing it with him.” Catherine snorted. “I think he just wanted to see the brief nude scenes in it.”

“I forgot about the movie after it was done and never realized it came out on VHS.” Edie walked over to the box the movie came in. “This was released the same year I graduated,” Edie said with a grin.

“Well, if the three of us ever go do karaoke, I will make sure this song is chosen. We should ask for a performance here but you...” pointing to Edie, ‘’ need to get back to work and find that info on the MacPherson case that I need.” Joe jerked his head toward the door. “Get back to work,” he teased.

“Yes, sir.” Edie saluted smartly. “Oh, before I forget.” Edie reached over and ejected the tape from the player, picked up the box and quickly got herself out of the room.

“Hey, I need that for insurance,” Catherine yelled after Edie.

“Not today, girlfriend. Not today.”

Joe and Catherine both smiled as they, too, left the conference room and got back to their respective offices to finish out the day.

*****

The Mirror Sees All

by Angie

*****

On a whim, after a party, they decided to investigate a new tunnel storage room.

Catherine noticed an old wooden coat tree, with a shoe rack and shoe shine box at the bottom. She hauled it out to where there was lots of room. She had an idea.

“Lay down there, Vincent,” she pointed.

He did so, merely raising his eyebrows. Then she lay down in the opposite direction, her head on his.

There, in the mirror on the front of the shoe box, they saw themselves as never before.

The mirror showed them as they truly were.

One. Always.

*****

The Outsiders Missing Scene

by Allison

With excerpts from the episode:

The Outsiders

~~~

Zeke came running into the tunnel.

Vincent looked up and spotted him on the rock shelf above them, holding a gun.

Catherine noticed him also and slowly both stood.

Vincent stepped in front of Catherine.

Zeke pointed the gun at Vincent.

Vincent and Catherine moved slightly closer as Zeke climbed off the rock shelf and raised the gun again. Vincent and Catherine stopped moving toward the boy.

“Don’t be afraid,” Vincent tried to calm the boy.

Catherine tried to move alongside Zeke.

Zeke had the gun still pointed at Vincent.

Vincent kept his eyes trained on the child as Catherine moved. “You’re safe here.” Vincent tried to keep the child’s attention trained on him.

Zeke stuttered and mimicked Vincent, “You’re safe here.”

Catherine moved closer.

Vincent advanced toward Zeke.

Zeke’s eyes flicked between Catherine and Vincent. Suddenly Zeke pulled the trigger and hit Vincent in his right shoulder.

Catherine yelled, “No!” and ran toward Zeke knocking the gun from his hand.

Zeke kicked wildly at Catherine and scurried to his feet, then sprinted off like a scared animal.

Frantically searching Vincent’s shoulder, she found the entry wound from the gunshot. Moaning softly to herself, Catherine caressed Vincent’s cheek and softly kissed the spot hidden by Vincent’s hair, then buried her head in his neck.

Vincent put his right arm around Catherine’s shoulder and held her close.

Coaxing Vincent to his feet, she slowly led him past the still-bloody aftermath. “Come, let’s get you to Father.”

Vincent nodded and allowed Catherine to guide him away.

~~~

Vincent led Catherine to the Great Hall where everyone was gathered, to inform them that the Outsiders were all dead. Gasps are heard around the chamber as Vincent and Catherine came into view through the back entrance.

“Vincent, are they...?” Father quietly asked as they came closer to where he was standing.

“The deed is done, Father. The Outsiders won’t be bothering us any longer.” Vincent sighed in response.

Whispers went around the chamber as the news spread to the rest of the community.

Catherine led him to a nearby chair and Vincent groaned aloud as he sat in the high-backed chair.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Father moved towards Vincent.

“Their child shot him,” Catherine replied flatly, guilt already flowing through her at the thought of her gun being the catalyst.

“Shot? My God, where?” Father started to reach for Vincent’s chest to check the damage.

“It hit him in his right shoulder.” Catherine reached to try and remove the vest covering the area, but Vincent waved her away.

Father looked closer and finally noticed the thin red steak down his right arm.

“We must get you to the Hospital chamber immediately so I can dress that wound. Catherine, please leave us while I tend to Vincent.” Father waved Catherine away while she tried to hover close by.

“I’ll take you to Vincent’s chamber, you can wait there till we know more.” Mary took Catherine by the shoulders and started to steer her in the direction of Vincent’s chamber.

~~~

Father took Vincent to the Hospital chamber to better examine the injury.

“The bullet is still in there. I will have to remove it. I’m sorry, Vincent, there’s no other way.”

Mary went to Vincent’s chamber to tell Catherine that Father must operate to remove the bullet.

“Thank you for telling me.” Catherine hugged Mary.

“Go home. It will be a few hours till he can go back to his chamber.” Mary tried to smile as Catherine bowed her head in acquiescence.

Catherine reluctantly left the tunnels and told Mary she would return in the morning.

~~~

Father was able to remove the bullet with minimum effort and wrapped Vincent’s shoulder with a thick gauze bandage and put his arm in a sling.

“Please try to take it easy and stay Below for a few days until your shoulder heals. I am sure Catherine will agree with me,” Father tried to ease Vincent’s concern.

Vincent slowly made his way back to his chamber. Vincent was sitting in his chair, his right shoulder heavily bandaged and his arm in a sling. Vincent stared at the ground, Catherine stood in the doorway and tried to move closer.

“Talk to me, Vincent.” Catherine requested.

Vincent turned his head away. “There is nothing to say.”

“What you did was... necessary.”

Vincent refused to look at Catherine.

“Let me share your pain.”

“How can you even look at me?” Vincent glanced up at Catherine.

“Because I know you... I know who you are.”

Vincent looked down. “You don’t know me, Catherine.”

“Vincent... There are dark places in all of us.”

“But part of me feeds in that darkness and I am lost in it. Leave me now.”

Catherine hesitated and Vincent looked up at her. “Please... “

“I love you,” Catherine whispered.

Vincent lowered his head again and Catherine slowly walked away and left the chamber.

Vincent leaned back in the chair.

Catherine arrived at her basement threshold, turned back with tears in her eyes toward the tunnel behind her, turned again and walked toward the ladder in the distance.

*****

A Classic Round Robin:

Enduring

“I believe in the immeasurable power of love.

That true love can endure any circumstance and reach across any distance…”

-Steve Maraboli

*****

Chapter One

by Judith

~~~

Vincent dropped down onto the roof of Catherine’s apartment building. He landed in a crouch and then straightened up. He walked to the brick parapet and stopped to look out at the spangled lights of the great city.

He quartered the view slowly as if seeking to see behind the brightness of the lights and probe their many secrets. He needed answers he had been unable to find. Now he had come to Catherine to ask for her help. He prayed it would not be too late.

“Where are you?” he whispered raggedly. “Where did you go and why?”

Of course, he found no answers there in the view. He was aware the lights didn’t care about the frailty of humans. Their single role was to cover up the misery and the dark deeds of the night.

Finally, Vincent shook his head as he swung one leg over the edge and climbed down the trellis to land softly on the edge of Catherine’s balcony planter. The hour was extremely late, and he could sense his love was tired from a heavy day at work. But, despite that, the lights still shone out from her apartment onto the tiles. She must still be working. The unfairness of it irked him because he was bringing her more work to do.

He walked to the closest balcony door. “Catherine…,” he called softly, tapping one fingernail against one of the glass panes.

He leaned closer and could see the outline of her small shape through the gauzy sheers. Her head was resting sideways against the back of one of her dinky couches in her living room.

A warm sense of dreaming serenity washed through him, and he became aware she was dozing, hovering sweetly on the edge of sleep. He sighed as he almost turned away.

He hated to disturb her. If the troubling concern he brought to her door wasn’t so urgent, he would have left again and allowed her to sleep. But what he had to ask could not wait.

He sighed again as he tapped once more. “Catherine? Wake up, please. I need to speak with you.”

“Vincent?” Catherine jerked awake, brushing the back of one hand across her brow. “I wasn’t asleep. I was working…”

She pushed herself upright, shoving aside the stack of files that covered her lap. Sheets of paper and file covers cascaded to the floor all around as she scrambled to her feet.

“Hang on. Please don’t go…” She belted her dressing gown more firmly around her waist as she hurried to unlock and open the balcony doors.

She walked up the small step and pushed through the curtains to him. With a soft sigh of welcome, she went into his embrace and his arms closed around her, enveloping her in his strength and solid warmth. She burrowed deeply, trying to hold as much of him as she could.

“I have missed you…,” she said, after a few minutes of silent communion. “Very much…”

“As I have missed you,” Vincent replied against her hair. “I wanted to see you.”

“Then, where have you been?” Catherine turned her face against the thick ribbing of his grey vest. “Have you been away? It’s been nearly a week. I tried to tap out a signal to you from my basement, but you didn’t come. Why didn’t you?”

“I’m deeply sorry. I was unavoidably detained,” Vincent replied as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “We have been searching for one of our own who has mysteriously gone missing. But we couldn’t find any sign of him anywhere Below. No one has seen or heard from him in days.”

He moved his great shoulders. “We have been forced to assume he came Above to find work. Even though he promised his wife he would not do so because she feared the work he could find up here would be too dangerous.”

Catherine pulled back to look up at him. “Then, how can I help?” She cupped his stubbed cheek in the palm of her hand. “Tell me what you need.”

Vincent sighed. “His name is Marcus. We have looked everywhere Below, but he seems to have vanished completely. And yet, he would not do that. He has a wife and two young children who are frantic to find him. He’s a general labourer by trade and a good one too. He could turn his hand to anything.”

He shook his head. “That Is why I came to you. Despite Marcus’ promises to his family, we fear he is lost Above, somewhere in the city.” He turned his head to scan the lights behind them. “But none of our helpers up here have seen him or heard from him. It’s not like him to be absent for so long without a word.”

“Okay…” Catherine took his arm between her hands. “Do you have a description of him? Can you tell me what he looks like? I’ll need something concrete to go on.”

“Yes…” Vincent nodded quickly as he pushed one hand beneath his cloak. “I have made a drawing of him.” He drew out a folded piece of paper. “It’s a good likeness.”

“Then, tomorrow morning, I’ll start making some discreet inquiries.” Catherine unfolded the drawing. “I’ll see if anyone fitting his description has turned up. Or been arrested or taken to the hospital.”

She grimaced as she shook her head. “Or worse…”

She scanned the drawing. It was of an ordinary-looking young man she guessed was in his thirties. Nothing about his plain, regular features stood out. He could have been any one of a million people who worked hard trying to make a living in New York by the sweat of their brows and the strength of their backs. They worked hard for so little reward.

“His wife, Emily, is ill,” Vincent supplied softly as he watched her. “She is afflicted with a rare type of cancer that requires treatment we do not have Below. I know Marcus was trying to find work Above to make the money to afford what she needs. But the work he did find, in the past, was extremely dangerous. That’s why Emily didn’t want him coming up to work Above again.”

He sighed. “But he left his family over a week ago, promising to return with a solution to their troubles. But he did not tell anyone where he was going. Now, it’s as if he never existed at all.”

He turned to indicate the lights behind them. “It’s as if the city has swallowed him whole.”

“Please, try not to worry. I’ll see what I can do,” Catherine reassured him. “I can only hope it will be good news.”

“Emily said she is prepared to endure the worst if she must,” Vincent replied. “It’s the not knowing that’s eating away at her. And worrying about Marcus is not making her condition any better. Father is deeply worried about her and for her. He feels so helpless. We all do.”

“Oh, Vincent, I’m so sorry…” Catherine went back into his embrace and held him tightly. “I can’t do anything until I get to work in the morning. But first thing, I will start asking around. See if anyone knows anything. If he has come Above, I pray I can find him for you.”

“Thank you. No matter what, we need to know.” Her love kissed her forehead. “Now you must go back inside. It’s very late and you need to rest. I can feel how tired you are.”

“Yes…,” Catherine sighed, accepting his gentle attempts to push her away from him and back into her apartment. “I have a whole pile of depositions I must take, or Joe will fire me.”

She didn’t want to leave him out here. For not the first time, she wished he would surrender his unspoken objections to coming back inside with her. She knew she would be able to sleep nestled in his arms. It was a secret dream that she could never express. However often it hovered on the tip of her tongue.

She grimaced, knowing it was pointless to ask. “I’ll let you know the moment I find out anything. Meet me Below in the basement tomorrow night.”

She stepped back. “Good-night, Vincent. And please, try not to worry. I’m sure we’ll find your Marcus for his Emily.”

Vincent watched her move back beyond the gently moving sheers. “Good-night, Catherine. Sleep well…”

He wanted to surrender to the sensual pull of going back inside with her. Everything inside him strained to do so. The idea of holding her while she slept was a sweetly delicious dream.

But it could only ever be that… a dream. He could endure the pain as long as he knew she was safe.

“Good-night,” he said again as his love closed the doors and snibbed the lock into place.

He waited until all the lights inside went out and Catherine had gone to bed. Then he turned back to stare out at the lights of the city. But, as before, they looked back at him with a supreme indifference that made his nails curl into his palms with frustration.

~~~

The following afternoon, Catherine sat behind her desk and frowned up at her boss with deep disgust. “I really don’t know how you can eat those things. You must have a cast-iron stomach.”

“I found an unopened packet in my desk drawer. I thought I’d give them another try.” Joe shrugged as he hitched one casual hip onto the corner of her desk, making the closer sight of his eating habits even more disgusting than usual.

He was popping those dreadful chocolate-covered, cheese nuggets into his mouth and chewing them with evident relish. Watching him eat made Catherine’s empty stomach churn.

After Vincent’s nocturnal visit, she’d risen too late and had to pass on her usual morning cup of coffee to get into work on time. She’d been too busy and had worked through her lunch hour. She doubted she would be able to escape on time.

She had cherished hopes of seeing Vincent again tonight and giving him some good news about Marcus. But all her efforts to find the missing man’s whereabouts had so far come up empty. She had exhausted every avenue.

It was as if he didn’t exist. A deeply frustrating puzzle, but one she was determined to solve.

“So, what’s your problem with what I eat?” Joe asked in an aggrieved tone, grinning at her. “I say, don’t knock ‘em until you’ve tried ‘em, Radcliffe.”

He held out a chocolate-covered treat. “Want one? I got another whole bag.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass…” Catherine pulled a discontented face. “I don’t see why I should have to endure watching you eat those awful things. They turn my stomach.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, the main reason I’m here is I’ve got a new case for you…” Joe looked suspiciously casual as he pulled a thick file from beneath his arm. “It looks like your friend, Elliot Burch, is up to some of his old tricks after he helped us take down Avery. He’s moving into places he doesn’t have any right to be. It’s been noticed by some of his larger competitors, and they don’t like it. They want him stopped, like yesterday, by any means we can.”

“Okay, now look, Joe…” Catherine sat back in her chair as she folded her arms across her chest, refusing to take the file. “You know that Burch is off the table. I told you and Moreno last time that he owed me one. That if he ever tried to trade on my private life again, my resignation would be on his desk by morning.”

She stared up at her boss and threw down her pen. “What’s changed? Do you want me to resign?”

Her boss grimaced. “Whoa, heck, no. Of course, not. Why would I want that? But this isn’t Moreno asking this time. This one’s from me. A personal favour.”

His expression became serious as he pushed the file closer to her. “Powers a lot bigger than me are noticing Burch’s new moves into their territory and if I’m not seen to be doing something about it, then it’ll be my resignation on Moreno’s desk come morning.”

“Is it truly that bad?” Catherine sighed, as she reluctantly unfolded her arms and sat forward again.

“Worse…” Her boss shrugged. “You all see only a tiny fraction of the garbage I gotta put up with on a daily basis. But I can handle the politics as long as those I trust to do their jobs, without me hounding them, can hold up their end too. You’ve already proven yourself, Radcliffe. I know I can count on you.”

Catherine regarded him steadily. “Thanks for the compliment, Joe.”

“Don’t mention it.” He pushed the folder closer. “So, you’ll do it? For my sake? Burch needs investigating and fast before someone else gets hurt.”

“I’ve got a dozen other fires to try and put out…” Catherine shook her head even as she took the folder. “But what choice do I have? Training a new boss would be above my pay grade.”

She opened the file and quickly scanned the first few pages. “What’s Elliot Burch been up to this time? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“He’s sunk to a whole new level.” Joe stood up. “Burch has been dabbling in some non-union construction and cutting corners and costs. It looks like he’s fast becoming another Avery.”

He raised his shoulders in frustration. “Last week, a construction site elevator plummeted twenty-five floors with two workers inside. One was undocumented and the other guy was a homeless vagrant. Their deaths came after another immigrant worker without papers was killed by a falling steel beam on the same site less than three months ago.”

He frowned. “That’s what I call a bad safety record. The three workers had little to protect them. They had no leverage and few options. The city’s inspectors are stretched to breaking point and fines for safety violations can be easily absorbed by the big developers like Burch. He’s staked his reputation on being able to get the work done on time and on budget. No questions asked.”

His brows drew together heavily. “Well, I’m asking, and you should be too.”

“Okay, Joe. I get the picture.” Catherine nodded as she continued reading. “The people walk the streets, and they don’t even see these workers. They’re building our city. But when they die, not even The Times will take note of their deaths. They don’t want to worry the tourists.”

“It’s how things are done in this city.” Joe watched her deep dissatisfaction for a moment with compassion. “The bodies of the three workers are still being held in the city morgue. But you’d better get down there fast.”

He shook his head. “If no one comes forward to claim them soon, they’ll be shipped out to Hart Island and buried alongside the million or so other poor saps that are already out there. Then the city can go on as it always has. Unseeing and uncaring.”

He clenched one hand closed. “If you could manage to find their families, that would be something. At least they would know what happened to their men. A tall order, I know. There isn’t much to go on. Burch certainly isn’t talking.”

He grimaced. “When I put a call through to him yesterday, he said he’ll investigate it for me when he gets the time. But he said he’s not responsible for the hiring and firing. He reckons his hands are clean.”

He indicated the file. “There are pictures of all three of the men in there. Maybe if you show them around to enough people, someone might be able to identify them. I know it’s a long shot, that’s why I gave it to you. You have some fairly strange sources that can sometimes get quick results. And I need that like yesterday.”

“All right, I’ll see what I can do…” Catherine didn’t look up from her reading.

She turned the page and the sight of the black and white mortuary photographs of the three workers made her catch her breath. The two undocumented workers she didn’t know, but the third man was sadly different. Her heart sank as she shook her head in silent despair.

The man’s face had been badly bruised and disfigured by the accident, but the unusual style and cut of his patchwork clothing was unmistakable. If she looked closely, she could see Mary’s careful hand in the stitching of the dead man’s shirt and jacket.

“Oh, Vincent, I’m so very sorry…,” she whispered shaking her head slowly as she studied his face again, knowing she had found Vincent’s missing Marcus.

She hated having to tell him. But tell him she must. Her well-honed sense of justice began to burn, making her hands shake slightly. “Elliot Burch…” she muttered.

“What is it?” Joe had turned and walked away but he turned to frown back at her gasp of shock. “You found something already? Do you know one of them? I didn’t think you’d move in their kind of circles. But if you’ve already got a lead, it’s more than we had a minute ago.”

“I… no, I haven’t,” Catherine replied carefully, closing the file. “I was… thinking about something else.” She managed the lie with a straight face. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything.”

“Well, get your head into the game and quick. I need results like yesterday, Radcliffe… or the two of us might be looking for new jobs come Monday.” Joe continued on his way back to his office and shut the door behind him with a sharp snap.

~~~

Chapter 2

by Allison

Elliot received the report about the investigation of the construction collapse the week before in silence from the construction foreman.

“How did this happen?” Elliot yelled. “You assured me that ‘ALL’ construction permits and materials were the best we could buy. Why wasn’t I informed immediately about the workers being killed? And ‘why’ did it take this long for this report to reach me?”

“Mr. Burch, if you’d let me explain…” the foreman started.

“This report tells me that a Peter Milatz failed to comply with a procedure that required him to ‘hang’ the elevator cable, which suspends the elevator brake. It also says, he allegedly removed a safety feature called the ‘governor’— which triggers the braking system.”

Elliot looked down at the report. “Is this true? Who else has seen this?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

What about the workers’ families? Do we know who the two workers are? Did they even ‘have’ families?”

“Yes, sir. The one man was undocumented. He never mentioned any family but being undocumented, it isn’t unusual. He wouldn’t want his family exposed to the authorities if he was found out. But Marcus… I’ve worked with him before. He knew his stuff around construction. He also mentioned he had a wife and two young kids, but he wouldn’t talk about them. One day in passing, he told me about his father but that he was estranged from him. He told me once if anything happened to him, to call his father, Wilton Knight.”

“Wilton Knight? The billionaire?” Elliot whispered.

“Yes, he specifically said Wilton Knight,” Sam the foreman acknowledged.

“Not his wife?” Elliot asked.

“No, sir. We have no record of where Marcus lived, or who his wife is. He always requested his pay in cash… said he didn’t like banks. He was a very private individual. He only mentioned his father because we were talking about how our fathers felt disappointed in us sometimes in the decisions we made.’

That is certainly true in my case as well, Elliot thought.

“God, this certainly complicates things.” Elliot rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Thank you, Sam, for the information. I will take it from here. Sam, one more thing. If you find out anything about the other man or his family, will you let me know?”

Sam nodded his assent and quietly left the office. Elliot sat at his desk with his head in his hands, pondering what to do next.

~~~

Catherine also did some digging with Edie’s help, and although it took some time, she was able to officially identify the two construction workers. The one man was Joe Cruz, and she knew about Marcus through Vincent but was finally able to get his last name. Using the DA’s various sources, and checking Marcus’ fingerprints through AFIS, she was also able to determine that Marcus’ last name really wasn’t Bennett. It was Knight. Edie gave Catherine the small folder she was holding.

“Marcus Knight, son of Wilton Knight had been missing for the past ten years,” Edie told Catherine. “He was last seen at a nightclub here in Manhattan, partying with a group of people. He left the club at 2 am according to his friends but never returned to the hotel they were staying at. This was all I could find on what he’d been up to before he disappeared.”

I wonder how he ended up Below? Catherine pondered to herself. “This certainly complicates things,” Catherine said aloud.

“How?” Edie asked.

“Uh, the way he was killed. This will be a media circus when they formally identify him. The press will wonder how the son of a billionaire suddenly turned up as a construction worker and using an alias. And where he’s been for the last ten years.”

‘How can I expose Emily and her children to this?” Another question Catherine pondered. ‘What will Wilton Knight do if he finds out his son had children?’

“Oh, one other thing,” Edie mentioned on her way back to her desk.

“What other thing?” Catherine asked.

“Marcus Knight was adopted. It took some intense digging, but you’ll never guess who Marcus is related to.”

“Edie, quit stalling and tell me.”

“Your friend, Elliot Burch.”

“Elliot? That’s impossible. Elliot doesn’t have any brothers that I know of.”

“It was covered up with so much red tape, I’m surprised I found it.” Edie handed Catherine a thick manila folder. “This is all the information I could find on Marcus’ adoption. I hope it helps.”

“Wilton Knight certainly didn’t want anyone to know his son was adopted,” Catherine commented after she perused the folder. “You certainly gave me some reading material for tonight. Thanks, Edie.”

Catherine went back to her desk and put the manila folder in where her purse was. This was certainly information she had to share with Vincent, Father and especially Emily.

~~~

Chapter 3

by Angie

Catherine wrote up a quick report, put it on Joe’s desk while he was closeted with Moreno, and left the office. It was 5:30 pm so she was almost quitting on time, for a change. She would go straight below.

When she got back to her apartment, she changed quickly and went down through the basement entrance. By now it was 6:30 pm but Vincent must have sensed her coming because he was waiting for her.

Catherine walked into his arms, and he immediately knew the news was not going to be good.

“Come with me to Father’s chamber, Catherine. He will want to hear your news and then we must decide how to tell Marcus’ wife and children.”

Catherine looked up at him. “You know,” she said bluntly.

“I can sense your sadness,” he replied. “It does not feel like there is hope for Marcus… as there would be if he were in jail or hospital.”

Catherine nodded and Vincent took her hand, and they travelled down the long, but less tortuous route to Father’s chamber. Catherine had been this way before, but she was always glad of a guide because the ways changed, as she had been warned.

They found Father finishing up a cup of tea. They sat down opposite him, and he offered them both a cup. Catherine accepted. She had eaten nothing all day, and even tea was better than nothing. Her stomach was none too happy.

Vincent looked at her sideways and decided she must have something to eat as soon as possible. They all usually ate around 5 p.m. because of the children, but William always kept some food warm in the big oven for those who were detained by work or errands.

“I found Marcus,” Catherine stated bluntly. “He was working on a construction site where the safety regulations were... lax... to save money. He died when a construction elevator plunged to the ground from several stories up. He was with another man. Their bodies were unidentified until today. They’re both in the morgue.

“There are other deaths connected with this project.” She paused, and her next words were bitter and terse. “It’s one of Elliot Burch’s.”

Vincent and Father both sat up straighter at that name.

“But why?” Vincent whispered, to no one in particular, his voice registering shock. “We thought he...” He stopped, remembering all too well how one of his projects would have almost destroyed their world, and had certainly ruined some of Elizabeth’s artwork. Catherine had saved them by dint of careful research and proof of his shady financing – but not before she had offered herself in marriage if he would stop construction. He had refused.

Catherine was watching Vincent. His disappointment – and anger – were plain on his face. She didn’t have to guess where his thoughts had gone. After all, she had been there too. She sighed.

“He did save both your lives once, by providing some needed equipment, but that was a long time ago, Vincent. He did that because I asked. He will not stop his other questionable activities at my request. We know that now. We will have to bring the law down on him.

“However, there’s another problem related to Marcus,” she said. “Do you know anything about his background?”

Father answered slowly. “We know he worked in construction Above because he told us. When he married and had children he decided to quit, but could never find work that wasn’t poorly paid, because he’s undocumented and has no certifications. One of our helpers, who works part-time at a soup kitchen, used to help him out with food. They brought him Below with his family. They’ve been here for about five years. He... was... strong and his work here Below was done willingly and well.”

“There’s more to his story,” Catherine continued. “I had our researcher look him up. Apparently, he was adopted by a billionaire, but had left home about ten years ago, for some reason – and is still considered missing. As you know, he was working odd construction jobs. Then one night, when he was out with the boys, he just disappeared – I presume to come here with his family.

“It gets more interesting. We also found out that he was adopted as a baby from a hospital, and that the woman who bore him was Elliot’s mother. She was very young then, unmarried, and could not care for a child. I don’t think Elliot knows this. The record was very difficult to find – but at least it still existed.”

Father frowned, and Vincent got an intense look.

“Then Marcus’ family could have two men possibly interested in their well-being,” Vincent remarked.

Catherine merely commented wryly, “That’s true, but I doubt either is really going to want to be reminded. However, perhaps Elliot can be convinced to pay for the cancer treatment Emily needs. I’ll probably have to talk to him tomorrow.

“He’s responsible for these three deaths, and it will cost him. The DA and the New York City Central Labor Council will make sure of it. The AFL-CIO is always trying to make the regs tougher and improve worker’s rights. This might be just what they need to push their case with politicians – again. Elliot won’t be able to smile or excuse his way out of this one.

“I can make arrangements for Emily – perhaps to stay with Peter – I know he has room now, since his daughter moved out, and he would do this for you, and them. Her children should stay down here but officially be with Peter. I’ll try and talk to him tonight.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Catherine,” Father remarked.

“Can you take me to Peter’s, Vincent?” she asked.

“Yes, of course – I’ll send Kipper with a message first, to make sure he’s there. But you will eat something first, Catherine. I insist.”

Catherine slumped in her chair. She was hungry, and tired. However, it was a relief to have given them both the story, even if it wasn’t over yet. She nodded at Vincent and they both rose.

“Let me know how it all goes,” Father said. “I think we shouldn’t tell Emily and her children anything, yet. It would be better to have some good news to offset the bad.”

“I agree,” Catherine said. “I’m sure we can have most of this all worked out tomorrow.”

She went with Vincent to the kitchen and a short time later she was sitting down with a bowl of hearty soup, home-made bread and a big cup of tea.

When she had finished, they talked about what Vincent was reading while they waited for Kipper to return—and waited.

Catherine frowned and Vincent was listening to the pipe chatter, which Catherine could rarely follow, especially when she was tired, as now. He gave an oath and rose so quickly he almost tipped over his chair.

“What is it, Vincent?” she asked.

“Please wait here, Catherine. I will not be long.”

~~~

Chapter 4

by Janet Rivenbark

Out of a sense of decency that no one seemed inclined to attribute to him, Elliot made a visit to the city morgue to make sure that the bodies of the two men who had been killed on his construction site were taken care of. One of the bodies had been claimed by the family, but the other one, the man Sam had called Marcus, was still there.

“The DA’s office was asking questions earlier today,” the attendant told him. They might have some additional information.”

With the mention of the DA’s office, his mind immediately went to Catherine.

“Do you know who it was?” he asked.

The attendant opened the file on his desk. “Ah, it looks like the name was Catherine Chandler. She told the guy on days not to release the body, she’d see that it was taken care of.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning to go.

“Ah, Mr. Burch,” the attendant called after him. “Do you know this guy?”

“He worked for me. I just want to make sure his family is informed.”

“If he worked for you, then maybe this will make sense to you.” He held up a folded note with the name “Emily” on the outside.

“A wife, maybe?” Elliot said. “He told his foreman that he had a wife and a couple of kids. Did you read the note?”

“The coroner did.” Elliot was surprised when the attendant opened the note and handed it to him.

Em,

I’ve found work and am temporarily staying with one of the other guys on the job. Don’t worry—it’s not dangerous, but it does pay well. I’ll be Below on the weekend to bring some money and tell you everything.

Hug the kids for me and remember that I love you!

Marcus

Poor guy didn’t make it to the weekend, Elliot thought.

“Is it possible for me to get a copy of this?” Elliot asked the attendant.

“No problem,” the young man replied. “It’ll just take a minute.”

As Elliot waited, a phrase in the note jogged his memory: “I’ll be Below…” That, combined with Catherine’s name, made him wonder.

She had once introduced him to a world below the city streets, and he wondered if there was a connection. It made sense that there was if she said that she’d take care of Marcus, and he’d referenced Below, with a capital B.

“Can I use your phone?” he asked.

“Sure.” He set it up on the ledge.

After checking his watch, he saw that it was after 7 p.m. Cathy should be home, so Elliot dialed her home number. Her machine picked up.

“Cathy, are you there?” he said. “If you are, please pick up… this is official business.” But even after adding the last, there was no answer.

Just to be sure, he tried her number at the DA’s office but got no answer.

“Thanks,” he said again to the attendant and left.

~~~

He had walked from his office; he’d been doing that a lot lately. Walking was about the only way he could get away from the phones and the assistants at his office and get a chance to really think. The streets were crowded, but the anonymity offered a sense of privacy he just didn’t get anywhere else, not even his home.

He remembered the spot where he and Cathy had entered the world below the streets and found himself going in that direction. That would be a long walk, so he headed for the next subway station.

Elliot Burch, on the subway, he mused as he rode. He was sure no one would believe it.

The area he sought was quiet and deserted.

The manhole cover was heavy, but he stayed in shape and worked out, so it wasn’t too difficult to move. It was harder to get it back in place once he was on the ladder.

At the bottom, he stopped and thought back. He was pretty sure they’d gone to the right from the ladder, so he started off in that direction.

After he’d walked for almost 30 minutes, he began to wonder if he’d lost his mind or at least his way. But he did hear that strange tapping sound that he’d noticed the first time. Something is going on down here, he concluded.

It sounded almost like Morse code; he thought he could identify some of it but not all of it.

He reached an intersection and was standing, pondering which way to go, when he heard voices.

“Hello?” he called.

The tapping he was hearing seemed to speed up; then there was silence.

“Hello?” he repeated. “Um, I seem to be lost. Can you help me?”

“Stay where you are,” a female voice called out. “Someone will be here to escort you out in a few minutes.”

OK, I don’t know if that is promising or scary, he said to himself as he moved to lean on one of the walls.

It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps. Turning toward the sound, he saw a tall figure silhouetted against the faint light coming from the other end of the tunnel.

“Can you help me?” Elliot asked.

He was surprised to hear a quick intake of breath, almost a gasp.

“Elliot Burch?” the figure asked.

“Yes, but how do you know my name?”

There was a pause. “Catherine is a friend.”

“I knew there was some connection,” Elliot said.

Vincent only briefly considered the risk, but after what Catherine had told them, he thought it was worth it. Especially if it would help Emily.

“Please, follow me, I’ll take you to her.”

They didn’t walk very far. There was another intersection, and they turned toward the right again. Elliot was sure that he and Cathy had gone left the last time. The tapping had started again, and the lighting was better. There were even a few electric work lights in some places.

Finally, they walked through a large room that looked like a dining area. His guide never turned around; all Elliot saw was his back and what looked like a cloak with a hood.

They entered a kitchen, and his guide stepped to one side.

“Catherine, there is someone to see you,” he said. He moved to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall, never lowering his hood.

Catherine looked up.

“Elliot. What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

“Then, maybe I should ask why you are here?”

“It’s about Marcus Bennett,” he told her.

~~~

Chapter Five

by Barbara Anderson

Elliot didn’t have a bond with Catherine. But he didn’t need one to see the contempt on her face. It cut him to the very core to know that he had managed to disappoint her yet again.

“I know you’ve been to the morgue, Cathy,” he began. “How much do you already know?” he asked.

Catherine huffed in disgust. Typical Elliot, she thought. He wants to know what I know so he can decide how much of the truth to tell me.

“How about this, Elliot? Why don’t you tell me what you have to say for yourself,” Catherine said coldly. “And I’ll tell you how much I believe.”

From the safety of the shadows, Vincent silently watched the exchange and listened. But what was more significant was what he felt. He was sure he had never felt such anger and contempt from Catherine before. He was very grateful those emotions were not directed at him.

Elliot looked at the cloaked figure standing in the shadows, wondering who he was and why he didn’t show his face. “Can he be trusted, Cathy?”

