Quid Pro Quo

By Edith Crowe

Several of the smaller children crawled around the bottom of thetree, peering into the branches with the concentration of SherlockHolmes looking for a telltale speck of ash. One of the smallest washoisted onto Vincent's shoulders to examine the top, which almosttouched the high ceiling of Catherine's townhouse. Satisfied thatevery last ornament had been retrieved and packed away, Catherine,with Samantha's help, began to unroll a sheet on the floor whileKipper began loosening the screws that held the still-fragrantevergreen upright in its stand.

"Wow," Samantha exclaimed, "I've never seen a sheet this big!"

"It's a king-size", Catherine explained. "All the beds Below aresmaller, I think, because they're older."

Devin grinned as he and Vincent began to lower the tree onto thesheet. "Fortunately our Cathy can get king-size beds Above, suitablefor king-size husbands." In response to Vincent's warning glare,Devin gave his brother a wide-eyed "Who, me?" look that would havefooled anyone who didn't know him.

"It's so pretty." Samantha looked at Catherine with concern."Aren't you afraid the tree will get some of that sticky stuff onit?"

"It won't matter," Catherine assured her. "After this, its destinyis to go into some of Mary's quilts."

Samantha looked surprised. "But it looks almost new ... wait aminute. I see, it's all ripped on this side! Gosh, that's too bad."

"I wonder how that could have happ--ow!"

"Devin, are you OK?" Charles asked worriedly.

"Yeah, it's nothing," Devin answered, rubbing his calf. "Suddencramp in my leg." He glared pointedly at Vincent's boot beforeraising accusing eyes to his brother's face. Had Sherlock Holmes beenwatching the tableau, the Great Detective might have taken notice ofthe way Vincent stood, the picture of innocence, but with his fingerscurled carefully inward, their tips hidden by the palms of his hands.Catherine seemed suspiciously pink from a task no more strenuous thanwrapping a sheet around a tree. Mr. Holmes certainly would havenoticed Jenny's sudden fit of--coughing?--which immediately divertedattention from talk of sheets.

"What's wrong, Jenny?" Charles moved toward her. "Want somewater?"

Jenny patted his arm reassuringly. "I'll be fine in a minute.What's a nice Jewish girl like me doing taking down a Christmas tree,anyway? I'm probably allergic. But I think some water would be agreat idea--I'll just help myself in the kitchen." Devin stumbled alittle as she took his arm and yanked him kitchenward. "Why don't youcome too, Devin? You can sit down and give your leg a rest--maybeI'll massage it for you." Looking like he'd prefer being mauled by agrizzly, Devin took in Charles' eager nod, Jenny's iron grip on hisshirt, and realized he'd been outmaneuvered. "All right, I'll goquietly."

"How novel," Vincent remarked as his irrepressible brother was ledoff to his fate.

"Well," Catherine said brightly, "we've still got work to do.Who's going to help me get this tree outside?" Jamie, Kipper and Erichad remembered to bring warm jackets, which they began to put on asVincent and Mouse carefully guided the wrapped tree out the doubledoors of the living room and into the hallway. Catherine slipped intoher own jacket and gloves as she led the expedition. As she unlockedthe back door and turned to supervise her crew, she saw that Vincenthad relinquished his place and hung behind in the shadows. Her eyeslocked with his for a moment, and she ached at the familiar look ofresignation that briefly shadowed the beloved face. Silently he shookhis head and smiled at her as he waved her forward.

Blinking rapidly, Catherine cleared her throat a couple of timesand held the door open as she guided her young helpers in maneuveringa very large tree through the relatively small opening. Thataccomplished, Eric looked around the small garden. It seemed biggernow than in summer, when the bare branches of the trees were coveredby leaves. "Where should we put it? What are you going to do with itnow?"

Catherine smiled at the question. After only a few years in theTunnels, Eric had so completely absorbed the community's principlesthat it never occurred to him that the old tree would simply bediscarded. "Well, for now we'll just prop it up in that corner." Shepointed to a spot near the shed which protected tools and suppliesfrom the rigors of a Manhattan winter. "When there's a break in theweather Cullen's going to cut it up and take any wood he thinks hecan use; the rest will be firewood or kindling. Then Miyoko's goingto grind up the smaller branches for compost."

"She really loves that machine, and being able to work in yourgarden," Jamie volunteered. "She even got Mouse to promise he'd nevertouch it without her there to supervise. He was ready to grind upeverything in sight just to see what happened."

Catherine shuddered. "Remind me to thank her next time I'm Below.I'm just glad to have someone willing to take care of all this. Smallas it is, it's way beyond my horticultural abilities. I don't quitehave a brown thumb, but close."

