OF PUCCINI AND PIPES

by Margaret Davis

(This story first appeared in the fanzine Within the CrystalRose, Volume 1.)

Benjamin Pascal scuffed along the path in Central Park kicking atthe leaves. The crisp fall evening breeze tugged at the thinningbrown hair and fluttered the ends of the woolen scarf wrapped aroundthe throat to protect the precious vocal chords from a chill. Hisclothes proclaimed him a student--blue jeans, fisherman knit sweaterworn over a turtleneck and a battered blue backpack slung over oneshoulder. A knowledgeable music lover would have recognized the tunehe hummed as "Una Furtiva Lagrima" from Donnezetti's Elixir of Loveand would have guessed vocal music major.

As he walked along he pondered how to tell all the people he lovedthat he was leaving and would likely be gone for five years at aminimum. The letter offering him an apprentice position in the housechorus at the Vienna Statsoper was in his backpack. They wanted himthere in three weeks. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, the goalhe had pursued from age eight when the chorus-master at St. Patrick'ssought out the source of the sweet bell-like voice. Rehearsals,lessons, teasing by his peers who called it alka-seltzer music andhours upon endless hours of vocalizing had led to this moment. Whydid it hurt so much when the goal you always wanted appeared in frontof you?

The melody of "Ave Maria" began to float through his mind as hecast his thoughts back over the events that brought him to thiscrossroads.

His earliest memory was of his mother singing to him as she heldhim on her lap in the big wooden rocker. He couldn't remember a timewhen they didn't sing together. Later when singing made her cough, hesang to her. She always had a special smile for him when he sang "AveMaria." Her rosary was always close at hand and the sight of thebeads slipping though her thin fingers had been a constant reminderof her faith.

From the cradle she had taught him the prayers and to know thatGod was everywhere, even Below in their special world.

****

"Benji, always remember that God hears you, no matter where youare. He always listens when you pray. And when you have a specialburden in your heart, you ask the Blessed Virgin to intercede on yourbehalf," her half whisper had echoed in the chamber.

Papa was always so busy in the pipe chamber. He was an importantpart of their world, Benji's mother said. He had helped invent thelanguage of the pipes. Benji hated the pipe chamber. It made his earshurt, all that noise. He knew his father was disappointed that hedidn't love the pipes although he did understand some of themessages. In Benji's mind nothing would be worse than spending allday in that noisy place.

Mama began to spend more and more time in her chamber. She tooklong naps and was often still asleep when he came to see her afterlessons. One day after class when he went to her chamber, she toldhim she was going away, but he didn't believe it. She said she wasgoing to live in Heaven and she would always watch over him fromthere. Devin's mother was in Heaven, too. Benji wondered why shewould want to leave him behind. Who would listen to him sing if shewas gone?

Father came with his big, black bag every day to check on Mama.One day when Benji sat quietly at the bedside waiting for her towaken, Father sent him running for the pipe chamber.

"Summon your Papa, quickly!" The tone of Father's voice, sent himsprinting from the chamber.

Benji ran goaded by fear and skidded through the entrance to themain pipe chamber. Even in his fright, he knew to wait until Papaacknowledged him before speaking. He moved restlessly from one footto another anxious to deliver his message. He saw Papa straighten andturn toward him as the tapping on the pipes ended.

"Father says come to Mama's chamber, now!" Benji blurted out,unable to wait any longer to complete his errand. Papa's face was allwhite, like he was sick and he exited the chamber at a dead run, withBenji on his heels.

When they reached the tunnel leading to their quarters, they foundFather waiting for them, his face solemn and still.

"Father?" The traditional tunnel greeting quivered withquestions.

"Pascal, you must prepare yourself," Father's tone was harsh withsuppressed emotion. "Marie is gone."

Benji wondered what Father meant, Mama had not been out of bed fordays. Where would she go? His eyes widened in surprise when he heardthe first tearing sounds of his Papa's pain. He was greatlyfrightened to see his Papa cry, it had never happened before.

Benji felt a small furry hand slip into his and looked down to seeVincent at his side, a full head shorter than he. Vincent's intenselyblue eyes were sad and glistened with unshed tears. Suddenly hisMama's words about going to live in Heaven were in his mind and hejerked his hand away and ran for her chamber. As he ran his mindscreamed, 'No, please no, don't let my Mama go away!'

He ran through the portal and up to the side of her bed. She wasjust asleep, he knew it, and reached out to touch her cheek. It wascool and all the color had gone from her face. From behind he felthis Papa's arms gather him up and lift him.

"Son, your Mama's gone to be with the angels," Pascal chokedout.

"Why did she leave us, Papa," Benji asked his lower lip beginningto quiver.

"She's been sick for a long time, son, and now there is no morepain for her." Father and son clung to each other as they cried forthe loss of the center of their world.

After a time, their grief assuaged for the moment, they sat atMarie's side in silence. Pascal reached out and gently loosened therosary from her fingers. He blessed himself and kissed the crossbefore placing it in Benji's hands.

"Your Mama wanted you to have this to remember her by. It is toremind you to say your prayers and remember that she is watching overyou from Heaven," he said as the tears began to slide down his cheeksagain.

* * * * *

Benji pulled open the big door to the church and slipped inside.This was not their regular church, but he decided if God would beanywhere, he would be in this big church. Slowly he walked down thecenter aisle coming closer to the red vigil light on the altar. Atthe rail he genuflected and blessed himself before turning aside andwalking to the candle rack in front of the Blessed Virgin.

'She will listen when you are troubled and have a problem withoutan answer,' he heard his Mama's words clearly in his mind. From hispocket he pulled all the money he had saved and the money Vincent hadgiven him. He had told Vincent about his mission and was notsurprised when his friend reappeared in his chamber with a littlesuede bag of coins.

"It's from me and Devin and Winslow. We want to help," Vincenttold him. "I wish I could go with you; I will wait at the entrancefor you."

They had walked together to the tunnel entrance near thecathedral. Vincent was there now, awaiting his return. Carefully hecounted the coins again, then dropped the sixty-three cents into thebox before taking the long match and lighting six candles--one forPapa, Mama, Vincent, Devin, Winslow and himself. From his jacketpocket he carefully pulled Mama's rosary and kneeling at the rail,began to say the prayers. Decade after decade the beads droppedthrough his fingers. Only when he had completed the entire rosary didhe dare to voice his request.

"Blessed Mother, send my Mama back. I promise I will always begood, just, please, send her back. I don't want her to be an angel."He continued to kneel at the rail, oblivious to the sounds in thesanctuary and the scuffling from the choir loft.

When the first notes of "Ave Maria" floated through the air, Benjiwondered if it was a sign that Mama was back Below and waiting forhim. He began to hum under his breath and then sing along with thechoir.