“I trust him with my life,” she replied. Unlike you, she silently added.

“That’s good enough for me,” Elliot replied with a nod. “A report landed on my desk this morning… about an incident on one of my construction sites last week. Apparently, the construction foremen was… cutting corners, trying to save money and… there was a terrible accident.”

Catherine tilted her head, clearly sceptical. “An accident that happened a week ago… and you expect me to believe you just heard about it today?”

Elliot held out both hands in a silent plea for her to believe what he was saying “It’s true, Cathy, I promise… Today was the first time I heard anything about—”

“Don’t!” she yelled, interrupting him. “Don’t promise me anything!” she said through clenched teeth.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to control her increasing anger. “Even if I did believe you…” she finally said, trembling with rage. “Ignorance is no excuse, Elliot! You just told me it was your construction site. It was your responsibility! Men ARE DEAD!!!”

With each angry word, Elliot felt as if he was being stabbed in the heart. “You’re right… it was my responsibility…” he admitted meekly.

Catherine was surprised he was so quick to accept responsibility until he continued.

“But you have no idea what I’ve been dealing with, Cathy. Ever since I cooperated with the D.A. against Avery, I’ve been—”

“What you’ve been dealing with?” she sneered. “You always have an excuse don’t you, Elliot? Some logical reason why nothing is ever your fault. Do you even care what the families of those men are dealing with? Do you even know if they have families?”

“One of the men was an undocumented worker. He was hired under the name Joe Cruz, but I have no idea if that was an alias or his real name. His family has already claimed his body, but they didn’t leave any contact information. I’m trying to find them. The second man’s name was Marcus Bennett… Marcus Knight, actually. It turns out his father is—”

“Wilton Knight,” Catherine said flatly.

“Sooo, you already know that.”

“Yes… I also know that Marcus Knight has been missing for the last ten years. How long have you known who he was?”

“I just found out today. He told one of the other workers that if anything ever happened to him to contact his father, Wilton Knight.”

“Then why did you come here? Why didn’t you go to his father?”

Elliot looked confused that she would ask that, as if the reason would be obvious to anyone. “Come on, Cathy. He was estranged from his father. He was using an alias. He changed his name, for heaven’s sake! Does that sound remotely familiar to you?”

“Yes… I suppose it does,” she said, realizing for the first time the weird parallels between the two men… between the two brothers. Elliot still has no idea, she reminded herself. How am I going to tell him that?

Elliot continued to explain himself. “Wilton Knight is one of the wealthiest men in the country and yet Marcus chose to live like… like he did. Something terrible must have happened between them for him to choose that. He told one of his coworkers he had a wife and kids.”

Reaching into his pocket Elliot retrieved a folded note and held it out to her. “The coroner found a note in Marcus’ pocket. They made a copy for me. It was addressed to someone named Emily. I can only assume that’s his wife. Something he says in it led me to believe I might find her down here.”

Catherine cautiously reached for the note. She read it and carefully refolded it before placing it on the counter.

A profound silence settled between them. For the first time, Catherine noticed that Elliot looked genuinely distraught. Is he truly sorry that Marcus is dead? she wondered. Or is he just sorry he’s in a mess he can’t buy himself out of this time?

“Cathy, I need you to believe me, I… I’m not the monster you think I am.”

Vincent flinched at Elliot’s choice of words. He had been all but forgotten by Catherine and Elliot as he stood on the other side of the kitchen, but he had not forgotten them. Elliot’s odd choice of words was not lost on him.

Yes, Vincent acknowledged, that is exactly how she feels about this man. She firmly believes he is a monster. I’ve tried to convince her over and over that I am a monster, and she won’t believe me… and yet that is how she sees Elliot… a man who could offer her the world…

Elliot’s words interrupted Vincent’s thoughts.

“It’s just that ever since I cooperated with the District Attorney’s office in the Avery case, I haven’t been able to get any union workers for any of my building projects. My supply chains have dried up. The banks are calling in my loans. I can’t get the permits I need from the city without paying exorbitant bribes. Even then, the permits are slow walked so I can’t meet my deadlines. Hardly anyone in the industry takes my calls. I’m in a desperate situation and every day it seems to get worse. I’m overwhelmed by it all. It’s like there are powers a lot bigger than me… a lot bigger than Avery ever was… controlling every corner of this city.”

Something Elliot said jogged Catherine’s memory.

What was it Joe said to me this morning? she asked herself… Oh yes… ‘Powers a lot bigger than me are noticing Burch’s new moves into their territory and if I’m not seen to be doing something about it, then it’ll be my resignation on Moreno’s desk come morning…’

Powers a lot bigger than me, she repeated to herself. Is it possible that something or someone is really targeting him… trying to destroy him?

The desperation in Elliot’s voice touched something within her and she felt her anger beginning to dissolve.

In the silence, Vincent felt it too. Her anger beginning to abate like a storm that was beginning to wear itself out.

“All of that may be true, Elliot,” she said sadly, “But there’s no excuse… no justification for your negligence that will bring Joe or Marcus back. Nothing can change the fact that your negligence is ultimately responsible for the deaths of those two men… three if counting the man who died 3 months ago.”

“Marcus is dead?”

Catherine and Elliot turned toward the voice and were horrified to see Emily Bennett standing at the entrance of the kitchen. They had no idea how long she had been standing there or what she might have heard.

Before Catherine could answer, Emily lost consciousness and collapsed to the floor.

Vincent rushed to Emily’s side before Catherine or Elliot had even moved. Scooping her up into his arms, he was quick to get her out of the room.

“Catherine, I’m taking her to the Hospital Chamber. Please go to Father’s chamber and tell him to meet me there.”

He was stunned by the quickness of Vincent’s reaction to the situation. Elliot had never seen anyone move as quickly as this cloaked man. Who is this strange man, he wondered. He didn’t have time to ask Catherine though, because she was immediately on the move. He had no choice but to follow her.

~~~

Emily regained consciousness and looked around. It took her a moment to realize where she was. Sitting up slowly, she began to get out of the hospital bed.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s wonderful,” Father said. “But you need to lie back down. Doctor’s orders.”

“I’m fine, Father,” Emily insisted. “I have to find Catherine. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in my study.”

“I must see her. I must ask her… something.”

Father could see that the young woman would not take no for an answer. “Wait a moment, I’ll get you some help. After that fainting spell, I can’t let you go on your own.”

Leaving for just a moment Father returned with Vincent in tow.

“Father tells me you’ve recovered enough to be moved. I’ll carry you wherever you want to go.”

“You’re treating me like a piece of china.” She protested. “I’m not that fragile.”

“I’m sorry, Emily,” Father responded. “I’m afraid I must insist. I won’t have you fainting again. Either Vincent carries you, or you stay here.”

She studied them both. They’re treating me too carefully, she realized. There was a sombreness about them that told her more than they intended.

“I heard Catherine right, didn’t I, Vincent? Marcus is dead… isn’t he?”

Both men looked away, unable to answer her.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not that fragile. Just tell me the truth!”

“It is true,” Vincent finally admitted. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

Her knees buckled beneath her, and she slumped against the bed for support.

Vincent quickly reached for her, lifting her onto the bed.

The sadness that washed over her was overwhelming. It took a few moments for her to gain control of her emotions. Finally looking up with tears flowing down her face, she asked, “Do you know how it happened?”

“I think it’s best that you speak with Catherine directly,” Vincent said. “I’ll take you to her now.”

~~~

Father, Mary, and Vincent were the only other people in the study as Catherine and Elliot explained to Emily what had happened to her husband.

Elliot noted the large, cloaked man continued to lurk in the shadows and, as yet, had still not lowered the hood that obscured his face.

Emily looked frail and pale. Sitting in a chair next to Father’s large desk, she quietly listened to the events that led to Marcus’ tragic death.

“I suppose I knew a few days ago that he was gone,” she said quietly. “Even when he was working Up Top, he never went more the two days without sending me word. When four days had passed without so much as a message… I knew something terrible must have happened.”

“He had this in his pocket,” Elliot explained as he handed her the note.

Emily accepted it with trembling hands.

Em,

I’ve found work and am temporarily staying with one of the other guys on the job. Don’t worry—it’s not dangerous, but it does pay well. I’ll be Below on the weekend to bring some money and tell you everything.

Hug the kids for me and remember that I love you!

Marcus

She smiled sadly through fresh tears. “I love you too, my love,” she whispered, holding the note against her chest.

“Emily…” Catherine began. “Did Marcus ever tell you that his name wasn’t actually Marcus Bennett?”

Emily looked up, wide-eyed, and frightened at her friends.

“What is it, dear?” Mary asked gently. “You can tell us anything. There’s nothing to fear here.”

“You might feel differently once I tell you the truth,” Emily admitted. “And now that Marcus is… is…gone, I have no one… and nowhere else to go.”

“You know we all love you here… don’t you?” Mary asked. “We would certainly never turn you away… especially now.”

“You can be assured, Emily,” Father added. “I promise you, we will not turn our backs on you or your children.”

Taking a deep breath she began. “Marcus’ real name is… was… Marcus Knight… his father was a man named Wilton Knight.”

“Wilton Knight? The billionaire?” Father wondered aloud.

Emily nodded. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the awful scene between the man she loved and his father the day they left. “He’s an awful… despicable man,” she finally said.

“Can you tell us what happened? What caused Marcus to hide this from us?” Father asked.

Emily seemed to become lost in her painful memories as she explained.

“When Marcus introduced me to his father… to Mr. Knight. He was cold… to say the least. Especially when Marcus told him I didn’t have any family. When Marcus told him he was going to marry me, they had a terrible fight.

~~~

“I forbid you to marry that little tramp!” Wilton commanded. “Can’t you see she is only interested in you because of my money?”

“That isn’t true!” Marcus said, defending the woman he loved. “She loves me! I know she does!”

Wilton laughed derisively. “What makes you think anyone would ever love a loser like you? You have nothing to offer her. As soon as she realizes you’re penniless she’ll move on to her next mark.”

“That isn’t true. She doesn’t care about money. She cares about me!” Marcus assured his father.

Wilton Knight laughed again. “If you go through with this, you’re on your own. You will never see another penny of my money. How long do you think you’ll last out there in the world without my money to fall back on?”

“I don’t want your stinking money! All I’ve ever wanted from you is your love… but the only thing you know how to love is your power and your bank accounts. You pay more attention to your accountant than you ever did to me. And now you think you can tell me how to live my life? I’m twenty-six years old. I’m a grown man, Father. I will make my own choices.”

Realizing he no longer had control over Marcus, Wilton decided to inflict as much pain on his son as he possibly could.

“I’ve given you everything… you ungrateful, no-good bum. Without me, you would be nothing more than a piece of trash in the gutter. I guess I should have known, you can take the boy out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the boy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus asked.

“You might as well know. You aren’t actually my son. I bought you from a tramp just like her,” Wilton pointed at Emily as he flung his vicious slurs. “Your mother was a filthy prostitute who didn’t even have the money to feed a little brat like you. So, she sold you to me for a thousand bucks and that was that. She walked away and never looked back. So, if you insist on marrying her,” he threatened, pointing at Emily again. “You can’t give her my name… and if you spawn any brats… they have no claim on me… my name, or my money!”

Marcus grabbed Emily’s hand. “Come on, Em, we’re outta here.” Without another word, the couple headed for the door.

But Wilton Knight wasn’t finished. “If you walk out that door, Marcus, you are no longer my son! Don’t ever darken my door again.”

Mr. Knight stood on the porch as the young couple disappeared into the night and called out. “From this moment on… you’re dead… you no longer exist… you are NOTHING!!!”

~~~

“We walked out of his house together that night and we were married two days later. Marcus decided to take my maiden name. From that day on, he never spoke of Mr. Knight. Something broke inside of Marcus that night. Even though he never talked about it, I always knew it was a great source of pain for him. It was a wound so deep that even my love could never reach it.”

“Oh, Emily… you and Marcus have endured so much,” Mary said. “…and now this, on top of your illness.”

“I think it haunted him to know that his mother was a… a prostitute. It made him feel like… like maybe Mr. Knight was right… that he really was just trash. Marcus had no way of ever finding out who she was or who he really was. Now I suppose we’ll never know.”

“That’s not exactly true, Emily,” Catherine said. “I’ve seen his adoption papers and his original birth certificate. His mother wasn’t a prostitute.”

“She wasn’t?” Emily asked through her tears.

“No,” Catherine said with a sympathetic smile. “She wasn’t a tramp either. She was just very young, and very poor, and in no position to support a child.”

“Are you telling me, you know her name?”

Catherine went over to the satchel she had carried from work. Pulling out an official-looking document, with a picture of a young woman stapled to it, she handed it to Emily.

“Her name was Elizaveta Aslanov,” Catherine said, glancing over at Elliot to see him staring at her in shock and disbelief. “After she married, I believe she was better known as ‘Betty.’”

“Do you know where I can find her?” Emily pleaded, grasping at this slim ray of hope. “Do you think she might want to know about her son? That he grew up to be a good, and honourable man?”

“You can’t find her anywhere,” Elliot offered. “She’s… dead.”

“How do you know that?” Emily asked, wondering what this man could possibly know about it.

Elliot approached the frail woman and held out his hand. “May I?” he asked looking at the paper she held in her hand.

Emily readily relinquished it.

Looking up at him from a small photograph was a sad, young woman. He recognized her immediately. He lovingly stroked the face in the photograph.

“How do you know she’s dead?” Emily asked again.

“Because Elizaveta Aslanov was… my mother’s maiden name,” he explained. “Most people knew her as Betty Kazmarek. She died of cancer years ago… after I left home. I didn’t even know she was sick until it was too late.”

Approaching Elliot and pointing at the picture, Emily asked. “This woman was your mother? So that means that you’re…”

Elliot’s face had gone pale as the realization settled on him.

“It means that I… I’m responsible for the death of my own brother,” Elliot whispered in horror.

Then looking at Catherine, he said, “Maybe I am the monster you think I am.” He then sat down on a nearby chair, dropped his face into his hands and began to weep.

“Good Heavens!” Father exclaimed.

~~~

Chapter 6

by JessicaRae

A heavy, shocked silence hung over the room, punctuated only by the sudden, intense grief of Elliot. Catherine glanced at Vincent, still standing in the shadows, and through the Bond, they both knew this was something that wasn’t going to heal overnight.

Elliot sank to the floor next to Emily’s chair, the picture in his hands slipping from his fingers and drifting to the floor like a fallen leaf in the autumn. Emily leaned forward in her chair, laying a pale hand on the man’s shaking shoulder.

“Elliot, look at me,” she said softly, her own grief softening her voice. “Please, look at me.”

He shook his head, unable to look up at his dead brother’s wife, his mind racing with every moment of the last few months, his conscience replaying over and over the moments where different decisions could have prevented the tragedy of the worker’s deaths. He heard those in the room around him talking amongst themselves, but it was a distant rumble, a background noise in the chaos of his thoughts. In his mind’s eye, he analyzed every single plan and order that was signed by his hand in the last few months, and like a flash of lightning, he realized something.

“Cathy,” he breathed, looking up and around to see where she had gone. “Cathy, I – I didn’t sign it!”

“Didn’t sign what?” Catherine had moved to Vincent’s side and now stepped back into the candlelight, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Elliot shoved himself to his feet, his actions both determined and mildly hysterical. He snatched the picture up from the floor and handed it gently back to Emily, and grabbed Catherine’s arm. There was a slight movement from Vincent, as he probed the Bond to see if Cathy felt afraid. Curiously, she did not.

“Cathy, I promise you, I will find out who is responsible for this. I did not sign the order for that elevator build, I signed the order to inspect it, then I was out of town on other business the next week, and I got a call that the inspection was complete, and the men had resumed building. I don’t know who signed the authorization to continue, but I can tell you straight it wasn’t me. I’m going to make this right. For all of you. Please, can someone, escort me back up?”

Vincent stepped forward his presence commanding in the tense silence. “Catherine, stay with Emily. I shall escort him to the surface.”

“Vincent?” Catherine questioned, turning to look up into his barely visible face.

The tall man nodded toward the young widow and turned to walk from the room. Catherine understood and stepped around Elliot to crouch beside the chair.

“Emily, I know this has to be hard for you.”

Father patted Emily’s shoulder gently and motioned for Mary to go to Emily as well. He followed Vincent, pausing at the door to allow Elliot to walk out first.

“Vincent, shall I go with you?” Jacob asked his son, many questions rolled into the one sentence.

“You are always welcome to accompany me, Father, but I do not require it now.”

“As you wish, Vincent. I will see you later. Send word when you return.”

Vincent walked away with only a nod, making his way to the surface, taking extra twists and turns to further confuse Elliot. It was always the way.

~~~

“I don’t understand why you have all not turned your backs on me after all of this,” Elliot remarked brokenly, trying to keep up with the giant of a man ahead of him. “I’d like to turn my back on myself if I could, but I have to face this.”

“The strength of a man is not in his abilities or his money,” Vincent rumbled ahead of him. “Strength is found in doing the right thing even when you have to walk into fire to do it.”

“That’s definitely what I am going to be doing,” Elliot mumbled under his breath, a cold chill sweeping over his shoulders. It was both an indication that they had arrived Above and that he was truly afraid.

“Someone is trying to ruin me. This can’t just be a coincidence. I talked to my foreman, Sam, about this today, and there’s a man named Peter Milatz who did not follow procedure. I am going to find out who he is, and why he made such a big mistake that men died. With all these things going wrong, creditors after me. I may as well sink at the rate this is going. These guys, Vincent, they are real monsters, whomever they are. Heck, so am I. But you have to believe me when I say I didn’t want any of this to happen. I’m just trying to survive here.”

Vincent paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “We know.”

“Yeah,” Elliot sighed, as Vincent opened a hidden door in the corridor, letting the light of daytime stream in from the surface. “I suppose you do. Well, I’m going to go see what I can do about it. I will update Cathy at her office, tomorrow, if that’s alright. I – I don’t think I want to come back down.”

“Because of Emily?”

Elliot bit his lip and looked away; the grief clearly etched on his proud face.

“Vincent, I can’t look that woman in the eye again. I – although not premeditated – took her husband from her. I took my brother from myself. My actions let the man I would have gladly taken care of, and supported, die right in my backyard, basically. And his poor wife... his kids...” He swallowed hard, grimacing to stop his trembling lips, and planting one foot on the round doorframe, preparing to hoist himself through the opening into the world above.

“Elliot,” Vincent spoke, his tone serious and quiet.

The man paused, frowning at Vincent quizzically, his eyes searching for a face that was still shrouded in darkness.

“After everything you have seen down here, would you call me a monster?”

Elliot tilted his head in confusion. “No.” He studied the shadowed character carefully, willing his eyes to see the man’s face and to understand why he was being given this line of questioning.

“Yet, for all their mercy and kindness, they do believe you to be a monster. You, yourself, have spoken it.”

“My hands have blood on them, Vincent. Innocent blood. Of course, I am a monster.”

“Mine too have blood on them,” Vincent replied. “Although it has not been innocent blood, it has been blood, nonetheless. Yet, are we different?”

“Are we?” Elliot asked, confused.

“Life sometimes has grey areas. We do the best we can, to defend our loved ones, care for them, and stand up to anyone or anything that hurts them. Can you do that, Elliot?”

The man looked up into the shadowed face and nodded. “I’m going to make this right, Vincent. For Cathy, and for Emily, and for Marcus. I’m not a monster. At least I won’t always be.”

“Come back, Elliot.”

Elliot stepped through the entrance and glanced back at Vincent. “Can’t promise. Take care of Cathy and Emily, will you? Tell them I’m going to try.”

~~~

In the next few days, the community below prepared to move Emily to Peter’s house for care. “I don’t know how we can ever pay for it,” Emily sighed, handing Catherine a stack of sweaters to pack in her trunk. “And it hurts so much to think that dear Marcus went Up Top to try to help me. I would not have allowed it.”

Catherine carefully tucked a few more items in the small trunk and smiled kindly at the frail woman. “He loved you, Emily. I know he wanted to do whatever it took to get you well.”

“But he’s gone now, Cathy. He’s gone, my kids are fatherless, and when I die, they will have no one.”

“Now, now,” Catherine dropped the items in her hand, and they clattered to the floor as she sat down on the bed next to the now sobbing Emily. “You aren’t going to die. Peter will take care of you, he’s excellent at what he does, you know that. And he is going to pull some strings Above and get you the very best help that he can. You have to stay hopeful, alright?”

“Do you think Elliot is sorry?” A hint of anger permeated her question, and Catherine could not blame her. “He hasn’t been heard from in days. He told Vincent he would speak to you the very next day.”

“I know he’s sorry, Emily. But some wrongs just don’t have a way to make them right. Those are the burdens we carry to the grave, and I know Elliot will. He’ll come back.”

“He hasn’t come to see the children, has he?”

“No. He told Vincent he might not be back down here, although I had hoped to see him at my office.”

“Cathy?” A familiar voice startled both women and they turned to see Elliot stumbling into the room, one side of his face bloodied, and his right arm hanging at his side, with Jamie trying in vain to support him with his left arm over her small shoulders.

“I tried to get him to go to Father, and he refused,” Jamie chattered in a panic, breathing heavily. “I sent Kipper to get him and Vincent. I was just coming back Below after taking some of Emily’s belongings to Peter’s with Kipper and found him stumbling around up there.”

“Elliot?” Catherine eased the injured man to the floor, while Emily brought a towel for his head. “What on earth happened to you?”

“I – I made it right.” Elliot took a steadying breath, and looked around, his eyes landing on Emily, and he reached a bruised hand toward her. She took it carefully, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Elliot, what did you do?” Her voice was soft, her earlier anger momentarily shoved aside in her motherly instinct to help this man who was family.

“Found out who was faking the paperwork,” he replied, his voice still faint and rough. “Betrayal, betrayal of the greatest kind.” His voice trailed off and he slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

“You gave us quite a scare,” Father remarked, flashing a small light into Elliot’s eyes. “I believe we have had enough of those this week.”

“Sorry about that,” Elliot murmured, picking absentmindedly at the bandage that supported his fractured arm. “Didn’t mean to make things harder. Just was a long walk to get here, and being all roughed up didn’t help.”

“We know,” Mary replied kindly, sponging blood from his hair. “We are glad you came to us.”

“Thought I was going to die,” he replied flatly. “And I couldn’t have let go without telling Emily what had happened.”

“What did you find out?” Catherine asked, sitting down at the foot of the hospital bed.

A shadow passed across Elliot’s face, and he sighed. “It was Wilton Knight who signed all those papers, Cathy… Marcus’ own dad. Sabotaged my work and took his son’s life. I found the documents and cornered that guy Peter who accepted the forms. He knew they weren’t my handwriting, so I pushed him for answers. He got mad and then I got mad. That’s how I got all beat up. Turns out Wilton Knight showed up at the building site and offered him $25,000 to keep building no matter the conditions, and to make mistakes that cost us, and another $30,000 once the build got shut down after accidents, along with the promise of a job. He was just supposed to make building errors that cost money and miscalculated when the workers would arrive at the construction site. Marcus and Joe Cruz were collateral damage in a terrible scheme, rest in peace. That man’s lies and deceptions have ended my career. No one would ever want to have me or my few men as a build team on any kind of project, not with this history.”

“Did you find out why he was sabotaging your build?” Father asked, examining Elliot’s hands.

“Because of the location. The letters that my foreman Sam was able to retrieve from Peter’s office indicated the proximity to the next subway connection that the city intends to build, and Knight wants to be as close to that as he can. His greed has done this… and my complacency. I should have paid attention to what was happening around the lot.”

“I am terribly sorry about that,” Cathy replied, her voice sounding as shocked as she felt. To think that a man could stoop so low into blackness that he would sabotage his son’s livelihood. You must be devastated.”

“Not because of the loss of my build, but because of Marcus,” Elliot replied. “He didn’t know Marcus was his son. Surely, he didn’t, Cathy. How could he? I didn’t see this happening. I trusted my men, and left the build site, and didn’t check anything when I got back. I was negligent, and this is the result. Emily, I am so terribly sorry.”

“I know,” she replied softly from the shadows, where the hooded man also stood, a protective arm around her. “I forgive you. I know Marcus would. I would appreciate it if Cathy would find a way to make sure that this Mr. Knight never finds out who we are.”

Catherine nodded at her. “I can promise you that. I will talk to Joe tomorrow.”

The arm around her relaxed, and the tall man at her side spoke. “What will you do now, Elliot?”

“I sold my business.” Collective gasps of surprise rose at this announcement, and he held up a hand. “Hear me out. I sold my business to Wilton Knight.”

Even Father flinched at that announcement. “After all that he did?”

“He’ll shut up the lawyers with payoffs and buy off the city so he can keep going. My men all have jobs with him now, and they are being paid well. It was part of the deal. Except for Sam. He won’t work with someone like that, and I plan to press charges on Peter, if you’ll help me, Cathy.”

“I surely will, Elliot.”

“This morning, I declared bankruptcy, and they’ll seize my assets, but that’s okay. I’m a man of my word. I am going to make it all right. Emily, I’ve set up a trust for your children, and a fund for your healthcare, so the courts can’t touch that money. The money from the sale of the business also went there. Your treatments are paid for. I made sure it’s all in writing. And Cathy, if you could make it all official with your connections, I’d appreciate it, just make sure I haven’t missed anything else.”

“Of course, Elliot. Whatever I can do to help, you’ve got it.”

~~~

“Are you afraid?”

Emily frowned at the man sitting next to her. “Not much.”

Elliot smiled kindly. “You’re brave, Emily. You’ll be all well soon, and back down there with the children. They are good kids, you know.”

“They take after Marcus, mostly,” she smiled fondly at the thought.

“Yeah. They do. I heard from Cathy that the fund and trusts were finalized. Someone in her office got the paperwork signed, and you don’t have to worry about money anymore.”

“What will you do after this? You must have some kind of plans for a job.”

“I’ll start over. Rebuild my team. Building and construction are in my blood, Emily. But this time I’m going to do it right. There’s a way somehow, and I am going to find it. Just rest now, let the medicine do its thing. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“All right. Promise?”

“Marcus would come back to life, kill me, and take me with him if I weren’t looking after his wife properly after everything that has happened.”

“Don’t care for me out of guilt, Elliot,” Emily chided, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

“I’m not,” he replied softly, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips.

Emily laughed lightly, and her eyes drifted shut as her tired body succumbed to sleep after a long day of tests.

Elliot reached up and pulled the string on the blinds to dim the room, and sat down on the window seat, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. A question had been tumbling around in his mind from the moment that the fist of Peter Milatz had first collided with his face.

“Emily.”

“Yeah?”

“Am I still a monster?” he asked searchingly.

“Elliot, look at me.”

He lifted tear-filled eyes to look at her, expecting to see judgment, or reservation. Instead, there was only love.

“You never were one. You never were.”

*****

She Never Died

(aka SND)

*****

I Need A Candle, Rebecca!

by Cindy Rae

~~~

(As Vincent passes through the years, one refrain remains constant…)

~~~

I need a candle, Rebecca!

Winterfest draws nigh!

And my love abides above me

In a castle in the sky.

*

I need to invite her, Rebecca,

To our Winterfest, Below.

She’s one of us, I love her,

And that’s all I need to know.

*

I need a candle, Rebecca!

It’s for my wedding day!

Something pillar-esque and white

With a rose petal inlay.

I need it soon, Rebecca,

Firm as saddle leather

A symbol of our unity

We both will light together.

I need a candle, Rebecca!

*

My son is one year old!

I wanted something special

For my boy, all soft, yet bold.

Please make it blue, Rebecca.

They say “Blue is for boys.”

As he turns one, my little son

Is chief among my joys.

*

I need a candle, Rebecca!

It’s my granddaughter’s Christening!

Who knew that when I prayed to God

He would be listening?

Tint it pink, Rebecca,

A blushing, girlish hue,

Befitting a Tunnel Princess,

All squalling and brand new.

*

I need a candle, Rebecca,

For mourning those we’ve lost.

Who knew that when we started out,

Life came with such a cost?

It needn’t be long, Rebecca.

Just enough to light the fire

And send my letter skyward

At the Mirror Pool’s sad pyre.

*

I need a candle, Rebecca!

It’s fuzzy, when I write!

My penmanship’s gone blurry

So, I think I need more light!

The journal page is calling me.

Reflections I require!

And several tapers just might do,

Before I can retire.

*

I need a candle, Rebecca!

My eyes are growing old.

As are your hands, if you still can=

My Anniversary is Gold.

A candle, bright to light the page

That began all my elations.

I’ll read it to her one more time.

Once more –

Great Expectations.

~~~

No matter where you are when you need a candle to light your way, I wish you love, ~ Cindy

*****

Impressions

by Michaela Buzsaki Struchova

~~~

Reverie

Debussy – Rêverie (youtube.com)

The sight was one to behold – the glittering sunlight made the Mirror Pool look like hundreds of fairies decided to stretch their light feet and dance on it that late afternoon. He couldn’t take his deep blue eyes off the water that was glowing like on fire.

So precious, filling your heart with wonder, and so often overlooked – the beauty of the universe, Vincent thought as his fingers gently raked through the cool, flickering liquid at his feet.

How many times did he dive into the pool as a boy, sharing moments of innocent joy and fun with his friends and never noticing how much beauty it was hiding? As a child, one lives in the moment, in the active present and doesn’t ponder about the wonders of the world. Vincent was grown up now, though, and pondering was one of his favourite things to do, especially daydreaming. However, it was no wonder; a being like him, albeit human, was much more sensitive to the world around, attuned to its sights and sounds, as they were so essential to his existence.

He looked up toward the chimney-like opening above the pool, leading to the world Above. The bright sun rays penetrated it with force, and Vincent was enjoying the spectacle, knowing that it would end as soon as the sun moved further to the west on its daily journey. He savoured each moment like this with the utmost care, treasuring it in his memory forever.

Everything passes, the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the mighty, the weak...

Everything leaves its footprints in the sands of eternity but then moves on, with nothing but the footprints remaining. The hands of time don’t wait for a moment.

Or maybe they do, at least sometimes, he contradicted himself, a small smile appearing on his unique face.

His eyes found the shimmering liquid surface again, and his mind’s eye revealed an image of himself lying peacefully in his bed, with two golden-haired boys resting on each side of him. They were all asleep, without a care in the world.

The image morphed into another one, showing the boys running happily around The Great Hall. The taller one called to him, “Come, Daddy, Santa was here!”, passing an older, grey-haired and bearded man, supported by his walking stick on one side and by a kind-faced woman with silvery hair on the other. And then… their heads turned as they heard a gentle but cheerful voice behind them say, “Don’t get your hopes up too high! You know Santa has a lot of children to visit around the world...”

That voice, the light in the bright and expressive emerald eyes, that smile that could light up the whole Great Hall… Vincent couldn’t help but smile as well.

These moments… Not even time could erase them from his mind, no matter how far into the future. Their footprints would sit firmly in his memory, making them timeless.

“Vincent…”

There… that voice again… He turned his head, surprised how deep in thought he was that he didn’t feel her coming. Or perhaps he did…

“Catherine…” The name on his lips sounded like a dream that he was afraid of waking up from.

“I’m here,” she said as he rose to his feet. “As agreed,” she added, raising her eyebrows, smiling.

“Good.” Vincent chuckled, fully in the present now, reaching for the hand of his wife of seven years. “Come, I want to show you something,” he said, and with a look full of devotion, he led her away from the Mirror Pool.

~~~

The Girl With The Flaxen Hair

Claude Debussy: The Girl with the Flaxen Hair – YouTube

They walked in the long stony tunnels like a hundred times before, holding hands and enjoying that familiar comfort of each other’s company that hadn’t faded even after more than ten years since they had known each other. The flickering light of the torches on the walls shared its warmth with them, resembling the characteristic warmth of their hearts, chasing away any dark shadow that might have been lurking behind any bend.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going, or shall I look forward to a surprise?” Catherine asked with undisguised mirth.

Vincent chuckled. “A surprise is what you are getting indeed.”

“You keep surprising me every day, and in every way,” she replied with admiration and a beaming smile. “But as I can never get enough of you, I will gladly follow you wherever you lead me.”

Her cheerful mood, carefree sparks in her eyes and the long waves of her blond hair that fell freely over her shoulders made her look even younger than her almost thirty-eight years. The gentle and luminous expression on her face, the soft quality of her voice that caressed his ears and the excitement and joy with which she did everything inspired him to no end, making his lips smile and his heart soar.

“The girl with the flaxen hair,” Vincent said dreamily, observing her profile as he glanced at her again.

Catherine was suddenly excited. “Oh, is it a concert?”

Her eyes widened with anticipation and thrill. With two little sons, they had much less time to enjoy private music moments in the Music Chamber like they used to years ago. Even as they were walking, when Jacob Junior and little Charles were spending time with their grandfather in his quarters and surrounded by their favourite books, Catherine’s mind travelled briefly to them.

Vincent smiled and tilted his head, still keeping his dreamy look. “You remind me of her,” he replied, revelling again in the image of the youthful happiness by his side.

Catherine stopped, lost in his eyes that never failed to enchant and transport her into otherworldly realms.

“You know we promised the boys an evening walk before bedtime,” she said quietly, helpless to resist the power drawing her closer to him. “So, you better show me my surprise before you beguile me completely and I won’t be able to move any further and we won’t even make it to dinner with our children.”

Her last words faded into a whisper as she leaned into his broad chest and kissed him.

The sudden sound of a familiar piano melody emerged from both of their memories, floating above them in an imaginary, intimate concert, bringing them closer yet again – as light as a feather, as uplifting as the bright, summer morning sun, as cheerful as a children’s laughter on a spring meadow.

“Can you hear it, Vincent?” she asked when they, reluctantly, pulled apart an inch.

“The music?” he replied with a question of his own. “Yes… every time I’m with you, Catherine.”

His hand travelled into her hair, exploring for the hundredth time its silky softness and its highlights, letting it run gently between his fingers. Seeing her closing her eyes, tilting her head and drifting into a mood he had known very well. He chuckled.

She leaned her cheek against his chest while her hands decided to explore herself – their languid strokes on his back made his heart rate accelerate.

Not here… Not now… This is not why you brought her here…

He allowed himself one more fleeting kiss before painstakingly regaining self-control and taking her hand again. Inwardly, he laughed when she frowned slightly with discontent as he pulled away, but then opened her eyes and forced herself back to reality.

“Come,” he said, smiling. “Your surprise is waiting.”

Catherine couldn’t frown anymore. The interrupted magic of the moment between them was replaced by anticipation. She smiled again and pleasantly lightheaded, followed him further into the tunnels.

After all, the magic never ceased with Vincent…

~~~

Clair de Lune

Debussy: Suite bergamasque, L. 75 – III. Clair de lune – YouTube

Silence. Absolute stillness was the first thing that struck Catherine as they reached their destination and entered a wide, circular chamber, cast in semidarkness. It was empty but for one object, a large one, standing in the middle with a singular ray of light illuminating it from above. That was the second thing that she became aware of, and it made her gasp.

