It must have been Vincent's kiss that woke her, because Catherineopened her eyes to a world consisting only of his face. The curtainof his hair fell around her, cutting off the rest of the universe.
"Catherine...I must go." Vincent straightened and retrieved hiscape from the bedside chair. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"If you didn't want to wake me, you should never have kissed me.The day I sleep through that you can have Father pronounce me dead."She threw back the covers and rose to slip her arms around him.
"You should stay in bed--you'll get cold," Vincent admonishedgently. He held her close, and she knew it was more to put off themoment of leaving than to keep her warm.
"My robe is here somewhere..." Retrieving the elusive garment fromthe floor, she slipped into it. "It may only take a minute to walkyou to the balcony, but it's another minute I get to spend with you."Catherine took his hand as they walked slowly to the french doors. "Iprobably won't sleep after you leave, anyway. I'll just lie in bedand think."
"About what, if I may ask?" Vincent looked at her curiously asthey reached the balcony.
"I'm not sure I want to tell you everything I think about," shelaughed. "All the magazines say a woman should maintain an aura ofmystery; they don't tell how I'm supposed to do that with a lover whoknows all my emotions."
"You don't really mind, do you?" he asked worriedly.
"Of course not, dear heart...it's one of the many unique andwonderful things I love about you. I just wish our bond worked aswell in the other direction." She hugged him fiercely, burying herface against his neck. "I always worry that something will happen toyou and I won't know about it in time."
"You still haven't told me what you think about."
"Vincent, that is an utterly transparent effort to distract me."
"Is it working?" he asked innocently. "Actually, I think a lotabout sailors, astronauts, archaeologists..."
"Pardon me?"
"Surprised you, didn't I? Glad I can still do that. I think aboutpeople like that because they're people whose work can keep them awayfrom their families for long periods of time. That sort of thing hasbeen happening for at least a few millenia, and it still happens now.Sometimes I need to remind myself our problems are not so unique...orinsurmountable."
"Does it help?" Vincent asked her gently as he drew her closer.
"A little. It helps to remember that we're not the only lovers whoaren't able to spend as much time together as we'd like. It does morefor my brain, though, than it does for my heart." She smiled a ruefulsmile as she gently stroked his cheek.
"It won't be too long this time. You do still plan to come Belowthis weekend?"
"You'll see me Friday night." Her face lit up with anticipation."I might be a bit late--I promised to have dinner with an old familyfriend. She was very close to my grandmother, and she's almost eightynow. I don't want to pass up a chance to see her."
"Until then ... take care, love." With a last brush of his lipsagainst her forehead, Vincent disappeared into the night.
You take care, Vincent. Catherine stayed on the balcony, obliviousto the winter cold. All her concentration was focused on a feeling atthe edge of awareness, like dissonance just at the threshold ofhearing. Not until it resolved into the harmony that told her Vincentwas safe in the Tunnels did she return to the bed where his warmthstill lingered. She did not sleep again.
"Earth to Radcliffe; EARTH TO RADCLIFFE."
"What? Did you say something, Joe?"
"I asked you how the deposition went. Three times. And don't eventry to pretend you were engrossed in those case files instead ofstaring at the wall."
"Oops. Caught in the act by the boss. The deposition wentbeautifully; when McCarthy decided to come clean I couldn't have shuthim up to save my life. We've got more than enough evidence to putaway his disgusting brother-in-law for a good long time."
"I don't know how you do it, Radcliffe. Who'da thunk a socialiteex-corporate lawyer was hiding such a talent for getting so many ofNew York's finest scumbags to spill their guts? For an Ivy Leaguetype like you it's just ... "
"Must be a slow Friday afternoon, boss, if you have all this timeto chat with the help. Oh, no--don't tell me you've lost your darts!"
"Very funny, Chandler. Pretty nervy remark for an underling caughtwool-gathering. Thought I forgot, huh?"
"What you call wool-gathering, counselor, is just that Ivy Leaguebrain of mine working away," Catherine said lightly.
"Yeah. Right." Joe's voice turned suddenly serious. "Cath, youknow you can talk to me anytime...if you need any time off oranything...look, you know I was only kidding about you goofing off,don't you? Your schedule may be kind of erratic but you turn out morework here than any two people.."
"Joe, Joe..." Catherine interrupted his earnest speech. "Thingsare fine, honestly. I know I've seemed a little distracted lately butI promise you there's nothing wrong. Do I seem unhappy to you?"
"Actually, Chandler, that's one of the things that drives mecrazy. You're too damn happy for someone who doesn't seem to doanything but work. I know you care about your job but...shit! It'snone of my business. I just want to make sure you're OK." Joe seemedsuddenly fascinated with Catherine's paper clip holder.