"You do not." One of the symptoms of Jamie's increasing friendshipwith Catherine was the ability to recognize one of herself-deprecating exaggerations and nip it in the bud. "You just havemore important things to do with your time, like working, or spendingit with Vincent. Besides, you take pretty good care of that rosebush,I've noticed."

The well-pruned and winterized bush didn't look like much rightnow, but Catherine knew that in late Spring it would bloom inred-and-white profusion, just as it had the first Spring in thisgarden. Somehow it seemed to know that it had come to a place whereit could dig in its roots permanently and flourish. Catherine smiledas she touched one bare branch. "This one's special." She lifted herhead, still smiling, to face Jamie. "One bush I can handle; a wholegarden's something else. Besides, Miyoko's forgotten more aboutgardening than most of us will ever know. I'm amazed at what she'sbeen able to accomplish Below."

Kipper poked around under the decorative rocks, hoping thatsomething interesting might crawl out despite the cold. "Yeah, butshe's never been able to do as much as she likes with thathydrawatchamacallit."

"Hydroponics," Eric supplied eagerly. "She lets me help her, it'sreally neat. But she's done about as much as she can without usingtoo much electricity. Especially now that gas for the generatorscosts so much."

Catherine nodded, making a mental note to find a way to ensure aregular supply of gasoline without being too obvious. "And you haveto be careful about diverting electricity. Even Con Ed would noticeeventually." They all picked up the tree and headed toward the backcorner, then hoisted it against the fence. Catherine touched itsbranches in grateful farewell. It had been a beautiful tree, and shewould treasure the memory of Vincent's face when he saw it decoratedfor the first time. It was their first Christmas in this house, afterall. Vincent still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of having ahouse to celebrate Christmas in, not to mention a wife to celebrateit with.

Kipper's voice broke into her reverie. "Did you really bring itall the way from Connecticut?" He made "Connecticut" and "Mars" soundabout equidistant. "And the one for Below?"

"Yes, with a lot of assistance from friends and Helpers. They'refrom my family's summer place--there are a lot of trees like this onthe property. Too many, in fact; nobody's thinned them out for years.I'll plant new ones to replace them, so we'll have trees year afteryear."

Kipper looked at her like maybe there was a Santa Claus after all."That's terrific! We hardly ever get a real Christmas tree Below, andif we do it's usually some scrawny leftover. They cost so much in NewYork ..."

"Well, there are lots of them in Connecticut. Maybe you'll be ableto see for yourself pretty soon, if I can convince Father to let metake a bunch of you out there this summer."

"Is Vincent gonna come too?"

Catherine winced, but steeled herself to smile at Kipper. "I don'tthink that would be a good idea; it's too much of a risk."

"I thought maybe after you went there on your honeymoon ..."

"That was in April, Kipper, when there weren't many people around.It would be much more crowded in the summer. Even in April, I wasnervous--and Father was probably having conniption fits the wholetime we were gone."

"You got that right," Jamie grinned, "although he tried to hideit."

"Well, I can't be giving my father-in-law fits too often, can I?Maybe we'll go together again someday ... I just wish I could findsome Helpers who'd like to live in the country, so someone would bethere all the time. We could grow lots more food there than in thistiny garden."

"William loves having all the herbs from your garden," Jamie said."And Miyoko sure seems to make every square inch count ... we gottons of vegetables last summer ..."

Catherine laughed. "It's hard not to get tons of zucchini." "Butyou're right, Miyoko's a miracle worker. Wait until thissummer--she's convinced me we can put in a roof garden, with somedwarf fruit trees." Catherine turned and began walking toward thehouse, as Eric regaled them all with a lecture on how a roof gardenwould help reduce the greenhouse effect.

When they returned to the house Catherine discovered that asomewhat chastened Devin had been freed from his confinement in thekitchen, and the indoor portion of the party had made swift work ofputting the furniture back into its pre-Christmas configuration.Taking down the tree always made Catherine a little sad--she so lovedthe whole wonderful month from Thanksgiving to Christmas. She oftenvisited Jenny's family during Chanukkah, and now she had Winterfestbesides. Twelfth Night always felt like the coach was turning backinto a pumpkin, and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it. Oh,well, there was always Vincent's birthday to look forward to, andValentine's Day ... now that had some interesting possibilities.

"Well, the intrepid explorers have returned from the back yard,"Jenny announced. "That's my cue to make an exit."

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Catherine asked in surprise. "Iwas hoping you could stay for lunch."

"Only if I want to look for some new parents," Jenny laughed. "Ipromised I'd be in Brooklyn ten minutes ago."

"Well, I owe you one," Catherine insisted as she accompanied Jennyto the front door. Once they were out of earshot of the others,Catherine tucked her arm in Jenny's and gave it a grateful squeeze."And I don't just mean lunch."

"No problem. I didn't grow up with bratty older brothers fornothing, you know. Devin occasionally forgets Vincent's not twelveyears old anymore, and he's not fourteen--although sometimes he actsit."