There, in this empty and silent space stood, majestically like in the centre of a stage, a grand piano…

Catherine couldn’t contain her amazement. Of course, she knew there were a lot of musical instruments in the Tunnels, having attended concerts in Father’s study for years, mainly organised by the children. But she had never seen anyone playing the piano Below, despite being familiar with the story of Rolley’s piano that Mouse had assembled for him.

“Is that…?” she asked, her mouth still open.

“Rolley’s piano? Yes,” Vincent confirmed, smiling. “This is where I found him when he finally returned to us. He was playing it that evening.”

Catherine noticed the changed expression on his face; memories veiled his eyes in many emotions.

“I remember you telling me about it,” she remarked softly. “I’m so happy that he found the strength to get back on the right track again. Music has helped him with it. You helped him.”

Her warm smile chased the melancholy away from Vincent’s eyes. “He found it himself, by remembering what he loves the most in the world.” He pointed his hand at the instrument. “Playing the piano.”

Catherine’s smile widened, and her eyes dreamily wandered back to the majestic black instrument in front of her. She walked over to it, and her hands very gently, carefully glided along its curves, examining its polished surface that reflected the light from Above and gave it an almost otherworldly appearance.

“It looks as if it has never been abandoned… as if it was… new,” she mused, knitting her eyebrows. As far as she remembered, Rolley hadn’t played on it for the last five years at least.

Vincent tilted his head, smiling. “Mouse comes here once a week with his ‘cleaning gizmos’.” He chuckled. “He said, he spent too much time assembling it to let it go to waste. He also regularly tests the sound of each key. In fact, he has become quite an expert since Eli shared his piano tuning knowledge with him.”

Catherine laughed; then her smile faded.

“You are wondering why I never showed it to you and why Rolley never plays it.”

As always, Vincent read her emotions perfectly.

Her look at him confirmed his words as she slightly raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure you had your reasons.” It wasn’t a reproach, merely a conviction. Catherine knew he would never keep secrets from her unless there was a plausible explanation.

Vincent took a few steps to join her at the piano.

“It was Rolley’s wish,” he admitted, his fingers gently examining the keyboard. “I told him he could play this piano again, anytime he wished. But he told me that the memory of the incident with Mrs. Kendrick was still painful to him, and if he played it, it would bring the pain back. He thought that if it was left in peace, Mrs. Kendrick could rest in peace as well. So, after that night, he never set foot in this chamber again.”

“Instead, he enrolled for piano lessons and later became a teacher at the local music school, teaching underprivileged children,” Catherine added with a proud smile. “He managed to turn pain into passion, passing it on to the next generation.”

“And doing it very well.”

They remained quiet for a moment, admiring the piano that meant so much to a little boy once – a boy who went through Hell and back to find not only his talent but also himself again.

“Do you remember our conversation a few days ago, Catherine?” Vincent inquired then with an enigmatic smile.

“I suppose you mean the one where I mentioned I would love to learn to play the piano?”

“Yes. You said that you’ve always loved the sound of it but never thought of wanting lessons when you were a child.”

Catherine smiled. “And when I grew up, I never had time for it,” she added.

Vincent lowered his eyes, still smiling. He turned around, back toward the chamber entrance.

“It’s about time we did something about it,” a soft voice suddenly spoke.

Catherine turned around as well, and her eyes widened with joy – the familiar figure of a young man she knew appeared from the shadow. “Rolley!”

He took a few steps to join them, looking quite different than when Catherine saw him last – he was wearing a blue shirt, dark brown trousers and a casual brown jacket.

She thought how much more mature he appeared. His face was a reflection of contentment and peace.

They hugged, delighted to see each other again.

“I’ve heard on the pipes that someone is looking for a piano teacher,” Rolley said.

Catherine opened her mouth and looked at Vincent.

“I asked a simple question, and Rolley answered it, that’s all.” He shrugged innocently.

“You mean that you would… teach me?” The young woman asked the piano expert, amazed. “But I thought…”

“It’s fine,” Rolley interrupted her. “I know what I said to Vincent, but I was thinking that if by teaching someone to play, I would make Mrs. Kendrick proud. Then by using this piano for it, I could pay tribute to her.” His before cheerful face bore a fleeting trace of sadness.

“And so, you shall,” Vincent remarked. “That’s if the student accepts the offer.”

Both men looked at Catherine, raising their eyebrows in silent question. Her eyes travelled from them to the piano and back at both men.

“How could I say no to the best piano teacher I know?” she asked, confirming her agreement with a glowing face.

“The only teacher you know,” Rolley corrected her with a small smile.

“Still the best,” Catherine wouldn’t be convinced of anything else. “And I accept with all my heart!”

She hugged her new teacher, already imagining herself playing for Vincent one day. The man in her thoughts felt her thrill right to his bones.

There are so few special things I can offer you, Catherine…, he thought. I’m happy this surprise brings joy to your heart and light into your eyes…

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, bubbling with excitement and anticipation. Ever since their first encounter years ago, Vincent had loved making Catherine happy, and this feeling had never diminished. He knew now she didn’t desire golden halls or travelling the whole world. They both appreciated the little gifts that are the most precious. Vincent felt happy and proud of giving her another one of those that day.

“Thank you so much, Rolley,” Catherine said. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I think I do,” answered the young man quietly. “I remember how much joy lessons with Mrs Kendrick brought me… Being able to do what we love and having people supporting us is a gift that keeps on giving.”

They both smiled, but Catherine suddenly looked pensive.

“What is it, Catherine?” Vincent inquired.

“I…” She looked at the piano, then back at her teacher – her eyes reflected caution. “Would you play something for us?” she asked.

Rolley glanced at the instrument and smiled. There was no sadness in his eyes this time. “With pleasure.”

He walked over to take his seat, while Catherine and Vincent stood nearby, watching him in an embrace. Rolley gently laid his fingers on the keyboard and soon, the tones of a soft and dreamy melody brought the grand piano to life again. The music was uplifting, flowing gently like a calm forest stream on a magical summer night.

Vincent’s small smile widened. How appropriate, he thought. The journey began with Moonlight Sonata, bringing sorrowful memories, and now, the circle closes with Debussy and his music which carries light, gentleness and love. Two faces of the moon, appearing at different times of our lives, casting a different light on all of them…

Peace descended upon the hearts of the three people in the chamber, who were aware of nothing but the enchanting music and the beam of light illuminating the instrument and the player from above. They kept the memory of that moment among their greatest treasures, turning a bitter memory into a sweet one, and filling their hearts with the timeless beauty of Clair de Lune…

*****

The Road Goes Ever On And On

by Michaela Buzsaki Struchova

Life isn’t a matter of milestones, but of moments.

- Rose Kennedy –

~~~

He had been walking only for a few minutes, leaning heavier on his walking stick than usual, already feeling the pain in his hip more than on other days. Mary told him he should rest his leg more often, but men can be stubborn, and Father was no exception. Especially on that day, he refused to give in to the fact that he couldn’t stop the time, and although his mind was still in top form, his body had recently started catching up with its age more and more.

Of course, you had to start showing off today, didn’t you? He scolded his leg in his mind while bravely continuing his journey. His trip to the Tunnel kitchen was rather a disappointment, too – William seemed quite agitated today, busier than usual, and Father couldn’t understand why the Tunnel chef was so adamant about getting him out of the kitchen as soon as possible since he had never minded anybody’s presence there before as long as they didn’t prevent him from working.

Maybe there is something in the air; maybe it’s one of those days when everything seems wrong, Father tried to convince himself. Yes, things will surely go back to normal tomorrow.

Just as he suddenly felt a sharp stab in his hip and was about to do something very uncharacteristic for him – curse – he heard children’s voices nearby. He stopped, leaned against the wall and listened, grateful for a little break and relief from the pain.

“Mine is better,” a little girl claimed proudly.

“No way, mine took longer to make!” a little boy countered with conviction.

“It’s not about the amount of time it takes but how convenient it is,” came the even prouder response of the same girl.

“Mine is conve… whatever too!”

The girl laughed. “You don’t even know what it means! You shouldn’t have skipped those two lessons with Vincent. You would know.”

A moment of silence allowed Father to chuckle as well.

Why is it that the girls in the tunnels so often seem to outwit the boys? He wondered, amused.

Then he frowned, true to his nature again and decided to step in, whatever the argument was about. Just in time, because the children appeared in sight, coming from behind the nearest tunnel bend.

“Is this a way to talk to each other?” Father patronised them sternly.

Both children froze on the spot, their big eyes getting even bigger; the shock on their faces was almost comical.

“Father…” the six-year-old Beth stuttered.

Her companion, the equally old Jack only stared at the patriarch, fidgeting with his little hands.

“I’m sure whatever it is you have been arguing about, it can be resolved in an appropriate and friendly manner,” Father continued, the sternness gone from his face now, and his eyes smiling. “What seems to be the apple of discord between you?”

Both children looked at each other, seemingly confused.

“I mean, what are you fighting about?” Father explained, thinking they didn’t understand the expression.

Jack finally found his words as his dark eyes looked at the man through a messy black fringe.

“Nothing important, Father,” he said nervously. “We were just…”

“We were just talking about… our lesson project,” Beth jumped in on impulse.

Father raised his eyebrows, his interest piqued. “A project? That sounds exciting.” He smiled. “What is it about? Maybe I can help you with something.”

Another moment of silence and more nervous looks were exchanged between the children.

“Oh, no! “Jack exclaimed, but seeing Father’s almost hurt look, he realised he sounded too dismissive. “We have to do it ourselves… You know, we are getting a grade for it, so we can’t have help from anyone else. Besides, we have already finished it. We were just talking about how our projects turned out.” The boy hoped his wide smile would fix the damage he had unintentionally done.

“But thank you, Father, we appreciate it,” Beth added quickly with as much gratitude in her voice as she could muster. Then she glanced at her friend and grabbed his hand before making the first hasty step. “I’m sorry, Father… We must go. See you later!”

The patriarch watched the children disappear in the tunnel behind him, with a puzzled look.

A bit prematurely, but I suppose they are getting to that age; everything adults think becomes questionable to them, he pondered, with knitted eyebrows. Nevertheless, he shrugged the thought off and decided he better keep walking. His hip started bothering him again.

~~~

The tunnel leader hadn’t walked much further when suddenly, he almost got knocked over by a powerful blow, only just managing to hold on to his walking stick and not fall flat on his face.

“What on earth…?!” he cried, still shaken. After the first shock, he looked at the face of the culprit responsible for the unexpected crush.

“Mouse!”

It was an expression of annoyance more than one of a surprise. As always, the beloved tunnel inhabitant hadn’t looked left or right when trying to reach his destination.

“How many times do I have to—!”

“I know, I know! Watch out, don’t run if you don’t have to,” the tunnel tinker apologised with haste, his blue eyes widened more than ever. “Sorry!”

Father sighed heavily and shook his head. “Anyway… Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked, getting his breathing back to normal.

The expression on Mouse’s face resembled a statue – an image frozen in time. It took him a moment before he opened his mouth… and closed it again, his eyes feverishly wandering from side to side. He was obviously thinking hard about something.

“Has the cat swallowed your tongue?” Father was getting impatient; his hip was screaming for attention.

Mouse knitted his eyebrows, puzzled. “Vincent doesn’t eat tongues,” he insisted.

Father rolled his eyes and ran his hand over his wrinkled face.

“I didn’t mean… Oh, never mind.” He was too tired to elaborate. “Can I finally hear why you are in such a hurry that you almost killed an old man in the process? Has anything happened?” The sudden thought worried him.

“Oh, no! Nothing happened!” Mouse assured him, shaking his head vigorously with a nest of blond hair. He was nearing forty but still had the innocent look of a boy who never left his spirit. “Mouse only… running to meet Pascal! Must show him some blueprints. Found the best place for new chambers; great pipe access! But needs fine-tuning to get rid of some problems.” The tinker seemed satisfied with his explanation.

“If you tell me about the problems, maybe I could help you solve them,” Father offered. He had noticed his friend was unsuccessfully trying to hide a bulky, worn-out leather satchel behind his back.

“No!” Mouse exclaimed, his eyes wide again. “Not too bad. Nothing Mouse and Pascal can’t solve,” he added hurriedly, grinning nervously.

Father wasn’t very convinced – all the important decisions about life in the Tunnels were always made by the whole Council, of which he was still the head. True, he had passed on many of his responsibilities to Vincent in the past few years, allowing him to rest much more – to Mary’s delight – but he still had a say in all important matters regarding the everyday life Below. He couldn’t imagine having nothing proper to do and being left to spend his Days mainly in the company of Mary and his books, although he dearly loved both.

“Mouse got to go! Little time!” the tinker blurted out and didn’t even manage to notice the patriarch’s disappointed frown as he dashed off, tripping on an uneven bit of the ground and almost falling before continuing in his hurried departure.

Father shook his head and sighed. That boy… He will never grow up.

Despite Mouse’s real age, the man who welcomed him to the Tunnels as a child still saw him as one – eager to explore, difficult to tame and yet, so easy to love.

An image popped up in his memory: Mouse sitting on the ground playing with some ‘gizmo’, with Jamie looking on and now and then rolling her eyes, and their two children watching and listening to their father’s explanation with the fascination for the subject equal to his own. A brief smile appeared on the old man’s face – the apples didn’t fall far from the tree.

Father’s mood was getting gloomier, just as the dull pain in his hip was getting more intense. He was frustrated by his inability to walk longer distances like he used to in his younger years. There was still so much to do and so many people and places in the Tunnels to visit… However, he couldn’t deny the growing problem that had been his persistent companion for the better part of the last twenty years.

Blasted accident! He cursed inwardly, slowly limping down the Tunnels.

It had been so many years, and yet he still remembered the day vividly…

It was a few days after Vincent had saved Catherine from danger for the very first time – when she saw his wild side for the first time. Father was just returning from visiting Mary when one of the children ran straight into him, appearing as if by magic out of nowhere. Although much younger back then, the patriarch was caught by surprise and didn’t manage to keep his balance, falling painfully on his side – and cracking his hip in the process. The unfortunate child and the boy’s friends, who were playing the chase with him, were very distressed about causing Father harm. Despite his gracious forgiving nature (much later, after he had stopped lecturing them about the need for more careful behaviour while moving around the Tunnels), they had a guilty expression on their face every time they passed the Tunnel leader for many years to come.

Ignoring his pain for a moment, Father had to chuckle. Then his eyes softened as his mind suddenly decided to stroll down memory lane. Yes, over the decades, he had seen it all: creating a new society, living a dream even though having to fight hard for it sometimes, making many friends and losing a few, the joy of victories, however small they may have been, the disappointment of failures, enjoying peace but also facing dangerous challenges (some of them ending in tragedy), welcoming new lives and saying farewell to others…

To some people, it might have seemed that his life was nearing its finish line, but for Father, it was only the next step in his journey. His body may have been showing more signs of fatigue than a few years ago, but his mind was as sharp, as efficient, and as vibrant as ever.

Age is truly just a number, he thought as he was slowly making his way toward his private quarters. I still have ideas and can pass my experience on to the younger generations. Yes, there will always be a place for me here.

The thought lifted his spirit and put an unexpected spring into his step. Cheerfully, he walked on when he spotted familiar, beloved faces walking in his direction. A beaming smile added a few more wrinkles to his brightened face.

“Vincent, Catherine!” he greeted them, feeling the warmth that always spread in his chest whenever he saw his adoptive son and his wife.

“Father,” Vincent replied with his unmistakable, gravelly voice.

Catherine smiled widely. “Where are you off to, Father?” she asked inconspicuously.

“First, I wanted to catch up with William, but he seems busier than usual today, so I thought I might indulge Mary in a bit of Dostoyevsky. Would you believe it? She had never read Crime and Punishment?”

The couple’s faces showed a mix of amusement and tension.

“That I can really hardly believe,” Catherine remarked, suppressing a grin. Her beloved father-in-law’s enthusiasm for classical books hadn’t lost on intensity even in his eighties.

“I seem to remember Mary mentioning she was helping out in the nursery today,” Vincent intervened gently and glanced eloquently at his wife.

Since she had officially passed her main nursery duties to Lena, Mary liked returning there at least once a week; taking care of children every day for decades had left a deep impression in the heart of the good woman and she couldn’t abandon it completely.

“Oh, yes, I remember her saying that,” Catherine agreed, nodding.

Father’s cheerful smile faded in disappointment.

“I’m sure she told me as well, but I must have mixed up the days… Well, I guess Raskolnikov will have to wait,” he stated, deflated. “Unless you two fancy a quick refresher?” He raised his eyebrows, his hopes up.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Vincent started carefully. “I’m afraid Catherine and I are needed somewhere else at the moment. But maybe later?”

The light in the patriarch’s eyes faded but he flashed a smile, indicating his genuine understanding.

“Of course, I forgot you are still full-time working members of this community,” he said. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

Catherine glanced at her husband again, then focused on her father-in-law.

“I’m sure we’ll have time later. We would love a refresher, wouldn’t we?” she turned to Vincent, her eyes prompting him.

“A Dostoyevsky evening it is then,” he confirmed with a small smile.

Have a little rest, Father,” he added, not missing his parent’s heavy lean against his best friend – the walking stick.

“Sure, sure,” Father replied, attempting a smile too, although not very convincingly. He nodded to both and then, he was on his way limping back to his study.

“Do you think it’s a bit too much for him?” Catherine asked, worried, once she couldn’t hear the sound of her father-in-law’s walking stick anymore. “Maybe we should—”

Vincent’s eyes smiled at her as he gently interrupted her. “I feel a little guilty too, but he will feel better soon, I promise you.”

Her face relaxed again, despite the lingering unease in her heart.

“You’re right,” she said then. “It won’t be long now.”

Vincent took her hand in his and purposefully led her on toward their destination.

~~~

One hour later, Father was sitting in his favourite chair with one of his many books in his hands; on the table, to be more precise, for although his eyes were glued to the page in front of him, his mind was miles away and so was his reading concentration. He finally gave up and took off his reading glasses. Mouse had to fix them a few times, especially when he accidentally put his precious, vintage copy of Joyce’s Ulysses on them – the bridge of the old spectacles couldn’t hold the weight of such a lengthy masterpiece.

“I suppose human nature is inescapable even in the Tunnels,” Father mumbled to himself into his empty study. “Once you reach a certain age, it’s time for you to stop meddling and retire.”

He felt deflated, devoid of energy and… disappointed. Was it possible that no one had remembered the significance of that day? Not even Vincent? True, it was not like the anniversary of the end of World War, or the invention of the telephone, or even the discovery of penicillin, but still… Not that he would ever consider himself as an especially important person. He was just one of many inhabitants of the world Below, and his natural modesty wouldn’t let him think otherwise. And yet, he couldn’t push aside the feeling of some strange hurt.

Just as he decided to have another go at the book, he heard footsteps approaching his private quarters. Sure enough, only a moment later, two figures appeared in his sight, walking down the short staircase and smiling.

“We hoped you would be here,” a tall but already almost manly built boy of seventeen, with a mane of wavy golden hair and sapphire blue eyes approached the old man, whose face lit up like a candle immediately.

“Jacob!” Father exclaimed and stood up, a bit clumsily, to hug him.

Then he turned to his brother, the younger boy of fifteen. He had the same golden hair, but his eyes were emerald green and his figure was still boyish, a bit shorter than his sibling’s.

“Charlie,” he spoke the younger grandson’s name, with the same warmth and love and a bear hug.

“I met your parents just a while ago. I haven’t seen you, though, for a few days! You must have been busy,” Father wondered.

“Oh, you know, school, helping out in the Tunnels and so,” Charlie replied matter-of-factly.

“But you still owe me a chess game,” he added lively. “This time I’ll beat you.”

“You wish,” Jacob remarked quietly with amusement, then shrugged as his brother spared him a friendly glare.

“Of course, dear boy,” Father ignored the brotherly interaction, suddenly excited. “Shall we start right away?”

“Sorry, Grandpa, we don’t have time now, “Jacob interjected gently, very much in the manner of his father. “In fact, we came because we need your approval about something. We wanted to ask you if you would come with us and have a look at something we made. We would like to know if it’s an appropriate decoration for the Great Hall.”

“The Great Hall?” the patriarch raised his eyebrows. His hip immediately started protesting again, but he would never let anyone know about it.

“We know it’s a long way, but do you think you could manage it today?” Jacob asked again, his eyes hopeful.

Father patted his shoulder proudly and smiled. “Of course, I could. When shall we go?”

“Now?” both Jacob and Charlie said at the same time. The old silver clock on one of the small shelves on the wall nearby just chimed five o’clock.

Their grandfather laughed. Only for a second, he hoped there would still be some leftovers in case they missed the dinner.

You certainly make this old man work for his living,” he remarked, amused. “Let’s go then. These old bones still have some life left in them before they give up.”

He grabbed his walking stick, and arm in arm with the younger boy, he walked out of his chamber – not noticing how Jacob reached for his reading glasses, quickly put them in the leather case and hid them in his jacket pocket before following his grandfather and brother out as well.

~~~

“I hate to admit it, but it feels like I have walked ten miles today,” Father said while bravely hobbling away, still supported by his grandson’s arm. “There are days when you simply have to accept that you’re not a spring chicken anymore.”

Charlie flashed a compassionate smile, then glanced nervously at his brother who was walking on the other side. Jacob shared his inner feelings at that moment but smiled to reassure him.

“You still have it in you, Grandpa,” he proclaimed. “Don’t worry, we are almost there. The long staircase is just around the next bend.”

The patriarch chuckled. “Sometimes you sound like your father, both of you. He mainly sees the best in everyone, too, often very gentlemanly – or foolishly – overlooking one’s shortcomings.”

“You have no shortcomings, Grandpa,” Charlie said with genuine admiration.

“See? My point exactly.” Father laughed, shaking his head. “Once you get older, you will understand how many of them I have. However, I have to confess, right now, I am grateful for the blindness of the youth.”

They reached the Chamber of the Winds and started carefully descending step after step. Despite appreciating the company of his grandchildren, Father suddenly felt another pang at heart. Did they forget as well? He couldn’t chase away the question in his mind. However, he shrugged it off and decided to focus on spending some, even if brief, time with his beloved grandsons.

They finally approached the large wooden doors leading to the Great Hall. It was almost twice the height of a man, and Jacob and Charlie moved to either side of the massive beam holding the doors shut against the force of the wind. Despite their young age, they seemingly easily lifted the heavy beam and put it aside. With one strong move, Jacob pushed the door open. Father couldn’t suppress a wondrous gasp at the boy’s strength, resembling so much his father’s. After Charlie took his grandfather by his arm again, all three walked through the wind and entered the Great Hall – into the darkness.

~~~

“I don’t mean to be a spoilsport but… I think we may need some light,” Father spoke into the silence after Jacob pushed the door shut behind them again, muting the howling of the wind outside.

“As you wish, Father,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke gently somewhere nearby, startling him.

All at once, a sea of candles revealed its glittering light, making the tunnel leader open his mouth in surprise. He knitted his brows, uncomprehending. However, when he started recognising faces that had filled the Hall, his eyes welled up.

“You surely didn’t think we would forget, did you?” Catherine said with a beaming smile when she walked over to him and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Father.”

The patriarch was suddenly lost for words as the tunnel dwellers all around him joined in and wished him all the best on his special day, beginning with Mary who gave him a small kiss and remained by his side, her face glowing from happiness. They were all there, including little Beth and Jack, Mouse and Jamie with their son and daughter, even Pascal had left his pipes for a precious while. Father also spotted a few Helpers in the crowd. However, one face in particular made him exclaim cheerfully.

“Devin! You are here!”

“Happy birthday, old man,” his son said with a smile and walked into a heartfelt hug. “Do you really think I would miss your big day?”

Father’s face was glowing; a beaming smile reached his glistening eyes. Suddenly, he found it difficult to speak. A day that started so disappointingly for him had transformed within seconds into a magical occasion, filling his heart with gratitude and exhilaration. His hip was suddenly forgotten, and he felt like he could have run a marathon.

“All right, enough now. There’ll be time for chit-chat later,” William’s voice boomed over the Hall as he pointed towards two long rows of tables behind him, fully loaded with deliciously smelling food. “Let’s eat! Why else have I been slaving in the kitchen all day today?”

Everybody laughed, including Father, who was still trying to catch his breath from shaking hands and hugging all the well-wishers. Then the sea of bodies, led by Devin, moved towards the tables as he remained on his spot, savouring the sight in front of him. Jacob passed his grandfather the pocketed case with the reading glasses. He patted him on his shoulder before walking away with his brother to join the others.

“You might need them when going through your birthday presents after dinner,” Catherine explained and pointed to a table on her far left, where a decent number of plainly but carefully wrapped presents lay neatly piled up. Seeing Father’s eyes widen, she chuckled. “You turn eighty-five only once in a lifetime.” She winked, smiled at Vincent and followed her sons.

Father sighed heavily. All the excitement suddenly seemed overwhelming, but he wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world. He was truly touched by everyone’s attention and all at once felt a bit guilty deep inside.

“Admit it,” Vincent demanded with an amused smile. “You thought we all forgot about your birthday.”

“Well…” the older man replied and chuckled. “I admit that I found it a bit strange that nobody mentioned anything all day. And I did wonder why William was cooking again right after we had just had lunch, without taking a break. Not that I expected any attention but… you know,” he added, attempting to sound indifferent. “When everyone seemed to have preferred not to involve me in anything I thought I was—”

“Unwanted?” Vincent finished his thought, smiling, his head tilted slightly towards his father while his eyes were set on the celebratory dinner unfolding before them. “Past your time? Of no use anymore?”

Father and son looked at each other before the older one nodded, with a shy smile. “Something along those lines, yes.”

Vincent’s look softened as he put his arm around the patriarch’s shoulder. His gaze was direct and honest.

“You will always be needed, wanted, valued and of great use to all of us, Father. And above all, loved. Never doubt that.”

The old man’s grey eyes started burning, and his smile widened as his hand reached to stroke Vincent’s stubbly cheek. Although his son had entered his fifties a few years ago, he had changed very little. His eyes were still bright and deep, his hair a long golden waterfall over his broad shoulders, his hand still powerful yet tender at the same time, and his figure still strongly masculine and tall. Time was merciful and extremely gentle with him, not taking anything away from the youthful although mature presence the maned man had had since he grew up.

“I have been so blessed in my life,” he said, deeply moved. “It may have been difficult at times, but the joys outweigh the sorrows by far, and I couldn’t have wished for more than I have right now.”

“And there’s still much more to come,” Vincent added. “You can start right after the celebration.”

Father’s puzzled look was a silent question.

“Or have you forgotten about poor Raskolnikov already?” Vincent teased.

It finally dawned on Father as he remembered their earlier conversation.

“Not in a million years!”

Vincent chuckled and wanted to lead him to their seats at the table, but Father suddenly stopped him.

“Jacob and Charlie spoke of some decoration they made for The Great Hall and wanted to know my opinion about it,” he mused. “Was that only their way of luring me here?”

His son smiled. “Look.”

His hand pointed to their right, and Father’s eyes followed it. The object standing there made the older man speechless.

“It is their birthday gift to you,” Vincent remarked proudly, enjoying his parent’s amazement. “They spent a few months with Cullen making it. The last few days were especially busy for them.”

At the wall next to the bottom of the staircase leading up to the famous tapestries, a life-size wooden statue of a man stood proudly in his place. His features were carved with precision, and the big symbolic heart he was holding in his hands and the smile on his face added human warmth to the whole image. Father recognised the face of the man immediately – it was his own.

“The boys thought this Hall needed a symbol of our community, something that represents who we are and what we live by. A community of people led by the greatest and most important law – love.”

If he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. The man who stood with a handful of others at the very beginning of the tunnel community journey decades ago was once again temporarily robbed of his ability to communicate his thoughts with words.

As he wiped a stray tear from his eye and looked around at the faces of the people who had shared his life-long dream with him, generation after generation, he felt a satisfying sense of reaching the full circle. All the moments of the years gone by, no matter how special or small, created a mosaic of a life that many only dream of.

As Vincent said, he would still be needed and his opinions valued but seeing his life’s work coming to fruition in such a wonderful way, he couldn’t help but feel pride as well as love – pride of the work they had all done together and love for all those who had followed the same path from the beginning right until that very special moment.

Father’s eyes found the faces of his grandsons, waving at him, with big smiles. He waved back and mouthed ‘thank you’; his throat still constricted but the need to express his gratitude was too strong. Vincent took him by the arm, and his deep, warm blue eyes bore into the grey eyes of his adoptive father, the man who gave him life, education, faith, hope and above all, love.

“Happy birthday, Father,” he said quietly as a smile softened his unique features again.

The patriarch squeezed his arm and wiped another tear with his other hand. Then he shook off his heightened emotions and finally spoke cheerfully.

“I’m starving. Shall we?

*****

Compassion

by Jessica Rupe

~~~

Summary:

Set before and during the rooftop scene in Though Lovers Be Lost. However, there’s a big, unexpected plot twist in this scene that turns it into an SND with a completely different happy ending.

~~~

Part 1: The Doctor

She was frantic when I filled the needle. “What is that?”

“You won’t suffer, I promise.” I injected her with just enough of the sleeping draft I had compounded together earlier that day to keep her unconscious for about 24 hours. The nurse, Thien, and I had realized Gabriel had gone insane long ago. We both knew we had to do something for Ms. Chandler that would make her appear to die without violating the Hippocratic Oath. So Thien and I had worked together secretly to get Ms. Chandler and her baby away from Gabriel. I had told Gabriel that the baby would need a car seat to get to Staten Island safely and told him I would put the car seat near the stairs so it would be out of the gusts created by the helicopter rotors when we made our escape. Thien and I both knew Gabriel would kill us immediately when he found out what we had done. But Ms. Chandler would ultimately survive.

We had seen the video of the beast man who was the baby’s father. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out he might be looking for Ms. Chandler. The beast man had not arrived at the warehouse until after we had seen Ms. Chandler tapping Morse Code on that sink pipe with her high heeled shoe. It was easy to put two and two together.

When we realized Ms. Chandler had gone into labor several hours ago it was time to put our plan into action. Thien had left with the baby right behind Gabriel. I followed behind her. Gabriel had been so focused on getting into the helicopter he didn’t see us put the baby in the car seat and leave him there on the rooftop. We had just lifted off when I saw the most amazing sight... the beast man had followed us and was shouting as we flew away...

~~~

Part 2: Catherine

I wasn’t sure what it was the doctor had injected me with after I had seen my son for those few seconds. As he and the nurse had left with my baby in her arms, I had somehow been able to undo the arm straps that they had used to tie me to the chair. I thought I had heard growling as someone else ran up the stairwell after them, but due to the shot I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating. I slowly crawled out of the birthing chair and somehow made it up those stairs. The helicopter had just lifted off and flown away ’hen I saw Vincent standing there. I whispered his name...

~~~

Part 3: Vincent

I turned around and there she was. Catherine! I ran over to the stairs. Holding her, I was stunned as she told me we had loved, and I was a father!

“Though lovers... be lost...”

“Love shall not......”

Her head fell back, and her eyes closed. “ And death shall have no dominion...” I held Catherine close and silently started crying.

Then I heard it. A baby crying! I looked around. There, over by the stairwell! Looking at Catherine I saw the pulse still beating in her neck. She was alive! Gently laying Catherine down, I ran over by the stairwell and found our son.

Time was short, I had to get them Below as soon as possible. Father would know what to do...

*****

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by Janet Rivenbark

~~~

FRIDAY

Someone grabbed Catherine by the arm as she exited the conference room where the DA staff had just finished their Friday afternoon meeting.

“Cathy, you have to help me!” came the hissed demand before Catherine could turn to see who it was, but she recognized Jenny’s voice.

“What, Jenny?” she asked in an equally hushed voice as she pulled Jenny back into the conference room.

Catherine saw Joe look at her with a question in his eyes; she made a wry face at him as she closed the door.

“My parents are trying to ruin my life!” Jenny declared in a more normal tone of voice.

“Jenny, you sound like a teenager who has just been grounded. You’re 33 years old. How can they ruin your life?” she asked as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

Jenny also sat down and put her hands over her face.

“They have finally succumbed to Aunt Leah’s pressure,” she said after a moment. “They are hiring a matchmaker to find me a husband.”

Catherine almost laughed. “But I thought you wanted to get married.”

“I do, but I want to choose the guy. Knowing Aunt Leah, she will meddle and have the matchmaker looking for someone who is orthodox, tallit prayer shawl and all.”

“But I thought that the couple involved had the last say on whether or not the match was made,” Catherine said.

“But the parents screen every prospect before they meet.” Jenny stopped in thought for a moment. “But maybe I’d be lucky, and none of the parents would approve of me for their son.”

“Jenny, any man would be lucky to get you, but I doubt that any matchmaker would match you with an orthodox man since your family isn’t orthodox.”

“But Aunt Leah is. What if she doesn’t tell the matchmaker I’m not?”

Catherine could tell that her friend was really upset, although she personally didn’t think she had anything to worry about.

“Jenny, no one can force you to get married,” Catherine pointed out.

“No, but Jewish parents, especially mothers, are experts at sending their kids on guilt trips,” Jenny quickly pointed out.