"Joe," Catherine said gently, "for an only child I think I have aremarkably good idea of what it must be like to have a big brother."
"Hey, Radcliffe, I'm just protecting the city's investment; it'snot easy to find people who want jobs with long hours and low pay,you know."
"Of course."
"Well," Joe said briskly, "looks like quitting time to me. Hopeyou're not taking those case reports home with you again."
"As a matter of fact, I'm doing no such thing. I'm going out todinner tonight, and going away for the weekend. Case reports have noplace in my plans."
"Going out to dinner?" Joe perked up. "So, who is he, Radcliffe?"
"She is Edna Davies, and she was my Grandmother Chandler's bestfriend. I haven't seen her in a while, and I've been very fond of herever since I was a child. She's a widow and neither of her childrenlive in New York anymore, so I try to visit her as often as I can.She particularly wanted me to come tonight, and I love to visit her;it doesn't take much persuading to get me there."
"Edna Davies...why does that sound familiar?" Joe asked.
"Her husband was Richard Davies, the actor. His obituary was inthe Times when he died last year. He was fine man as well as awonderful actor; they were married for over fifty years."
"Yeah!" Joe exclaimed. "Wasn't their some scandal about hermarrying him?" he asked hopefully.
Catherine shook her head helplessly. "I forgot the Enquiring Staris more your speed. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the only scandalwas her family being huffy about her marrying a penniless actor.They've been in New York since it was New Amsterdam. Even afterRichard ended up rich and famous they never quite got over it."
Gathering up coat and briefcase, Catherine made her way toward theexit. "If I don't get going I'll be late. Have a nice weekend, Joe."She slipped quickly out the door before Joe realized she hadn't saidanything about her plans for the rest of the weekend.
"Cathy, dear, how lovely to see you again. My dear child, you lookmore beautiful every time I see you."
"Edna, somehow I have doubts about your objectivity," Catherinelaughed. "But I, of course, am being absolutely objective when I tellyou how wonderful you look. It's good to see you back to your usualself."
"I was rather depressing to be around after Richard died, wasn'tI? I always knew he was likely to go first. The damn Van der Meerslive forever, after all. But it was still harder than I everexpected."
Catherine tucked the older woman's arm into hers as they movedinto the front parlor, where the fire brought out the warm patina ofold wood and subtly glowing carpets. "You loved Richard very much. Ialways knew the two of you had something very special. Losing himmust have been devastating."
Catherine's voice must have revealed more than she intended; sheintercepted a searching look from Edna that was altogether too wisefor comfort.
"Would you pour the sherry, dear?" Edna asked quietly.
Catherine jumped at the chance with a concentration unwarranted bythe task at hand. "Have you heard from those wonderful children ofyours lately?"
Somehow Edna's smile made her look remarkably like a patient catwho knows the mouse will appear and is in no hurry to speed eventsforward. Catherine's attention was devoted solely to the sherry."Bronwyn is very happy with Robin and loves San Francisco--she has anew book coming out next month, as a matter of fact. David and Mariaare planning to spend a lot of time doing research in the Carribeanafter school lets out this summer."
"Are they taking the children with them?" Catherine relaxed at theinnocuous turn the conversation was taking.
"For part of the time, at least. They're old enough now, andspending the summer crawling around a boat and living like marinemammals sounds like the sort of thing any reasonably adventurouschild would absolutely adore."
"And any grandchildren of yours would have to be more thanreasonably adventurous, of course." Catherine smiled fondly at theolder woman. "It must be hard to live so far away from them, though,"she sympathized.
"Not half so hard as having them live in New York beingmiserable," Edna announced firmly. "I admit when my son decided hewanted to be a marine biologist I had in mind a nice career at WoodsHole...how was I to know he was going to specialize in tropicalspecies? Richard and I raised very intelligent children, though. Ifone is going to spend a large part of one's career on water, afterall, the North Atlantic leaves something to be desired...especiallyin winter."
"I had a chance to talk to Bronwyn and David quite a lot when theywere here for the funeral," Catherine said. "They seemed worriedabout you living in New York all by yourself."
"Obviously. They colluded on a security system for this house thatwould be the envy of Fort Knox. I'm sure they would have added a moatand drawbridge if they could have gotten a permit."
"It's a wonderful house, full of very beautiful things worthprotecting," Catherine insisted. "Especially its owner."
"You've always been particularly fond of this house, haven't youdear?" Edna asked. "Ever since you were a child."
"It's a wonderful house!" Catherine responded enthusiastically. "Ialways felt so at home here, so safe...of course, that's because youand Richard made it that way..."