"I know it's a little thing, but--"

"But Vincent still gets uncomfortable at faintly suggestiveremarks in front of the children. Frankly, I think the children canfigure things out on their own, but they're too mature to let on.Everybody Below is so careful to respect one another's privacy ...Devin's lived Above so much, I guess he tends to forget thatsometimes. A little reminder now and then couldn't hurt."

Catherine grinned as she helped Jenny on with her coat. "I'm notsure it's accurate to call Vincent's foot a little reminder."

Jenny looked smug as she tugged on her boots. "Maybe not, but it'sdarned effective. Between him and me we'll civilize Devin yet."

Catherine handed Jenny her gloves and scarf. "I always thoughtwhat Devin needed to civilize him was a wife."

"And you're disappointed that I'm not it."

Catherine raised her hands in admission. "Good grief, between youand Vincent I can't hide anything. I don't know ... I thought you'dbe good for him, but I wasn't sure I really wanted to wish him on mybest friend."

"Friends is exactly what Devin and I are. We hit it off from thevery beginning of the Great Honeymoon Caper. We make a great team,just not a romantic one. Besides ..." Jenny hesitated.

"Besides what? C'mon Jenny, give."

"Well, have you noticed how much he's talked about that newdoctor? The one that just joined her father up in the boondocks whereDevin and Charles are living?"

"Spoken like a born-and-raised New Yorker. You think something'sgoing on?"

"I sure do. He talked about her last spring when we were providingHoneymoon Escort to you and the groom. I got the impression that evenif I'd wanted to make a play for Devin, the good doctor hadvaccinated him against other women, even though he'd only met her afew times back then. He was cool about it, but you know me ... I'vegot a feeling." With a last fling, Jenny got her scarf properly woundaround her neck. "Poor Cathy, you must be frustated. You've beentrying to be such a matchmaker lately. You must be happily married orsomething."

Catherine's smile was so wide Jenny was afraid she'd dislocate herjaw. "Or something." She gave Jenny one last hug before sending heroff on her journey to the wilds of Brooklyn.

The rest of the group needed no urging to stay for lunch. Astill-contrite Devin volunteered to prepare most of it, regaling themwith anecdotes (some of them probably true) of his days as a chef.The flow of talk and laughter continued through the meal and thesubsequent clean-up, until the Tunnel contingent reluctantlydeparted. Devin and Charles were leaving the next morning for theirhome in the Adirondacks. Between packing for their trip and preparingfor tonight's farewell dinner, they'd have plenty to occupy them forthe rest of the day.

Only Eric lagged behind. "Catherine ... I was wondering ... couldI stay for a while?"

Catherine regarded the boy with benevolent affection. "I supposeyou want to see some of those videos I taped for you."

"Yeah! There's one of a real operation! Father won't let me watchhim, and besides, nobody's been hurt bad enough to need one lately."Catherine raised her eyebrows at his obvious disappointment. "Andthere's a whole bunch about how the brain works and ..."

"Whoa! Are you sure you don't have things to do Below? I don'twant you playing hooky from your chores."

"No, honest, I've done all--" His face fell. "Unless you andVincent want to be alone. Father says it's not polite to inviteyourself someplace. I don't want to get in your way." Eric looked atthe floor dejectedly.

Catherine wondered what Eric imagined he'd be getting in the wayof, then decided not to pursue the thought for her own peace of mind."Eric, of course you can stay, but don't forget the dinner tonight.We'll be going Below in a few hours. Why don't you go uptairs and usethe TV in the big guest room?"

A transformed Eric nodded eagerly as he turned toward the stairs,only Vincent's voice stopping his headlong rush. "Go to the basementfirst and tap out a message for Pascal, so he knows where you are. Wedon't want anyone to think you got lost when the others returnwithout you." Before Vincent stopped speaking, Eric was disappearinginto the kitchen, headed toward the basement stairs.

Vincent shook his head in amazement at all that childish energy,while Catherine slipped an arm around his waist. "If only someonecould bottle that, they could make a fortune with the DA's officeconcession. Especially Monday mornings and Friday afternoons."

As Vincent put his arm around Catherine, they headed toward thelibrary by unspoken agreement. After adding wood to the waning fire,Vincent settled gratefully beside Catherine on the large sofa thatfaced the flames. Nestling against him, she sighed contentedly."Mmmm. You know, I think this is my second favorite room in thehouse."

"I'm sure Devin would be eager to suggest which is our favorite."

Catherine pulled away enough to search Vincent's face. "He didn'treally mean anything by it. Sometimes he just opens his mouth beforehis brain is completely in gear. He'd never hurt you on purpose--"

"Catherine--" Vincent shook his head. "I'm not hurt. In fact, Irealize Devin only behaves that way with people he loves and trusts.For twenty years, his survival depended upon just the opposite--neverspeaking without thinking, in case the mask might slip. Never reallytrusting anyone completely. The way he acts with us is a testament tohis love for us, and his trust in us."