“I’ve been told that trait is something that appears in every woman the moment their first child is born,” Catherine said with a chuckle.

“Catherine,” Jenny admonished. “This is serious!”

Catherine looked at her watch.

“Look, it’s almost 5:00. Give me a minute to clear my desk, and we’ll get an early dinner somewhere and talk.”

Jenny agreed and followed her back to her office.

Joe showed up a few minutes later, just as Catherine picked up her coat and briefcase.

“Hi, Jenny,” he said with a smile before turning to Catherine. “You getting out of here on time for a change?” he asked.

“It’s Friday, and I’m having dinner with Jenny,” she said with a grin. “I’ve accrued so much comp time over the last few months since I was promoted to Deputy that I could take a whole week off.”

“I know what you mean. I used to think the DA’s workload was lighter, but I haven’t left here before 7 pm since I was appointed Interim DA. But please don’t take that comp time until the Bowerman case ends,” he begged.

“Of course not. Besides, every time I take more than a day of comp time or vacation, I come back and find my desk piled so high that I accrue more comp time just trying to catch up.”

“The joys of being a public servant,” he said with a grin and a shrug. “Enjoy your dinner, and I’ll see you Monday.” He turned to Jenny and smiled again. “See ya around, Jenny.”

~~~

Catherine and Jenny didn’t speak of Jenny’s problem until they were seated in a quiet restaurant and had ordered.

“So, start at the beginning and tell me the whole story,” Catherine said after a sip of wine.

“This morning, Mom called and told me we’d been invited to Aunt Leah’s for dinner tonight. Aunt Leah doesn’t cook much anymore but still goes all out for her weekly Shabbat dinner when she isn’t invited somewhere. She buys some things readymade, like the challah, but she still cooks most of it. And about once a month, she invites my parents to dinner. Mom always takes Aunt Leah’s favorite dessert, Banana Cake.”

“So how is this dinner different, and how did you get out of it?” Catherine asked.

“First, Aunt Leah included me in the invitation, and secondly, Mom didn’t make excuses for me. She called me and told me to be there.”

“So, why are you having dinner with me at a decidedly non-kosher restaurant?”

“I told Mom I had a work thing I had to attend,” Jenny said.

“So, you lied to your mother,” Catherine stated.

“Not the first time,” Jenny said with a sigh.

“So, what makes you think this has anything to do with a matchmaker?”

“Because mom started laying on the guilt… thick… talking about how I never have Shabbat dinner with them anymore. And how Aunt Leah hasn’t seen me since last Hanukkah. And at last Hanukkah, all Aunt Leah could talk about was how I was over 30 and not married, and she knew a wonderful matchmaker who had never had a failure.”

“I still don’t see how this could possibly have put you in such a panic…” Catherine said.

The conversation paused while the waiter poured more wine, and then Catherine continued.

“…But let’s assume you are correct. What do you want me to do?”

“Help me come up with an idea. Something to put them off,” Jenny said.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Catherine asked.

“Not really,” Jenny said in a resigned tone. “I generally spend most of my evenings with manuscripts.”

“I know the feeling. I spend a lot of mine with files and briefs.”

“At least you get some kind of briefs,” said Jenny, laughing at her own pun.

Catherine gave an unladylike snort as she joined Jenny’s laughter.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” she added. But really, do you know anyone you can at least mention to your parents as a potential?”

Jenny shook her head. “Nope, I haven’t been on a date since New Year’s Eve.”

~~~

Later, when the cab dropped Jenny off in front of her apartment building, Catherine gave her one more word of advice.

“Think about it, Jenn. You must know someone who your parents would approve of and who would make them relax for a little while longer.”

“And Aunt Leah,” Jenny reminded. “We can’t forget Aunt Leah.”

Jenny rode the elevator up to her floor in deep thought.

Cathy had a good idea, she told herself. If I could just come up with a name, then later, a few months from now, I could tell Mom we’d called it off. That would get them off my back for at least a little while.

But Jenny knew it couldn’t be just any name, some fictional guy. If the name sounded Jewish, they would want to know if they knew him or his family, to meet him and take him to meet Aunt Leah. And if he was real, she was sure Aunt Leah would scare just about any man off. But if the name… if the guy… wasn’t Jewish, he would have to be impressive… very impressive.

~~~

SATURDAY

Jenny woke the next morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She hoped it was Cathy calling with an idea.

“Hello?” she said, stifling a yawn.

“You’re not up yet?” her mother said before greeting her. “You’d sleep your life away if you had the chance.”

“Mom,” Jenny glanced at the clock. “It’s only 8:00. I run on six or fewer hours of sleep a night all week. If I didn’t recharge on the weekends, I’d be a zombie at work.”

“Well, that’s another conversation,” her mother said. “We missed you at dinner last night.”

“How could you? You hardly ever see me on Fridays and never at Aunt Leah’s.”

“But we were talking about you,” her mother told her.

“I was afraid of that. What is this all about, Mom?” Jenny sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed.

“Well… Aunt Leah wanted to talk to you about hiring a matchmaker. In fact, she invited a friend, a matchmaker, to dinner. Eliana Scheuer is a lovely woman.”

“Mom, please. You know how I feel about matchmakers,” Jenny began.

“But you are 33 years old, and your way doesn’t appear to be working.”

“Mom… it’s not like I’ve actually been actively looking. I’ve spent nearly every waking minute since graduation trying to prove I know what I’m doing in the publishing world. You know that a woman has to work twice as hard just to prove that she’s half as good.”

“But if you were married, you wouldn’t have to work that hard. You’d have a husband to support you.”

“Oh, God, Mom… What century are you living in?” She was shaking her head; glad her mother couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. “I have a career that I love. If I meet someone, then I meet someone. I don’t need a man to be complete.” She knew she was saying almost the opposite of what she and Cathy often said to each other, but she knew of no other way to get her mother to back off.

“But, Sweetie, you don’t know what it’s like.”

“No, Mom, I don’t. But as they say, I can’t miss something I’ve never had.” Then, without thought, she blurted out. “Besides, I have been seeing someone lately.” She could kick herself for that lie. She blamed it on the brain fog from not having had any caffeine yet.

“Then why didn’t you say something? What’s his name? Do we know him?”

Jenny was frantically searching for a name to give her mom.

“We’ve been keeping it kind of quiet,” she hedged.

“He’s not married, is he?” her mother hastily asked.

“No, of course not.”

“So, you can tell me who it is! Do we know him?” she repeated.

“Well, you don’t know him, but I’m sure you know of him,” she compounded her first lie.

“Who, Jennifer Leah Aronson… a name!” her mother demanded.

“Joe!” She almost shouted. “His name is Joe Maxwell.”

“The District Attorney? Catherine’s boss? A politician? I don’t know, Jennifer…” she began.

“He’s not a politician, Mom. He was appointed to the position until the next election. Cathy says he’s not even sure if he’s going to run or if he’s going to go back to being a Deputy.”

“I still don’t know. He’s not Jewish.”

“Since when has that made a lot of difference to you or Dad?” Jenny questioned.

“But Aunt Leah…”

“Forget Aunt Leah.” Jenny was truly exasperated. “She’s not the one who is looking for a husband. Hell, she’s been a widow for 50 years.”

“Language, Jennifer,” her mother admonished. “And you know why she counts.”

“Mom, I don’t need her money. I know that she promised Dad that if he had a girl and he named her after her, that child would inherit everything she owned. And I know she’s written her will that way, but it’s not important to me. I’d be more than willing to preserve the family heirlooms and keepsakes, but if she wants to leave her money to some charity, I will back her 100%.”

“I know… I know.” Her mother finally showed some signs of capitulation, but Jenny’s relief was short-lived. “But you need to invite Mr. Maxwell to dinner sometime.”

“I don’t know, Mom. He’s been putting in an awful lot of hours at work lately. There’s some big case…” She remembered the reference to the Bowerman case. And he hardly ever leaves the office before 7 p.m. In fact, when I stopped at the office yesterday to talk to Cathy, that was the first time I’d seen him in ages.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

“But a man has to eat,” her mother pointed out. “Talk to him and find out when it would be best for him. Then let me know. We’re flexible.”

After a little more talk, Jenny hung up and flopped back on the bed.

“Damn, now what am I going to do?”

~~~

Catherine had just finished folding a load of laundry when her phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hi, Cath, it’s me,” Jenny said.

Catherine looked at the clock; it was only 9:00.

“You’re up early,” she said, knowing Jenny was seldom up before 10:00 on Saturdays and Sundays.

“Mom called,” she said as an explanation.

“And she always calls you early,” Catherine said, remembering their college days.

“She does that. She thinks everyone should be up just because she’s a morning person.”

“So, what did she want?” Catherine asked.

“She wanted to tell me about dinner with Aunt Leah.”

“Were your suspicions correct?”

“Spot on. The matchmaker was even at dinner.”

“Oh, my. They are serious. So, what did they tell the matchmaker?”

“I have no idea. My conversation with Mom didn’t get that far.”

“You didn’t argue, did you?”

“Kinda, but I didn’t get loud, but I did… ah… fabricate a story.”

“You lied to her? Again?”

“Yep.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I was seeing someone.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? It should get them off your back for a while.”

“Not really.”

“How’s that?”

“Mom demanded a name. And I knew I couldn’t make something up because she’d want to know all about him, and then I’d just have to lie some more to make him sound good. Then later, when I told her we’d broken up, I’d have to listen to her moan about how I’d let such a great guy get away.”

“So, you gave her the name of a real person?”

“I did.”

“Who?”

“Joe.”

“Joe Maxwell? …Okay, but that’s not too bad. He’s the DA, so they should consider him worthy of their only child.”

“But now Mom wants me to bring him to dinner. I told her he was terribly busy and hardly got any time off, but she insisted. So now I have to manufacture a breakup in the next week or so, and then I will be right back where I started.”

Catherine was quiet for a moment… thinking.

“Cathy, you still there?”

“Yeah… But what if we get Joe to go along with the ruse? I’m sure he wouldn’t be averse to a good home-cooked meal.”

“But that would be embarrassing as hell! I’d have to admit to him that I’d used him to fend off my mother.”

“Joe’s a good guy. I’m sure he won’t be upset. Let me talk to him on Monday. I’ll tell him what’s been happening and see if he’s willing to help you.”

“I don’t know, Cath.”

“Just let me talk to him,” Catherine said.

“All right. Go ahead, but if he’s the slightest bit hesitant, don’t try to talk him into anything.”

~~~

MONDAY

Catherine was in the office early on Monday. Since being appointed interim DA, Joe had been showing up at least an hour before everyone else most days. She hoped to catch him.

His office door was open, and she could hear the radio. She left her things in her office and crossed the empty bullpen.

“Got a minute, Joe?” she asked from the open door.

“Sure. What’s up?” He reached over and turned the radio off.

“There’s a small problem that I was hoping you might be able to help Jenny out with.”

“Legal problem? Parking tickets?” he asked with a grin.

“She doesn’t own a car,” Catherine told him. “It’s more of a personal problem.”

“Personal problem? How can I be of any help with that?”

Catherine decided to start at the beginning.

“Jenny is the same age as me, and, like me, she’s an only child. Just about every time she sees her parents, they have something to say about her single state and how they would like to be grandparents before they are too old to enjoy it.”

Joe’s eyebrows went up at that. When she saw it, she laughed and held up her hand.

“No, nothing like that. Get your mind out of the gutter. The problem is that her parents caved to pressure from Aunt Leah, who wants to hire a matchmaker to help Jenny find a husband.”

“Matchmaker? I didn’t even know they still existed,” Joe commented.

“Maybe not in the general population, but they do in some cultures. Jenny’s Aunt Leah is an Orthodox Jew, and apparently, she knows a matchmaker with a very good track record.”

“And how am I supposed to help?”

“Well, Jenny was putting her mom off and told her that she was seeing someone. But she knew that her mom would want details, so she couldn’t really make someone up. When her mom pressed for a name, she pulled yours out of thin air. Her mom recognized your name and wants Jenny to bring you to dinner.”

“But I’m not Jewish,” he blurted.

“No, but Jenny’s parents aren’t orthodox, and they’ve gotten to the point where they just want to see Jenny happily married.”

Joe looked totally confused and just a little bit panicky, and Catherine rushed to reassure him.

“You don’t have to marry her,” she said. “If you could just go to her parents for dinner one time, then for a while, she can say that you two are seeing each other, but your work takes precedence, and then after a month or two, she can say that she didn’t like taking a back seat to your job and you decided to go your separate ways.”

“But wouldn’t that leave her in the same boat she is now?” he asked.

“Yes, but it would give her a month or two respite from the constant pressure,” Catherine told him.

“I get that. I guess I’m lucky that I have sisters who have already produced grandchildren for my mother. But she occasionally reminds me that I’m in my mid-30s and still unmarried. She and dad were married when they were 20 and had 3 kids by the time they were my age.”

“So, you understand. Do you think you’d be able to go to Jenny’s parents for dinner one time and play the part?” Catherine asked.

“I think I could swing it,” he said as he pulled out his planner. “When?”

“Probably the sooner, the better,” Catherine told him. She reached over, grabbed the scratch pad and a pencil off his desk, wrote down two numbers, and then handed them back to him. “The first one is her work number switchboard. Just ask for her, and the second one is her home number. Give her a call and work it out.”

“What time does she usually get to work?” he asked.

“They start at eight. Thanks, Joe. I know this feels very high schoolish, but she needs the break from the pressure.”

“I’ll call her first thing,” he promised.

~~~

Joe glanced at the clock after another cup of coffee to fortify him. It was a few minutes after eight. He dialed the work number and asked for Jenny.

“Aronson,” Jenny answered after the second ring. She sounded a little breathless.

“Jenny, it’s Joe. Did I get you at a bad time?”

“No, I just sat down at my desk. Thanks for calling. Cathy talked to you?”

“Yes, just a little while ago. She explained, and I think I can help.”

“I’m sorry!” Jenny moaned. “I just pulled your name out of thin air. I knew that if I named someone my folks knew, someone in the Jewish community, they’d be all over it. I thought that if I named a Gentile but a well-known, respectable man, it might slow them down. When she heard your name, she said you should come to dinner. I tried to tell her that your job kept you very busy, but she came right back with ‘a man has to eat.’ So, I was caught. It was either confess to the lie or run with it for a while.”

“I understand. I have a mother, too. She’s Italian, and I hear that Italian and Jewish mothers have much in common.”

“Pack your bag; you’re going on a guilt trip,” Jenny said with a laugh.

“Exactly. So, Cathy said that your mother wants me to have dinner sometime. Any idea when?”

“I’m pretty sure that if I tell her you are willing to make the time, she will go along with your schedule. There’s always a Friday night dinner.”

“Fridays aren’t good for me. That is when I have dinner with my mother, but just about any other evening would work.”

“All right. I’ll call her as soon as I hang up and find out, and I’ll get back to you,” Jenny said.

“Are you free for lunch today? Maybe we could meet, you can fill me in, and we can get to know each other a little better and be able to look more like we’ve spent some time together.”

“That works. When Cathy and I have lunch, there is a diner about halfway between your office and mine. It’s on the west side of Broadway between Reade and Chambers. But I can’t remember the name; it’s the only restaurant on the block.”

“I’ll find it. How does 1:00 sound?”

“Perfect. And thanks again!”

~~~

Joe left his office just after 12:30, and since it was only a few blocks away, he decided to walk. As he approached the diner, he saw Jenny coming from the other direction and waved. She waved back and quickened her step. She greeted him with a quick hug, and then they went inside.

They talked about work and the weather until their food was served.

“So, when did your mom decide to invite us to dinner?” he asked.

“Is Thursday all right? Either this Thursday or next?” she asked.

“Either is fine. Do you want to go earlier, so maybe you’ll be left in peace sooner?” he asked.

“That’s great. I was hoping you’d suggest that,” Jenny said with relief.

“So, since we’ve been seeing each other for a while… How did we meet?” he asked.

“Cathy introduced us, of course,” she answered with a grin.

They spent the next hour exchanging facts about themselves and their families.

“I feel as if I should have been taking notes,” Jenny said as they left the restaurant after the meal that Joe had insisted on paying for, even though Jenny had offered to split.

“You’ll remember what you need,” he assured her. “I doubt your parents will be asking about everything we discussed. Some of it was pretty in-depth,” he pointed out.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “So, you have my parents’ address, but I’ll meet you at the subway entrance closest to them.”

“That works for me since I’ll probably be coming straight from work,” he agreed. “I’ll see you there between 6:30 and 7:00 on Thursday.”

~~~

Once back in her office, Jenny called Catherine.

“Why didn’t you tell me Joe was such an interesting guy?” Jenny asked when Catherine answered the phone.

“I didn’t?” Catherine commented with a laugh. “Maybe it’s because he’s more like a big brother to me than just a guy.”

“Well, I know I was always after you to introduce me to Elliot Burch or maybe one of his friends; I’m sorry I overlooked Joe.”

Jenny explained the plan to Catherine, and after they hung up, Catherine sat at her desk for a moment, grinning. She couldn’t wait to tell Vincent the whole story. He needed a good laugh.

~~~

THURSDAY

Joe looked at his watch as he stepped off the subway train in Brooklyn on Thursday evening. It was only a few minutes past 6:30. He wasn’t surprised to see Jenny standing to the side at the top of the stairs.

She greeted him before they turned and started walking.

“You made it in good time,” she commented.

“Yeah, the crowds weren’t bad, and I got the first train,” he told her.

“That is one thing I didn’t ask you,” she said as they walked. “Where do you live?”

“I have a place in the Village,” he told her. “You?”

“I’m in the Village too,” she said with a laugh. “An apartment in one of the older buildings a block west of Washington Square Park.”

“I’m in a renovated Brownstone a few blocks south of the park,” he told her.

~~~

When they arrived at Jenny’s parents’ house, Jenny almost went into cardiac arrest. She was stopped on the sidewalk, staring at an old car sitting at the curb.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked.

“I’m so sorry. My Aunt Leah is here. Mom said she wasn’t going to invite her.”

They mounted the steps, and Jenny rang the bell. Her mother answered the door, and before she even let them inside, she apologized to Jenny.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie,” she said. “I told her you were bringing Mr. Maxwell to dinner, and she invited herself. You know how she is.”

“I sure do,” Jenny said, then she turned and introduced Joe to her mother. As they entered the house, her dad entered the hall with an elderly woman behind him. Jenny made those introductions and was appalled when Aunt Leah moved in on Joe before he even had a chance to get his coat off.

Jenny looked after Joe with a worried frown as her mother pulled her toward the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” her mother tried to reassure her. “Mr. Maxwell is a lawyer; I’m sure he can handle Aunt Leah’s questions.”

“I hope so,” Jenny said as they entered the kitchen. “Oh, that smells wonderful. What are we having?”

“Well, since Aunt Leah is here, it’s all Kosher,” her mother said with a laugh. “Very traditional. A salad to start, beef and vegetable pot roast, and Aunt Leah brought the kugel and a fruit salad for dessert. Simple but hearty, and there is plenty of it.”

Jenny helped her mother put the food on the table and was relieved to see that Joe and Aunt Leah were smiling when they entered the dining room. Her father just looked a little bemused.

When Joe sat next to Jenny, he was at a diagonal from Aunt Leah.

“How did it go?” she whispered.

“She reminds me of my Nonna; my mother’s mom. She was Italian and loved to know what everyone was doing.”

“That is definitely Aunt Leah,” Jenny agreed.

“So, Mr. Maxwell…” Aunt Leah began.

“Please, everyone, call me Joe,” Joe interrupted with a smile.

“All right then, Yosef… You told me your mother is Italian, but where does the Maxwell come from? I don’t recall it being Italian.”

“No, it’s not. My dad was the son of Scottish immigrants who met on the boat on their way here and married a few years later. My grandfather got a job as a longshoreman, and my grandmother worked in a dress factory until my father was born.”

“And what does your father do?” Aunt Leah asked.

“He was a cop,” Joe told her.

“Is he retired now?”

“No, he was killed when I was fourteen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jenny’s Mom managed to get in. “In the line of duty?”

“More or less,” Joe told her. “He was on his way home from work, and his uniform made him a target.”

Jenny could sense that Joe didn’t want to talk about it, so she tried to redirect the conversation.

“Mom. Joe says that his mom makes the absolute best lasagna on the planet,” she said, turning toward her mother.

Mrs. Aronson caught on and kept it going in that direction.

“She does? What does she put in it, Joe?” she asked.

Joe gave Jenny’s hand a grateful squeeze under the table and picked up the conversation with Mrs. Aronson.

It was almost 9:00 when Jenny and Joe left. And since Mrs. Aronson and Aunt Leah were standing on the step watching them, they walked toward the subway station arm in arm.

“I’m so sorry about Aunt Leah,” Jenny said.

“Don’t be. Like I said, she reminds me of Nonna. All of us kids used to say that since Nonna never did anything, she lived vicariously through her soap operas and her grandchildren.”

They walked another half a block in silence before Jenny spoke again.

“Thank you, Joe,” she said.

“No, thank you! That was a great dinner. They had reached the subway entrance, and it looked dark and menacing. But there was a cab sitting at the curb.

“How about we take a cab instead of the subway?” he suggested.

At her nod, they walked to the cab and got in. Jenny gave her address, then Joe gave his; they were only a few blocks apart.

The ride was short and pretty quiet, and Joe was surprised when Jenny leaned over and kissed him on the lips before she got out.

~~~

Jenny climbed the stairs to her apartment, and as soon as she took off her coat, she was on the phone dialing Catherine.

“Oh, my God, Cathy,” she exclaimed after Catherine answered the phone. “I kissed him.”

“He kissed you?” Catherine managed.

“No, I kissed him. I hope he didn’t think it was out of line. I mean, this is supposed to be fake.”

“Well, was the kiss at your folk’s house to reinforce the story?”

“No, it was in the cab just before I got out. Do you think he will think I was coming on to him or something?”

“Were you?”

“No… I don’t think so. It just seemed to be the natural thing to do,” Jenny said, sounding puzzled.

“Well, other than that, how did it go?”

~~~

To say that Joe had been surprised by the kiss would be an understatement. Hugs, he understood. He’d seen Jenny greet Cathy and other friends over the last few years, and he knew she was a hugger… But the kiss? That had been unexpected… far from unpleasant, just unexpected.

~~~

FRIDAY

Catherine was in her office the next morning when Joe arrived.

“You’re here early,” he said when he stopped at her open door after getting some coffee.

“I have an early witness interview. I just wanted to make sure I had everything I need. How did dinner go last night?”

“I think it went well. I think I passed muster; even Aunt Leah seemed to like me.”

“Oh, she was there?” Catherine asked as if she hadn’t already gotten the whole story from Jenny.

“Jenny said that she invited herself,” he said with a chuckle. “That woman would have made a great lawyer; her cross-examination skills are top-notch.”

Catherine laughed at that. She’d experienced the questioning as Jenny’s friend and roommate, and she could only imagine the questions she would ask of a potential boyfriend.

“Jenny’s mom is a fantastic cook. What did you have?”

They talked about the food, and then, out of the blue, Joe stopped and looked at Catherine.

“Cathy, you’ve known Jenny a long time… She kissed me before she got out of the cab. Did that mean something, or is it just Jenny being Jenny?”

Catherine shrugged. “I’m not sure. Was it a peck on the cheek?”

“No, it was a full-on, lips to lips.” He sounded unsure.

“Long or short?” Catherine was enjoying grilling him.

“Well, more than a short peck, but less than what you would call a lip lock.” He was looking very uneasy.

Catherine was having a tough time not laughing.

“Well, Jenny doesn’t go around kissing everyone. I would say that she likes you.”

Can this get any more adolescent? She asked herself as she watched Joe squirm.

“A little or a lot?” he asked.

“Joe! We sound like a couple of teenagers. You just be nice to my friend!” She stood and picked up a file and a pad of paper. “Now I have a witness to meet in the conference room. We can talk later if you want.”

~~~

When Catherine went back to her office after spending an hour with a reluctant witness, she found a note on her desk:

Do you think it would be OK if I asked her to lunch?

JM

She picked up her phone and dialed Joe’s number.

“Ask her,” she said after he picked up. “All she can do is say ‘No.’”

“But do you think she will say yes?” He sounded unsure.

“You aren’t proposing marriage, just lunch,” Catherine pointed out.

~~~

Later that afternoon, Joe dialed Jenny’s work number.

“Aronson,” she said after picking up.

“Hi, Jenny, it’s Joe. How’s your day going?”

There was a slight hesitation before her answer.

“It’s good to hear from you. Actually, the day is going well. I just signed a new author, and that always makes for a good day.”

“A good one? Maybe I’ll get a chance to read it.”

“It’s a cookbook of Indian recipes by Laila Sharma,” Jenny said with a laugh.

“Hey, I like Indian food. But that is a great segway… would you like to go to lunch again, maybe next week?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m booked for business lunches all week.”

“Then how about dinner?” he thought briefly before adding. “My Mom’s next Friday?”

“That sounds great. I’d love to.”

“This time, I’ll pick you up at about 6:30. Mom’s house is only a couple blocks from where you live.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

~~~

Later, when he arrived at his mom’s for the usual Friday night dinner, he found that it was just the two of them.

“I was wondering if you would have room for one more at dinner next Friday,” he said as they were sitting down at the kitchen table.

“You know that there is always room for more at my table. Who are you bringing?”

“A friend. She’s a good friend of Cathy’s.”

“She? And it’s not Cathy. That’s a step in the right direction. I’ll make lasagna.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“So, tell me about her. When did you meet her? How long have you been seeing her?”

Joe refrained from rolling his eyes and answered with a smile.

“I actually met her a few years ago, when Cathy first started working with us, but Jenny and I haven’t really been more than acquaintances during that time. Cathy asked me to help Jenny with a problem. She’s the total opposite of Cathy,” he added with a laugh.

“How’s that?”

“Where Cathy is more of an ‘uptown girl,’ Jenny is from Brooklyn, although she did go to Radcliffe with Cathy. That is where they met. Jenny was there on scholarship. She works in publishing. Other than she’s an only child, I really don’t know a lot more.” He decided against telling his mom that he’d already met Jenny’s family.

~~~

FRIDAY, a week later

When Joe walked up to her building at 6:30 on Friday, he was surprised to see Jenny standing there.

“I forgot to tell you my apartment number,” she explained as she fell into step beside him. “And there are no names on the mailboxes. Did you have a good week?”

“Pretty good. We won a big case, thanks to Cathy’s skills in extracting key information from the most reluctant witnesses. You? Did you sign any more new authors?”

“No, just the one, but I’ve got several promising manuscripts to read. They are unsolicited, but the authors all know the difference between shutter and shudder.”

Since the two words sounded alike, Joe was confused.

“Huh?” he questioned.

“It’s a publishing joke and goes over better in print than speaking,” she said with a laugh. “Shutter with a double T vs. shudder with a double D.”

“Oh, I get it. Like their, they’re and there.”

“Or rain, reign or rein.”

“You’re right; they do make more sense in print than just saying them,” he said, joining her laughter.

“You obviously had to take some writing classes,” she prompted.

“Yeah... legalese. As Cathy puts it, it’s turgid and dry. It’s definitely not a page-turner; it’s guaranteed to put you to sleep every time.” They stopped in front of a brownstone. “This is it.”

“You don’t have an Aunt Leah in there, do you?” she asked as they went up the stairs.

“Nope, just my mom, possibly some sisters, their husbands, and some kids. We never know how many are coming to dinner on Friday. Last week it was just me and Mom, but Mom always cooks enough to feed an army, and the sisters always bring sides or dessert when they come.”

“You didn’t bring anything,” she pointed out.

“Not expected,” he told her with a grin. “It’s the privilege of being male in an Italian family. Sometimes, I bring a bottle of wine.”

“So, this won’t be out of line,” she asked, pulling a bottle out of her big shoulder bag.

“Never! The more the merrier.”

He opened the door and ushered her in.

“Hey, everybody. Let the party begin; I have arrived!”

“Conceited fool,” a female voice shouted back.

“Stuck on himself, for sure,” someone else called.

Joe took Jenny’s coat and hung it on a rack among many others. She put down her bag and pulled the wine out of it. He added his coat to the collection and then took her hand to lead her back to the kitchen so she could meet everyone.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Jenny commented as they entered the kitchen.

“I hope you brought your appetite,” a young woman with dark curly hair called from the other side of the kitchen. “Mom has outdone herself this time. I don’t think I’ve eaten this well since last Christmas Eve.”

“If you’d come home more often, you would eat better,” Mrs. Maxwell retorted as she reached for a dish towel.

Jenny and Joe looked at each other and smiled.

“Pack your bag…” Jenny whispered.

~~~

By the time they sat down at the table, Jenny’s head was spinning. She was trying to remember all the names.

Joe had three sisters. All younger than him.

The oldest was Elisabetta, named after their Nonna. Everyone called her Liz. She was a little more than a year younger than Joe. She’d been married to Carter for a little over 10 years, and they had three children, a boy and two girls.

Fiona, named after Joe’s father’s mother, was next. She was three years younger than Liz, and everyone called her Fi. She was married to Garth, and they had two boys.

The youngest, Rose, introduced herself with a laugh as “the afterthought” since she was born when Joe was 12. She was 24 and still single. She was following in her brother’s footsteps and going to law school.

“So, you can understand why I don’t make it home, even for dinner, very often,” she told Jenny as they walked to the dining room.

“I remember when my friend Cathy was in law school,” Jenny said. “We all, including her father, thought she was studying to be a recluse. I used to wonder if she even ate during that time.”

Jenny was stunned at the size of the dinner table. It looked like they had opened the wall between the front living room and the dining room to make room for it, but then, there were a lot of people. Just family was twelve people. She made thirteen. The long table had one chair at each end, five down one side and six down the other. Children were at the table with the adults and seated between their parents. Mrs. Maxwell took the end seat closest to the kitchen, and Joe sat at the other end. He seated Jenny on the side closest to him.

~~~

When they left several hours later, Jenny was smiling.

“I love your family,” she declared after they’d walked about half a block.

“Yeah, so do I,” Joe said with a grin.

“No, I mean… they made me feel so welcome. No third degree, like Aunt Leah.”

“Well, we’re New Yorkers,” he said. “America is a melting pot, but New York is a microcosm of America. I mean, my mom and dad proved that. The only thing they had in common when they met was that they were both Catholic. They raised us like that, but neither Liz nor Fi married Catholics. Rose says she’s not even sure she wants kids if she even marries.”

“I wish my parents were more like that. I think they might be if it wasn’t for Aunt Leah. They don’t restrict themselves to only Jewish friends. When Aunt Leah suggested that I go to a Jewish all-girls school, Mom put her foot down. Dad was raised orthodox, but Mom wasn’t. She told Aunt Leah that she felt that one of the most important things a child could learn in school was how to get along with everyone, no matter who they were. And she felt I wouldn’t learn that in a school where everyone was the same as me. She also wanted me to get the education that would prepare me for college if that was what I wanted.”

“Sounds like she chose well,” Joe commented. “You got into Radcliffe, and that’s no mean feat.”

“I was a scholarship student,” she told him. “Full academic. And I credit Cathy’s dad for helping me keep my grades up so I could qualify for it every semester.”

“How?” Joe asked.

“When Cathy went home for Christmas break during our freshman year, she complained to her dad that the dorm was noisy, and it was hard for her to concentrate to study. He called a friend in Cambridge who was a realtor and bought a house. It was not just a little place either; it had two stories with four bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. Then he asked Cathy if she knew anyone who’d like to share, and she called me and Nancy. We were suitemates in the dorm. She and I were roomies, and Nancy’s roommate was someone who never seemed to be around. We shared a bathroom. Nancy and I both jumped at the chance. Then Mr. Chandler told Nancy and me that there would be no rent. That we would just share the expense of food.

“I’d been working to pay for everything other than tuition, and my grades suffered. Mr. Chandler pulled some strings to get special permission from the school to live off-campus because we were only freshmen. All our grades went up after that. I was able to maintain the GPA that I needed to keep my scholarship. My parents were thrilled and sent me an allowance every month, and I could add to the food budget and still have a little bit in my pocket.”

“I know the feeling,” Joe told her. “I worked while I was in school, but at least I didn’t have to live in a dorm. I lived at home. I was in the Army for two years; then, I used my GI Bill to get my degree. I worked as a cop for seven years while I went to college and then Law School. The great thing was that they worked with me and scheduled my shifts around school.”

They had reached Jenny’s building, and she asked Joe if he’d like to go up and have a drink or some coffee.

“It’s not late,” she added.

“Sure. Coffee sounds good. I still have some reading to do before I go to bed.”

“You’re not going to the office tomorrow?” she asked as they climbed the stairs to Jenny’s third-floor apartment. Cathy had told her that Joe had been working a lot of Saturdays since taking over as Interim DA.

“Not this weekend,” he told her, “But that’s only because I brought home a stack of stuff to go over. I decided it would be easier to do that on my couch in my sweats rather than at my desk in the office.”

Jenny unlocked her door and let them in. She pointed at a line of hooks on the wall behind the door.

“You can put your coat there.” She hung hers and turned to the left into a small kitchen.

Joe hung up his coat and followed her. He was looking around with a smile.

“I like this,” he said approvingly.

“It’s small, not quite a 600-square-foot studio, but it works for me,” she told him.

“Studio?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” she pushed the button on the coffee maker. “One semi-large room and a tiny bathroom.”

He looked around.

“Please don’t tell me you sleep on the couch,” he said.

She laughed at that. “I have, but not intentionally.” She pointed at the couch. “That is a Murphy bed. Dad built the whole thing. Mom made the couch cushions. The wall comes down, the couch folds flat and turns into a pedestal. Dad added the cabinets and shelves on the sides for more storage. And the great thing is that it will all come apart and can be moved if I ever move.”

While waiting for the coffee, Jenny gave Joe a quick tour of the apartment. After pointing out the Murphy bed unit, she moved to the window that overlooked the brick wall of the building next door, then to the bathroom, which wasn’t much bigger than some walk-in closets.

“I visited my friend Nancy in Westport a few months ago. Her guest room is almost as big as my apartment,” she said with a laugh.

“Cathy’s isn’t much bigger,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but it has a much better address, and her 900 square feet are divided into three rooms and a bathroom twice the size of mine.”

They were back in the kitchen area, and Jenny poured coffee.

“Do you want anything in it?” she asked.

“Nope. Black. Learned to drink it that way in the Army.”

They made themselves comfortable on the couch.

“Cathy didn’t tell me you were in the Army,” Jenny said.

“You two talk about me a lot?” he asked with a grin.

Jenny laughed. “Not really, at least not since she first started working in your office. She used to tell me that you were a real slave driver.”

“It seems to be a job requirement,” he admitted. “But Cathy doesn’t really need to be pushed. All I have to do is give her a task, and it’s done in pretty much record time. That is why she got promoted to Deputy, even though there were people in the office with more seniority. Even before everything that happened with Moreno, he was looking at moving me to Trials when Levinson retired and putting Cathy in my old job.”

“So, you were just following through on a pre-existing plan?” she asked.

“Somewhat. When it came to managing people, John knew his stuff, and I learned a lot. His bad judgment in other things got him into trouble.”

They sat on the couch and talked for a while before Joe looked at the clock and was surprised to see how much time had passed.

“Wow, as my mom says: ‘Time flies when you are having fun.’ I didn’t realize it was so late.” He stood and went to get his coat. Jenny followed.

“Can we do this again?” he asked as he put on his coat. “I mean, a real date next time instead of dinner with family?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” she said with a grin. “When?”

“As much as I’d like to say tomorrow, I really do have to dig into those files this weekend. So how about next Saturday? I’ll make reservations somewhere and pick you up about seven?”

“Sounds great, I’ll see you then.”

This time, Jenny restrained herself, and when she leaned toward him, she only kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Joe. I had a great time. Tell your mom that she does make the best lasagna in the world. I’ll see you next week.”

When he was gone, she closed the door, leaned back against it, and smiled.