"Partly..." Edna agreed. "But this house was special long before Iever met Richard. It's been in our family for a long time, and I knowthat it was special to my mother, too. That's why she left it to meinstead of to my brothers. She knew that to them it was real estate,but to me it was home. It won't be easy to leave it."
"Leave it?" Catherine was startled by the sudden revelation. "Whatdo you mean?"
"For years David and Maria have been trying to convince me to cometo live with them in Florida. Since Richard died, New York has lostmuch of its charm for me. I've decided to accept."
"But.."
"Catherine, I hope you weren't about to make some remark aboutmaking such a change at my age? Oh, don't look so embarrassed,child," Edna laughed delightedly. "Getting in a rut is noprescription for longevity! I can hardly wait to do somethingdifferent. Key Largo has always been one of my favorite movies, youknow. I'm rather looking forward to a touch of tropical decadence inmy declining years. Maybe I can entice Burt Reynolds away ... thatwas a joke, dear."
"I ... I'm sorry Edna, it's just that ... well, I'll miss you verymuch. Are you sure you'll be happy away from New York after all thistime?"
"Quite sure. After all, there's nothing to keep me in New Yorkanymore." The older woman fixed Catherine with an uncomfortablysteady gaze.
"Whatever do you mean?" Catherine asked. Her attempt at innocentincomprehension sounded unconvincing even to herself. Edna rose fromher chair and held out her hand to Catherine with a knowing smile.
"Cathy, dear. We are going to have a lovely dinner now. You aregoing to stop pretending you don't have the faintest idea what I'mtalking about. Then, I am going to show you some things no oneoutside our family has ever seen ... and lastly I'm going to make youan offer you can't refuse. I hope."
Catherine prowled around her apartment, trying to think ofanything she may have forgotten to pack for her weekend Below. Shefound concentration difficult; the implications of the evening shehad just spent with Edna seemed to grow with every passing moment.All the restlessness of the past month, all her feelings ofdistraction and expectation suddenly seemed to come to a head.Halting in the middle of her living room, she stared at hersurroundings like she had never seen them before.
When had this place begun to seem alien to her? She had come herewith such a sense of renewal--glad to leave the apartment in SoHotainted with such unpleasant memories of Stephen, glad to begin herworking life under the proud eye of her father. The home that hadonce seemed so airy and sun- drenched felt strangely insubstantial toher then, as if it might dissolve in the light.
She wandered into the bedroom and picked up the book of poetry onthe nightstand, leafing through it to find the poem that reminded herof Vincent.
When I too long have looked upon your face,Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight
From having looked too long upon the sun.
Then is my daily life a narrow room
In which a little while, uncertainly,
Surrounded by impenetrable gloom,
Among familiar things grown strange to me
Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark,
Till I become accustomed to the dark.
How could her feelings be so contradictory? One moment this placewas ready to dissolve into light; without Vincent it seemed to haveno light at all. Catherine sat down on the bed and sighed. These daysher life seemed a fragile thread stretched between air and earth,light and dark, Above and Below.
Lying down on the bed, Catherine thought of the first time she andVincent had made love there. For over two years she had despaired ofgetting him merely to cross her threshold. When he finally did, itwas only because he hardly realized what he was doing. He had alwaysbeen so reluctant to enter her apartment Catherine suspected that insome unconscious way it symbolized her body to him. They had madelove for the very first time Below... She lay back on the bed andclosed her eyes, remembering ...
Catherine clamped down on her emotions and sprang from the bedshaking her head. Several amusing if embarrassing incidents hadtaught her the effect her erotic daydreams had on Vincent; Cullenstill made cryptic remarks that provided her with the interestingknowledge that Vincent was able to blush. Laughing to herself, shepicked up her bag and set out for the basement.
"Jamie! I was expecting Vincent to meet me--there's nothing wrong,is there?"
"No, it's OK, Vincent's fine," Jamie reassured her. "ButSamantha's got a bad cold and insisted she couldn't possibly sleep ifVincent didn't read her The Hobbit again."
"And Vincent, of course, caved in immediately." Catherine smiledindulgently. "Actually I'm rather glad he's not here right now."
"He said I should take you to Samantha's chamber as soon as- -whatdid you say?"
"Jamie, please don't look like somebody just told you there's noSanta Claus! It's just that I need to talk to you and Mouse aboutsomething I don't want Vincent to know about--at least not yet."
"A surprise for Vincent? Great--but that's not easy to do."
"Tell me about it," Catherine agreed ruefully. "But this is goingto be a big one, if I get the right answer from Mouse. If I do, I'llneed lots of help...from you and Mouse and maybe Cullen. No,definitely Cullen. He owes Vincent one..."
"Yeah, I never knew Vincent could blush."
"Jamie! Just what do you know about why he was blushing?"Catherine asked, mortified.