Monsignor Andrews waved his hand for silence and was surprised tohear a voice continue for three words before dying away. Where didthat come from? It certainly was not any of the boys wiggling infront of him. He snapped his fingers and said, "From the beginning,if you please," and gave the downbeat. He strained to hear the voiceand then heard it faintly from below in the sanctuary. He signaled tothe organist to continue and quickly moved down the staircase.

Monsignor waited a moment at the back to hear the direction thenquietly paced up the side aisle. Half way up he saw the top of achild's head at the left altar rail and as he drew nearer the clear,sweet soprano rose in unity with the choir. "Sancta Maria, Maria, orapro nobis, nobis pecatoribus..."

He stood silently beside the first pew observing the youngster.The boy was dressed in ragged castoff clothes, but his brown hair wasclean and glistened in the light of the candles as did the rosary inhis hands. Stepping to the side a bit, Monsignor could see the lad'seyes were closed as he finished with the choir. It was more than asong, it was a fervent plea. He saw the tear slide down the boy'scheek as he stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you in trouble, my son?" he asked. He put his arm around thequivering shoulders and drew the boy up against him and moved to thefirst pew.

"My Mama went to be with the angels and I came to ask the HolyMother to send her back. Mama always said She would listen when youwere sad or had a big problem." His simple faith shone from histear-stained face.

"Sometimes, my son, the things we wish most in this life cannotbe. Even our most fervent prayers must be answered with 'No'."

"But Mama said prayers are always answered," Benji responded,surely the priest should know that.

"Did your Mama tell you that prayers are always answered 'Yes'?"the priest asked. "Didn't she tell you that sometimes prayers areanswered with 'Wait' or 'No'? That's when it is hard to accept thewill of God, because we always want Him to answer 'Yes'," Monsignorexplained.

"Does that mean my Mama isn't coming back?" the little voicewhispered.

"Yes, I'm sorry," the priest replied. He watched the child, whoselast hope had been shattered at his words, carefully put the rosaryin his pocket. He stood up to leave and Monsignor reached out a handto detain him.

"What's your name?"

"Benji."

"Benji, did I hear you singing before?" he asked. At the child'snod he continued, "Would you like to sing with our boys choir today?We'll practice for another half hour."

Benji knew that Vincent would wait until he came and it would onlybe half an hour. He nodded and followed the priest to the choirloft.

"Boys, this is Benji, he's going to practice with us today," thechoir master said by way of introduction, then signaled the organistto begin again.

Benji sang quietly along with the others trying not to make aspectacle of himself. He had seen the faces of several of the boys asthey looked at him. He'd had enough experience Up Top to know thoselooks, the ones that said 'this person is different and different isweird.' Once again, however, the music lifted him from his sorrow andhis voice soared upward to the high arches of the old cathedral.

Whether it was the need to show this new kid they could sing aswell as he or that they were especially inspired that day, the boys'voices blended in a shining clarity of tone. Those in the sanctuarybelow listened in awe for it seemed the song that poured down on themcame from Heaven itself.

After practice was over, Monsignor asked Benji to wait. He invitedBenji to join the choir and told him they practiced every Tuesdayafternoon. They sang Mass on Sunday and sometimes during the week.When Benji said he would ask his father, Monsignor told him to comeback whenever he could.

Benji slipped along the alley and cast a quick look around beforehe ducked into the doorway that concealed the tunnel entrance. Hetapped the signal on the door and heard the latch slide. He andVincent pulled the heavy door open until the opening was wide enoughfor Benji to slip through.

"You were gone a long time, what happened?" Vincent asked as theypushed the door closed.

"A priest talked to me. He said Mama isn't coming back, ever."Benji sat on the tunnel floor and buried his face in his hands givingway to his grief.

Vincent sat beside Benji and patted his shoulder. He felt anenormous sadness inside. He had hoped the prayers worked and that hecould do the same to find his own parents. It was a terrible burdento be abandoned and always wonder why, especially when you were onlyfive.

* * * * *

The tunnel residents stood silently at the edge of the Mirror Poolto bid farewell to a beloved member of their extended family. MariePascal had touched each of them in a special way. Her unfailingcheerfulness in the face of any circumstance had been a comfort andinspiration to all. They remembered her sweet voice singing as sheworked and as she taught the youngest children nursery rhymes.

As Father spoke the traditional tunnel eulogy, Marie's ashes weresprinkled onto the surface of the water by Constance, who had beenher special friend. In the silence that followed Father's words,there rose a high voice that held true to the melody although itquavered with emotion, "Dona Nobis pacem..." Benji sang for hismother one last time.

* * * * *

Benji had received permission to join the choir only after he andPapa had a conversation with Father. Father had stressed howimportant it was that their secret not be revealed. Benji hadpromised that if anyone appeared suspicious, he would tell Father atonce.

Constance had produced a minor miracle of some new Above clothes,which had gone a long way in helping Benji blend in with the otherboys in the group. When they sang for Mass, they had cassocks whichmasked their differences, but rehearsal was another matter. Benji hadthanked Constance profusely and wondered how she had known theimportance of looking the same as the other boys.

After several months, Monsignor Andrews suggested Benji come onFriday afternoons for private voice lessons. The Monsignor had a finebaritone and had taken several years of music theory and voicelessons before joining the seminary. He found the boy had anexcellent memory and perfect pitch. The lessons were a pleasantending to his always busy weeks.

Benji found that singing made him feel better most of the time.Papa was busy in the pipe chamber much of the day and Benji wassometimes lonely. Afternoons, the time he had always spent with Mama,were the worst. Singing in their chamber during the free time afterlessons was painful because it brought such clear memories of Mama.Some days he found it hard the practice at all.

One day Vincent followed Benji to his chamber after class to tellhim of a special place he found. Vincent liked to go exploring muchto Father's dismay and this latest treasure had been discovered justyesterday. The boys set off after gathering up candles and matchesfrom the storage chamber.

The place was reached by a tunnel leading away from the Falls.Vincent led the way after pausing to light their candles. It was farenough that the sound of the water became a mere whisper. They passedseveral branches before Vincent turned aside walked into a chamber.It was small with a soaring ceiling and around the wall was abench-size ledge. Vincent hopped up on the ledge and settled down onthe blanket folded there.

"Benji, this is a good practice chamber for you, and this is wherewe can sit and listen," Vincent said, his voice echoing ever soslightly in the chamber. "Try it," he invited as he settled backagainst the wall to listen.

Benji looked around and nodded, perhaps it would not be so painfulto sing here alone or with his friend for company. He remembered hisassignment for the week was to sing scales and arpeggios. He listenedfor the sound of a middle C in his mind and began.