~~~

Catherine was sitting on the couch listening to music with Vincent when her phone rang.

“Darn, I should have unplugged that,” she said. “Ignore it,” she added.

But then she heard Jenny’s voice. She shook her head and answered it.

“What is it, Jenn?” she asked.

“I just wanted to let you know how dinner at Joe’s mom’s went,” Jenny said.

“She does make good lasagna, doesn’t she?”

“The absolute best!” Jenny agreed. “And he asked me on a real date. He even called it that. And he’s making reservations.”

Catherine looked over at Vincent, who was smiling. With his sensitive hearing, he could hear the conversation.

“Wow, reservations,” Catherine agreed. “When Joe makes reservations, it’s special.” She was smiling, too.

“You think maybe this one time, one of my screw-ups could turn out well?” she asked.

“That depends. Do you want it to?”

Jenny was silent for a moment.

“Yeah, I think I do. I really like him, Cath. He’s interesting, funny and he’s all about family. He’s great with his nieces and nephews; you can tell he really likes kids.”

“So, you’re falling in like. What about love?”

Jenny didn’t hesitate this time.

“Could be,” she said. Our date is next Saturday, and I can’t wait to see him again.”

“Then I’d say you might be on to something,” Catherine said.

They talked a little longer, arranged to meet for lunch on Wednesday, then hung up.

“It sounds like your friends are building something,” Vincent commented after Catherine hung up and leaned back. “Haven’t they met before this?”

“Several times,” Catherine told him. “But they’ve never talked for more than a few minutes before. This should be interesting to watch.”

~~~

MONDAY

Catherine wasn’t surprised when Joe walked into her office on Monday morning.

“How was your weekend?” he asked as he seated himself on the old leather couch.

“Good. Quiet. I caught up on some stuff and relaxed. You?”

“About the same. I took a stack of files home and went over them.”

Cathy leaned back in her chair and looked at him. “Did you see Jenny?”

“Only on Friday. I took her to my mom’s for dinner. The whole fam-damly was there.”

“Like they were the first time I had dinner at your mom’s? I hope she wasn’t overwhelmed. She’s an only child, you know.”

“She seemed in her element. She talked to everyone and remembered all the names, even the kids. And she loved my mom’s lasagna.”

“Unless they were allergic to tomatoes, I don’t know of anyone who wouldn’t love your mom’s lasagna,” Cathy said with a laugh. “So, what’s going on?”

“Have you talked to Jenny?” he asked.

“She told me about dinner,” she hedged.

“I asked her out again. I mean a real date. Dinner on Saturday,” Joe said without really answering Cathy’s question.

“So, this is going somewhere?” she asked.

“Yeah… maybe… I think so… No, I hope so. She’s a lot of fun, and we get along. Has she said anything to you?”

“Lawyer, client confidentiality,” Cathy said with a grin.

Joe made a face at her. “Really? You are going there?”

“Well, I can say that she doesn’t hate you.” Catherine was enjoying this way too much.

“I know that. She wouldn’t have said yes to going out on Saturday if she did. But when I left her place Friday…”

“Her place? You were in her apartment?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Not that. We just talked about dinner and your family… so, go on.”

“Well, when I left her place, she only kissed me on the cheek this time.”

“Knowing Jenny, she probably felt like she came on too strong the first time and wanted to dial it back a little.”

“So, she’s not cooling?”

“I doubt it. As you said, she wouldn’t have agreed to dinner and a chance to spend time with you alone if she was.”

~~~

WEDNESDAY

The dream that woke Jenny just before dawn was scary—so scary that she couldn’t get back to sleep. It had been about Joe, and it hadn’t been good. She got up, made coffee, and sat drinking it and thinking until it was time to get ready for work.

Should I warn him? She wondered. Of course, I should, but is he going to think I’m some kind of a kook? I need to talk to Cathy first. As she left her apartment, she glanced at her watch. Joe might be at work, but she didn’t think Cathy would be there yet.

Once she was settled at her desk, and it was after eight, she dialed Cathy’s office number.

~~~

Joe was in Cathy’s office, and they were reviewing a case when Cathy’s phone rang.

“They’re starting early today,” she said as she reached for it.

“Deputy DA Chandler,” she answered.

“Cath, it’s me, Jenny. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” she glanced at Joe and mouthed ‘Jenny.’ Joe grinned. “What is it?”

“I had a dream about Joe last night,” Jenny began.

“You did?” Cathy smiled. “Was it a good one?”

“Definitely not! It was bad… very bad.”

Cathy could tell that this was serious. “Oh… one of those dreams,” she responded, looking at Joe.

“Yeah, and I don’t know if I should tell him. I mean, I don’t want him to think I’m some kind of a kook, but I don’t want to hold back and then find out he’s been hurt… or worse.”

“He knows about your… ah… abilities, Jenn.” Cathy glanced at Joe again, who was looking a little confused. “I’ve told him how you warned me about the stalker and how accurate you can be.”

“And he doesn’t think I’m a nutcase?”

“Absolutely not! In fact, he’s right here now. I can put you on speaker, and you can tell us both if you want.”

“All right. That sounds good.” Jenny sounded a little hesitant, but Cathy pressed the speaker button anyway.

“’Mornin’ Jenn,” Joe said at Cathy’s nod. “What’s up?”

“I’m really not sure, but I had this crazy dream, which left me with a really bad feeling.”

“All right. Tell me about it,” he prompted.

“Well, it was as if I was looking down on a street from a second or third-floor window somewhere. I could see you walking toward where I was. It was dark; the streetlights were on, and it looked like it was raining. You had your hands in your overcoat pockets, your shoulders hunched, and your head down a little. Then suddenly, there was an explosion from behind you. It looked pretty close because when the shock wave hit you, it sent you flying. That was when I woke up.”

Joe smiled and looked relieved.

“Don’t worry, Jenn. That has already happened. It was last spring, almost a year ago. I was hurt, but obviously I survived.”

Cathy started to speak, but Jenny already was.

“No, Joe, it doesn’t work that way. I never have vivid dreams like that about the past. They are always the future, and I’m pretty accurate.”

Joe looked at Cathy, who nodded.

“All right, I will keep it in mind. Was there anything about the area that you recognized?”

“Not really. It looked like a block of Brownstones, and you had turned left off another street. Other than that, it could have been anywhere.”

“Then I just won’t walk in any residential neighborhoods for a while. I’ll take cabs door to door.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jenny said, and he could hear the relief in her voice.

~~~

When Joe left the office that evening, it was raining and was getting dark. He remembered his promise to Jenny and hailed a cab at the curb. As he settled in the back seat, he looked out the window and conceded that it sure looked like what Jenny had described.

The cab dropped him in front of his building, and he went to his second-floor apartment. He changed into sweats and headed to his kitchen, wondering if there was anything in the refrigerator for dinner. He had just put some leftovers into the microwave when a loud explosion shook the building.

He went to the window that looked east and could see smoke and flames coming from the end of the block. While he called 911 to report it, he slipped into his shoes. He’d been a medic in the Army and went to see if he could help.

~~~

He got back to his apartment a couple of hours later. He’d assisted a few people with minor injuries until the EMTs arrived, and because he was the DA, he was able to find out what they thought had happened.

The building on the corner was being renovated, and the firefighter he had talked to suspected a gas leak. They called the gas company. The gas was turned off, and the fire was put out. The buildings on both sides had been damaged, but thanks to firewalls, no one had been seriously hurt.

Joe estimated that if he had taken the subway home like usual, he could have been in front of the building when it exploded.

It was after nine, but he called Jenny to thank her.

“Thank you for the warning,” he said after she answered.

“What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I took a cab home. As far as the fire department can tell, there was a gas leak in an empty building at the end of the block.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, only a few minor injuries. And they put out the fire pretty soon after they shut off the gas.”

~~~

SATURDAY

This time when Joe arrived at Jenny’s building, she wasn’t waiting in front, he pushed the button for her apartment; she buzzed him in, and he went up.

She looked a little frazzled and was holding her shoes in her hand when she answered the door.

“I’m running a little late,” she said as he closed the door behind him. “I had to do a little hand-holding this afternoon. Some authors can be kind of needy.”

She grinned at him as she sat down on the couch to put on her shoes.

“Kinda like some of our witnesses?” he asked.

“Worse,” she got up and walked past him to get her coat and purse. “With a witness, you have the law and things like subpoenas to get them to cooperate. But If I pressure one of my authors too much or brush them off, they can take their next book to another publisher or get an agent. I get paid a percentage of sales for each of the authors on my list. I lose my job if I start losing authors because I’m not taking good care of them.”

“I thought writers had agents to do the handholding,” he said as he helped her with her coat. They heard a car horn from the street. “That’s probably the cab I called to meet us.”

They left the apartment, Jenny locked up, and they went down. They didn’t resume the conversation until they were settled in the cab and Joe had told the driver where to go.

“Most of the more established writers do, but we are one of the few publishers that doesn’t require that a writer have an agent to submit their work. The big publishing houses insist on an agent. But when a writer is starting out, they can’t always afford an agent who will take the standard 15% of what the book makes. And from the agent’s point of view, they hesitate to take on new authors. The book that they submit might be their first book, and it might be a one-off. They may not have another book in them. I even know of some who won’t agree to represent a new writer until they get them to write a second book, just to see if it’s as good as the first. If it is, they take them on and get both the first and the second book published back-to-back while the writer works on the next one. It also puts a lot of pressure on a writer.”

Joe listened attentively. He’d never dreamed that Jenny’s job involved so much.

They were seated in the restaurant and had ordered when he asked another question.

“Have you ever considered being an agent instead of working for a publisher?”

“Actually, I have. That was my original aim, I even took some psychology classes in college to learn how to work with people. But the established agencies don’t hire straight out of college. I started working with this publisher as a copy reader and have steadily been working my way up. My best bet would be to start my own small literary agency. I might be able to take some of the writers I work with now with me to start, but that is still in the future; just a dream.” She smiled at him.

“We all gotta have a dream,” he agreed.

“Do you have a dream?” she asked.

“I did,” he said with a grimace. “I just didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did.”

“Oh, you mean being DA?”

“Yeah, I was looking at working my way up to it in maybe ten, fifteen years when John retired.”

“So, you plan to run for DA at the end of this term?”

“I still haven’t made up my mind. The mayor and the police commissioner both back me. But I’m still on the fence. I want to see who might run against me. If I did run, and the other guy won, I don’t think I’d have the option of returning to being a deputy DA. I’d be out of a job and looking for work, and a Law degree that isn’t from Stanford, Harvard, or Columbia doesn’t actually have people beating a path to my door to hire me.”

“But it’s still a law degree, and you passed the same BAR exam that everyone else in this state passed,” she was quick to point out.

“Yeah, technically, my knowledge base is the same as Cathy, who graduated from Columbia Law, but if we were both looking for a job, she would likely be hired before me.”

“Even with your experience?”

“Well, that might count for something,” he said with a grin.

Their dinner was served. And Joe changed the subject.

“I was wondering, and I keep forgetting to ask. At your parents, your Aunt Leah kept calling me Yosef. What is that?”

“It’s Hebrew,” Jenny said with a grin.

“What does it mean? Is it a nickname or something else? It does sound a little like Joseph.”

“It is Joseph; it’s just what it translates to in Hebrew. I’m surprised she didn’t call you Yussel; that’s Yiddish for Joseph, and she generally uses Yiddish more than Hebrew. Most Jewish women, at least here in the States, don’t learn much Hebrew except for some prayers. But Aunt Leah did live in Israel for a while before her husband died, so I imagine she learned it there.”

“So, her calling me that is a good or a bad thing?” he asked.

“Just the fact that she was calling you by any first name is a good thing,” Jenny said with a laugh. “Aunt Leah is orthodox and usually very formal, especially with men. She’s known the man who runs the market down the street from her home for at least 30 years, and she still calls him Mr. Lindner.”

The conversation went on like that for the entire dinner and all the way back to Jenny’s. They were finally getting to know each other in a way that they had attempted to pretend to know each other for that first dinner at the Aronson’s.

It wasn’t late when they got back to Jenny’s, and she invited him up where the conversation continued.

“I’ll be glad when it starts to warm up,” Jenny commented as she removed her coat, hung it and left her shoes under the bench. Joe hadn’t worn an overcoat, but he removed his suit coat and loosened his tie.

“Find us some music, and I’ll get us some drinks,” she said, heading for the kitchen area.

Joe turned on the radio and turned the dial until he found some soft jazz.

“What would you like?” she asked, opening the refrigerator.

“Do you have any beer?”

“Do you want it in a glass?” Jenny asked as she removed the lid from the bottle.

“Don’t bother to dirty a glass for me,” Joe told her.

She poured herself a glass of wine and joined him on the couch.

She had left only one lamp on when they left earlier, and the only light she’d turned on when they came in was the one over the kitchen sink. She’d turned that one off when she was done pouring their drinks.

Jenny sat close to Joe on the couch, but not right next to him. After a few minutes of silence and both of them sitting rather awkwardly on the couch, Joe relaxed and put his arm out, inviting Jenny closer.

She didn’t have to be invited twice and moved to nestle closer.

Joe had been relating his family history, elaborating on things he’d already told her.

“So, your youngest sister is going to be a lawyer too?” Jenny prompted.

“Yeah and talk about surprises. First, we were all stunned when she decided to go to college. She’d never been a very enthusiastic student in high school. We really didn’t expect her to finish her freshman year at NYU, but she did, and she did so well that she qualified for scholarships. She worked part-time to pay for everything else. She transferred to City College, but she never told anyone that she was prelaw until she was getting ready to take the L-SAT. She needed some money to register to take it, and she came to me to borrow it. But she swore me to secrecy. She said she didn’t want to tell anyone until she knew she’d gotten a good score on the test and had been accepted somewhere.”

“I bet you were proud of her.”

“And stunned,” he said with a laugh. “She says she wants to stay in New York and work as a Public Defender. That could be a problem with me in the DA’s office or being the DA. I’ve tried to talk her into considering working for the DA, but as Rose said, that is something we can worry about later. She still has at least another year of law school.”

They were quiet for a time, listening to the music.

“I like your music choice,” Jenny commented.

“Something relaxing,” he agreed. “We all need something like it, living and working here.”

She agreed and moved a little closer.

He raised his hand, brushing her cheek. She leaned closer again, looking up at him. The atmosphere changed, charged with a tension that hadn’t been there before. It hung between them like a thread, pulling them closer.

With only slight hesitation, he leaned in, and she met him halfway. Time stood still as they both closed their eyes, surrendering to the moment.

Their lips met softly at first, a tentative brush that sparked new sensations. She responded, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss, feeling the world beyond the couch disappear. His hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more passionate, more urgent as if they were savoring a secret shared only between them.

The couch was a cozy haven while the rhythm of their breathing began to synchronize. Each kiss conveyed a whirlwind of emotions: curiosity, longing, and the sweet thrill of discovery.

Eventually, they pulled apart as if by mutual agreement. Joe rested his forehead against Jenny’s.

“Too fast?” he asked.

She smiled slightly.

“Yeah, I think so,” she agreed.

“Then maybe I should finish my beer and get out of here,” he smiled at her as she pulled away, putting more distance between them.

“But maybe it won’t always be like this?” she said.

“I think I can see that possibility,” he said as he finished his beer.

A few minutes later, she followed him to the door and watched him put on his suit jacket. She stepped closer.

“Will you be warm enough?” she asked as she reached up and straightened the tie he’d loosened earlier.

“It’s not that cold, and it’s only a few blocks. Besides…” he reached out and pulled her close and kissed her until she was breathless. “… that should keep me warm.”

He winked at her and let himself out.

*****

Season 3 & Beyond

*****

Yet, She Knew!

by Angie

O, the sweetness of the pain!

- John Keats

~~~

After leaving Catherine’s body in her apartment, Vincent went below and sank down the nearest wall, head bowed, thinking.

He thought over her last words and marveled that she’d had the strength to say those last words, a gift to him. He concluded that she knew that her death would affect him as he had always said it would, perhaps even to suicide.

She had had months to think of him and how he would weather her loss – for she must have known she was being kept alive for the child. She knew she might never see him again, but if she did, she would be ready.

He could not imagine how she had come to terms with that realization, and he condemned Gabriel to Hell again for forcing it upon her.

So, there on the rooftop, she had gathered her last breath, and told him about their child, knowing that he would move heaven and earth to find him, that her death was not the end, but the beginning of a new life. One with their child. And she had quoted Dylan Thomas, knowing he would find comfort in that too.

He remembered a Keats poem, one he perhaps understood much better now, now that he was enduring a terrible sorrow of his own. It was complicated by what Catherine had realized about him, and what their son must be rescued from, but it was not relieved by that.

“What can I do to drive away

Remembrance from my eyes? For they have seen,

Ay, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!”

Catherine would not want him to sink into himself and end his life in despair. She had offered him hope. His pain was still fresh, but he must not succumb to it.

Yet, the child was unexpected. He had not known she was pregnant. Either she had not had time to tell him or – he had to be honest with himself now – he had been so sunk in his own physical and mental recovery from that dark place. It had not occurred to him that she might have a reason of her own for being there with him, just then. His loss of memory and sense of place, and hardest of all, their bond, had consumed him. Catherine, of course, had sympathized and comforted him.

What if she had told him she was pregnant at that time? He understood, now in retrospect, why she could not, would not. Then afterwards it was too late. The choice was taken from her, from both of them. She had been abducted and was lost to him for months.

Too much had happened since that awful time, and his sense of mental balance was not reliable, even yet. He could not be what he was, before she disappeared, before his illness.

“What Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,

What can I do to kill it and be free

In my old liberty? “

No, there would be no liberty for him now. The task she had set him was difficult. She had known that too. Yet, he would not be able to completely avoid the sorrow of losing her. Even now, it almost overwhelmed him.

“More dismal cares

Seize on me unawares —

Where shall I learn to get my peace again?”

His search for Catherine was ended and he had lost her forever. He had only his memories to sustain him, but remembering her would allow him to live on, as Keats said.

“O, for some sunny spell

To dissipate the shadows of this hell!

Say they are gone — with the new dawning light

Steps forth my lady bright!”

Yes, he would always have the memory of her approaching him through the light of the Threshold and of the glow of her love for him in her face. He would always remember how that love warmed him through their bond.

He could never forget her, and now he must not. He must remember everything for their son. He would find the child. She had given him a mission he could not refuse – as she knew he wouldn’t. But still, he would dream of her. How could he not?

“Enough! Enough! It is enough for me

To dream of thee!” *

The bridge was ahead, and he rose to his feet. He knew he must announce his sorrow there, loudly, to the world. The pain rose within him, demanding release. It would be a beginning. The end was yet to come.

END

“What Can I Do to Drive Away” – by John Keats (1795)

*****

Catherine’s Blessing:

Remember Love

by Barbara Anderson

Season 3

~~~

Vincent sighed deeply as bittersweet memories swirled around him like the myriad of dust motes in the beam of light shining down from her apartment building above him.

If he closed his eyes he could almost hear the echoes of years now passed.

‘Vincent,’ she would say breathlessly. ‘I’ve missed you so!’ as she threw herself into his open arms.

Three years had passed since Catherine’s death, but from time to time he still found comfort standing here at the threshold beneath her building.

How many times did I watch her descend those rungs? he wondered.

He smiled wistfully, remembering how her face would radiate with joy as soon as she saw him standing there in the dim light. It still took his breath away to recall the wonder and miracle it was to feel her love pouring into his soul.

The Bond they had shared was like nothing he had ever known. Even the Bond he now shared with his son was different. And the empathic connection he shared with Diana was no more than what he shared with other members of his Tunnel family.

How can I offer Diana anything, he asked himself. …when so much of my heart still belongs to you, Catherine?

“Your heart was made to love and be loved, Vincent.”

The voice was soft, barely audible really, but he instantly recognized it.

Vincent looked toward the voice and focused on the ethereal image of the woman he had lost. “Catherine?” he asked in disbelief. He shook his head, convinced he must be hallucinating.

“There is room enough in your heart,” she continued. “…for the love you still have for me and the love you have for everyone else in your life… including Diana.”

Shaking his head he replied with conviction, “No, Catherine… I will never be able to love Diana the way I loved you… I can’t.”

With a voice filled with compassion, she spoke again, “It’s true… you won’t. But consider all the people in your world who you love. Isn’t the love you feel for each of them different?

“What are you saying? What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that just because your love for Diana is different from the love we shared… doesn’t make it any less real… it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I don’t have the strength,” he said dejectedly. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You have the strength, Vincent… you do,” she insisted. “I know you. What you have endured has made you stronger… better.”

“No, Catherine… I lost you… I can’t bear the thought of losing anyone like that again.”

“You haven’t lost me, Vincent. I’m a part of you… You must know that… You can never truly lose me… not as long as you remember…”

“Remember?”

“Remember love.” She glowed with it, as she reminded him.

He was speechless. The beautiful sight of her still took his breath away, even though he knew he was probably dreaming.

“Remember love,” she repeated insistently. “Let the memory of the love we shared give you the courage to love again.”

“But Catherine, I… “ Shaking his head, he tried to explain. “A part of me feels that…” His voice faltered.

“Tell me, Vincent,” she prodded tenderly. “Tell me what it is that you feel.”

“I feel as if by loving another woman… by loving Diana… that I… I would dishonor… you,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Vincent…” she sighed. “Don’t you see? You would dishonor me if you don’t.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, clearly confused.

“You once said that I was the end of your ‘aloneness.’” She reminded him, smiling wistfully at the memory.

“Yes, I did… you were.”

“Do you believe that I want you to be alone again? Seeing you suffer… seeing your pain does not ‘honor’ my memory. It mocks everything we were… together… It mocks the gift we were to each other.”

He felt suddenly ashamed for grieving her so deeply. “I’m sorry, Catherine.”

“Don’t be sorry, Vincent. Your grief is normal… it’s real. But it shouldn’t last forever.

“I saw how Diana cared for you when you were injured. Then how she rescued you and Jacob from Gabriel… how she avenged my death to protect you… how she looked at our son when she held him in her arms on his naming day. She’s been there for both of you in ways that I no longer can. Diana is offering you a second chance at happiness… a second chance at love.”

Vincent was beginning to understand what Catherine was trying to say to him, but he wanted to be sure. “It sounds as if you are… giving me your blessing to—”

She smiled, pleased that he was beginning to understand. “My blessing… is the only thing I have left to give you… and I give it… freely. I want you to live, Vincent… I want you to experience every gift that life has to offer… free of guilt, free of regret. That… is my last gift to you.

The sound of voices and footsteps Above interrupted them.

A look of sadness crossed her face. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ve already stayed too long.”

“No! Catherine, I… I don’t want you to go,” he pleaded.

“I’ve lingered near you for too long already… That’s what grief is, you know. My father tried to tell me once. I understand it now. It’s time… time for me to move further away… so that you may move forward.”

She sighed, her eyes glistening with tears. “But please know, Vincent… that I will love you, and carry you with me… in me… Always.”

The apparition evaporated in the misty light as mysteriously as she had appeared.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks. “Always…” he whispered as he sunk to the floor. “Always… always… always…”

*****

A Spot of Tea

by Mel

Season 3

~~~

Vincent landed softly on the roof of Diana’s loft. The night was quiet and cool even in late June, a welcome boon after a week of new construction within the tunnels. A gentle smile came to his face as he slipped inside, undeterred by the late hour.

The loft had become a place of solace and calm, away from the demands and bustle of his usual life Below. It was a place Diana welcomed him at any time as she worked alone most of the time.

His hand rose to remove his cloak, as he turned, ready to announce his presence.

A litter of four boxes filled with what appeared to be miscellaneous stuff and two empty ones lay scattered about the floor with Diana perched in the center, inspecting each item.

Vincent’s heart tightened; his mind was drawn back five years to when he first saw Diana Bennett.

It had been in his beloved Catherine’s apartment when the red-haired detective had come to investigate a murder. He had silently watched from the balcony as she had taken out Catherine’s belongings and spread them about her, as she did now, trying to get a feel for the poor woman. Her careful, deliberate movements as she explored the last precious pieces of Catherine’s life had shown a high respect for the lost soul and had unknowingly begun to thaw the ice that covered Vincent’s heart.

Vincent swallowed, pushing that memory to the back of his mind, and studied Diana’s profile.

Working from home allowed Diana to wear more casual clothes like her favored faded jeans and sweaters: today it was a gray one. Her red mane had been pulled back into a quick ponytail, but it was the look on her face which always captured him. The pensive look on her face was usually reserved and worn when she was musing on a tough case.

But the last piece of filing had just been delivered to her captain at the 210 office, after the culprit had been apprehended, in no small part thanks to Diana’s quick mind.

Had another case come up so soon?

Typically, Diana liked to take at bare minimum, a week off to, as she would say, ‘get her head back on straight’ before diving back into the evil depths of human nature.

Vincent took a step back, ready to retreat and leave Diana to her task, when she turned; her sharp green eyes finding him instantly, even when he blended into the shadows of the room.

“Hi,” Diana said, with a smile, beckoning him over. “Come on in.”

“I don’t wish to disturb you, Diana.” Vincent shifted, gesturing to the boxes. “You seem very focused on this new case.”

Diana blinked and then laughed. “Oh no, you’re fine, Babe. This isn’t a new case I’m just doing some spring cleaning since I’ve got a break.”

She stood and stretched, her back cracking.

“How long have you been ‘cleaning’?” Vincent asked.

Diana turned, continuing to stretch, squinting at the clock in the kitchen. “Hm… five hours maybe.”

Vincent grinned to himself. Diana certainly had a way of getting lost in whatever task was set before her.

“And I’m debating what to do with some of these things.”

Diana moved to the kitchen area where another box sat on the counter. Scanning its contents, she pulled one out. “Like this.”

A medium to tall, faded silver teapot clinked against the countertop.

Flowers, stems, and leaves decorated the kettle in a well-crafted design.

He especially liked the long stem curling up and around the lid.

“Is this new? I haven’t seen it before,” Vincent said.

“It was my grandma’s. She passed when I was fourteen. I just picked it randomly as something to remember her by. Well okay not randomly. My grandmother swore she had the gift of sight and the tea leaves, and the steam, helped divine the future.” She chuckled at the thought, though a tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips.

Vincent hid a smile at her words.

Diana was certainly a mess of contradictions. She was an empath, a skilled profiler whose imagination could pull and connect the most random facts into a larger picture, and she could accept Vincent as he was. A lion-man who defied all logical sense in the minds of most humans who shared a strange, mystic bond with his son. And yet she dismissed the notion of fortune tellers or those as she would say, ‘with the sight’ so easily.

Tentatively he reached out and caressed the side, feeling the embossed print of the leaves.

“What do you remember most about your grandmother?” Vincent asked. “I mean besides the tea leaves.”

Diana’s lips lifted into a full, though soft smile. “Granny Katherine, woe to anyone who gave her a nickname, was first generation coming from the Emerald Isle, a strict Catholic. I can see her shaking her head in shame when Mark lived here with me. She told great stories about the old country and its mythical creatures.”

Vincent listened with care, wanting to know more of Diana’s past. Were these stories of old how Diana’s grand imagination was born?

“She was also kind and loving in her own way. Her favorite blend was Barry. It’s a black tea of some kind. But this tea kettle came with her parents on the move to New York.” Her fingers had absently begun to trace the lid of the teapot, lost in memories. “She was adamant that it was the only tea that was worth having.”

“Did she use that tea to divine the future?”

Diana put on a mock-serious face. “Oh no, Barry was never used for that. It was the wrong brand of tea.”

“Then what-?”

“I honestly can’t remember which tea leaves she used for that.” Diana tipped the lid of the teapot open and sniffed. “Ah nope, no more tea left.”

Vincent grinned.

“So many memories.” Vincent mused. “Why do you want to give it away now?”

Diana shrugged. “There are memories, yes, but it’s really just been collecting dust…thought I admit I don’t want to give it to a stranger.”

“Do Susan or Alex not want it?” Vincent asked.

Diana shook her head. “Susan has what she wants, and Alex didn’t know her great-grandmother, so it doesn’t mean anything to her. Plus she’s not the biggest fan of tea.”

Vincent nodded in understanding. Little Alex, even at the age of ten, certainly took after her aunt, who preferred coffee over anything else…except maybe a beer, especially after a long, intense case.

Indeed, Vincent couldn’t recall the last time he had seen Diana drink tea. Only on rare occasions, when Below or visiting Lin and Henry in Chinatown, did she take a cup if offered, and even then it was out of politeness rather than any fondness for the drink.

“Did you have someone in mind?” Vincent asked.

Diana grinned, teasing. “Well, you got your birthday gift already.”

Vincent smiled. “Yes, and I enjoyed your gift, truly.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The memory of her gift to him made her cheeks warm with pleasure.

“So,” Vincent asked after a moment. “Do you have any idea who you might want to have this?”

Diana shrugged. “Lin and Henry have a bunch already; William and Father have their own sets…” Her eyes lit up as an idea struck her.

~~~

The tapping on the pipes overhead signaled Diana’s arrival two days later. The scent of earth mixed with the lingering silver polish she had used earlier as she traversed the tunnels. She adjusted the tote bag on her shoulder, mindful of its contents when she spotted Vincent walking toward her. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his furred arms were covered in sweat and dirt. But his sharp blue feline eyes shone with a warm welcome.

Diana swallowed a lump in her throat. “How is the construction going?”

“It’s coming along, slowly. We’re on a lunch break now,” Vincent explained. “William has a feast waiting for the workers if you would like to join us.”

“Ah, not this time I’m afraid. I have a package to deliver.” She patted her bag gently, even as she started to walk with Vincent back to the main tunnels and the community dining chamber. A comfortable silence fell between them as they walked. “Is Jake in the nursery?”

“Yes. Mary and Samantha are watching the kids today. If you hurry, I’m sure you’ll get there in time for storytelling hour.”

“Isn’t that usually your job?”

“Not this week,” Vincent said. “But I’m sure Jacob and the others would like you to read to them.”

“I think I shall leave you with that pleasure,” Diana said.

Years of reading case files, murder reports and all the other unpleasant papers had robbed her of the ability to craft likable character voices and all the playfulness of storytelling. Or so her niece said whenever Diana tried to read a bedtime story to her.

“Will you at least join us for lunch, or do you need to finish your spring cleaning?”

“No, I’m yours all day, but I do need an errand too.”

“Oh and what is your errand?”

“None of your business, Babe,” Diana said, teasing. “I’ll meet you at lunch in a few minutes.”

Before Vincent could respond, Diana dashed off, too excited with her plan to wait. The sounds of the nursey soon met her ears as she turned the corner. It only took a few moments for Diana to catch Mary’s attention standing on the threshold.

“Diana, what a nice surprise,” Mary said, coming over to her. “We weren’t expecting you. Do you need something?”

“Mary, could I speak to you for a moment?”

The older woman stood and nodded, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Of course. Samantha, are you fine here?”

The teenager nodded, calling for story time as Mary led Diana back out and then down into another side chamber.

The room was small, but cozy with a table and two chairs set up, like a mini alcove if someone needed respite, or one of the children needed quiet time away from the other rowdy kids who had too much energy, or needed one on one time with an adult. As a child, Diana would have appreciated such a space when the world around her became an overwhelming place. But it would also serve her purposes today.

“Is something wrong, Diana?” Mary asked.

Diana grimaced. Did something need to be wrong for her to want to talk to others? “Oh no, no nothing like that.”

Mary took one of the chairs. “Then what?”