"Well, word kind of spreads around here...maybe it's because wedon't have television."
"Oh, God."
"Besides, Vincent always told us curiosity was important so wecould learn ... and I've just learned you're pretty good at blushingyourself." Jamie's look of mock innocence was lost on Catherine, whohad suddenly developed a consuming need to inspect the texture of thefloor as they headed for Mouse's lair.
Catherine hugged herself happily as she approached Samantha'schamber. Mouse had been encouraging; she was beginning to realize herplan was really possible. Not until now had she dared to believe it.The great challenge would be keeping things from Vincent. He wouldknow she was hiding something but so long as he knew she was happy hewouldn't press the issue, assuming she was planning some littlesurprise. This time he'd be half right...this was a very bigsurprise.
Approaching the chamber quietly, Catherine let the unmistakeablesound of the beautiful and familiar voice wash over her...
"And so at last they all came to the Last Homely House, andfound its doors flung wide.
Now it is a strange thing, but things that are goodto have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and notmuch to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable palpitating,and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of tellinganyway. They stayed long in that good house, fourteen days at least,and they found it hard to leave. Bilbo would gladly have stoppedthere for ever and ever--even supposing a wish would have taken himright back to his hobbit-hole without trouble. Yet there is little totell about their stay.
The master of the house was an elf-friend..."
"Cathy!" Samantha's cry was delighted if a little hoarse. "Youbetter not hug me, I could still be catching."
"How about if I blow you a kiss and hug Vincent instead?"Catherine asked very seriously.
Samantha grinned. "I bet Vincent would like that."
"Vincent would indeed," he agreed. Catherine suited the deed tothe word and curled up next to Vincent.
"Are you going to stay all weekend?" Samantha asked hopefully.
"Two whole days," Catherine said happily. "I don't have to go backuntil Sunday night, so I can relieve Vincent from a few chapters hereand there."
"That'd be neat," Samantha agreed. "I like the way you read almostas much as Vincent."
"Well, that's high praise." Catherine whispered conspiratoriallyto Samantha. "I like his reading best, too."
Accepting the book from an amused Vincent, Catherine curledagainst him and began to read. All the frustrations of her hecticweek melted away as the rhythmn of the words and the comfort ofVincent's presence wove an almost palpable web of peace around her.As Samantha's eyelids slowly descended, Catherine felt a rush ofemotion that could only be coming from Vincent. The flood of love andlonging almost caused her to lose her place. Soon she stopped.Samantha was clearly asleep. Quietly putting the book aside,Catherine turned to look at Vincent. No bond was needed to read theemotions clearly mirrored on that loved face. Dear Vincent,she thought as her finger touched his lips. If wishing could makeit so... Very quietly they rose and left the room.
Vincent took Catherine's hand as they walked slowly in thedirection of his chamber. "Samantha isn't the only one who's glad youhave two days to spend with us."
Well," Catherine smiled up at him, "that means there are at leastthree people who are pretty happy about it."
"A lot more than three," Vincent replied. "Father is determined tohave you as a chess partner, Kipper is planning some manner oftheatrical presentation, Mouse can hardly wait to show you his latestinvention..."
"Good grief!" Catherine exclaimed. "You'd think I'd been away formonths instead of spending most of my weekends here."
"It's been several weeks since you've been able to spend both daysof a weekend Below," Vincent reminded her. He shook his head. "Itwasn't very long ago that having you here for that much time wouldhave seemed a miracle." He stopped and turned to face her, cuppingher chin in his hand. "How quickly we become used to miracles."
Catherine traced the line of his jaw with her finger. "Are any ofthese exciting events planned for tonight?"
"No. I explained you would be late and convinced all your admirersnot to descend upon you until tomorrow."
"Then perhaps we could just go to bed," Catherine said softly.
"Are you tired?" Vincent whispered.
"Not in the least."
"Then we shall definitely go to bed."
"Rita--where the hell is Chandler?" Joe looked around the officeas if she might suddenly emerge from the woodwork.
"She's on her lunch hour. We are entitled to those at least twicea week, aren't we?" Rita asked drily.
"Chandler's having a bad influence on you, Rita; you never used tobe such a smart mouth."
"I guess learning to be one is an important part of my legaltraining, Sir."
"Definitely a bad influence. Maybe I should ...Chandler! There youare."
Catherine deposited several bulging shopping bags in a reasonablysafe corner. "Yes, here I am, Joe. I work here, remember?"
"Very funny. Aren't you taking pretty long lunch hours this week?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. It's important to get away in themiddle of the day when you stay until eight p. m. as often as I do,"she informed Joe pointedly.