Vincent clasped his hands around his knees and listened to thesound with a sigh. Benji had been feeling so sad in his heart that itmade Vincent sad, too. This new chamber would be their special musicplace. Devin and the older boys were unlikely to disturb them, theywere not always fans of Benji's singing. Vincent would love to sing,but experiments in private had proved futile. Of course, having halfof your front teeth missing didn't help, nor did a facial structurethat prevented making one's mouth into a perfect O like Benji's wasnow.

Over the weeks and months that followed, the practice chamberbegan to take on a lived-in look with the addition of several candlestands, a small table and the old couch cushions Devin found to puton the ledge.

Devin had suffered from twinges of jealousy when he discovered theboys in the practice chamber one day. He didn't like things that tookhis little brother's admiration of himself away. He had found Vincentto be adamant in his refusal to join in their games when it wasBenji's practice time. Vincent had grown accustomed to bringing abook to read while Benji practiced and refused to give up thetime.

"Benji needs an audience and besides, I like to learn new songs,"Vincent told Devin.

"What's the point? You don't sing," Devin pointed out in less thantactful terms.

"I listen and I like it," Vincent replied and for a moment wastempted to tell Devin his secret, but Devin would only laugh, so hekept silent.

When he found Vincent to be unmovable, Devin decided to stop inand listen one day. The bench was so hard and the thin blankets onthe stone did little to alleviate the misery of sitting there for anylength of time. A few days later he, Mitch and Jeremy found the oldcushions outside an office building. They had returned before thegarbage collector and carried the cushions down to the practicechamber. 'If we are going to sit there sometimes, we might as well becomfortable,' Devin thought.

Vincent had been practicing secretly on his humming. Benji alwaysshared what he learned in his lessons with Monsignor Andrews and thelesson two weeks ago was how to hum properly. Benji told him thatMonsignor said you must keep your lips closed but open your mouthwide. Then you made an Mmmmm sound. Benji said it made his lips andthe tip of his nose tingle. Vincent had tried it in private and feltthe same sensation. It was lots of fun and he found himself hummingsome of the melodies of Benji's songs when he was alone.

* * * * *

The winter Benji was ten, he sang his first solo in the bigcathedral for the Christmas Eve Mass. For weeks ahead of time hepracticed the Latin words. He had great trouble with "Excelsis Deo"until Vincent told him to just say egg shell cease day oh.

Vincent had a very delicate ear and languages intrigued him. Helistened when tunnel residents or Helpers spoke in their nativetongues and found it was easy to remember how to say the words. Hehad turned into a language coach for Benji. A conversation with Zeke,one of their Helpers, had resulted in the correct pronunciation of"Stille Nacht." Gabrielle had provided the correct accent for "PorJesu Suis."

* * * * *

Monsignor Andrews sat in his study waiting for Benji on a brightspring day. For several weeks now twelve year old Benji's voice hadbeen most uncooperative. In the middle of a word the clear sopranowould squeak and crack and a new lower tone emerge. He was certainBenji would sing in the tenor range, although now and again when thechange was abrupt, he wondered if a baritone was emerging from thethin body.

Today Monsignor had news that would change their routine forever.He had been assigned to the Curia in Rome and was to leave in amonth. He was pleased with his rise in the ranks but loathe to leavehis star pupil until a suitable voice teacher could be found. He hadgiven the boy every kind of challenge in his lessons and found thatthe more difficult the assignment, the better Benji liked it.

The boy's ear for languages was phenomenal. They would start a newpiece with Benji stumbling over the new words, but by the nextlesson, the lyrics would be memorized and his intonation perfect. Theonly thing the boy had ever said was that a friend listened to himpractice and helped him with the words. 'Must have a multi-lingualtutor and practice hours on end,' Monsignor thought as he heard thefamiliar footsteps on the stairs.

Monsignor had no idea how close he was to the truth. At nineVincent had a working vocabulary in seven languages. He had neverwavered in his love for music and his loyalty to Benji. He waspresent everyday in the practice chamber unless Father gave him atask after lessons. Then he would hurry to finish and join Benjibefore the two hour practice session ended.

The boys had talked about what Benji would do when he was grown.It was to Vincent he first confided his dream of singing opera.Monsignor had wonderful records of "Aida," "Carmen," "La Boheme,""Die Walkure" and others that they listened to after his voicelesson, he told Vincent.

"Some day I want to sing just like Caruso," Benji said.

Vincent assured him it was a noble ambition and promised not totell Devin or Father and especially not Benji's Papa. Vincent knewPascal wished his son to be the heir to the pipe chamber, just asFather wished Vincent to be the leader of the tunnel worldsomeday.

Benji had spent some time in the pipe chamber on a regular basis,but confided to Vincent that the noise in the place would surelydeafen him if he stayed there long. Both boys learned the language ofthe pipes and typically used their knowledge to disappear when someunpleasantness. like Brussels sprouts for dinner, threatened.

* * * * *

Monsignor Andrews had found a young woman to continue Benji'svoice lessons. Janice Simmons taught piano and voice to a number ofpaying students, but was willing to teach Benji without charging afee. Monsignor had never forgotten his first sight of Benji in raggedhand-me-downs and knew there were no funds for private lessons. Hehad taught Benji over the years without charging a fee. He had metBenji's father only once, when the man accompanied his son to therectory the day of his first private lesson. Monsignor had made itclear that he was pleased to have a pupil and counted it a privilegeto teach someone with such a promising voice.

Now the nurturing of Benji's talents had passed to Janice.Monsignor had told her as much as he knew about his pupil when heapproached her about accepting Benji as a pupil.

"He seldom mentions anything of his life away from choir practiceand voice lessons. His mother died four years ago and I met hisfather once. He has several friends that he speaks of occasionally,but generally our time together is spent working on technique andlyrics. He loves opera and we've nearly worn out some of my recordsof our favorites," Monsignor said with a smile as he remembered thefirst time Benji had heard opera.

"On day our housekeeper had baked chocolate chip cookies and Iinvited Benji to stay after lessons. I put a Caruso record on thephonograph and the boy seemed mesmerized. It developed into a patternand even Mrs. Williams, our housekeeper, helped. She always seemed tobake cookies on Friday morning and the smell would remind me toselect a record to share with Benji. The boy has an insatiableappetite for music and, incidentally, chocolate chip cookies. Notthat he ever gains a pound, even when she sends a dozen cookies homewith him every week."

Janice had laughed, "If serving cookies is a requirement for thisstudent, I'm in trouble. I am a terrible cook! If the corner bakeryand delicatessen ever close, I'll probably starve to death." Janicewas interested in this boy who had the potential to be the best tenorsince Caruso according to Monsignor Andrews. Although she had severalstudents with excellent voices, none had so far demonstrated thedrive and determination required to turn a good voice into anunforgettable talent.

Benji had felt a great sadness when Monsignor Andrews left forItaly, but had to smile at their last conversation.

"I predict you will be in Europe singing within fifteen years, myboy," Monsignor said. "I plan to be there for your first performance.You will set the opera world on its ear."