“I have something for you,” Diana said quickly. She carefully removed the tote bag from her shoulder, placed it on the table, and took the seat opposite the matriarch of the tunnels. Nerves suddenly sparked inside her, unaccustomed to Mary or anyone else studying her so intently. What if Mary didn’t like it?

~~~

“This…this is for you,” Diana said, pulling out a wrapped box “It’s an early birthday gift.”

Pleasant surprise warmed Mary’s eyes as she looked at the gift. Her voice was tight with emotions as she pulled the box to her. “Thank you, Diana.”

Slowly, Mary unwrapped it and opened the box. Inside a polished, clean silver teapot lay within folds of pink tissue paper. The flower and leaf design seemed to pop out against the colorful paper. Beside it lay a few tea bags.

Mary stared at the tea kettle with awe. “This is beautiful, Diana. Where did you get this?”

“It was my grandmother’s, and I want you to have it.”

“Are...are you certain?”

Diana leaned across the table, capturing the older woman’s hand and smiled. “Yes, I know how much you love tea, and you’re Jake’s grandmother, and have been like one to me and everyone else Below. It feels right that you should have this.”

Tears of love and gratitude filled Mary’s blue eyes. Her free hand gingerly caressed the flower tea kettle. “I will treasure and honor this, Diana.”

Diana smiled. “I know you will.”

As Mary examined the silver teapot, Diana dug into the box again, pulling out a handful of teabags. “Plus, you are the only one here that I know who likes Barry tea.”

“Well don’t tell William or Father that.”

Diana grinned. “I won’t. But then I can’t tell what Father cherishes more a good tea or his chess set.”

Mary laughed. “I don’t know in truth. But I do sometimes tire of the same old tea William serves.”

Diana nodded and handed one of the packets. “Well, then you have your own stock now. And we are here to celebrate. Shall we have some Barry black tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Diana smiled. “Happy Birthday, Mary.”

*****

Hurt

by Mel

Season 3

~~~

Diana skidded to a stop when she came upon Vincent and Father. Her heartbeat furiously against her chest. “What happened?”

Father ignored her, focusing on his work, tying the sling around Vincent’s arm.

Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Father said, “Keep it up. And remember it’s just a sprain.”

Diana moved and knelt beside Vincent as Father left. Her eyes examined his physical demeanor to understand. Why didn’t they have a mystic Bond like him and little Jake?

“What happened?” she asked again.

Vincent swallowed then chucked. “Little Arthur was too quick, and I twisted my arm.”

Diana laughed.

*****

Hunter’s Moon

by Mel

Alternate Beginning/S3

~~~

“Devin, where are we?”

“Shh, Vincent. We’re almost there,” the ten-year-old boy said.

Vincent followed his older brother upward. The constant tapping system used in the main community tunnels had faded a while ago and now the silence was only broken by Devin’s pounding footsteps. Even as an eight-year-old Vincent moved with feline quietness, especially when embarking on a dangerous quest. Father’s disapproving look when he learned, and he would, of their disobedience, was easy to imagine. But the excited thrill that coursed through Vincent now would make it all worth it in the end.

All the other children Devin normally played with had either gone ahead or chosen to remain behind to listen to Father telling ghost stories. A part of Vincent regretted that he would miss one of those tales; Father never forgot to tell Ichabod’s story. But the desire to see the world Above drove him onward. Devin had promised it would be worth seeing.

“Are we there yet?” Vincent asked.

Devin glanced back at him. “Almost.”

Vincent sighed, suddenly impatient.

After what seemed an hour, Vincent saw Devin pause before a grate.

Where are… Oh!

Vincent’s heart leapt into his throat as recognition dawned. Just beyond the grate entrance would lead them to Central Park. He had heard countless stories of the human-made green fields fenced in by walls of concrete buildings of the city. He had tried to picture it a thousand times, even asking Elizabeth to draw him a picture.

But to his mind, such a thing was as far away as the Sahara Desert, the land of OZ, or the world of Dickens he read about.

“Close your eyes,” Devin said. He gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right with you.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow, knowing his brother’s fondness for tricks. But something in Devin’s voice and his bringing him up here, to begin with spoke of honesty. Tentatively, Vincent drew the hood of his coat up, as Father would insist, and closed his eyes; his keen sense of hearing noting the gears turn as the grate opened. A moment later Devin’s smooth, cool, human hand slid into Vincent’s furred one as he guided him out of the Tunnels.

Vincent’s nose twitched as the scent of fresh, damp earth filled his nose while the remaining leaves still left on the trees brushed his face. Had he been wrong? They seemed to be in the middle of a forest, not a city, though his keen ears did pick up strained sounds of human life in the distance. Dead leaves crunched beneath even his light gait as Devin drew him onward. Cold crisp, fresh air blew through his golden fur.

Moments later, Devin stopped and moved behind Vincent. His voice tickled Vincet’s ear as he spoke next. “Open your eyes.”

Vincent blinked, adjusting to the light, and then gawked. The candle flames that lit the chambers Below would be drowned out by the endless bright lights of the city. All the tiny lights of the tall buildings surrounding Central Park gave the impression one was caught in a starry constellation. But no, these endless lights weren’t from the heavens but made by the human spirit. Electric lights, Father had explained once. The concept of such a feat had fascinated Vincent, but seeing the reality made the wonder grow.

Scents of various food, and a myriad of other scents Vincent couldn’t place filled his nose. His ears rang with the cries of overlapping voices, notes of music, and traffic which drowned out the peaceful sounds of nature even in their secluded part of the park. Distantly he heard Devin being called away, but he remained rooted to the spot, too dizzy with all the sights in front of him.

Vincent stumbled forward; his eyes closing against the overwhelming chaos assaulting his senses. How did people live in such a loud world? The quiet, dark tunnels called out to him.

All of this had been a mistake.

A gentle breeze whistled through the trees drawing his face upward, letting his hood slip back.

Carefully he opened his eyes and then gawked. Sitting as though framed by changing autumn leaves, like a large round marble, the bright moon shone upon him. The orb of cool, white light seemed to anchor him, banishing the chaotic nature of the bustling city.

Amid all the manmade structures, was this some mystical dream?

The moon, his quieting anchor in this world of too much noise and unknown scents, that would vanish if he looked away even for a second.

Vincent shook the thought away, instead embracing the calmness within him as he basked in the glow of the moonlight.

How long he stood there he couldn’t recall, but a prickling sensation pulled Vincent’s focus back down to earth.

Barely two feet in front of him, he saw a girl watching him. Wisps of red hair escaped from the raincoat hood she wore. The girl’s pale face, round with youth, perhaps a year or two younger than Vincent, seemed to shine beneath the moonlight as she pressed against the glass of the car window; her green/blue eyes were opened wide. She blinked twice as if uncertain of her own eyes.

In a suspended moment boy and girl regarded each other with shared curiosity.

Vincent’s head tilted in confession as the tears filled the girl’s eyes. He watched, stunned, as the girl’s pale face scrunched up allowing the tears to flow more urgently.

The precious moment shattered.

Don’t cry. What’s wrong? The words burned on his tongue, wishing to comfort, while an acute ache that he wouldn’t understand till later opened inside him, unconsciously answering his own question. Father’s concerns for his safety when other people saw him came back to him.

He took a step back, drawing his own hood back up. Panic seized him as he broke eye contact with the girl, searching.

Where is Devin?

Vincent scanned the park but saw no sign of his older brother. It seemed as if only he and the crying girl existed now.

No, no! Vincent spun on his heel and sprinted back toward the cover of the forest. His feet slipped and skidded against the fallen leaves as he scrambled away.

Faster and faster.

But no matter how quickly he moved, the image of the girl’s crying face wouldn’t leave him alone.

Even the full moon couldn’t offer him any peace, though its shining white light seemed to follow and lead him back toward the tunnel entrance. Vincent almost dove through the entry, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

“Vincent, Vincent!” Devin’s voice called. “What’s wrong?”

A moment later, Vincent heard the gears again as the door sealed behind them and then felt his brother’s hand rest on his shoulder. He felt its reassuring presence, begging him to come back out again, but Vincent shook it off.

He heard his voice harden with anger and break with tears as he proclaimed. “I’m never going back. Never.”

~~~

“How can anyone watch that movie?” Dad said. “It’s all hogwash.”

“Please watch the road,” Mom said. “There is so much construction.”

“I am watching the road. Just can’t believe Jerry would—”

“It was a movie calm down.”

Diana sighed, pulling the hood of her raincoat over her head to drown it all out. Her parents had been arguing since they picked her up. It wasn’t her fault her best friend Hannah’s older brother, Jerry, decided to turn on the TV to watch The Shock, which that night played a special series of films. And she only caught the end of the film called The Wolfman. It was an old movie from the days of her parents that Hannah immediately turned away when the girl character screamed as the wolfman came at her.

But Diana had watched the last couple of scenes fascinated, crying in tears when the older man learned the truth as if it was her. Such strong emotions toward other people, reading their inner truths at six, her grandmother called it a gift.

I don’t want it, Diana thought, the irritated tones of her parents’ discussion nigging at her like ants.

She halfheartedly listened as her father cursed beneath his breath at having taken a wrong turn. Her gaze slid to the window; the hard square buildings of the city had shifted into a tiny forest as the car rolled along a narrow path. She had come here a lot during the day with her mom and older sister, Susan, to have fun exploring the park her dad said was the heart of theBig Apple (though New Jersey was always better).

She loved the park in the daytime, able to see for miles in any direction. But now sheltered in the darkened car, Diana watched the moon as it seemed to race alongside the car as they drove. Its light cutting through the leafless trees like claws. And yet there was something comforting about the full moon as well. It’s white light, a gift in the darkened forest, a guiding light.

“Are we going the right way?” Mom asked.

“There is only one way through the park, dear,” Dad said.

The car came to a gentle stop to check directions.

As her parents looked at the map, Diana leaned over in her seat, seeing the moon framed by the highest trees. How beautiful. Did Mom and Dad see it too? Or was it just for her?

She opened her mouth to call them when she caught sight of a lone figure across from her watching the moon too, his face tipped upward. Curious she pressed her face up against the glass and gawked.

Bathed in the moonlight was a boy around her age, dressed in black, but his long blonde hair shone under the moonlight. His hands seemed covered in furry mittens.

After a moment, the boy lowered his head and turned, his sharp blue eyes catching hers.

Oh, he’s hairy, Diana thought, the innocence of youth answered. But no, she looked again, pressing her face harder against the glass. It was more than that.

She had seen many boys before, and hairy ones were older. This boy’s face was shaped differently, more catlike. His clear blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark, again like a cat.

The last images of the wolfman merged with the little boy she saw, except the boy’s face reminded her of a lion.

Emotions she would later learn to be fear and compassion warred inside her as she stared at the boy.

Tears welled in her eyes as the scene from the movie came back to her. She could imagine someone coming and attacking the lion boy with a silver stick and him being hurt. No, she didn’t want it to happen.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mom asked.

Diana glanced over at her mom, tears choking off her response. She turned back to point in answer to her mom.

The boy was gone.

Diana blinked, trying to clear her vision.

She was certain she had seen the wolf… lion-boy not three feet in front of her. But he had vanished into the night like a ghost. Had it been a dream? It was way past her bedtime according to the green clock at the front of the car.

“We’ll be home, soon, Honey,” Dad said.

Home.

Did the boy go home?

Diana hoped so, as the car started to move again. But where did he live? Surely, she or Susan would have seen him before. She watched as the moon followed her and hoped the boy could find his way.

“Be careful, the full moon makes the werewolves come out,” Jerry had said, trying to scare her and Hannah afterward. Was that what she had seen tonight? But a bigger question continued to circle her mind as the car now lulled her to sleep.

Will I see him again?

*****

Birthday

by Mel

Season 3

~~~

Diana glanced up from her workstation, her lips lifting into a smile and then frowned as ten-year-old Jacob entered.

“You know, Jake, you can use the door,” Diana said, gesturing to the grate that opened to the elevator.

“What fun would that be?” Jake asked.

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“Kind of.”

Diana nodded. “Well, what are-?”

“Dad’s birthday is coming up. I haven’t found anything” Jake said, wandering over to where Diana hung her purse. He dug into it, pulling out her wallet and then waved at her “Want to go hunting?”

*****

A Season 3 Round Robin:

Secrets

~~~

Chapter One

by Jess

~~~

“If you keep moving the supports, Jacob, it’s going to keep falling down. Sit there a minute and let the frosting dry a little more.” Diana reached across the small kitchen table and shoved two pieces of a gingerbread roof back together, hovering over a spread of powdered sugar, icing, assorted gingerbread, and colored candies scattered from one end of the table to the other.

“Mom,” Jacob complained, holding up a Hershey's kiss. “I want to put this on the chimney for smoke.”

“In a minute!” Diana sighed heavily, leaning all her weight on one foot to keep both calves from cramping in the awkward position. “Jacob, I told you I wasn’t the one to ask to help with this. Your dad has far greater patience with these things.”

“But his hands are too big,” Jacob replied softly, as if afraid his father would hear. “His fur sticks to the icing, and then we can’t eat it. And my other mom isn’t here to ask.”

Diana squeezed her eyes shut as conflicting emotions welled up inside of her. Part of her wanted to laugh hysterically at this rather unusual and heartfelt conversation, and part of her wanted to cry for the normal life that could never be for their son. Guilt washed over her at Jacob’s reasoning.

There were things Vincent did much better than herself. He said “yes” more often. He encouraged Jacob to be adventurous and grow his knowledge with the many books in Father’s library. Father had been very distraught at the idea of a child touching his precious volumes, but once he realized that Jacob possessed the same cautious love of the written page as his father did, he left the boy to his own self-education in the candlelit chamber.

But there were things that she did better. She said “no” more often, usually in regard to dangerous things, and she found herself regulating his time Above even more tightly than Vincent. She blamed it on her job with the 210, and her first-hand experience of how evil people could be, especially to a random child on the streets of New York. It was truly debatable, however, whether she or Vincent had the most knowledge of loss and the evil Above.

Because there had once been her.

Jacob’s mother.

Catherine.

Bitter tears burned behind her eyes again as she carefully let go of the gingerbread roof so Jacob could triumphantly place his Hershey kiss ‘smoke’ on top of it.

Catherine had been someone special. Catherine had been someone kind. Diana could easily tell by the good traits in Jacob that overrode his mischievous side. Part of her had always felt a little responsible for their inability to find Catherine. As a criminal profiler, it was her job to find the bad guys. It was her job to find lost people before something terrible happened to them.

You failed, Bennett.

She shook her head to get the accusing voice out of her thoughts, but it persisted, grim and ugly.

You failed her. And you failed him.

An old memory surfaced, taking every bit of air out of her lungs. The gingerbread and icing faded away, Jacob’s panicked voice grew faint, and then only cold, icy snow remained.

~~~

Dark buildings stretched in both directions, the wind howling around their sharp corners. No signs of life could be seen or heard. In the snow at her feet, crimson footprints led toward a dumpster, and her stomach dropped to the ground.

Don’t go look, Bennett. Just keep walking. Just keep going. You want to get home for Christmas, don’t you? If you get involved in a case now, you’ll be stuck in this big city and miss your last Christmas with your dad. You want to see your dad, don’t you? He’s going to die. He’s going to die, and you haven’t made things right with him about your brother.

Your brother didn’t deserve to die, either. That’s on you...

~~~

Strong arms circled around her, and with their warmth, the dark, snowy scene shattered.

“Diana?” Vincent spoke softly in her ear. “You are shaking.”

“It was so cold,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, not quite mentally returned to the present. “I failed him. I was selfish, and I failed him. And I failed her.”

“Come to our chambers,” Vincent commanded gently. “We will talk.”

Her feet felt like lead, her heart speared into the ground as a stake that would hold her to the guilt of the past unless someone ripped it out and gave it back to her.

“Diana,” Vincent’s voice was firm, reaching through the shadows of her mind, and taking her by the hand. “I will help you, but you must come with me.”

Suddenly, her vision cleared, and the scent of warm gingerbread hit her senses, with an undercurrent of sugar and chocolate. Across the table from her, Jacob stood, his eyes damp with tears, his little hands covered in powdered sugar. As she looked into his face, she saw Vincent. And she saw Catherine. They were kind eyes.

Surely, Catherine would not hold it against her that she had failed.

She hadn’t meant to take Catherine’s place. It had been all Gabriel’s fault, after all. Diana had simply been too late to stop a horrible tragedy. Bad things happened all the time, didn’t they?

“DIANA!” Vincent spoke again, this time unmistakably demanding. “If you do not come with me now, I shall have to send for Father and Mary.”

“No, no,” she murmured, throwing up a trembling hand. “I- I’m okay. I’ll come. But – Jacob – come here, honey.”

Jacob was at her side in a flash, his blondish hair hiding his face as he wrapped small arms around her.

“I thought I made you mad,” he wailed into her sweater. “I didn’t mean that you were a bad mom or anything. You’re a good mom, one of the best.”

“You didn’t say that at all,” she replied softly, caressing his head with one hand, her heart leaping at his precious statement. “I’m not mad, Jacob, not in the least. I – I just remembered something from a long time ago. Something that bothers me, and I zoned out a little bit. But I am okay. And you are okay.”

“We will go talk about it,” Vincent replied again, running a tawny hand across his son’s shoulders. “Why don’t you run and get Jamie and Mouse to help you finish the house? I am sure Mouse would have some gadgets that could be used to put real lights in the windows.”

“You mean it?” Jacob asked, looking up at his dad with renewed joy. “Oh boy, no one else will have lights!” He immediately ran off, leaving a cold place at Diana’s side where he had been.

That’s loss, her brain whispered, and Vincent’s tug on her hand interrupted her spiral.

“I felt his panic,” Vincent began, walking slowly beside her as her legs began to work properly. “I came as quickly as I could to see what had happened. Gingerbread is not supposed to be sad.”

She said nothing, only leaning into him, more closely with each step. She was a little pained that he did not come because of her pain, only that of his son. They did not share a Bond, and that hurt. Even though she tried to convince herself that the Bond belonged to Catherine. She couldn’t ask for it too.

“Talk to me, Diana.” He spoke gently as they made their way toward their chamber.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she replied, wrapping both hands around his firm arm. “It was so long ago; I have never told a soul.”

“Jacob told me what he said to you.” Vincent’s voice rumbled in her ear, and she leaned against his side as they walked. He pulled his arm from her grasp and wrapped it around her shoulders. “He didn’t mean to upset you.”

“He didn’t,” she promised, glancing up at the taller man. “But I fear if I tell you the truth, you will look at me differently from now on.”

For a moment, Vincent was silent. “We all have our secrets,” he finally said softly. “Your secret can be no greater than those of any of us here Below, I promise you.”

“You’ve - intentionally - killed someone?”

Startled, Vincent paused, frowning down at his wife. “You have?”

She looked away, her lips quivering in pained grief, and began to walk, but Vincent grasped both of her arms and turned her to face him.

“Tell me.”

“It was a long time ago. Vincent, please, please say you won’t think less of me.”

There was a kind gentleness in his eyes as Vincent smiled down at her. “I could never, Diana. These hands, the things they have done. And yet you look at me no differently. I promise. I promised to love you. Please, talk to me. Let me help you.”

She nodded, rubbing a hand across her face roughly to shove away the tears that threatened to fall again.

“I guess I should start at the beginning.”

At that moment, a shout echoed down the hallway, and running footsteps were heard.

Before Diana or Vincent could move, Mouse appeared, shouting, “Sky falling, Vincent, help. Must get Father!”

“Mouse, wait!” Jamie appeared around the corner, clutching one hand to her chest. “The sky isn’t falling, hang on a minute.”

Vincent grabbed Mouse’s shoulder as the young man reached him, nearly falling into Vincent’s arms.

“Ceiling falling!” Mouse yelled again, pointing back the way they had come. He and Jamie were both covered in grey dust, and there was a crimson streak across Mouse’s forehead.

“You are both injured,” Vincent exclaimed kindly. Diana tilted Mouse’s head to get a better view, and he winced.

“Mouse fine, honest.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamie replied, reaching the group as Vincent reached for her hand. “A rock hit him squarely on the head. Someone is blasting in the western upper tunnel. We closed it off as best we could, but we need more men over there to seal it.”

“I’ll tell Pascal to send a message,” Diana offered quickly. Vincent nodded approval, and then she was running toward the pipe room.

“Is it broken,” Jamie asked, as Vincent carefully prodded her wrist.

“Father could better tell,” the lion-like man replied. “It is quite bruised. Did a rock hit it?”

“Yeah,” she replied woefully, brushing away some of the dust on her face. “We were trying to fill in the entrance to the main tunnels, but a blast shook loose some of the rocks we had stacked up. Hurts to move it.”

“Let’s get you both to Father and call a council meeting. They will get it completely sealed off. Thank you both for trying.”

“Anything for the tunnels,” Jamie replied. “Come on, Mouse.”

At that moment, a distant blast shook the tunnel they stood in as Mouse tumbled into a heap on the ground.

“Mouse!” Jamie called urgently, dropping to her knees beside him. “Vincent, please! Don’t let him die!”

“He won’t, he won’t,” Vincent soothed, picking up the unconscious young man. “Did you send Jacob ahead once the blasting started?” he asked as he gently lifted Mouse’s closed eyelids with his thumb to look at his eyes.

“Jacob?” Jamie questioned, frowning down at Vincent. “We never saw Jacob; I thought he was making gingerbread houses with Diana today.”

“I sent him to find you two,” Vincent breathed, hefting Mouse against his chest and shoving himself to his feet, immediately rushing down the tunnels. His legs were longer than Jamie’s, and she had to run to keep up with him.

“We never saw him, Vincent, honest. We were coming back from the crystal cave when the blasting started. Maybe he never got that far down in the tunnels? We’d have seen him!”

Before Vincent could reply, a mighty blast shook the tunnels, sending a shower of dust down on the three. A rumble began in the walls around them, and within seconds, rocks and rubble began to rain down around them.

Vincent grabbed Jamie’s uninjured arm and pulled her close to his chest, trying to protect both her and the unconscious Mouse. As the din of the collapse faded and the air began to clear, voices drifted through the rocks.

“This is as good a place as any, Ryan.”

“Yeah, perfect, ain’t it? Cool enough, the ink won’t be altered by the weather. Get the press down here on the next trip. I’ll let the boss know we got the perfect cave. Uncle Sam’s never gonna find us down here.”

~~~

Chapter Two

by Mel

Vincent strained to hear more of the conversation, but the dust and debris surrounding him stifled the voices. Moments later, they grew too distant as the men walked away from the explosion they had caused. It seemed that unless the council could do something, those in the community Below would have ‘new neighbors.’

Roughly a week ago, they had heard blasting on the outer perimeters of the community tunnels, creating new offshoot tunnels that the children loved to explore. But this was the closest they had ever come.

Why have they come? And what ink did they need?

A light slap on his arm drew Vincent’s attention back to the immediate problems: Jamie, an unconscious Mouse, and…

Jacob!

Vincent’s heart quickened. Neither Jamie nor Mouse had seen little Jacob coming, and then there was the explosion. Where could his son be? He tried to calm himself and let the Bond work its mystical magic.

A light pulse ebbed into his consciousness. The familiar feelings of his son bloomed inside him, but…

“Vincent, is Jacob alive?” Jamie asked.

Vincent blinked. Was that what the Bond was telling him? “Yes, yes he is, but…”

“Then he’ll find his way back to the main tunnels,” Jamie cut in. Concern etched her face. “Mouse needs us now.”

Vincent suddenly felt the weight of his unconscious friend in his arms again. Despite his fear, he knew Jamie spoke the truth. Both she and Mouse needed Father’s medical attention, and the council would be called at any moment. Carefully, he rose and carried Mouse to the hospital chamber while Jamie followed.

Jacob knows these tunnels; he’ll come home soon, Vincent reassured himself.

An hour later, Vincent paced outside the hospital chamber as Father tended to Mouse and Jamie. The young woman had been unable to tell the Tunnel patriarch anything more than what she had said to Vincent. She and Mouse had been returning from the Crystal Cavern when an explosion occurred.

While troubling, Vincent was certain the council would determine the best path forward. The matter of his wife, though, remained more ominous.

The secret that Diana had shared with him had been shocking, yes, but the more troubling part was seeing Diana in such agony and close to tears. He strained his memory, but no, he couldn’t recall a single time he had seen his wife on the verge of tears caused by a painful memory.

His beloved Catherine, as strong as she was, never worried about showing her fear or pain. She openly cried when she was overwhelmed. She would tell him her concerns. And even if she didn’t do so verbally, the Bond let him know her innermost feelings.

That luxury and Bond didn’t exist with Diana, at least not in the same way. While they were both empathic, they could only get the briefest glimpses of each other with physical touch.

The glimpse he got from her as they walked back to their chambers was one of fear. Whatever her memory had conjured haunted her as his friend Rolley’s pain and guilt of his music teacher’s death could still consume him.

Until she revealed her secret.

“You’ve intentionally killed someone?’ Diana had asked. The question had been matter-of-fact, with no judgment or desire for pity. Just like her response saying she had.

What would have driven her to do such a thing? The only time he knew her to take a life without deeming it self-defense was Gabriel. Avenging Catherine’s murder and sparing Vincent’s soul from that darkness.

Though she willingly gave herself over to the cruelest and most evil minds for her job, it was always to save a life. At a minimum, to prevent further harm from being done to others. In all the years he had watched her work, never once had she expressed any desire to harm the felons she hunted.

Except once.

In his search for his son, his friend Rolley had come back into his life. A heroin addict, Rolley was trapped in the terrible pains of withdrawal and wanted more. He had begged Vincent to give him more of that poison. The rage that had consumed Vincent had led him to destroy a warehouse where people created those hideous drugs, killing people in the process. Only a day later, Diana had found him and confronted him.

“Did it help him? Is he better now?” she had asked. “Vincent, I’ve been there too, and this is not the way.”

He had never given that comment much thought until now. Had there been a point in Diana’s life where she had let the rage and the hunt consume her, driving her to end a life? More questions burned on his tongue that he wanted… needed to ask if Diana would open up to him again. He could only pray the moment hadn’t passed, allowing Diana to change her mind and withdraw back into herself.

Footsteps shuffled up behind him as Jamie exited the hospital chamber.

“Hey, are you okay, Vincent?” Jamie asked.

“Yes,” Vincent said after a moment. “I’m fine. How are you, and how is Mouse?”

Jamie pointed to the sling on her arm. “Bad sprain, but nothing’s broken. Mouse has a concussion and is resting.”

Vincent released a breath.

“Mouse will live,” Jamie said as if she needed to explain further.

“Yes, thank you, I understood, Jamie,” Vincent said. “That’s good to hear.”

“Okay good, okay fine,” Jamie said, fondly mimicking their friend.

Vincent hid a smile. He often wondered if Mouse and Jamie’s friendship would grow into something more. They had certainly been through a lot together over the years and clearly cared about each other.

“Kipper’s going to come and sit with him while Father comes to the council meeting,” Jamie said.

“Good, that’s good.” Vincent eyed Jamie as she turned down the hall. “Where are you going?”

Jamie simply continued walking.

“Father said Arthur is banned from the hospital chamber, Jamie,” Vincent called after her.

The pet raccoon was the bane of Father’s life, but Mouse loved the little rascal. And yet Vincent couldn’t deny the small smile that came to his face when he thought of the animal. With a sigh, he waited for Father.

The doctor emerged a short time later. A rough cough escaped him as he looked up at Vincent. “Are you ready? I don’t wish to keep the council waiting.”

“Not to worry, Father. Diana told Pascal to send a message out,” Vincent said.

“Yes, I thought I heard that on the pipes.”

“So, then the council will be gathering, and we shall be on time,” Vincent said, offering the older man his arm.

Father waved him off and started to walk down the tunnel. “I’m fine, Vincent. Though this does worry me. You are certain you heard them mention something about ink?”

“Yes, though I heard little else. Could it be a for some forgery… or counterfeiting?” Vincent asked. It was the only rational conclusion that required ink.

“That would be my best guess as well, but I’m less concerned about that than these idiots blasting us all up,” Father said. “Let us see what the council says.”

Vincent nodded.

“Hm, I wonder could Elliot Bur-”

“You mean Stosh—”

“Yes, or whatever name he’s going by now,” Father said. “Do you think he would help or have any idea who might want to use these tunnels?”

“Perhaps.”

Vincent knew Father was thinking of the huge tower the wealthy mogul Elliot Burch had once wanted to build and its consequences for those Below, not unlike the recent explosions that concerned them now.

Vincent smiled gently to himself. If anyone had told him back then that one day Elliot Burch, his one-time romantic rival, would end up being a close friend and Helper to those Below, Vincent would have laughed.

Catherine’s death, however, had changed Elliot, perhaps the most, of anyone. By some miracle, Elliot had survived the explosion of the Compass Rose and come back into their lives two years ago to help those Below in honor of Catherine’s memory.

“I will contact him as soon as we finish the meeting,” Vincent said.

“Good, good. And where is little Jacob?” Father said. “I thought he told me he would be making gingerbread houses with Diana.”

“They did,” Vincent said. “I’m certain Diana has him,” he added. There had been no cries of alarm that he could sense through the Bond. But it unnerved him that he couldn’t locate him. But then, his eight-year-old son had been adept at blocking his father when he wished. In that way, he was very much like his mother.

Please, Diana, have Jacob, Vincent prayed.

~~~

Diana kicked a rock out of the way as she strode slowly back to the main community chambers. Pascal had already sent word on the pipes about the explosion, and it would be perhaps an hour before the council was called to address the issues. Enough time to try and get her head back on straight.

As much as she loved her life and her family Below, she now wanted nothing more than the quiet and comfort of the loft she kept Above to understand what had dragged that cursed memory up earlier.

Diana ran a hand through her hair, sighing as she leaned against the wall. The rough, cold rock against her back was a welcome relief as she allowed herself a moment’s rest.

She knew she needed to talk to Vincent again, but the more time passed, the more uneasy she felt. Why did I even bring it up in the first place? she wondered. It was so long ago now. Why disturb the peace we’ve found as husband and wife with little Jacob?

Her lips lifted in a soft smile as her eyes lowered to her hands.

On her left ring finger, the simple sold ring Vincent had given her on their wedding day glistened under the torchlight. She glanced at her right hand and froze.

Where is Christopher’s ring?

She stood, scanning the dusty floor. Had it somehow fallen off?

No, it fits perfectly, Diana told herself, trying to keep her panic in check. When did I…?

Images of frosted gingerbread came to her.

She quickly hurried back to the small chamber, where the gingerbread house still proudly stood on the table. Their workspace was covered with the discarded gingerbread kit and all its trappings, waiting for Jacob to return.

Her eyes searched the room as she stepped inside, her fingers rubbing over the bare skin of her right hand. She recalled not wanting to get any sticky frosting on the ring, so she had taken it off beforehand. But now, where was it? Had Jacob or someone else taken it?

She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. No one would have stolen it, and yet more tears threatened to fall the longer she looked. The ring was her last physical connection to her brother, though, at the time, she could only make jokes.

Memories began to run through her mind.

~~~

“Are you proposing?” Diana asked with a grin.

The ring in the box sat open on the picnic table between the siblings. The celebration had wound down some time ago, leaving Diana and her brother in the yard of their suburban home.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Sis. You don’t need to go there,” Christopher, Chris, said. “Can’t a twin do something nice?”

“Irish twins,” Daina said. “Just proves mom and dad were rabbits in their youth.”

Born twelve months and two weeks apart, Diana and her ‘little’ brother shared little else in common apart from the red hair that every Bennett child had. While Diana was fair-skinned and had blue/green eyes, Chris took more after their dad. His more tanned skin and brown eyes were a true blend of their Irish and Italian roots. The cherished, long-awaited son.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Just look, Di, it’s our birthstone.”

“Is that what it is?” Diana took the ring and held it up to inspect it. The dark, muted red stone sat encased in a band of silver. “Looks more magenta than a July ruby.”

“Okay, so it’s more symbolic. Can’t afford the real thing on my salary yet,” Chris admitted.

Diana’s smile grew. “And here I thought you were going to own the New York Times by the time you’re thirty.”

“Only eleven more years then.” Chris grinned. “Don’t forget your twin or where you come from, Di.”

Diana had laughed, pointing east to the skyline. “It’s just over the river, Chris.”

“That city can change you,” Chris countered. “But you’re a Jersey girl through and through. Remember that.”

Diana gave a mock salute. “Aye, Aye, Captain.”

Chris chuckled and clinked his glass with hers. The image shifted. The celebratory drink of fruit punch darkened into the color of blood while the sounds of gunfire filled her ears.

~~~

Diana shut her eyes and cursed under her breath. Now, even the happy moments were tinged with guilt. Journalists weren’t meant to be killed in cold blood like the man she had found in the dumpster that winter’s night. Choosing the coward’s path and avoiding her dad had been a wrong place, wrong time scenario.

I refused to go with him, and it cost his life.

Upon learning the news, it was the first time she could recall the huntress inside her awakening. Just as Vincent had the “Other” inside himself, who fed on the darkness, Diana had the “Huntress” who had wanted and taken blood in her own way.

Chris had been right about one thing. The city had changed her in so many ways, some painful and awful ways, but mostly beautiful. She could never envision her life without Vincent, little Jacob, and her family Below. But even that had only occurred because of a tragedy.

Catherine was dead before I even got the case, she reminded herself. Then why did it still feel like a failure? Or worse, a betrayal of a woman she only knew through her investigation and then her husband’s stories.

Vincent loves you, Diana reminded herself.

Does he now, though? A dark voice countered in her mind. “You’re no better than the killers you hunt day and night.

The look in Vincent’s eyes once her secret was out had been nonjudgemental as he had promised. But she could tell her answer had certainly unnerved him.

As it would anyone, you idiot. You’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t speak to him, Bennett, Diana reminded herself.

Her self-pity was cut short by a new message carried over the pipes: a last call for those on the council to join in.

Diana took a deep breath. The ring would turn up, and she and Vincent could talk about the past later. For the moment they had bigger issues to deal with.

She jogged the short distance to Father’s study in time to see the council had gathered as Pascal had suggested.

Everyone who passed her greeted her with a smile or a friendly “hello.” All of them loved her and accepted her as one of them. She knew her heroics when she saved Vincent, little Jacob, and later Father from madmen were never far from their minds. In only a few months, both stories of her bravery and selflessness had become legends Below.

Diana could do no wrong in their eyes even if they all knew the fallibility of humankind. Diana was separate, above that to them, especially the children.

If only they knew how wrong they were.

Diana managed meager smiles in return while she slipped back into a corner. Maybe no one would notice her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Diana felt Vincent’s eyes shift to her as she walked to the back of the room.

Diana swallowed but turned toward him, catching his eye.

Hope, disappointment, and then fear flashed through Vincent’s intense blue gaze as he watched her approach.

Her own eyes questioned him in return. What’s wrong?

Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm. A bolt of unease and fear shot through her hand; quickly, she recoiled as if she had been burned.

“Vincent, what is-?”

“Diana, apologies, but have you seen-?”

The thud of a gavel halted his question as the council was called to order.