"And what's with this shop till you drop bit?" he asked her,curious. "You reverting to type or something? Since you started thisjob, I swear you wouldn't take the time to eat if you couldn't getgroceries delivered. But you've spent more time shopping in the pastmonth than in the two years before that. What are you up to?"
"Maybe I do it for fun." Catherine struggled to pull off hersnow-caked boots and hang up her damp coat.
"Chandler, anybody who's idea of fun is trooping around thestreets in of New York in February when they could be comfortable ina nice, warm office ... c'mon, what gives?"
"Joe, were you looking for me to ask about my shopping habits, ordid it have something to do with the job?" Catherine smiled sweetlyat her boss.
"I give up ... I can't even get a rise out of you anymore." Joemotioned Catherine toward his office."Ever since you came back fromChristmas vacation you've been acting weirder than usual. In the pastmonth you've been so cheerful it's driving me nuts."
Catherine ignored his obvious invitation to explain and simplygave him an enigmatic smile. "Poor Joe, saddled with cheerfulemployees." Her voiced dripped with sympathy. "You've seen the lastof the major shopping for awhile--but you're stuck with cheerful. Infact, it'll probably get worse."
Despite her teasing, Catherine took pity on Joe. She had tried toput a damper on her feelings at work, but she was simply too happyfor the change not to be noticeable to someone as close to her asJoe. She was sure his feelings were hurt, thinking that she didn'ttrust him. Even if she didn't have promises to keep, telling Joeabout Vincent and his world wasn't fair. It was hard enough for herto walk the tightrope between her professional ethics and herresponsibility to those Below. She didn't want to put Joe in aposition like that; his job meant too much to him. Besides, she knewin her heart that her deepest loyalties were not to the laws of theCity and County of New York--at least not the part above ground. Shecouldn't be sure Joe would make the same choice. It was too big arisk to take. She decided she could at least assuage his curiosityabout the shopping. Just before she left for the day, she tucked anote into his desk blotter: Check the latest addition to mypersonnel file.
Early the following afternoon, Father looked up as Vincent, hishair still slightly damp from washing, entered the central chambers.
"Vincent, I wondered when I'd see you. Mouse came by a while agoand told me you had finished the aqueduct extension."
"Mouse," Vincent said somewhat testily, "was long on planning butshort on execution. I didn't expect to be away this long, but membersof my crew seemed to keep disappearing to work on other projects. Ihad to stop by one of the bathing pools on my way back to make me fitfor civilized society."
"Now, Vincent, you know we have much to do at this time of yearbefore the spring rains come. Besides, considering Mouse'sexperiences in the past, I would think his absence would be to youradvantage."
"At least he knows how to swim now." Vincent smiled. TeachingMouse how was not an experience either would soon forget.
Father leaned back in his chair. "I'm gratified you were so eagerto return to your dear old Father," he chuckled.
"Of course, I was anxious to see you as well, Father."
"Of course. The fact that several hours still remain before darkhas nothing to with the fact that you're still sitting here with me."
Vincent shrugged his shoulders in unspoken acknowledgement. "Canyou blame me for being eager to see her, Father? It was hard enoughto be apart before, but now ... "
"My boy, you spent most of your life believing such a love wasimpossible for you; it is hardly surprising that you want to immerseyourself in it, now that Catherine has shown you that you you werewrong ... that I was wrong."
Leaning forward, Father clasped his hands between his knees."Vincent," he said earnestly, "I really did believe it wasimpossible. I was so positive she would only bring you pain in theend. I have never been more wrong, and I deeply regret any pain I mayhave caused you both."
"It was my belief as well. You could not have been morediscouraging to Catherine than I was. How grateful I am," he saidwith feeling, "that she is not easily discouraged."
"Still ..." Father struggled with his words. "I sometimes wonderif I was right in teaching you to be so unselfish. You are not justtorn between Above and Below, but between your desire to be with herand your loyalty to this community. Sometimes I think we takeadvantage of both of you. We depend on your strength to protect us,even take it for granted, despite the pain it brings you ... "
"Father ... "
"No, let me finish. We take advantage of Catherine as well. Shestays Above partly because she is of more use to our community there.You know that's true."
Vincent moved to sit on the floor beside Father's chair. "She isof use there to many who need her. Believe me, Father, it brings hergreat satisfaction to give to others--she has told me how gratefulshe is that we taught her how."
Vincent took Father's hand, smiling. "If we were together everyminute of the day it would not seem like enough. Catherine once toldme there is no life without limits. It is a good thing toremember--there are many lovers Above who are able to spend less timetogether than Catherine and I. If am given a bag of diamonds, do Icomplain because the bag is not velvet?"