Benji remembered feeling embarrassed by such high praise, but deepwithin him the tiny seed of hope that had been there for as long ashe could remember, began to sprout. From the first day when Monsignorhad drawn him up from sorrow into the haven of music, Benji hadnourished the little seed.

'I want to sing. Please, God, let it come true,' he implored.

* * * * *

Vincent was sad and lonely. Benji could see it in his eyes when hecame to the practice chamber these days. Devin had disappeared. Theyhad searched for him in all the places they knew including the remotepassages far beyond the mapped areas. Benji knew Father had been veryangry after the incident at the Carousel and that he blamed Devinbecause he was the oldest.

Benji's theory was that Devin was staying someone Up Top untilFather got over being so angry. He had threatened to leave oncebefore, Benji had heard him talking to Mitch about it.

Vincent had said very little about the entire situation, but hehad told Benji that he had no sense of Devin. He thought Devin waseither dead or far away. Benji didn't understand how Vincent knewthose kinds of things, but he had seen it demonstrated enough overthe years to know it was true. Sometimes Vincent had dreams aboutthings that happened later. He had dreamed of Benji's new voiceteacher for months before Monsignor told him he was leaving.

Some of the songs he had learned recently had been written duringtimes of war. They spoke of the pain of losing a comrade and thesorrow of leaving loved ones behind and never seeing home again. WhenBenji sang them he thought of Devin and knew Vincent did as well, forhe often saw the glitter of tears in Vincent's eyes.

The boys drew even closer during the months following Devin'sdisappearance. Although they did not often talk about it, Benji wasthe only boy in the tunnels who had experienced a similar loss. Ithelped him to understand Vincent's retreat into silence and need tobe alone to grieve.

* * * * *

Janice believed exposure to all types of music produced a welleducated music student. She taught Benji the old-time gospel songsfrom her childhood. "In the Garden", "Amazing Grace", "The Old RuggedCross" and "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder" were on the other endof the scale from "Panis Angelicus". Benji could feel the waves ofemotion when Janice sang the old hymns with him and was surprised tofind they affected him as profoundly as the formal Latin anthems.

His voice had finally settled into its adult register, a clear,ringing lyric tenor, true to Monsignor's prediction. Janice hadworked diligently with him to strengthen his voice, expand his lungcapacity and teach him the proper breath support that would beinvaluable in bel canto singing. She also urged him to sample themusic of New York, opera, street musicians, ethnic performances andsurfer music transplanted from California.

One day when Benji arrived for his lesson, he was introduced toAnalise Gianetti, another of Janice's pupils. Janice had suggestedthey try singing together, she thought their voices might blendwell.

Analise was the most beautiful girl Benji had ever seen. Her hairwas the glossy black of midnight and framed her face in waves andended in the middle of her back. The large dark eyes seemed to seeinto his soul. Her fair complexion was made more so by contrast withthe billowing raven hair. She was small, so tiny that she made Benjifeel tall for the first time in his life.

Janice watched the sparks fly between her two students after theintroduction. 'Oh, dear,' she thought, 'neither one will ever be ableto sing a note when they're together. What have I done?'

"Very well, let us begin," Janice announced in her matter of facttone designed to bring their attention back to lessons. "Let's trythe duet for the spring recital."

Janice took her seat at the piano and began the introduction. Byforce of habit, Analise and Benji took their accustomed places nearthe piano, each drawn by the love of music and the joy ofsinging.

After the lesson ended and both students had departed, Janicemused on what had transpired during the hour. The recital duet hadbeen chosen to highlight both voices and she was astounded at howwell the two sang together. When Benji took the lead, Analise's voiceseemed to sparkle and dance in counterpoint. When she had the melody,her voice soared upward supported by his. They had seemed inspiredand to be of one mind as they sang. It was as if each was thematching half of the other.

Benji offered to walk Analise home after the lesson and wassurprised to learn a car was waiting to pick her up. He was alwayswalked everywhere and assumed most in his age group did the same.

"Will I see you on Friday?" Benji asked as she prepared to enterthe car.

"Yes, I will be here," Analise responded as the chauffer shut thedoor. She waved at Benji as the car pulled away from the curb.

Benji's feet hardly touched the sidewalk as he headed for thetunnel entrance. With every step her name echoed in his head Analise,Analise. He took no notice of his surroundings as he walked along. Hehad sung about passion and all-consuming love but this was his firstexperience with the reality of it.

Benji went directly to the Practice Chamber, he needed time toreflect on the day's happenings. He felt light almost like he wasfloating, as if one jump upward would propel him to the highest pointof the chamber ceiling where he would bob along like a balloon.

She was so beautiful... and her voice... it shimmered in the airlike drops of liquid crystal. His wish to sing in the great Operahouses of Europe instantly expanded to include Analise. They wouldsing together!

Vincent hesitated at the Practice Chamber entrance as the achingbeauty of the song washed over him. Benji sang softly but with suchfeeling that Vincent could feel the emotion pouring out of thechamber.

"You ask how much I need you, must I explain?

I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain

You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true

Until the twelfth of never..."

Vincent stepped quietly into the chamber to see Benji, eyessparkling, singing to the songbook held in his hands as if it werealive. Benji caught sight of him and stopped mid-sentence and grinnedat Vincent sheepishly.

"Father sent me to find you," Vincent said. "Your papa has been inhis chamber for over an hour. They want to see you."

Benji gave a guilty start, what had he done or not done that wouldbring Papa from the pipe chamber at the time of day when the messageson the pipes were the busiest? He had completed his chores beforeleaving for music lessons.

"Do you know why they want me?" he asked Vincent.

"No, but Father didn't sound angry, perhaps they want to ask aboutyour music?" Vincent replied. He knew as well as Benji that the PipeMaster seldom left the pipes before evening meal. In fact hefrequently missed evening meal all together. Whatever it was, it wasimportant.

Vincent left Benji at the entrance to Father's main room. He laida hand on Benji's shoulder and said, "I'll wait in my chamber foryou."

Benji nodded and straightened his shoulders as he stepped throughthe portal. Papa and Father sat at the big desk near the center ofthe room. This was not a good sign, he and the other children hadlearned at an early age that pronouncements affecting their livescame from this desk.

Father looked up and saw Benji in the doorway, "Ah, Benjamin,there you are. Come in, please."

"Papa, Father," Benji offered the tunnel greeting and came tostand by Father's desk.

"My boy, we have had two letters sent down from one of theHelpers," Father began. "One addressed to you and one to yourfather."

Benji was surprised, he rarely received mail. He always gave aHelper's address to anyone who asked him. The Helper forwarded anyletters to them. He took the letter from Father's hand and sat in oneof the nearby chairs to read it.