~~~

Chapter 3

Barbara Anderson

“Why don’t you run and get Jamie and Mouse to help you finish the houses,” Vincent said. “I am sure Mouse would have some gadgets that could be used to put real lights in the windows.”

Jacob could hardly believe his ears. "Is Dad really telling me I can go find Mouse… by myself?" he wondered.

“You mean it?” Jacob asked in disbelief, looking up at his dad with renewed joy. “Oh boy, no one else will have lights!”

He immediately ran off, never suspecting that his father wanted to get rid of him out of concern for Diana. All Jacob knew was that his dad was giving him express permission to go to his friend Mouse’s chamber… unsupervised.

Jacob didn’t have to be told twice. He bolted for the nearest chamber exit before his father could change his mind.

This is freedom, the boy thought as he headed in the direction of his friends.

As a general practice, when the Tunnel children reached the age of eight, they were given more responsibilities as citizens in the community. They received specific work assignments and were frequently given errands commensurate with their age and emotional maturity. Along with these new responsibilities came a new level of independence and freedom that every Tunnel child looked forward to as a rite of passage as they grew older.

At least, this was true for most of the Tunnel children… all except for Jacob.

After his eighth birthday, Vincent and Diana stubbornly refused to give him the level of freedom his peers had received at the same age. It rankled the boy terribly, but no amount of arguing with them seemed to change his parents’ minds.

Because of the circumstances surrounding his birth, Jacob’s parents were reluctant to give him the kind of freedom he longed for. Vincent knew the restrictions were increasingly difficult for his only son. He had known similar constraints as a child and understood firsthand how Jacob longed to go Above with his friends. But Vincent just couldn’t bring himself to loosen the reins that bound the boy to him… the reins that kept the boy safe.

After all, Jacob is one of the few children in the community who is not an orphan. Vincent reasoned. Except for the pure evil he had been rescued from as an infant, Jacob has never been exposed to the mean streets of the world Above. Unlike many of his peers, he has never been abused, neglected, or discarded by drug-addicted, and often criminal, parents. He has never been exposed to the kind of predators who think nothing of exploiting vulnerable children for fun and profit.

For these reasons, both Vincent and Diana feared that Jacob didn’t have the street smarts that young survivors of trauma naturally have.

One night, when his parents thought he was asleep, Jacob heard them discussing the situation.

~~~

Sooner or later, you’re going to have to give him more freedom. We both are!” Jacob heard his mom say. “You must know that!”

Mom sounds mad, Jacob realized. It gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach to hear his parents arguing. Especially when the argument was about him.

Quietly slipping out of bed, the boy peeked through the curtain that separated his bedroom from the family common room. He tried to control his breathing so that Vincent wouldn’t feel his unease through the bond they shared.

He could see his father pacing back and forth.

Finally sitting down, the large man sighed heavily and hung his head. He looked defeated when he finally looked up at his wife. “I do know that. Believe me, Diana, I do know.”

“He’s eight years old,” Diana reminded her husband.

“Eight years, three months, and five days,” the boy muttered under his breath from behind the curtain.

Vincent sighed again. “I remember the pain I felt when I was his age. My friends were permitted to go Above to explore the Park and the wide world up there. Everything I wanted was allowed for them… and forbidden to me. I didn’t understand why Father wouldn’t give me the same freedom. I was so desperately lonely, and hurt, and angry at always being left behind. I felt that, somehow, I was being punished for something… something I couldn’t control. I felt as if Father didn’t trust me. It wasn’t until many years later that I began to understand that Father was only trying to protect me… out of love.”

Diana knelt in front of her husband, resting her chin on his knee. “And is that what we’re doing now? Trying to protect Jacob… out of love?”

“Yes,” Vincent said, looking at her pitifully. He then closed his eyes against her penetrating gaze. He knew how perceptive she was. Even without the Bond he had shared with Catherine, he sometimes felt she could see into the very depths of his soul.

“But it’s not just out of love. It’s also out of fear,” Dianna observed insightfully.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?” she replied. “I’m afraid too, ya big dope!” She was trying her best to make him smile. It was immediately clear that she was unsuccessful. “Sometimes I think I say no to him more than you do.”

Vincent stared at her in disbelief. He had never known Diana to be afraid of anything. “You… are afraid?” he asked doubtfully.

Her voice became soft and gentle. Jacob had to strain to hear her.

“Of course, I am. Vincent. You and I… we are both intimately acquainted with the worst in the world… especially up there.” She looked up at the ceiling. “It’s not just something we’ve heard about, Babe… It’s something we’ve lived.”

Jacob knew instinctively that it wasn’t the ceiling Diana was looking at. It was the city directly above their heads. The city Diana came from and still worked in. The city his other mother had lived in. The city that called to him. The city he had only rarely seen and was forbidden to venture to on his own… or even with his friends.

“I’ve seen the horror of what evil men can, and will, do to innocent children,” she continued. “And what happened to Catherine was—”

At the mere mention of her name, Vincent breathed in sharply. Even after all these years, the pain of losing her still lingered.

Diana knew what Vincent had suffered and she had no desire to cause him more pain. She decided to change her approach.

“Jacob is smart, Vincent, smarter than most kids his age… and mature beyond his years.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jacob whispered, feeling his heart warm at her words of praise.

“Yes, he is.” Vincent agreed. “I know that, but if anything should happen to him… If we lost him, I… I don’t know if I could…” He closed his eyes and shuddered involuntarily at the very thought.

Jacob could feel the panic rising in his father. He noticed Vincent’s breathing become quick and shallow, and his eyes had a wild, haunted look. The boy wanted to run into his father’s arms and comfort him, but he stood there, frozen to the spot, forcing himself to breathe slow and steady. Eavesdropping was frowned upon in the small community, and Jacob knew he was wrong to do it. If he was caught, he knew there would be consequences.

“I’m frightened too, Vincent,” Diana assured him. “I hope you know that. But if we continue to hold Jacob back because of our fears, we’ll cripple him. And sooner or later, he will rebel against it… and he’ll resent us for it... or worse.”

“Yes… I know that, too.” Vincent shook his head slowly. “I don’t want that. I want him to have the kind of freedom I could only long for at his age. Truly, I do… It’s just that…” His voice slowly faded.

Diana clasped his hands in hers protectively. “It’s just that you know you can’t protect him from everything. It’s just that now you know… there’s danger around every corner. It’s just that now you know… how Father felt when he was trying to protect you.”

Vincent chuffed a little, realizing he had once thought he could never understand why Father had done the things he had done ‘out of love.’ It gave him a new respect for the burden Jacob Wells had carried all those years ago.

~~~

Jacob recalled his parents’ conversation as he hurried to find Mouse and Jamie. He didn’t care what the reason was for this new freedom; he just wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

I’ll show ‘em, he thought to himself. I’ll show ‘em they can trust me. I’ll show ‘em I know how to take care of myself. I’ll show ‘em I’m not a baby anymore.

These were young Jacob’s thoughts as he headed toward Mouse’s secret chamber entrance. Jacob knew the main tunnels like the back of his hand. He had traveled them extensively with his parents and other members of his wider Tunnel family in his short eight years. He knew the long and boring way to get to Mouse’s workshop, but it was only recently that his friend and hero had shown him the best, the fastest, and the most exhilarating way to access his eccentric dwelling place. It was hidden in an obscure corner of the Upper Tunnels several blocks from Central Park West.

Jacob recalled the first time Mouse had shown it to him.

~~~

“This isn’t the way to your chamber, Mouse,” Jacob pointed out as they walked together.

“Yes, it is…” The man-child assured him. “Mouse lives there… Mouse knows.”

“But… your workshop is below the main Tunnels… not up here,” Jacob insisted. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“That way too slow… too boring,” Mouse protested. “This way fast… faster than fast… express route to the deepest chamber of all… Mouse’s chamber. Way more fun.”

When they reached an old, rusty wrought iron gate Jacob had never seen before, he looked through the narrow openings and shook it.

“It’s locked,” the boy said in frustration. “What are we going to do now?”

Mouse smiled down at him. “Not locked. Decoy. Secret tunnel,” he whispered. “Only Mouse and Jamie know… now you. Can Jacob keep a secret?” he asked his young friend.

Jacob’s eyes widened with excitement as he nodded his emphatic agreement, wanting desperately for Mouse to trust him with his secrets.

“First time… a little scary,” Mouse explained.

“I ain’t… I mean… I’m not… scared of anything,” Jacob declared, knowing his grandfather would insist he use proper grammar, no matter how excited he was.

“Better hold on to Mouse anyway,” Mouse replied. “Here, hold jacket… tight,” he instructed, showing Jacob where to grip the front of his well-worn bomber jacket. “Don’t let go… no matter what.”

Jacob obeyed without question. Then he watched as Mouse reached up to twist a small lion’s head protruding from the wall. Without warning, the floor beneath their feet disappeared, and they fell pell-mell into a vertical stone shaft.

Mouse’s arms wound protectively around Jacob as the boy screamed in both fear and delight in equal measure. After what seemed like an eternity, they exited the shaft and landed in a giant pile of pillows.

For a moment, Jacob lay on his back, looking up from where he had come, wondering if he was still alive.

“You okay?” Mouse asked in a worried tone.

Jacob rose up on his knees and began laughing hysterically. “Hahahahahahaha! Am I okay? Hahahahahahahahahaha… THAT… WAS… AWESOME!!!! Better than AWESOME!!! Hahahahahahaha…”

Mouse began laughing, too, as he watched the boy’s delight.

~~~

Jacob laughed out loud at the memory. Next to his parents, he was sure he loved his friend Mouse more than anyone else in the Tunnel community. Of course, he wouldn’t say that out loud because he dearly loved his grandfather, Mary, and many others. He would never want any of them to feel bad.

As he traversed the familiar tunnels, he couldn’t help but notice loose stones, bricks and rubble strewn in his path. He heard a couple of explosions but paid them no mind. The blasting had been going on for a couple of weeks now and had become not much more than the background noise of his subterranean world.

The boy’s anticipation increased as he neared Mouse’s decoy gate. It was only when he heard voices somewhere in the darkness beyond him that his anticipation turned to suspicion and caution.

Stopping in his tracks, Jacob instinctively pressed himself against the wall to hide himself in the shadows until he knew who it was. Tunnel children learned very young to be wary of strangers intruding Below.

“Hey, be careful with that stuff,” one of the voices said. “I don’t wanna get blown to smithereens before we get rich.”

“Stop worrying,” a second voice replied. “This stuff is only dangerous if ya don’t know what yer doin’… And trust me, I know what I’m doin’,” he said with exaggerated bravado. “Now cover yer ears, this is gonna be loud.”

Not having time to run, Jacob did the only thing he could think of. He crouched down low to the ground and stuck his fingers in his ears.

Just as the world began to shake and collapse around him, Jacob thought he saw a beautiful woman spread her arms and cover him in with a curtain of white…

~~~

As the din of the collapse faded, and the air began to clear, the two men began to look around. “Did ya really need to use that much?”

“It did the trick, didn’t it? We can get the equipment in here now.”

“Yeah, this is as good a place as any, Ryan.”

“Yeah, perfect, ain’t it?” Ryan asked. “Cool enough, the ink won’t be altered by the weather. Get the press down here on the next trip. I’ll let the boss know we got the perfect cave. Uncle Sam’s never gonna find us down here.”

“Yeah, but before we can do anything, we’re gonna have to clear away this mess.”

“No problem, Nate, while I’m sweeping it all up, I’ll just keep thinkin’ about all those beautiful greenbacks—"

Hearing a low moan, the two men stopped talking and looked around.

“What was that?” Ryan asked.

Following the sound they finally stopped. “What is that? Is that a kid?” Nate asked. As they looked astonished at Jacob, unconscious and bloody on the floor, Nate turned to his companion.

“Congratulations, Ryan, you blew up a kid.”

“Hey, we blew up a kid. Do ya think he’s dead?”

Running his hands through his hair, Nate began to pace back and forth. “It’s not our fault. How were we supposed to know there was a kid down here?”

“What are we supposed to do with him?”

Nate knelt down to get a closer look. “He’s still breathing. I guess that’s good. But he’s got a nasty bump on his forehead and a deep gash on his chin.”

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Ryan wondered.

Nate shook his head. “What are we supposed to tell ‘em? Sorry, we accidentally blew up this kid while using stolen explosives in the tunnels under New York?... I don’t think so.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? He looks like he needs a doctor. We can’t leave him down here. I might be a lowlife criminal, but I’m no child killer, man. I don’t want this kid’s blood on my hands.”

“Okay… I don’t want that either. I think there’s an old first-Aid-Kit up in the office. Let’s carry him there. We can clean him up and then call the boss.” Nate suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

Being the strongest of the two, Nate carefully lifted the boy and began carrying him to a nearby threshold under a derelict building in Hell’s Kitchen. ‘Hang in there, kid,” he whispered as they hoisted the unconscious boy through the opening in the subbasement.

~~~

Jacob heard the voices before he opened his eyes.

“If you hadn’t covered him, he would have been hurt a lot worse,” a man’s voice said. “Even so, he’s got quite a bump on his noggin. And that cut on his chin might leave a permanent mark. Do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

“They did a pretty good job patching up his chin. He’ll be fine,” a woman said confidently. “He comes from tough stock.”

They sounded strange to Jacob, as if they were far away in a dream or like his ears were filled with water.

Jacob opened one eye and looked around. Where am I? he wondered. Realizing his head hurt, he reached up and discovered a large goose egg on his forehead. “Ooohhh…” he groaned softly, realizing there was a loud ringing in his ears. “Ow ow ow,” he said as he felt the rough gauze covering his chin.” He couldn’t decide which part of him hurt more. Closing his eyes again, he rested his cheek on the cold, hard, linoleum floor.

“Hey, look, he’s beginning to come around already.” The voice sounded louder this time.

Jacob opened his eyes again. The floor was black and white, giving him the impression he was lying on a giant replica of Grandfather’s chessboard. On the far side of the floor, he saw two large sneaker-clad feet next to white flowing fabric that reminded him of the curtains in his mom’s loft windows in the city. Following the images up, he found himself looking into the faces of a tall man with messy red hair and a beautiful lady dressed in white. It was dusk, so the light in the room was subdued, giving the two strangers an unearthly appearance. Jacob looked to see that dim light was coming through a filthy window with a cracked pane. The ceiling and walls were covered with peeling paint and black mold. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

This isn’t the Tunnels, the boy concluded. How did I get here? He tried to recall, but the last thing he remembered was looking for Mouse and Jamie before everything went fuzzy.

He sat up slowly and looked at the two people on the other side of the room. No one spoke for several minutes.

“Can the kid see us?” the man asked. “It looks like he’s staring right at us.”

“Of course, he can’t.” The woman smiled at the thought.

“No… I think he can,” the man disagreed. “I think he can hear us, too.”

The boy’s eyes followed the man as he walked toward the window. “Hey, kid, can you see us?” he asked.

Jacob’s eyes darted back and forth between the two strangers.

The woman came close and knelt in front of the boy. “Jacob, can you see us? Can you hear us?”

She spoke so gently that Jacob knew immediately that she meant him no harm. Squinting at her curiously, he answered her question with a question of his own. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

She tried to smile, but a sadness flashed in her eyes. The empathic boy felt her pain keenly.

“No,” she answered, with a slight shake of her head. “You don’t know me. Why would you? But we’re here to help you.”

“Help me?” Jacob was confused. “Help me with what?”

“See, I told you he could see us,” The man had come over to stand next to the lady. “Why can he see us?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s not normal. Maybe because of his head injury. He might have a concussion.”

The boy stood up. These people are talking crazy, he concluded. Why wouldn’t I be able to see them? They’re right here in front of me. I’m gettin’ outta here. Mom and Dad are gonna be worried… and I’m gonna be in big trouble if they find out I’m Top Side without permission.

He made a dash for the door and tried to open it, only to discover it was locked.

Stay calm, he told himself. I can’t let Dad feel me getting upset. I have to get myself out of this or they will never let me do anything for the rest of my life. Breathe… just breathe.

“Hey, kid…” the man said. “Don’t be scared… Maybe we should introduce ourselves. I’m Christopher… Chris Bennett.

Jacob turned around and scrutinized the man. “Chris Bennett? My mom’s last name is Bennett too. I mean… my second mom. Having two moms is sure confusing sometimes, he thought. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Opening his palm, he was relieved to see that he hadn’t lost his mom's ring. I’m coming home, mom. At least I’m trying.

Chris leaned down and looked at Jacob’s hand. “Hey, that’s my sister’s ring… why do you have it?”

Jacob closed his fingers protectively over the ring and stuffed it back into his pocket. “We were making a gingerbread house, and she put it down on the table,” he explained. “I was afraid it would get lost in the mess we were making, so I put it in my pocket for safe keepi… wait a minute… Whaddah ya mean…’yer sister’? My mom don’t have a… I mean… my mom doesn’t have any brother… just a sister… my Aunt Susan.”

“She certainly does have a brother…” Christopher assured the boy. “At least she did… me… She just doesn’t talk about me because I’m—”

“Chris… don’t,” the beautiful woman interjected. “I don’t want to frighten him.”

Jacob squinted at them both with suspicion. “Because yer what, mister?”

Shrugging, Christopher looked sidelong at the woman. “Cat’s outta the bag now, Catherine… we might as well tell ’im the truth.”

Jacob waited.

“Di doesn’t talk about me because I’m…” Christopher explained nervously. “I’m kinda… well, technically speaking, I’m sorta… dead,” he finally blurted out. Then, pointing to his companion, he said, “We both are.”

Jacob walked up a little closer to get a good look at the man. He walked around him. He looks pretty solid to me, the boy thought. Facing Christopher again, he punched him in the stomach without warning. Jacob’s hand and then the rest of his body went straight through the man, and he fell on the floor.

“Hey… whaddya do that for?” Chris asked.

Jacob stared wide-eyed at the two people, trying to process what he had just discovered. “Sooooo… both of you are… dead?” he asked.

They both nodded.

“Does that mean I’m dead too? Is that why I can see you guys?”

“Don’t worry, Jacob… you are definitely not dead,” the beautiful lady assured him. “You’re very much alive. I’m not sure how or why you can see us. But we all have to work together to get you back home.”

Jacob scrutinized the woman closely. “He called you Catherine,” he said simply.

He felt a deep sadness emanating from her as she nodded and answered him. “Yes… that’s right… he did.”

“My first mom’s name was Catherine… she’s dead too,” he explained, even though he suspected that she already knew that.

“Yes, I know,” she said, confirming his suspicions.

“So… are you… her? Are you my mom? My first mom?”

~~~

Meanwhile, in Father’s study:

Tentatively, Diana reached out and touched Vincent’s arm. A bolt of unease and fear shot through her hand; quickly, she recoiled as if she had been burned.

“Vincent, what is-?”

“Diana, apologies, but have you seen—?”

The thud of the gavel halted Vincent’s question as the council was called to order. He turned toward Father and raised his hand. “Father, can you please wait? Diana and I will return in just a moment.”

Before Father had a chance to answer, Vincent had taken Diana’s arm more roughly than he intended and steered Diana through the exit and into the hall.

“Vincent, you’re hurting me. What’s wrong?”

Loosening his grip, Vincent replied, “Forgive me… I thought Jacob was with you. Have you left him in our chambers?”

“What do you mean, with me? I haven’t seen him since he went to find Mouse and Jamie to help him with his gingerbread house. Don’t they know where he is?”

“No, they never saw him.” Vincent was unsuccessfully attempting to quell the panic that was rising within him.

“Can’t you feel him?” Diana asked. “You know, through your Bond?”

Vincent closed his eyes and concentrated, attempting to locate his son. “I can feel that he’s alive, but other than that, it’s very faint. I can’t even tell

where he is.”

“What do you think that means?” Diana asked, not wanting him to know that she was also beginning to panic.

Vincent shook his head. “It’s almost as if he’s sleeping.” Then, another possibility occurred to him. “Or he’s suppressing his emotions so that I won’t feel him through our Bond. He’s been doing that more and more lately.”

“Because of how strict we’ve been?” she asked.

Vincent nodded somberly. “I believe so.”

“Let’s think this through,” Diana said, reassuringly putting her hand on her husband’s arm. “He’s probably exploring somewhere and doesn’t realize we’re worried. As long as you don’t feel he’s in pain or in danger, let’s not think the worst. We can get through the council meeting and then ask Pascal to put the word out on the pipes for everyone to be on the lookout for him. Does that sound all right?”

Vincent took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh Diana,” he breathed. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You’d be making more gingerbread houses, I know that.”

He smiled wanly and nodded. “Let’s get back in there before Father sends a search party.”

~~~

“Yes, Jacob, I… I am… your first mom,” Catherine admitted.

“So… what are you here for? Are you like… my guardian angels or something?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“I guess you could say we’re helpers… sort of,” Chris explained.

Jacob winced as he touched the large knot on his forehead. “You aren’t very good at it, are you?”

Catherine laughed out loud at that. Jacob liked the way it sounded.

Jacob looked toward the door when he heard voices in the next room.

“What do you mean, you blew up a kid?” an angry voice asked. “And why did you idiots bring him here?”

Whoever it is, he sounds really mad, Jacob concluded.

“Jacob,” Catherine said desperately. “Lay back down where you were and pretend you’re still unconscious.”

“Why?” the boy challenged. He didn’t like people telling him what to do, even if she was his mom.

“Just do it, Jacob. Hurry!”

The urgency and fear in her voice resonated through him so intensely that Jacob decided to obey. He had barely closed his eyes when the door opened.

He heard footsteps come across the room and stop just in front of him. It took all of his concentration not to open his eyes so he could see their faces.

“So, this is the kid you blew up?”

“Yeah, Boss. We had no idea there was anyone down there.’ Ryan said.

“We figure he must be some homeless kid,” Nate said. “Why else would he be down there? And look at his clothes,” he added. “They look like he picked odds and ends out of the garbage.”

Boss reached out to examine the boy’s clothes. “Patches on top of patches,” he muttered. Then lifting the outer layer, he observed, “This vest is made out of an old moving blanket… and look at his shoes… homemade moccasins made from old cast-off pieces of leather.”

He stood up and looked disgustedly at the boy. “This is no homeless kid,” he declared. “He’s a stinking little Tunnel Rat if I ever saw one.”

Jacob felt his face beginning to burn. He clenched his fists and tried with all his might not to jump up and scratch the man’s eyes out.

“What’s a Tunnel Rat, Boss?” Ryan asked.

“There’s a community of people who live down there. They think they own those tunnels. They think they can pick and choose who’s worthy to use them. They’ve created a regular little utopia down there.”

“How do you know all that?” Nate asked.

“Because I was forced to live down there when I was a kid,” the man explained. “What a nightmare. That’s how I know about that place. They think they’re pretty special, but they’re nothing but a collection of misfits and freaks. And I mean freaks! Just cast-offs, rejects, and trash from the world Above.”

Jacob couldn’t control himself any longer. He roared loudly and flew at the man, hurling himself on his back and ripping out clumps of his hair. “You better take that back,” he yelled. “We aren’t trash! We aren’t freaks!”

The Boss reached back and yanked the boy off his back, slamming him against the wall like a rag doll.

Jacob’s head thudded against the wall, and he slid, unconscious once again, to the floor.

Nate and Ryan stood aghast, not daring to speak. They were surprised when the Boss turned to face them with a sinister smile on his face.

“You don’t know what you’ve done, do you?” he asked. “You two dummies have stumbled onto a little gold mine.”

“What do you mean, Boss?” Nate asked.

“That kid is going to be missed… if he ain’t already. And we’ve got him. He’s leverage.”

“I don’t get it,” Ryan admitted.

“Don’t you see? As long as we have this kid, they can’t run us out of the Tunnels. We can bargain with them… We offer to give the kid back as long as they promise to let us run our little business unobstructed.” He laughed out loud. “Heck, we can probably even make them clean up that mess down there for us and use them for free labor. This is going to be great!”

“But how are you going to make them do that?” the two men asked in unison.

Boss smiled in a way that made both men feel sick. “I just tell ‘em, they’ll do whatever we want, or the kid is dead.”

“Hey, Boss… I ain’t no kid killer…” Ryan said. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison. I’m out.”

Boss grabbed the man by the shirt front with one hand and slapped him across the face. “The only way you’re out, is in a body bag, you idiot. Do ya get me?”

Ryan’s face went white. “Uh… uh… yeah, Boss. I getcha.”

Boss smiled, satisfied he had made his point. “Listen… it’s no problem… It won’t come to that. And even if it does… there are plenty of ways to dispose of the kid in those tunnels where no one will ever find him.”

Bending down close to the boy, he removed one of his moccasins. “I’ve got to go down there now and send them a message. You guys, keep an eye on the kid. If he wakes up, tie ‘im up. He may be a kid, but these Tunnel Rats are pretty smart.”

As soon as they were sure the Boss was gone, Ryan and Nate turned to each other, then looked at the boy. “I don’t know about you, Ryan, but I can’t be any part of this. He may be the boss, but he’s crazy out of his mind.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Ryan asked. “He says he’s gonna kill us if we leave.”

“I have a feeling he’s gonna kill us anyway… just as soon as he don’t need us anymore,” Nate said. “He’s just that crazy. I say we get outta here before he comes back. If he can’t find us, he can’t kill us.”

“What about the kid?”

Nate looked at Jacob crumpled on the floor and chewed on his lip. “We get outta here and leave the door unlocked. If the kid wakes up before the Boss gets back, he can make his own way home.”

“You’re gonna leave the kid alone like that?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“How ‘bout we carry him outta here and take him a couple blocks and leave him in an alley where the boss can’t find ’im. That way at least he’s got a ghost of a chance of getting away.”

~~~

Chapter Four

by Allison

“Dammit!” Catherine muttered under her breath.

“Cathy, do you ‘know’ that ass hat?” Christopher questioned

“Yeah, his name is Mitch Denton. I guess he served his time.” Catherine went over to the wall to check on Jacob as the two men left to get something to carry him with.

“Is he….?” Christopher dared to ask.

“Yes, he’s alive. Just unconscious. He must have hit the wall pretty hard when Mitch tossed him against it.” Catherine rubbed a soft hand over Jacob’s unruly tawny-colored hair.

“Does this Mitch know this kid?”

“I don’t know,” Catherine responded. “As far as I knew, Mitch Denton went to prison after a case I was working on, but that was a long time ago. He could have gotten paroled or escaped.” Catherine didn’t want to go into detail about the Tunnels or anyone connected with them. She was honor-bound to protect Vincent and the tunnels, even as a spirit.

“I wonder what that kid was doing with Diana’s ring? She never took it off.” Christopher approached where the two of them were and reached into Jacob’s pocket to pull out the ring. The dark, muted red stone sat encased in a band of silver.

“It’s beautiful. I love the color.” Catherine praised the ring in Christopher’s hand.

Before Christopher could explain further, Nate and Ryan returned to the room with a board and a blanket. They carefully rolled Jacob onto the blanket and placed him on the board.

“How we gonna explain the kid disappearin’?” Nate asked Ryan.

“We just say we heard something in the hallway, when we came back, he was gone.” Ryan took a gander around the room. “Let’s move before the boss comes back, he will have our hides as it is for letting the kid get away, but I ain’t no child killer.”

“Me neither,” Nate agreed.

Nate and Ryan proceeded out the door and Catherine, with Christopher following, accompanied them out the door. They knew they couldn’t really do anything to protect Jacob, but they didn’t want to leave him in the hands of these men either.

~~~

Father banged his gavel on his desk once again. Vincent and Diana broke apart and moved to join the others. Father looked at all the concerned faces and wondered how to explain what was happening.

“We’ve called this meeting to discuss the recent disturbances in the tunnels. As you all know, Mouse and Jamie were caught in a tunnel collapse after some type of explosion. Strangers were also there, obviously they were responsible. The men were overheard stating that they plan on bringing some type of equipment into the upper tunnels. We believe, from what was overheard, that they plan on creating counterfeit money. I am open to suggestions as to how to handle this. We must seal our access, so they do not discover our presence down here. But we must also alert the authorities in some way.”

“As far as sealing our end of the tunnel, we can easily do that,” Cullen commented. “One of our storage rooms is near there. It holds extra lumber, so we could easily build a barricade.”

“Yes, that could work.” Father looked to Vincent for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

“I can contact the authorities,” Diana said at last. “But we must be careful when relaying the information. Blowing a hole in a tunnel wall is one thing, but proving what those men are up to will be another thing unless we can get hold of what they bring down and prove they are counterfeiting money.”

“How are Mouse and Jamie?” William asked. Even though Mouse bugged him on occasion, he still showed his concern.

“Mouse has a concussion and Jamie’s wrist is badly bruised,” Mary told him. “They are both resting.”

Many breathed a sigh of relief. Mouse could get underfoot and be a bit eccentric, but the community knew what a loss it would be if anything happened to him. He had improved their way of life with some of his inventions. And some of his other inventions made some people think he was a total loon, but they loved him anyway.

“If there is nothing else, I will adjourn this meeting. We will meet again after Cullen and the others seal our end of the tunnel. We will post extra sentries near the tunnel collapse so we can keep an eye on the area and relay what they are doing. We will get through this together.” Father banged his gavel once more on his desk.

Several mutterings could be heard from the group as they slowly filed out of Father’s chamber.

Father turned to Vincent and Diana. “Where’s Jacob? I thought he would be here with the rest of the children.”

“Ah….” Diana began.

Vincent looked to Diana and then to Father. “We don’t know. I sent Jacob to find Mouse and Jamie to help him finish the gingerbread house. When the explosion was heard, I ran toward it and found Mouse and Jamie. I assumed Jacob found them and then ran back to the home tunnels. Mouse and Jamie said they didn’t see him, but I couldn’t search for him when Mouse needed my help. And then the Council meeting was called. Please excuse me, Father. I must find my son.”

Father nodded in silent agreement, and before Vincent could leave, Diana grabbed his arm.

“I’m coming with you.”

Vincent nodded in acquiescence as they exited the chamber together.

~~~

“Nate? Ryan? Hey, where are you two idiots?” Mitch called out as he entered the room where he left Jacob. He wanted to get the boy’s name and something of his to prove to Father that he had the boy. Mitch looked around the empty room, shocked that nothing was there.

“What the hell?” Mitch exited the room and started searching each room near the one he just left. Nothing. “Where the hell did that kid go, and where are the jackasses I left to watch him?”

Moe, Jack, and Benny were in the furthest room down the hall, playing cards. Mitch stormed into the room, fuming that his plans were in serious jeopardy now.

“Where’s Nate and Ryan?” Mitch demanded.

“I dunno, boss. We haven’t seen them.” Moe looked down at his cards. “I bet $20.”

“Yeah, boss. We been here playing cards all afternoon. What’d Nate and Ryan do now?”

“Those jackasses were watching a kid they found.”

“Kid? What kid?” Jack inquired.

“Those jackasses found a kid in the tunnel we’re using to set up the press. They brought him back here and put him in the room back there.” Mitch jerked his head back in the direction he came from. “Get your asses up and find them. NOW!”

The men grumbled under their breath but did what Mich ordered.

~~~

Nate and Ryan carried Jacob’s unconscious form for several blocks, with Catherine and Chris following close behind. Luckily, Jacob was completely covered, so no bystanders wondered what the two men were carrying between them. Just two typical New Yorkers doing some job for someone. They kept looking behind them, waiting for Mitch to come up behind them and box their ears.

“You sure we’re doing the right thing?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, we ain’t no child killers, and the boss will probably kill us for letting the kid go,” Ryan said as he adjusted his hold on the board.

Chris whispered to Catherine. “Where are they taking him?”

‘I don’t recognize this area.” Catherine replied.

“What’s so special about this kid? Why did that guy want to hang onto him?” Chris persisted.

“Chris, there are just some things that I cannot reveal to anyone. It’s something I promised someone a long time ago.” Catherine replied with a sad smile.

“Who are we gonna tell, Cathy? We’re dead, remember. No one can see us or hear us except that kid.” Chris couldn’t understand Catherine's reluctance to explain things.

Nate and Ryan finally arrived at their destination. “This looks like a good place to leave him. Once he wakes up, he can fend for himself.” Ryan nodded toward the building on his left. “Head that way.”

“What’s in there?” Nate asked.

“I grew up here,” Ryan answered. “The people around here are nice. Someone will be able to help him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Long’s grocery store is on the other side of this building. If we leave him near Long’s back door, someone coming out will find him.” Ryan headed toward the building.

They gently placed the board near the back door and uncovered Jacob. Jacob was slowly starting to stir, and both men could hear his low moan.

“Come on, let’s get outta here before someone sees us.” Nate grabbed Ryan by the arm and pulled him toward the street.

Chris and Catherine hovered over Jacob, waiting for him to fully regain consciousness. Slowly Jacob grabbed his head and opened his eyes. His vision was blurred but he could still see Chris and Catherine standing off to one side. He rolled over and got to his knees. His head was spinning still, but he fought to put his feet under him and stand.

“Where am I?” Jacob wondered out loud.

“I’m not sure; I don’t recognize this place.” Chris looked around and finally noticed the sign on the side of the building. “Long’s grocery store.”

“Oh great. I can get home from here.” Jacob rubbed the back of his head where he hit the wall.

“Are you all right?” Catherine asked.

“Yeah, my dad said I had a hard head. I’ve hit it before running through the tunnels.”

“Tunnels?” Chris spoke.

“Oops.” Jacob caught himself before he could say anything further.

“What’s he talking about? And by the way, how did you get my sister’s ring? Do you know Diana?” Chris held out the ring as he peppered Jacob with questions.

“Ummmm….” Jacob was hesitant to answer. But he didn’t hesitate to grab the ring. “That’s my mom’s!”

Chris didn’t try to get it back; he was sure that Jacob would return it to its rightful owner.

“Chris, I promise I will explain everything. Let’s get Jacob home first.” Catherine watched as Jacob went to the back door and pulled it open.

They followed Jacob inside, and soon, Mr. Long came into view.