"All your reading has certainly given you a gift for metaphor,"Father replied gruffly. He gave Vincent a strange look. "Catherine isan amazing woman. So many things I was sure you could never have, shehas given you. I have given up using the word 'impossible' in herpresence. When it comes to you, she refuses to admit such a conceptexists. Sometimes I wonder if there is any limit to what she can do... time and again, she has dared to dream more for you than anyonethought possible, and time and again she has made the dreams cometrue."
Father reached out a hand to tenderly stroke his son's hair. Hesmiled a strange and enigmatic smile. "Never underestimate her."
Before Vincent could reply, a small whirlwind burst into the room,soon resolving itself into Mouse and Jamie.
"Vincent, come. Show you something!"
"Mouse, that's not polite," Jamie hissed. "You shouldn'tinterrupt."
Mouse scuttled down toward Father's chair. "It's OK, donetalking--right?"
Father laughed and threw up his hands. "It would appear so."
Vincent looked curiously at the older man, surprised at suchunexpected good humor. Indeed, Father seemed to be in a remarkablygood mood all of a sudden--not an effect Mouse's behavior usuallyproduced in him.
"Are you sure, Father?"
"Oh, go ahead. Mouse and Jamie are obviously quite eager to showyou one of their projects. Perhaps it will give you something tooccupy your mind for the next several hours," he told his sonpointedly.
Vincent considered Mouse, who was hopping from one foot to theother in his eagerness, despite Jamie's whispered admonitions. Fathermight be right ...
"All right," Vincent acquiesced. "Lead on."
Before too long, they came to a little-used side tunnel in theupper levels which showed signs of recent activity. Branching offagain, they came to what appeared to be a dead end. Beaming atVincent's questioning look, Mouse demonstrated the mechanism thatopened the well-concealed entrance. Mouse hopped up the newlyrevealed staircase, with a grinning Jamie and a curious Vincentfollowing at a more sedate pace.
They came to a smooth wall, and Mouse showed Vincent the releasewhich caused a section to swing inward. They were in what appeared tobe some kind of wine cellar-cum-pantry, although the shelves heldlittle. Mouse eagerly motioned Vincent toward the door.
"See, look through this hole, see if anybody's there. Neat, huh?"
Looking through into a basement, Vincent conceded it was neat."What is this place? Mouse? Jamie?"
The usually dependable Jamie was beginning to act as inexplicablyas Mouse. "You'll see. It's a surprise," she added, as if that weresufficient explanation for the time being.
Sighing, Vincent followed them up the basement stairs. Had it beenonly Mouse leading him on, he would have been considerably morereluctant, but surely Jamie would not be involved in anything toodubious. Following his two companions through the door at the top ofthe stairs, Vincent drew back with a sharp intake of breath.
"This is a private house--we shouldn't be here!"
Jamie took Vincent's hand and drew him forward, while Mouseeagerly attempted to reassure him. "House belongs to Helper. Mouse,Jamie and Cullen helped fix up entrances and stuff. Said we couldshow you. Honest!"
"It really is all right," Jamie added. "We wouldn't bring you hereotherwise."
Jamie's sincerity convinced Vincent they were not trespassing, buthe could not quite shake the feeling there was something he was notbeing told. Cautiously, he followed his erstwhile guides through thelarge, old-fashioned kitchen, into a room across the hallway.Entranced, he moved past them into its center.
It appeared to a study, or library. A fire burned, cheerfulagainst the gloom of a winter afternoon. Its flames were reflected inthe polished surfaces of the sturdy and elegantly simple furniture.Vincent reached out toward a nearby chair, almost touching itswelcoming surface before he remembered where he was. The rich patinatold him it was old and well-cared for; it looked like pieces heremembered from a book on furniture of the Arts and Craftsmovement--what? seventy or eighty years ago? It had the sturdinessand simplicity of Below combined with the elegance he associated withthe world Above.
Translucent curtains covered the barred windows beneath heavydrapes, so Vincent felt safe exploring further. A small table with aninlaid chessboard sat between two other chairs in a corner of theroom, but no pieces were in evidence. A few lamps were lit, givingenough light to read the titles of the books that lined most of thewalls from floor to ceiling. These books were clearly there to beread, not for show. They seemed to represent every subject under thesun--children's books in great profusion, art, literature, poetry,science--everything from old and venerable editions in the elaboratebindings of another era, to brand new books in their colorful dustjackets. He could lose himself in such a place ...
"Like it?" Jamie's voice from the doorway made him realize he hadalmost forgotten she and Mouse were there.
Scanning the shelves, entranced, Vincent replied without turninghis head. "It's a wonderful place ... perfect ..." His voice was fullof yearning.
"I'm so glad to hear you say that."
Vincent's hair flew across his cheek as he whipped around to facethe door. "Catherine!"