Dear Benjamin,

We are pleased to offer you a scholarship for

full tuition for the next year at the School of

the Arts. You have been recommended by your vocal

coach, Janice Simmons.

We have set an appointment for Monday March 3

at 3:00 p.m. We hope this will be convenient

for you, your coach and your parents to meet

with the staff. If this time is not convenient,

please let us know and we will arrange another

time.

We look forward to you joining the students

here.

Yours Sincerely,

****

Andrew Collins

Vocal Music Department

Benji looked up in surprise. "I... don't know what to say. MissSimmons talked about the school and said she thought I would do wellthere, but I never applied!"

"Son, the letter to me explains it all," Pascal said and held itout to him to read. "It says your teacher, Miss Simmons, applied foryou. She sent them a tape of one of your lessons."

"Papa, will you let me go?" Benji held his breath waiting for theanswer. This was the chance he had hoped and prayed would come. Itwould carry him one step closer to his dream to sing opera. Was itpossible?

"Father and I have discussed it, but we need to know if this istruly what you want. Is this really what you want to do with yourlife, son?" Pascal asked.

"It is the dearest wish of my heart, Papa. I want to sing morethan anything in the world!"

"Benjamin, you will have to guard your words to protect ourworld," Father reminded him. "It will be much more difficult when youare Above every day. Our safety will be in your hands."

"I'll remember, Father. I promise, I'll be very careful," Benjisaid solemnly.

* * * * *

The attic garret in Paris was home to the three young men. Theyreveled in the beauty of the city, the sights and the beautiful womenthey met. Two of them went off and left the third to his painting. Ashe worked at the easel, there was a knock at the door and when heopened it, there was a pretty young woman. She was a neighbor, shesaid; her name was Mimi and her candle had gone out. The young man,Rudolfo, was smitten with her loveliness.

Within just days they became inseparable, they were happy andcarefree, but it was not to last. One afternoon Mimi collapsed on thestairs and they carried her into the garret and laid her on thechaise lounge. Someone ran for the doctor and Rudolfo sat beside hercomforting her. She spoke to him of her love for him and fell backfrom the effort of speaking.

Rudolfo touched her hand and realized she was lost to him forever,gone where he could not follow. "Mimi... " he cried as his heartbroke.

The heart rending cry hung in the air and those who heard it felta choking sense of loss. For a moment the sound echoed then faded tosilence followed by thunderous applause. Tears were wiped away,surreptiously in some instances, as the bravos rang down toward thestage.

The curtain rose on the garret and suddenly Rudolfo and Mimi stoodhand in hand at center stage bombarded by the roar of the crowd.Flowers rained down on them from every direction. Rudolfo picked up asheaf of flowers and going to one knee offered them to Mimi. Thecrowd went wild and shouts of "bravo" and "brava" joined thecontinued applause.

Janice stood in the audience with tears flowing down her cheeks.This evening was the culmination of years of work by Benji andAnalise. To have been chosen for the lead roles in the senior musicalproduction was an honor. But who would have imagined the power, theemotion, the love that they could project. When you could bring thehighly critical audience from the School of the Arts to its knees andthen to its feet, you truly had talent.

One member of the audience who had watched with a more thancritical eye, was on the staff at the Conservatory. He was here toevaluate several candidates for scholarships. He had been surprisedat the power of the two leads as well as the young woman who sangMusetta.

The tenor had even convinced him of his grief over Mimi's illnessand death. He had seen "La Boheme" countless dozens of times, but thecrying out of her name had gone straight to his gut. The kid hadtalent all right, but would it last? Tenor voices sometimes promisedgreat things at eighteen and then faded at thirty before the voicecould mature.

All three showed enough promise to warrant some further evaluationand an audition. Over the years they had developed a detailedcriteria to narrow the choice of candidates for the Conservatory.Most of the time it worked, with an occasional spectacular failure,such as the bass who had failed their evaluation and had gone on toanother school and now was a regular at Covent Garden and LaScala.

* * * * *

Both Benji and Analise had been granted scholarships to theConservatory where they had studied for the last four years. Duringthis last year there had been a number of visitors for the seniorrecitals and concerts. Visitors who assessed the talent they saw withhighly critical eyes and ears.

Sometimes Benji felt like a prize horse and was surprised someonedidn't ask to see his teeth. But this was only a minor inconvenienceon the road to a life of singing... singing with Analise.

She loved him, of that he was certain, but sometimes... therewould be a look on her face when he spoke of the future, that defiedunderstanding. It was a look of hope and... fear? They spent theirdays together in class and practice rooms, apart for individualcoaching. They had sung together in musicals and recitals andsometimes simply for the joy of doing what they loved most,together.

Benji turned the problem over and over in his mind as he crossedthe park. She must go with him, but how? And if she did not, howcould he survive? How would he support her? The endless litany ofquestions roiled and burned, but no solution was forthcoming.

He would have to wait until tomorrow to share the letter with her.She had left early today, it was her father's birthday and she wasexpected to be present before the first guests arrived. Neither ofthem had met the other's family, it was tacitly understood that therewould be problems and they had chosen to avoid conflict untilabsolutely necessary. For them music was the center of the world andlittle else intruded.

Vincent was the only one Benji told about the letter. He felt theneed for he and Analise to make their decisions before family wasinvolved, but Vincent was different. Vincent was his friend, hissounding board, his unequivocal supporter, closer than a brother.Vincent who had nearly died after Lisa left. Her going had triggereda terrifying episode of fevers and hallucinations and finally theneed for restraints.

Benji had sat at Vincent's side for hours to give Father a rest.Vincent was restless whenever Father was out of the chamber, butwould quiet when Benji sang. He had nearly exhausted his voice,singing Vincent's favorites over and over. One day as he sat withFather, Vincent's labored breathing stopped.

Father had leaped from his chair with a strangled cry and pressedhis ear to Vincent's chest. He searched in vain for a heartbeat andthe tears had made furrows down his face, when suddenly hegasped.

"What is it, Father?" Benji had asked.

"A heartbeat!"

Then Vincent had started to breathe in his normal, deep manner.Benji and Father had embraced each other in their joy.

Benji had given Vincent carefully edited versions of his days,until the time Vincent asked a pointed question about Analise.

"Did you think never to mention her name again, Benjamin?" Vincenthad asked. "Do you think to make my pain less by stifling yourhappiness? Share it with me, please."

With their relationship back on its previous course, Benji toldhim of his daily activities and shared his feelings for Analise.

"Do you love her, Benjamin?"

"Vincent, she is the other half of me. Sometimes she finishes mysentences or I finish hers. She is the center of my universe, myreason for being. Nothing else matters as long as we aretogether."

"How fortunate you are, to have found her. Will you bring herBelow?"

"Someday, for she must know my world. I cannot keep it secret fromher forever. Papa will probably have to be sedated!"