“Jacob, what are you doing here?” Mr. Long asked.

“It’s a long story. Can I use your entrance to get home? Dad must be worried sick about me.” Jacob pointed to another door.

“Of course. I’ll follow you down to the Tunnel entrance and tap out a message that you’re on your way back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Long.” Jacob opened the other door and proceeded down the short hallway to a small door at the end. He opened it, and the top of a ladder appeared. Slowly he stepped up and started climbing down.

“Are we supposed to follow him?” Chris was surprised by this turn of events.

“Yes, we follow him.” Catherine waited until Mr. Long went down the ladder then climbed onto it herself with Chris following.

They reached the bottom and Mr. Long picked up a pipe and tapped a short message on the overhead pipe. A response sounded a few minutes later.

“Your father is on his way. He’s glad you’re okay.” Mr. Long told Jacob.

“Thanks, Mr. Long, for everything.” Jacob sat down and waited for Vincent to arrive.

~~~

Chapter Five

by Cindy

“I’m a ink man,” Moe grumbled, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I do ink. I know ink. Mitch pays me to know it and to be able to pass phony for real,” he complained, looking up and down the New York streets for he-knew-not-what.

“You’re good, Moe, you’re good,” Benny consoled his companion. “But I known Mitch since Riker’s Island. He says look, we look. Besides, I had a straight,” he said, referring to the card game they’d been forced to abandon. “Queen high. And you don’t hear me complainin’.” He kept the other two moving down the sidewalk.

“Complain, don’t complain. You think I like this?” Jack muttered, trying to catch sight of Ryan and Nate. Or a kid who looked lost. “I’m a machine guy. I know paper. This is Nate’s fault. He’s always the stupid one. I ain’t muscle. I’m a paper guy. And you didn’t have no straight.”

“Did too!”

“You was bluffin’. You’re always bluffin’,” Jack retorted.

“I had the queen, jack of hearts, the ten of spades, the—“

“Uh… Fellas?” Moe interrupted Benny’s dissertation on his winning hand.

Moe nudged his companions to a stop and indicated a particular alley with a nod of his head. “Ain’t that our blanket? The one that’s usually on the chair near the TV?”

Peering into the shadowy alleyway, Benny recognized it as well. All three men walked over to the place where Jacob had lain.

Jack picked up the familiar, ratty scrap of plaid, the one that still smelled like Mitch’s aftershave, and sported a chili stain from the dinner they’d eaten the night before.

“Ryan?! Nate?!” Benny called, looking around the alleyway. “Hey! Ryan? Kid? You in here?”

“What the hell would Mitch want with a kid?” Jack mused, nudging the board Nate and Ryan had used to carry Jacob on, with a booted toe. He dropped the blanket back over it.

“Hell, if I know. I’m an ink man,” Moe said, eyeing the sign for Long’s grocery store. “But I know if I’m a lost kid, I’m going into the closest public building that might have a phone.”

Benny stared at the building. It meant nothing to him. But that didn’t mean it meant nothing to Mitch.

“I’m gonna go tell Mitch what we found,” Benny said. “You guys stay here. See if Nate and Ryan come back.”

“Yeah. If they come back,” Jack replied, his voice conveying his doubt on that to Benny’s rapidly retreating back.

Benny turned around a corner, and Jack stood with Moe.

“If Nate and Ryan crossed Mitch over some kid, they better be in Jersey by now,” Jack said. “What you think, Moe?”

Moe, who knew counterfeit engraving better than just about anyone and had never done a day in prison for it – yet – had an opinion.

“Jack, my friend, I think whatever this is, it’s all about to go sideways. Something is starting to stink about all this. And I think I had a pair of tens. And one of them was spades.”

Jack gave his companion a long look.

“You think Benny lied, then? About having a straight? He’s tight with Mitch.”

Moe shrugged his jacket-clad shoulders. “Lied… or just made a mistake. Either way… Either one can land a man in jail, Jack. Either one can land a man in jail.”

You’re thinkin’ of skinnin’ out, Jack thought. You’re just tryin’ to see if I am, too.

“Those plates Mitch has. The ones he keeps in his safe. You said they were perfect,” Jack said, indicating that a lot of money was to be had here if they stuck to the plan.

Moe wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden upset, on Mitch’s part. But he was sure it wasn’t good. In Moe’s experience, when things stopped going according to plan, well, that’s when arrests started getting made. Or coroners started filling out reports, whichever came first.

“Yeah. But you can’t spend money from Riker’s Island,” Moe replied. “Or Potter’s Field.”

Jack looked down at the board again. This time, he saw a spot of what he recognized as blood on it.

Did Mitch hurt a kid? Jack wondered.

“I guess you can’t,” he replied to Moe.

Moe checked his wristwatch. It was a beat-up Timex. He didn’t need anything finer. “Benny will be talking to Mitch in about another five minutes. After that, it won’t take Mitch long to get here. I tell you that because… well. Because you don’t have long to decide, Jack. One way or the other.” Moe buttoned up his coat and flipped up his collar. Jack knew the motions of a man fixing to disappear.

Jack hesitated. “You think we can find Nate and Ryan?” Jack asked, realizing he’d just consented to abandon Mitch.

“Not if they’re smart, Jackie boy. Not if they’re smart.”

~~~

“Catherine, what… what is this place?” Chris asked. The entrance to Long’s grocery store was shut behind them. In front of them, a long tunnel loomed.

I remember… I remember walking back with Vincent once when he pushed the food cart. Not so far from here. Not so far at all.

“It’s… it’s someplace I used to know,” Catherine hedged. “And someplace Jacob knows.”

“Obviously,” Chris said, realizing that just like always, Catherine had either told him nothing, or told him nothing he couldn’t already discern.

“Why does that little boy have my sister’s ring, Catherine? Does he know her?”

Catherine could only shake her head. “Chris… you just have to accept this. There are some things that are not mine to tell.”

Chris, however, was a journalist, or at least he had been one in life. Journalists weren’t known for ‘just accepting things.’ They were known for digging into them.

“Fine. I’ll just follow him until I find out,” Chris said, trailing Jacob at a distance. Ahead of him, the young boy tried a half-run, then grabbed the back of his head, dizzy. He leaned against a wall.

“Jacob!” Catherine cried out, rushing to his side. She checked the back of his head. The lump there, placed by Mitch Denton, was not an inconsiderable one. “Are you all right, baby?” she asked, knowing there was only so much she could do for him, no matter what his answer was.

“I… it’s okay. Got a headache,” he said, willing his eyes to focus on her.

“You’re pretty, like your picture. Daddy has one, Mama gave him. She said it came from your apartment.”

Catherine settled with him on the dusty ground. “My picture? Which one?” she asked, trying to make conversation with him to keep him awake until Vincent arrived. You were supposed to keep concussion victims awake, weren’t you? Or was that for hypothermia? She couldn’t remember, and it bothered her that she couldn’t.

“It’s… your hair is down, and you’re wearing a sweater. Daddy keeps it in a book. Says I can look at it whenever I…”

“Which book? Is it… is it “Great Expectations?” Catherine asked, eyeing Christopher, as he settled down on Jacob’s other side.

“Dickens. Blech. Robert Ludlum is better,” Christopher replied, glancing over Jacob’s head at Catherine. He, too, had noticed the lump. Whatever his concerns about the ring were, he was clearly about to set them aside for now.

“Spies are much cooler,” Christopher explained.

“N-no. No spies. Shakespeare,” Jacob explained. His head began to nod forward. He was clearly fighting to stay awake.

“Jacob, don’t. Don’t sleep. Stay awake. Stay with me,” Catherine urged, trying to keep her son conscious. “Is it… is it an old book? A small one? Full of poetry, in a slipcover case? Tell me, honey. Is that the one?”

“I… yeah. That’s it. Daddy had it. He used to keep it near him. Then… then one day… he said I could… said I could… keep it… in my…. drawer… I…”

“Hey, buddy, hey,” Chris said. “Do you like baseball? I bet you like the Mets, huh?”

“N-no…”

“Aw. Don’t tell me you’re a Yankees fan. Dodgers are better.”

Jacob tried to rouse. “N-never seen a… a baseball game. Dad won’t let me. Mom, either. Not you, Mom. My other Mom,” he said, looking at Catherine. There was a world of hurt in his blue eyes. And not from the bump on his head.

Catherine’s eyes glimmered. “I think… I’m sure they’re just trying to protect you. It’s… it’s a big world up there… and dangerous.”

Jacob’s eyes welled up in kind. “And I got hurt. And now they’ll never let me go play.” He scrubbed a small fist across his eyes. “I wanted to show them. I wanted to show them I could go see Mouse… by myself. I wanted to show them.”

He seemed to be both recovering his wits and deflated at the same time.

“Oh, Jacob,” Catherine said, not knowing what other words to offer by way of comfort.

“It’s tough when you’re growing, isn’t it buddy?” Chris asked, believing he understood or at least followed some of what Jacob was saying. “Everybody’s always telling you to be safe. But that’s not how you grow, is it? My sister Diana? She’s my twin. I tried to keep her safe as much as I could. I told her, ‘Don’t let New York change you.’ And all the time I guess I knew. That’s what New York does to people. What life does to them.”

“You… you tried to protect your sister?” Jacob asked, understanding that, in a way, he was now talking to his uncle.

“Good as I could. And she tried to do the same for me. I guess… I guess you’d be surprised at how wrong that goes, sometimes,” Chris replied, rue in his voice.

“Think you can walk, now?” Chris asked.

“Maybe… maybe we should just wait here,” Catherine replied, thinking that best.

“Nah. I’m okay. Headache’s getting better.”

Over Catherine’s objections, Jacob stood, brushed off his slacks, and wiggled the bare toes of one foot in the sand.

“That man took my shoe,” Jacob complained. “Oh, well.” One hand went to the back of his head.

“Ouch,” he said, though there was no heat in the exclamation. He started back down the tunnels.

“Tough kid,” Chris said, watching Jacob go.

If you think he’s tough, wait until you meet his father, Catherine thought, aware that they were all soon likely to do just that.

~~~

Above their heads and several blocks uptown, Mitch Denton was sliding an ammo clip into an automatic weapon.

“Long’s Grocery store? Long’s? You’re sure? You’re positive, Benny?” Mitch asked. He knew the store. He’d known it since he was a kid.

“Yeah, yeah, Mitch, Long’s Grocery Store. The blanket was in the alley. Practically right near the back door of the place. Think it means somethin’?” Benny asked.

“Yeah. I do think it means somethin’. Load up. We got work to do. I’m gettin ’ that kid back. And if you… if you see anything… anything weird… shoot it.”

“You want I should bring something for Moe and Jack?” Benny asked, pulling a revolver out of a drawer. He liked the weight of the gun. He always had. It made him feel powerful. More powerful than he was, anyway.

“Moe’s no good with a gun. Jack always has his knife on him. We’ll see,” Mitch said, shrugging into his leather coat. They would need to hurry if they wanted to catch Jacob before he reached the home tunnels. Distance was on their side. Long’s was several miles from the places where the tunnel folk usually roamed, and the passageway they used to push the food cart down was far from straight. Unlike the city streets, it would be the way water had cut it, centuries ago.

“Still don’t see why this kid is such a big deal, Mitch,” Benny said, tucking extra shells into his coat pocket.

“Yeah. Well, I don’t pay you to think. And if this kid is one of them, then he’s the key to everything,” Mitch replied, making sure he still had Jacob’s moccasin tucked into his pocket.

He planned on leaving it as a memento for Vincent.

~~~

Chapter 6

by Janet Rivenbark

Jacob was on his feet and walking when he met Vincent.

Vincent scooped him up off his feet.

“Are you all right?” Vincent asked. He’d started feeling his son through the Bond only a few moments ago. He knew he was hurt.

“I’m OK. I got a couple of bumps on my head and my chin,” he pointed at the gauze. “And I lost my shoe.”

Vincent stopped and probed his son’s head, found two sizable lumps, then turned to a pipe and tapped out a message asking Father to meet them at the hospital chamber.

“Why’re we goin’ to the hospital chamber?” Jacob asked. “I’m hungry, and I’m tired. I don’t need Grandpa poking around on me.”

“It won’t take long. You have a couple of big lumps on your head, and Father should make sure that the wound on your chin is clean.”

Jacob knew better than to argue and just let his father carry him to the hospital chamber, where half the Tunnel community appeared to be waiting. Mouse occupied one of the beds, and Jamie sat on a stool next to him; Father waited on one side of the exam table, and Diana and Mary were on the other. Several other people were in the tunnel outside.

Vincent placed Jacob on the table, but Diana had to hug him before she would allow Father to do his exam.

As promised, the exam was quick. Father said that there might be a mild concussion.

“You can take him back to your chamber,” Father said. “He can eat something light. And then he should rest. Just keep an eye on him for a while. Whoever dressed the cut on his chin did a good job. They used butterfly closures on it. I left it as it was. He heals almost as fast as you do, Vincent.”

With that pronouncement, Vincent lifted Jacob and led the caravan to the family chamber.

“Maybe my mom put the bandage on,” Jacob suggested as they walked.

“No, I didn’t do it,” Diana said. “I haven’t seen you since your father sent you to look for Mouse and Jamie.”

“No, my other mother, my first mother,” Jacob said with a yawn.

Diana and Vincent looked at each other, and they knew what the other was thinking—Mild concussion?

When they reached their chamber, Vincent put Jacob on the bed and then sent one of the children who had followed them to the kitchen to get Jacob a light meal; then he shooed the rest of them out.

“Jacob will probably be fine tomorrow,” he assured them. “You can visit then.”

When he turned back, Diana was sitting on the bed next to Jacob.

“What happened, sweetie?” she asked.

“I was going to get Mouse and Jamie like you said. I was taking Mouse’s shortcut,” he looked a little sheepish. “But when I got close to where it is, I heard somebody talking. So, I stayed quiet; I didn’t want to give away Mouse’s shortcut. He said that only he and I knew about it. But then there was an explosion like we’ve been hearing, only it was a lot closer and the ceiling fell on me. That’s all I really remember until I woke up in a room with my first mom and Uncle Chris.”

“Your first mom? Catherine?” said Vincent at the same time that Diana said, “Uncle Chris?”

“Yeah, they were there, and they were surprised that I could see them.”

Diana and Vincent looked at each other.

Near-death experience? Diana mouthed.

Vincent shrugged, and they turned back to Jacob.

“Were you dreaming?” Diana asked.

“No, I was wide awake,” Jacob insisted.

At that moment, William arrived with the lunch tray. There was enough food to feed an army.

“Father said a light meal,” Vincent admonished.

“Yeah, well, there’s a selection here. Whatever he doesn't eat, you two can have.” He put the tray on the table and left. “You missed dinner, and it’s getting late.”

Diana busied herself selecting a suitable light meal for Jacob, and Vincent picked his son up off the bed and carried him to the table.

“Gee, Dad, I hit my head; I didn’t break a leg. I can walk,” Jacob complained.

“Indulge me,” Vincent said as he put Jacob on a chair. He sat on another chair, and Diana pulled a third over to the table and sat.

“Tell me about what happened after you woke up,” Vincent said as Jacob slurped his soup.

“Not much. I talked to Mom and Uncle Chris, and then we heard some men outside the room, and Mom told me to ‘play possum.’ I did, and some men came into the room. Two of them called the other one Boss, and he seemed to know about the Tunnels. He said he’d lived here when he was little but didn’t like it. He called us misfits and freaks, cast-offs, rejects, and trash from the world Above. I got mad. I jumped on him. He threw me off, and I hit the wall. Then I think I was knocked out again for a while, cuz when I woke up, I was outside Mr. Long’s market.”

Diana looked at Vincent and could tell that his son had said something had hit home.

“Did you hear them call the Boss by a name?” Vincent asked.

“No, just Boss.”

“What is it, Vincent?” Diana asked.

“Just that I’ve only heard one person use that combination of words who would fit the description. But he’s supposed to be in prison.”

“You got a name?” she asked.

“Mitch Denton.”

Vincent watched Diana go to the large tote bag she always carried to work. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and started looking through them. He went to stand next to her and look over her shoulder.

At the same time, Jacob looked past them to a spot near the chamber's door. He nodded and then turned to Vincent.

“She said that it is Mitch Denton,” Jacob said.

Vincent turned quickly to look behind him.

“She’s here now?” he asked.

“Yep. She followed us from Long’s and then from the Hospital Chamber. They both did.”

“Chris is here?” Diana looked up from the papers. “Where?”

Jacob pointed. “They are standing in front of the coat rack by the door.”

Both Vincent and Diana looked but didn’t see anything.

“They’re smiling at you,” Jacob said, then returned to eating.

His parents didn’t know what to think, but they decided to concentrate on the problem at hand: Mitch Denton.

“Ah, here it is?” said Diana, holding out a sheet of paper.

“What?”

“A list of all the recent releases from prisons in New York. Ex-cons who call New York City home and are returning here.” She scanned down the list. “Here it is… Denton, Mitchell. He was paroled three months ago. Good behavior.”

“Good behavior?” Vincent questioned. “I know Mitch, and that is hard to believe.”

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of if they think it’s going to get them out of the big house,” Diana said wryly. “What do you suppose he wanted with Jacob?”

“There was considerable animosity between Mitch and me the last time he was Below,” Vincent explained. “I doubt that he would know that Jacob is my son, but he knows how we value our children here Below, and he was likely planning to use Jacob as leverage for something. If what we suspect about a counterfeiting operation is true, he knows that we wouldn’t allow him to use the Tunnels to hide it, but if he could hold one of our children, hostage, while he did it…”

“You wouldn’t have much choice,” Diana finished.

“Precisely,” he agreed.

“Now that he has no leverage, what do you think he’ll do?”

“We need to be alert and not allow any of the children to go anywhere alone. Other, more vulnerable members of our community might be at risk, too. And then there is always the threat to expose us.”

“But he’s never exposed you before,” Diana pointed out.

“No, and we were surprised the last time. He’s threatened us many times but never followed through with it.”

Vincent noticed that Diana’s gaze kept straying to the part of the chamber that Jacob had pointed out when they had asked if Catherine and Chris were still there.

“Do you think they’re really here?” she asked quietly, so Jacob wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t doubt Jacob. I don’t think he would make something like that up. And how would he know about someone you know named Chris?” He chuckled then. “I know, or at least I knew of, a supposed ghost named Kris, with a K and he was an artist. We aren’t talking about the same person are we?’

“No, this Chris, is my brother,” she said with a sad smile. “We called ourselves twins, but he was actually a little over a year younger than me. He was the youngest. Susan is the oldest. The ring I usually wear,” she held up her right hand and wiggled her index finger, “was a gift from him. He was murdered back when I was still in uniform.”

“Mom!” Jacob called. “Your ring! You just reminded me. I have it. I picked it up because I was scared it would get lost in the mess we made.” He dug into his pocket and held the ring up.

She took the ring from him and slipped it on with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for holding on to it for me, Jake,” she said, carefully ruffling the boy’s hair.

Just then, there was a flurry of messages on the pipes. It was so fast that Diana didn’t catch much of it except the word ‘Intruder.’

Vincent started for the door of the chamber.

“Where?” she called after him.

“Near Long’s threshold,” he called back as he left at a run.

Diana stuffed the papers back into her tote and went to sit at the table with Jacob, who seemed to be full finally.

He was looking toward the area where he indicated that Catherine and Chris were standing. He nodded and looked at Diana.

“Uncle Chris wants to know if you want to talk. He says I can translate for him.”

“He can hear me?”

After a pause, Jacob laughed. “He said, ‘Sure, I can hear you. I’m dead, not deaf.’”

That made Diana smile. It sounded like something that her brother would say.

She was quiet for a moment; then she looked up at the spot Jacob had pointed out.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I should have gone with you that night. It was my fault. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Jacob looked slightly confused by what was being said but faithfully listened and passed the message.

“He says that there is nothing for you to be sorry for… He was a stupid kid who thought he had all the answers… he said he was so sure he’d be just fine. He didn’t realize that Rizzo thought that he knew more than he did and that he planned to… get rid of him, and that was the only reason he agreed to the interview.”

Jacob paused, obviously listening to what was being said.

“He says that he’s sorry he couldn’t be there for you when your dad died. But he was there, and he was able to talk to your dad. He says he explained to your dad what happened and made him understand that you weren’t at fault for any of it.”

That was when Diana finally broke down, and the tears started to flow.

Jacob had never seen her like this before and didn’t know what to do.

“Go to her, Jake. Give her something to hold on to,” Chris told him.

Jacob slipped off his chair, went around the table, and put his arms around Diana. He was surprised when she hugged him and hauled him into her lap.

Chris came close and squatted down next to them. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her arm. He was surprised when his hand didn’t go right through her arm. Her head came up, and she looked around in confusion.

“He really did forgive you, Sis,” he whispered.

“Chris is that you?” she asked. “I swear I just heard you.”

“You can hear me?” he asked.

“Yes, I can,” she answered.

“This is new,” he commented. “Looks like if I can make physical contact, we can talk.”

With that, Jacob slipped from Diana’s lap and headed for his room.

~~~

Vincent didn’t take long to reach the sentry post that had sent the intruder alert. He’d run all the way and skidded to a stop in time to see just how beneficial the training with the Bo Staff was.

As he rounded a corner in the tunnel, he saw Mitch standing there, holding a child's shoe in one hand and a gun in the other. His movement caught Mitch’s attention, and Mitch turned to point the gun at him.

Mitch uttered one word, “Freak!” before his arm straightened, and he pulled the trigger. But at the same instant, one of the sentries swung his staff and caught Mitch in the back of the neck. The bullet went wild, and both the gun and the shoe flew out of his hands as his head snapped back, and there was an audible crunch as the base of his skull caved in. He dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Vincent stood in stunned silence for a moment; he would have sworn that he’d heard the bullet whiz past his ear. When he finally moved, a second sentry, Josh, was rising from checking for a pulse.

“He’s dead,” he announced. “You okay, Vincent?”

“Yes, I’m fine. What about you, David?” he asked, turning to the young man who had delivered the deadly blow.

“Umm… yeah… I’m good. Wow! I think I might need to be a little more careful in practice. I didn’t think a stick could do that.”

“You know there is always someone if you need to talk,” Vincent reminded him. He knew the trauma of taking a life. “Are you good for the rest of your shift?”

“It’s only about another hour. I’ll be okay.”

“What do you want us to do with the body?” asked Josh.

“Take him down to the catacombs; it’s cool enough there. I’ll talk to Father. We may want to lay him to rest next to his father.”

“He was one of us?” Josh asked in surprise.

“He was once. When we were children, but he was never really at home here.”

As he left and walked back to his chamber, he heard Josh calling for someone to come and help him move his body.

He stopped in Father’s chamber to let him know what had happened.

“… And I told Josh to take him down to the catacombs. Since his father is buried there, I thought we might put Mitch near him.”

“Good idea,” Father agreed. “I’ll send a team down to take care of it… How’s Jacob?”

“He was just finishing a meal when I left. I hope he’s resting now.”

~~~

When Vincent returned to their chamber, he found Jacob’s chair empty and Diana sitting quietly on the side of the bed, staring thoughtfully into space.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah… He talked to me, Vincent,” she said with a smile.

“Who talked to you?”

“Chris. He found that if he touched me, I could hear his words in my head. We talked.”

“Are they still here?” Vincent asked, looking around the chamber.

“I don’t know. He said what he wanted to, so maybe they left.”

Vincent was a little disappointed. He would have loved to talk to Catherine and hear her voice again, but as long as Diana was happy and at peace with what had happened, he was, too.

“He said he talked to Dad. He was there when our father died, and he talked to him, and he made him understand. He said that Dad forgave me.”

“Diana, I don’t understand. What did you need to be forgiven for?”

Diana seemed to come out of her haze and smiled at him. Then she explained.

“Chris was a journalist for the Times. More of a stringer really, but he sold most of his stuff to the Times. And he really wanted to be a full-time staff writer for them. And he was talented. He could have done it if he’d lived. He started researching, looking for a story; something that would draw some attention to his work. He thought he’d found it. He set up an interview with one of the city’s crime bosses. He had assured the man that he just wanted to get the story from the other side, that it would be completely anonymous.

“He wasn’t completely oblivious to the fact that what he was doing was potentially very dangerous, so he asked me to go with him. He said that he’d pass me off as being there to take notes. He thought having me, a cop, with him would make him safer. I tried to explain to him that if either of us showed up armed, at the very least, our weapons would be taken, and quite likely, it would be looked at as a threat, and they would kill both of us. And, it was our dad’s birthday, likely to be his last since he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer. Our family was having a party that evening. He really couldn’t blow off that party.

“I really thought I had him convinced not to go, but he told me just now that he had been so sure he could get the interview in and still make Dad’s party. He said that things started to go sideways as soon as he arrived where he was supposed to meet the man. It was a restaurant, so he thought it was safe because it was a public place. But it was also a front business. There were no customers and very few staff when he arrived, just the man he was there to interview and some of his soldiers.

“They started to question him. Accusing him of being an undercover cop, looking to get evidence. He kept denying it, but he couldn’t make them believe him. They killed him and had the audacity to dump his body in the alley next to the nearest police precinct building, which just happened to be my precinct. We got the call at my parents in the middle of Dad’s party.

“I had been the only one worried when Chris hadn’t shown up for the party. They were used to him being late or not showing up, but he was always forgiven because he was the only boy and the youngest. But when Mom answered the phone, she just burst into tears and handed the phone to me. I managed to keep it together while I talked to the detective. But Dad overheard when I told him where Chris was going and why and who he was meeting.

“Dad blamed me for Chris’s death. He was convinced that he would have been fine if I’d gone with him. Mom disagreed. She was thinking more like I had, that if I’d gone, they’d be burying both of us. I don’t care how many times I told him that Chris had told me that he wouldn’t meet the man; I just couldn’t convince Dad. We hardly spoke after that, and he died only a little over a year later.”

“You said your brother was there when your father died?” Vincent prompted.

“Yeah, sounded like it’s a thing; a good friend or family member who died earlier meets the person making the transition. Chris said that he talked to Dad and explained everything that had happened and that it was his own actions that caused his death. He’d lied to me when he said he wouldn't do the interview. He said Dad understood and said he was sorry that he’d never listened to what I had to say. He just needed someone to blame.”

“Did any of this have anything to do with what you told me earlier?” he asked tentatively.

Diana took a breath and let it out. “Yeah, it had everything to do with it. I avenged my brother’s death. Part of me knows what I did wasn’t right, but another part is very satisfied that Rizzo was dead.”

“Tell me, Diana.”

“It was Christmas Eve. I’d worked the late afternoon shift and was taking a shortcut from the subway to my parent’s place through an alley. I hadn’t even changed out of my uniform. The doctors had given Dad maybe another month. Mom had a rented hospital bed in the living room, and we were planning a Christmas to end all Christmases. I didn’t want to be late.

“I saw what looked like blood in the snow, and it led to a dumpster. I wanted so badly to ignore it and just keep moving, but the cop in me wouldn’t allow it. I looked, and there was a body in the dumpster. It was covered with blood, and I knew there was no way he was still alive. I turned around to go back to the corner where I knew there was a phone booth.

“As I went around the corner, I almost ran into someone. I was close enough to know that he reeked of whiskey; I stepped back and looked at him and saw that he was covered with blood. I was going to ask him if he was hurt when I saw the gun in his hand. He started waving the gun around and bragging about killing the guy in the dumpster. But he said one thing that made me look closer. He said ‘Don’t believe it when they tell you Rizzo can’t do his own dirty work.’ That was when I recognized him. Rizzo, the man my brother had gone to interview; the man who had killed him, or at least ordered him killed.”

“I didn’t hesitate; didn’t even think. I drew my gun and shot him right between the eyes. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. Someone heard the shot and called the police, and they arrived not long after. Needless to say, I was late for Christmas Eve at my parents.

“There was an investigation, but it was ruled ‘self-defense’ since he had a gun in his hand, and it was the same gun that was used to kill the guy in the dumpster. Rizzo killed the guy in the dumpster, and I killed Rizzo. Funny, no one ever connected any of it with my brother, or if they did, it wasn’t mentioned.”

“But it was self-defense. He could have very easily killed you,” Vincent pointed out.

“But the satisfaction I felt had nothing to do with self-defense,” she argued. “I killed him in cold blood. With as drunk as he was, I could have probably taken him down and had him cuffed without even drawing my gun.”

“Maybe, but people can be very unpredictable when they are drunk. Their judgment is skewed, and he might have fought you. I think you did the right thing. Maybe it wasn’t police procedure, but it was what you needed to do to ensure that you didn’t die, too.”

Diana shook her head. “I don’t know, Vincent. How can something seem so right and so wrong at the same time?”

“I know that feeling all too well. There have been times when I’ve needed to kill to protect my home, my family, Catherine, or myself. But I never reveled in it. Every one of them haunts me, even though I killed none of them out of personal malice.”

“It’s just something we need to learn to live with?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I think that is how it has to be, somewhat like a soldier who fights in a war. He kills; he knows that those he kills have lives and families, just like he does, but it’s a case of kill or be killed. As long as we don’t begin to enjoy ending those lives and we do everything we can to avoid taking lives, I think we can learn to live with it.”

Vincent hugged Diana and she snuggled contentedly into his chest.

“Thank you for that,” she said.

“I’m glad you got to talk to your brother,” he told her.

She leaned back and looked up at him. “But you didn’t get to talk to Catherine,” she pointed out.

“That’s all right,” he said, pulling her back into the hug.

She stayed for a few minutes and then yawned.

“What happened with the intruder?” she asked as she finally pulled out of his arms.

“It had been taken care of by the time I arrived.” He opted not to go into detail.

“He was sent packing?” she asked with a sleepy smile.

“No, one of the sentries used his staff very effectively.”

“What do you mean?”

“He, we all discovered how deadly a Bo staff can be. The intruder had a gun. David, the sentry, hit him on the back of his neck with the staff. It broke his neck and crushed the base of his skull.”

“Denton?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“So, he won’t bother anyone again,” she stated.

“No. I told Father what happened, and we are going to bury him in the catacombs near his father.”

Diana stood, stretched, and yawned.

“I can’t believe everything that has happened today. It’s been a long one,” she glanced at her watch. “It’s barely midnight. I think I’m going to soak in the pool. If I’m not out in an hour come and make sure I haven’t fallen asleep and drowned.”

Vincent smiled as he watched her gather her things on her way to the pool. Life had treated him surprisingly well, even though there were times when he wondered if he deserved all the good things he had received.

He relaxed and leaned back in the chair.

~~~

Catherine had been watching from the other side of the Chamber. Chris had obviously accomplished what he was supposed to and left shortly after talking with his sister. Now, she felt like it was her turn.

She crossed the chamber to stand behind Vincent’s chair. She braced herself for disappointment and slowly placed her hands on his shoulders. They didn’t sink through. She felt his warmth.

Vincent was startled by the sudden familiar feeling of Catherine. It was the same as he’d always felt in the Bond.

“Catherine?” he questioned.

“Yes, my love, it’s me.”

“I hear you. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I only know that I’m glad it is. There are so many things I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“How can you be here?” he asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that either. I only know that I find myself here now and then. I was here when you brought Jacob home and again when you named him.”

“Peter filed a birth certificate for him. When he asked me what to use for a middle name, I told him, Charles, after your father. He’s legally Jacob Charles Chandler. And somehow, between Peter and your father’s old law partner, they were able to turn most of your estate into a trust that is being held for him.”

“I’ll have to see if there is a way I can thank them, but that is not why I’m here. I just wanted to tell you that you are doing well with Jacob. You and Diana. She is a good mother. You made a good choice.”

“We’ve tried to keep you alive to him. He has a picture of you.”

“He told me. Thank you. I think that is part of why I’m able to drop in to see him occasionally.”

She was shocked at the sudden surge of emotion she felt coming from him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I failed you!” he said in a low voice.

“You did nothing of the kind. None of what happened was your fault. It was all on that Gabriel. He was the one who ordered me killed so he could take Jacob. You had no control over the situation.”

“But if I hadn’t lost the Bond…”

“But it happened. and that was something else you had no control over. But that is all over, and you have a life, and from what I can see, it’s a wonderful one. You have a son, a wife, and all those around you who all love you. You deserve it all, Vincent.”

“You forgive me, for failing you?” he asked.

“There is nothing to forgive. You were always there for me.”

“Sometimes I wonder…”

“Don’t wonder; don’t doubt. I want you to be happy, Vincent. You deserve every bit of happiness that you have. Enjoy it! Live a long life, watch our son grow up.”

“I do miss you, Catherine-”

She interrupted again. “And I miss you. But don’t feel bad or guilty for loving again. There is no need! I don’t want you to grieve for the rest of your life. I know I’ll always have a place in your heart, but you deserve love here and now.”

At that moment, Diana came out of the bathing chamber in her nightgown. Vincent sat up straighter in his chair, but Catherine didn’t remove her hands.

“I’m dead on my feet,” Diana said as she turned down the bed. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” She turned to him as she sat on the side of the bed. “You coming to bed?”

“In a few minutes,” he told her. “As soon as I wash up and brush my teeth.”

Diana lay down, and Vincent wasn’t surprised when he heard her breathing slow and even out almost immediately.

“Just remember that I love you,” Catherine told him. “And I want you to be happy.”

Then, the feeling of her presence was gone as suddenly as it had come.

Vincent had to admit that he felt somehow lighter than he had in years. He rose and changed into his old sweatpants, then went to wash up and brush his teeth.

A few minutes later, he joined his wife in bed. Even in her sleep, Diana gravitated toward him and was soon in his arms.

Catherine was right; he had a wonderful life. He needed to enjoy it.

******

Come Back Again

by Barbara Anderson and Cindy Rae

~~~

And now it’s time, my Tunnel friends

To bid you fond farewell.

We hope to see you all again,

But only time will tell.

As you return Above once more

To the world and all its cares,

Remember there’s a place for you

Just come on down the stairs.

A tale, a song, a work of art

is all it takes to find

a place to rest, a place to heal

and a place to calm your mind.

So, come on back back here any time

We’re proud to call you friend

We’ll keep a candle lit for you

until we meet again.