The fire brought out the gold highlights in her hair and causedthe silk of her blouse to shimmer like water as she walked slowlytoward him, her eyes on his face. There was no sign of Jamie, orMouse.
"Catherine--I don't understand--why are you here?"
Reaching him, Catherine took his hands in hers. Her voice wassoft, but deep with feeling. "Because, my dear, dear love ... this ismy house. This is our home."
Vincent stared at her, bereft of speech. A mixture of astonishmentand dawning comprehension seemed to leave him rooted to the spot.Gently, she led him to the sofa that faced the fireplace and pulledhim down to sit beside her.
"Vincent, you remember when I went to dinner with Edna Davies lastmonth? She told me she was leaving New York to live with her son andhis family in Florida. She loved this house, and didn't want it to goto just anyone."
Looking down at the hands she held, Catherine began to stroke herthumbs along their fur-covered backs. "Edna is very intuitive. Shealso knows what it's like to love someone others don't find ...acceptable. She suspected I might be in the same situation. She knewI loved this house ever since I visited it as a child, and thought Icould use a ... a refuge. It's solid, secure--before I said yes, Ichecked with Mouse to make sure it was easily accessible from theTunnels. He and Jamie and Cullen helped make the entrances a bit moresophisticated."
Vincent finally found his voice, or a reasonable facsimile."Catherine, I visited you in your apartment only a week ago. How ..."
"Edna wanted most of the furniture to stay with the house; shedidn't think the Florida climate would be good for it. I've beenmoving things over from my apartment that were really important, andlots of books from from my father's townhouse and our old place inConnecticut. I've also been buying so many things it's driving Joecrazy. When he checks my personnel file he'll see I filed a change ofaddress."
Catherine's voice became uncertain. "I know this was a pretty bigstep to take without talking about it first, but Edna would have beenterribly disappointed if I'd said no. I kept my apartment, just incase--my father actually owned it, you know, he was letting me payhim for it, gradually. And reluctantly. When he died, the insurancepaid off the mortgage, so it's mine."
Catherine slid her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders."Vincent, I know you love that balcony, but visiting me there was sodangerous, even if you only came at night. I know how important it isfor you to have a place to go away from the Tunnels. And I lovedbeing with you there, just the two of us--but every time you left me,I would worry that something would happen to you. It's too big a riskto take now, when we have more to lose than ever."
Vincent took Catherine in his arms and pulled her close. Her armswent around his neck and she rested her cheek against his chest. "Ileft room for you to bring some of your things, if you'd like. Ireally want this to be our place."
"Father knew about this, didn't he?"
Catherine nodded. "I wanted to surprise you, but I knew I couldn'tdo it alone. I wouldn't have been able to borrow three people to workon the entrances without him knowing about it. I was also a littlenervous about doing it, I guess. I thought he might be able to giveme an idea of what you'd think about it."
"And what did he say when you told him what you planned?"
"For a minute, I thought he was going to cry. Then he said I keptdoing for you more than he had ever dared to dream for you."Catherine raised her head. "Please tell me what you think, Vincent."
"I think I am my Father's son," he whispered, as his eyes filledwith tears. "Catherine, do realize what you've done? You've given usa life together, safe as we can make it. A life in the sunlight. Evenfiltered through curtains, it's more than I ever dreamed of having."
Catherine smiled through her own happy tears. "Actually, there'seven a room on the top floor with a skylight. Even though it'sfrosted glass, I can hardly wait till summer to see what your hairlooks like in the sun." She buried her face in that glorious goldenhair as they held each other a long time. After a while, she pulledback. "Come on, I want to show you the rest of the house."
Vincent seemed barely able to take it all in as she led himthrough the living room, dining room and pantry back into thekitchen. As they stood by a sturdy and much-used old table Catherinespoke again.
"Edna was always terribly irritated that her father and brotherscarried on so about her marrying a penniless actor. I always assumedit was because she thought they were being chauvinists and snobs, butit seems there was more to it than that."
"Indeed?" Vincent asked. "Do I detect an interesting storycoming?"
"More interesting than you can imagine. Edna's family were amongthe original Dutch settlers of New Amsterdam, and most of them neverlet you forget it. They were also filthy rich, but it seems not alltheir money came from stealing real estate from the Indians. I had noidea, until Edna told me, that smuggling and and other shady anddownright illegal activities were an old family tradition. She wasincensed that they had the gall to criticize her behavior when theywere basically crooks ... albeit very high-class ones."
Catherine moved toward the cupboards along one wall of thekitchen. "Apparently every house the Van der Meers lived in had someextra features that came in useful for, uh ... business purposes."Catherine pressed a spot on one of the lower doors and a wholesection of the wall slid forward without a sound, revealing asizeable space behind and a spiral staircase leading up and down."Edna told me her poor Mother spent all the years of Prohibitionafraid the house would blow up because there was so much illegalliquor hidden in the walls."