Vincent had smiled and said, "No doubt, but what aboutFather?"

"A double dose?"

The light words covered the concern both felt for the day whenBenji brought Analise Below, for that would be the sign that he wasforging a new life, a life Above. Over the years Vincent had beenBenji's confidante, the keeper of secret hopes and dreams. Bothshared the bittersweet knowledge that the new life would also bring aparting to them. Benji was going where Vincent could not.

* * * * *

"Benji, sweetheart, look!" Analise waved the paper wildly as shesaw him round the corner. She ran to him, her face alight with loveand happiness.

Benji stopped and opened his arms, clasping her to him. "What isit, Lise mine?"

"An offer of an apprenticeship... in Vienna!"

Benji's heart soared upward. Together, they would go together! Hethought he would burst from the joy of it all.

"It was in my mailbox when I got here this morning! Quick, let'ssee if you have one, too. I'm not going without you!"

"I got mine yesterday, love, we going, together!" Benji said as hehugged her tightly to him. "We have to talk."

"Yes, we do. After lunch?"

"I'll meet you in our practice room," Benji replied. He watchedher as she left, the schedule this morning had both of them workingwith their vocal coaches for the end-of-the-term recital, the finalevent before graduation. It was going to be difficult to concentrate.Benji reached into his pocket and touched the packet he had put therejust before leaving the tunnels this morning.

* * * * *

The cacophony of forty students practicing, in the warren of roomsset aside for that purpose, would have distracted others. But Benjiand Analise had worked here every school day during the last fouryears. To them it was background music and not heard unless onelistened carefully.

"Benji, there are some things I must tell you, things that I'venot shared with you before."

"Lise, I have things to tell you as well, but first," Benjireached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. "Thiswas my mother's." He slipped from the chair to kneel in front of her,"Analise, will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes!" she cried as she threw her arms around his neck andjoined him on the floor. "I will love you until I die, Benji."

Benji slipped the gold band set with a tiny emerald onto her ringfinger. He caressed her hand and dropped a kiss into the palm beforeraising his face to hers and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.Their embrace tightened and they clung to each other.

When they broke their embrace, Analise gave a shaky laugh. "Nowall we have to do is tell our families."

Benji knew from the tone of her voice that there was more to thisline of thought, and was silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Benji, there are some things about my family that I've not sharedwith you before. You know that my family has money." At his nod shecontinued, "Well, among our friends and family, marriages areoften... planned. My father has always expected that I would marrysomeone he chose. I've been a coward and never told him how deeply Ilove you. Oh, he knows we're friends and he's seen us sing together;but, Benji, he has no idea... he may try to stop us!"

"Do you love me? Do you want to marry me?" Benji asked.

"With all my heart, I want to be with you always," sheresponded.

"I'll go with you," Benji stated. He was prepared to confront anyopposition, nothing else mattered as long as he and Lise weretogether.

They talked all afternoon, planning and dreaming. Analise insistedshe wanted to tell her family by herself. Benji reluctantly agreedalthough he was uneasy about leaving her alone to face her father'swrath. Just before they parted, he reminded her that she could reachhim at Dr. Alcott's and made sure she had the phone number.

Benji had always used Peter Alcott's address and phone as his own.Peter had given him a key and he had his own room which he usedwhenever recitals or other evening events made the journey back tothe tunnels inconvenient. He received his mail from school there andphone calls were intercepted by Peter.

Peter had explained Benji's presence to his wife and daughter asthe son of an old friend from medical school. He told them that theoccasional late nights made his journey home too lengthy, which wasthe truth.

Benji decided to spend the night at Peter's and sent a messagewith a Helper to Papa so he wouldn't worry. When he arrived atPeter's the family was out for the evening. He let himself in andwent to the kitchen for a sandwich. He took the plate to his room andlay across the bed to eat, to think and to plan.

He had spoken with Maestro Anton briefly this morning. The Maestrohad assured him that living quarters could be found very cheaply inVienna and food purchased for mere groschen. He also said it wascommon for two or three people to order one plate and share, no oneever looked askance. Benji had been greatly encouraged when theMaestro assured him a job would be found to supplement his apprenticestipend. As he thought of arias, gulyas and waltzes, he slept.

* * * * *

Analise stood in front of her father and dared to meet his eyes.He had shouted at her for the first time she could ever remember. Hetold her she must cease this fantasy.

"Do you think I will stand idly by while you throw yourself awayon this peasant? Where is your sense of pride? I have indulged you inyour music, but now it is time for you to take your rightful place insociety."

"No! I will not, you can't make me. I love Benji, we are going tobe married!"

"Silence! What do you know of love? You sing romantic songs,viola, you are in love. You will come to your senses soon enough. Iforbid you to mention this again, you have upset your mother."

Analise glared at him. "I will mention this again, I will sing andI will marry Benji! You can't stop me!"

"Don't speak to me in that tone! You will do as I say or... "

"Or what? Do you think you can force me?" A long forgottenconversation, overheard in childhood, surfaced in her mind.

"You can't do this, Gianetti, I'll go to the police."

"You will do as I order you or suffer the consequences, do youunderstand."

"Do you intend to force me like you've forced others?" Analiseasked, each word dripping with scorn. His face had an ashen look,there, now she had his attention.

"You will not speak of this again, ever." His hand slashed acrossher cheek.

Analise fell against a chair, her hand clasped to the side of herface, suddenly afraid. What had she done?

"Do you understand?" he asked.

Numbly she nodded and as the tears came, she fled to her room. Thepain, the pain in her heart, was agonizing. How could he do this? Shewas afraid, not for herself, but for Benji. What might her father doto prevent their marriage?

With firm resolve she grabbed her backpack and began to load itwith the things she absolutely could not leave behind. She stowed theloaded pack under the bed and then went through her normal bedtimeroutine.

At midnight when all was silent in the house, she quietly dressed,retrieved her backpack and slipped down the hall and out the door.She walked quickly glancing behind her to be sure she wasn'tfollowed. She arrived at the subway station just as the train pulledin and had to run to jump aboard.

* * * * *

The phone rang shrilly in the bedroom. Peter Alcott groped for thephone and wondered why he hadn't settled for a career in law.

"Dr. Alcott," he said into the phone. The female voice on theother end was difficult to understand through the tears. "Okay, calmdown, what's wrong?" he asked in his best bedside manner.

"Benji, I need Benji, please," the voice pleaded.

"Who is this?"

"Analise... Analise Gianetti, please, is he there?"

"Just a minute, don't hang up," Peter said. He pulled on his robeand went down the hall to Benji's room. He had seen a light under thedoor earlier and knew he was there. He knocked and the door wasopened immediately. Benji was dressed and obviously had been wakenedby the phone.

"Dr. Peter, what is it?" Benji asked.

"Analise is on the phone and she sounds very upset. Why don't youtake it in the family room?"

Benji nodded and dashed down the stairs. He picked up thephone.

"Lise, what is it? Where are you?" he asked

"I'm at the subway station near your house. Can you come getme?"

"I'll be right there, two minutes, okay?" Benji asked and hearingher affirmative, he hung up the phone and ran back to his room forhis jacket. As an afterthought he slung his backpack over hisshoulder. When he left his room, Peter met him in the hall.

"Can I help?" he asked Benji, his concern evident in his tone ofvoice.

"I don't know what's wrong, but I suspect she told her family weare to be married and they threw her out."

"What will you do?"

"I'll take her Below, she'll be safe there. And it's time she metmy family anyway."

"Be careful," Peter cautioned.

Benji nodded and left. He ran all the way to the station and foundAnalise shivering beside the telephone booth. He was appalled to seea bruise staining one cheek and the puffiness around her eye.

"Who did this to you?"

"My father said I was not to see you again. I defied him and hehit me. Benji, what are we going to do? He is very powerful, I'mafraid."

"My love, I know a place where we can be safe. You must trust thatI can keep you safe."

"I do trust you, Benji, you know that. Where is this place?"

"It's where I was born," he began.

* * * * *

Vincent opened his eyes and realized the message on the pipes waswhat had wakened him. It was Benji and he was bringing a friendBelow. He asked Pascal to meet him in Father's chamber. Vincent rosefrom his bed and pulled his mantle around him. He strode down thepassage way that connected his chamber to Father's.

Father struggled into his robe and muttered under his breath.

"Whatever has possessed the boy to bring a visitor this time ofnight?"

"No doubt Benji will explain," Vincent said. "I'll be nearby." Heleft the chamber and stopped halfway down the passage to his ownchamber. He would be able to hear everything clearly from here.

He heard Pascal enter the chamber and greet Father, and withinminutes he heard Benji and another enter the chamber. While helistened, Benji introduced Analise to the two men.

"Papa, Father, I'd like you to meet Analise Gianetti. She has doneme the honor of agreeing to be my bride!" Benji's voice rang withpride.

Father stepped forward to look at Analise's eye.

"Who did this to you, child?" he inquired gently. "Benjamin, bringme some water and soft cloths."

Pascal took Analise's hand, "Welcome, my son has spoken of youoften. I wish you every happiness."

"Thank you, sir," Analise said quietly.

* * * * *

Benji paused in the entrance of Vincent's chamber. His friend satin a chair reading.

"Vincent."

"Benjamin."

"Analise is waiting to meet you. Will you come to the guestchamber?"

"Do you think it's wise?

"Vincent, I've spoken of you often. She is a very acceptingperson. She wants to meet you now," Benji said.

"Very well," Vincent stood and followed him from the chamber.

* * * * *

High Above the first birds began to chirp as the sky began tolighten. Below Vincent, Benji and Analise sat in the guest chamberand talked, they had spent what was left of the night talking aboutthe problems to be faced. Vincent had been appalled at Analise'sbruises, and even more so when she told them about her fear of whather father might do.

Benji thought if they could get to Europe safely, perhaps theywould not need to worry. He missed the look that passed betweenVincent and Analise which clearly indicated they knew better.

"The only thing I regret is not speaking with my mother," Analisesaid. "I would like her to know I am safe."

"Perhaps you should send her a letter," Benji suggested.

"How will I know she receives it? She goes to Mass every morningat six, maybe I could go to the church and see her."

Benji looked at his watch. "We can just make it if we hurry."

Vincent accompanied them to the exit closest to the church.

"Be careful," he cautioned. I'll wait here for you."

Benji opened to hidden door and checked that no one was around.Analise took his hand and they stepped into the alley near thechurch. Hand in hand they walked toward the street. As they roundedthe corner, Analise stopped suddenly.

"My father is here," she whispered and indicated the dark carparked near the church.

They stood hesitant for just seconds when all the car doors openedand three men walked toward them.

Analise's resolve disappeared and she tugged at Benji's hand."Run," she hissed and whirled away.

Benji stood for another half second and then raced after her.Suddenly something hit him in the shoulder and helpless to stophimself, he tumbled head over heels. He heard a popping noise andthen all went black.

Analise had nearly made it to the secret door when the bulletsstruck her. She was flung to the ground, sprawled in a tangle like adoll tossed down by a careless child.

Behind the secret door Vincent heard the popping and recognizedthe sound of a silencer. He pulled the door aside enough to see outand saw Analise on the ground. She was lying face down and had a hugecrimson splotch on her back. Vincent shoved the door aside and lookedfor Benji, he saw him crumpled against the dumpster near the head ofthe alley.

Vincent pulled his hood up and ran to Benji. He searched for apulse in his neck and was rewarded with the feel of a racing heartunder his fingers. Gently Vincent picked him up and carried himthrough the secret door. He laid him down and returned for Analise.When he turned her over, an enormous puddle of blood was revealedthat came from a gaping hole in her chest.

As he picked her up, her head lolled to one side. Vincent sensedthat all life had flowed from her body on the crimson tide. He laidher beside Benji and secured the door, then picked up a stone andbegan to tap out the emergency code on the pipes.

'Stretchers needed, two hurt.'

* * * * *

The pain drew him upward to the light and he heard a familiarvoice.

"Benji, you're hurt but you'll be fine. You're in the hospitalchamber, rest now," Vincent took his hand. He watched Benji's faceand the lines etched by the pain seemed to smooth out as hisbreathing deepened and he slept.

Benji opened his eyes and recognized the hospital chamber. Hewondered what time it was and what day. He had been awake severaltimes. Someone was always there--Vincent, Mary, Winslow, Jamie. Papa,Rebecca, Father. He remembered each one telling him he was going tobe all right. Through the morphine fog he tried to remember whathappened, but he couldn't stay awake long enough.

* * * * *

"Would you like a sip of water?" Mary asked.

"Please," Benji croaked. His throat was sore and it hurt to talk.A straw was held to his lips and the cool water was as nectar. Theeffort of sucking on the straw gave him a headache. Why was he soweak?

"Where is... ?" he began.

"Shhh, don't tire yourself. Sleep now." Mary crooned to him. Shewatched with satisfaction as his eyes closed again. She turned whenshe heard the familiar, uneven gait and rose from her chair to meetFather near the chamber entrance.

"How is he?" Father asked quietly.

"He rouses long enough to take a little water, but is not trulyawake. How are we going to tell him?" She glanced over her shoulderand shook her head sadly at the thought.

"Somewhere deep inside, he knows. When he is ready, he will askand we must tell him the truth," Father said.

"All of it?"

"No, of course not, but when he asks, he must be told," Fathersaid. "I'll stay with him now. William is keeping your dinnerwarm."

"Thank you, Father."