Motioning Vincent to follow, Catherine began to ascend the stairs."It goes all the way from the basement to the top floor, and you canalways look into a room before you enter, to make sure it's empty."
"Or with you in it," Vincent smiled up at her.
"Even better," Catherine said happily and returned his smile withan incandescent one of her own. She led him to the top, where theyemerged into a large bedroom, empty of furniture. She turned toVincent.
"This room hasn't been used much since Edna's children left home,but it would be wonderful for some of the Tunnel children to stayovernight once in while. This house has lots of bedrooms--they'd beperfect when people need a place to stay who are planning to goAbove--like Michael. Well, maybe not exactly like Michael," Catherineadmitted ruefully.
Vincent kissed the top of her had as he pulled Catherine into anembrace. "We were all very naive," he admitted, "in not recognizingthe combined effect of adolescent male hormones and propinquity. Thishouse is so much larger, such problems may not arise. Besides, Iintend to leave you alone here as little as possible."
As he held her close, Catherine began to consider the effect ofpropinquity on adult male hormones. It was such a pleasant thoughtshe decided to cut the tour a little short. "There's not much to seeon this floor now," she said, tugging his hand and leading him backto the hidden stairs. From the second floor landing, she pushed asection of wall aside to let Vincent enter the room.
Standing beside him, she could feel him take a deep breath and letit out slowly.
"This, I take it, is the master bedroom?" he asked her in a voicethat turned her blood to fire and her bones to water.
"Oh, yes it is," she replied with feeling. "It most certainly is."
Taking her hand, Vincent looked at the room for a long moment. Tohis right, a fire provided the only light. Two chairs sat on eitherside of it. To his left, the great bed nestled against the wallbetween two curtained windows. From the nightstand on its far side,another flame seemed to flare--then Vincent realized it was the geodehe had given Catherine at Winterfest, only two months ago.
Catherine spoke softly. "That door is to the dressing room, andthe one next to it leads to the bathroom. There's a room across thehall I've set up as an office ... but I intend to spend as littletime in it as possible. Do you like it?" she asked Vincent nervously.
The look he gave her made words unecessary, but he saidwonderingly, "You show me Paradise, and ask me if I like it?"
Her smile gave more light to the room than the fire. "The bed isnew--a reproduction--to match the other furniture. That's one thingEdna couldn't bear to leave."
Catherine moved closer to Vincent and leaned her head against hisshoulder. "She said she'd done most of her best living in that bedand had every intention of dying in it. I'm glad, because that meansthis one will be just ours."
As Vincent took her in his arms to kiss her, Catherine thought ofthe other room on the this floor, the one she hadn't mentioned. Itwas only a storage room at present, but Edna had told her, with atwinkle in her eye, that it had been the nursery. Catherine decidedto keep that particular piece of information to herself for now ...but she hoped with all her heart that there were other dreams yet tocome true.
Vincent pulled back for a moment to look at her. His eyesglittered in the flickering light, and his voice was rough."Catherine, you give me so much--all the things I convinced myself Icould never have. Your love ... a home of our own ... you have givenmy everything."
"Not everything, dear heart," she said softly. "Not yet. But Ihave a whole lifetime to work on it."
As he took her in his arms again, she kissed his ear, his neck,the long line of his throat. No more longing for the dark to come. Nomore sleepless nights after he left her bed, fearing for him. Thishouse would be a haven for them, a magical place where any dreammight come true. A bridge between Above and Below ... their specialplace.
Almost breathless from his kisses, she took Vincent's hand and ledhim toward the bed.
"Come, my love," she whispered. "Let's make it ours."
FOUR OF RODS Meaning: Happiness. The symbolism here is of thatwhich has been long awaited, the arrival of one ... heralded by thegarland of flowers welcoming the weary traveler. He ... has finallymade it to where he had so long desired to be. The castle is thereand the drawbridge is across the moat, as further invitation to thatwhich is his at last.
F. D. Graves, The Windows of Tarot
"The Four of Rods" © 1989 by Edith L. Crowe
Comments & questions to ecrowe1228@aol.com
First published in Tunnels 2 (1989), edited by Barbara Storey
About the Author: Edith Crowe is an academic librarian who hasbeen involved in various fandoms (starting with Star Trek) since1972. Beauty and the Beast, however, is the one she's mostemotional about and the first (and so far only) one to inspire her towrite fiction. She had seven "continuing classic" stories publishedin the late 80s and early 90s, in zines now out of print. New storiesinclude the rather racy "My Furry Valentine" in the A Kingdom bythe Sea conzine and several in issues of Sanctuary.