* * * * *

Vincent sat in the hospital chamber with an open book in his lap.He had thought to spend the hours reading, but the sadness and grieffacing his friend occupied his thoughts. Benji had confided inVincent from the very first day he met Analise, Vincent rememberedthe words as if it were yesterday.

"Vincent, I've met the girl I'm going to marry!"

Vincent had listened with endless patience when Benji expounded onher sweetness, her lovely voice, her kindness and her beauty. Hesurmised Analise was attracted to Benji for many of the same reasons.Benji had a gentleness that drew people, perhaps the loss of hisbeloved mother at an early age had impressed upon him the value ofrelationships.

And now the relationship that had been so carefully guarded andnurtured was irrevocably shattered. Analise, her wounds sutured shut,had been bathed and dressed by Mary and Constance. She lay in thechamber next door. Several of the tunnel residents took turns sittingwatch, after the Rosary earlier in the evening.

"Lise?" Benji's voice was weak.

"It's me," Vincent said and moved closer to the bed and intoBenji's range of vision.

"Where is Lise? Did they hurt her?" Benji tried to raise his headfrom the pillow to look for her, but he was too weak.

"Vincent, I heard several shots. Is she... okay?" Benji saw thetruth in Vincent's eyes and began to shake his head.

"No, please... oh, no... Lise," Benji's voice broke, tearsoverflowed and slid down his cheeks.

Vincent took Benji's hand and tears of commiseration filled hiseyes. He felt the waves of Benji's pain wash over him.

After a time, Benji asked, "Where is she?"

"Next door," Vincent replied.

Until that moment Benji had hoped it was a nightmare, that hewould wake up and laugh at his fear. Vincent's answer brought thetruth crashing home again. When anyone died, they were laid out inthe chamber next to the hospital chamber.

"I want to see her," Benji said flatly. He tried to sit up andfell back with a moan.

"Stay still, I'll get Father and we'll find a way." Vincentstepped into the passageway just as Constance appeared. He told herBenji's request and she left quickly to summon Father.

In just minutes Father appeared in the entry way followed byWinslow. They crossed the chamber to Benji's bedside.

"Benjamin, you must be careful not to reopen your wounds," Fathersaid. "I'll clamp off your IV line then Vincent and Winslow will liftyou into this chair. They will carry the chair, but you can only beup for a few minutes."

Benji nodded and closed his eyes conserving his strength. 'Dead,how can she be dead? How can I live without... I can't live withouther. Why couldn't it be me? Why? Why?' The questions marched acrosshis mind in cadence with his heartbeat.

Father injected some morphine into the IV line and let it runbefore clamping off the tubing. He removed the tube, replaced it witha buffalo cap so the line could be restarted without delay.

"Ready?" Vincent asked. At Benji's nod he and Winslow helped himinto a sitting position careful not to jostle the injured shoulderand arm. They lifted him into the chair and let him rest a minutebefore picking up the chair and carrying it and Benji from thehospital chamber.

Analise lay on the bed. She was dressed in a dark woolen jumperand an ivory-colored blouse. Her hands held a rosary and were claspedat her waist. She looked so lovely and Benji thought at any momentshe might open her eyes and speak to him. They placed his chair nextto the bed and retreated to the far side of the chamber to allow himto say his goodbyes in private.

He reached for her hand with his uninjured right and touched hercool flesh.

'My love, how sorry I am that I could not protect you. I wish yourlast moments had been peaceful ones. I don't understand why I've beenleft behind. Analise, I will join you someday and we will be togetherfor eternity. Until then, dearest love, there will be no other inyour place.'

Benji sank back with a moan. Vincent and Winslow moved quicklyeither side of the chair and he nodded when Vincent asked if he wasready to return to the hospital chamber.

* * * * *

Analise was interred in the catacombs at Benji's request. She hadalways feared fire in life, and he was not about to consign her tothe flames in death. Gradually he regained his strength and was ableto be out of his bed for longer periods of time.

One day when Papa came to his chamber for his daily visit, Benjiasked him about working in the Pipe Chamber.

"I know the basic codes and I've been reading the early notes andmanuals. I want to learn more, will you teach me?" Benji asked.

Pascal was delighted in Benji's renewed interest in life, but knewsomething was vitally wrong. When he asked about his music career, aspasm of pain crossed Benji's features and he said nothing. Benji wassilent and after a time, Pascal turned and left the chamber.

Vincent came upon Benji slumped in the catacombs on the floor nearAnalise's crypt. Benji rocked back and forth without a sound or word.Vincent started to retreat from such a private moment but wasreluctant to leave Benji alone. Finally he compromised and waitedjust out of sight, although he was close enough to hear Benji'sragged breathing.

After a time he moved toward Benji again and this time laid hishand on the uninjured shoulder. He was surprised to feel the bones soeasily. Benji was far too thin.

"I keep thinking of all the times we sang of lovers parted bydeath. But when it was over, she got up and we left together. I knowshe is dead, but in some small part of my head, I keep waiting forher to wake up."

Vincent sat on the floor next to Benji. "Memories are good thingsto have, Benji. Have you no sense of her inside you?"

"Sometimes I feel like she's right behind me, but when I turnthere is nothing. I wonder how long I can hold on, some days I justwant to lay down and sleep... forever.

"How could a father send killers after his child, his own fleshand blood? Such a man has no honor nor traditions that hold a familytogether."

"Benji... " Vincent began.

"Vincent, I've made some decisions about the future that I wouldlike you to know. I ask for your support. I want to be called Pascal,like my father. I want to learn all that he can teach me. When thetime comes, I will be ready to take his place."

"Very well... Pascal," Vincent agreed.

"I don't... can't sing anymore. Every note reminds me of her and Icannot endure the pain. All songs end, Vincent."

"Yes, they do; but, Pascal, we can always sing them again."

"Perhaps someday, Vincent, but not now."

* * * * *

Vincent stood beneath the grating and listened to the music fromhigh above. The aria floated down to him and the beautiful melodybrought a pang of regret. Pascal the younger, as Benji came to beknown, used to sing it. He spent more and more time in the PipeChamber these days. Sometimes it was hard to get him to leave evenfor sleep or meals. He had tried to explain it to Vincent.

"Analise was taken from me by a man without honor. By continuingthe work Papa started, I am woven into the fabric of our world, aworld where tradition and honor are important. I will become a keeperof these values and in time I will pass them on to another,"

"I understand, Pascal, but we love you and miss your company,"Vincent answered.

"Vincent... the work is detailed. We must listen so intently. Ihave found what Papa has known all along. The intricate coding andthe need to listen so carefully are a great solace. It gives me peacefrom my grief. I hope you will understand and explain to theothers"

Vincent nodded and thought of his own pain when Lisa left. Atleast I know she is alive, I wonder if I could survive such aloss?