Before Catherine could reply, an indignant kitten bounded into theroom, full of feline complaints about being excluded from thetree-removal party. Bulwer's "help" during its decoration haddestroyed a number of ornaments and almost brought the tree down onMouse's head. This had resulted in his permanent banishment from theliving room for the duration of the holidays. In the privacy of herown thoughts, Catherine considered that being on the receiving end ofsome other creature's mayhem might be a salutary experience forMouse, although probably not for long. Having delivered his diatribe,Bulwer apparently decided to forgive his adoptive parents. Jumpingonto Vincent's lap with a last loud meow, he kneaded and circledenergetically for a moment, then curled up and promptly went tosleep.

This comedy relief did nothing to derail Catherine's train ofthought. "Perhaps it doesn't exactly hurt you, but it does make youuncomfortable sometimes."

"Sometimes," Vincent agreed. "I have always been ... inhibited, Isuppose you would say, about those things which emphasized mydifferences. Swimming together as children, going at times when noone else was there. And after Lisa ... even though Father told as fewpeople as possible, I always wondered how many knew or guessed.Anything ... sexual became a source of pain for me. Either ittantalized me with longings for something I was sure I could neverhave, or it reminded me of the differences that set me apart. It tookme years to reach a point where I resigned myself to a life of studyand service to the others Below. I would be friend, protector,confidante, surrogate brother or uncle. I buried the need forphysical pleasure, for passion, under carefully assembled armor."

"Until I came along and it fell to pieces."

Vincent nodded. "For which I shall be forever grateful. But that'sone of the reasons Father was so hostile to you at first; that andhis memories of Margaret. He saw how difficult my task had been overall those years, and how delicate the balance that I finallyreached."

Catherine watched Vincent's hand as it stoked the sleeping kitten."You are getting used to love and marriage, though. For instance, youdon't wear quite as many layers of clothes as you used to. It's hardto believe now that a little over a year ago, I'd never even seen youwith your shirt off. Talk about hiding your light under a bushel ..."

Vincent laughed softly. "Unimagined pleasure does take a littlegetting used to. In the privacy of conjugal conversation I'll evenadmit that most of the time I rather like the kind of remarks thatDevin and his ilk direct our way. It makes me feel ..."

"Smug?" Catherine suggested, smugly.

"Proud," Vincent corrected, although Catherine's description wasat least as accurate as his own. "But the inhibitions of a lifetimedo not die easily, especially when the children are present."

"Children who are probably a lot more astute than we give themcredit for." Catherine gave Vincent a wifely kiss. "What shall we dowith the rest of the afternoon that won't shock Eric'sless-than-delicate sensibilities?"

With a warm kitten on his lap and a warm wife curled up besidehim, Vincent was almost comatose with contentment, but he rousedhimself enough to speak. "We could begin another chess game."

Catherine frowned. "I don't know about that. If I keep playingwith you pretty soon I'll be good enough to beat Father on a regularbasis. That would break his heart. Besides, I'm too comfortable tomove all the way to the other side of the room. Why don't we finishTehanu?" At Vincent's nod of agreement, she turned far enough toreach the book where it lay on the table behind them.

The afternoon melted imperceptibly into evening as they read toeach other, alternating chapters. The flow of words was punctuatednow and then by feeding the fire, or wandering to the kitchen fortea, or watching Bulwer's antics when he abandoned one of their lapsto dissipate his constantly renewed supply of kitten-energy.

"But it did not seem to matter. There were new things to be learned, no doubt. And she could send somebody for the books, if Ged wanted them. And for her spinning wheel ... They would have to replant Ogion's garden right away if they wanted any vegetables of their own this summer. She thought of the rows of beans and the scent of the bean flowers. She thought of the small window that looked west. 'I think we can live there,' she said."

As the last echoes of Vincent's voice faded into the faint whisperof the dying fire, Catherine held the moment to herself like aperfect flower in her hand. Summer would come again to them as well,summer upon summer. She and Vincent could sit in their garden again,in the fragrant darkness, while the canopy of leaves protected themfrom curious eyes. No life without limits, indeed; but with care andimagination limits could be stretched. Like Miyoko's small miracle ofa garden in the bowels of the earth...

"Catherine?"

Opening her eyes, Catherine stretched in unconscious imitation ofBulwer as she brought herself back to more immediate concerns. "Isuppose it's about time we went Below." Rising from the sofa, shekissed Vincent and Bulwer on their furry noses. "Why don't you twoentertain each other while I change into something a little morefestive. It'll only take a few minutes." As she climbed the stairs,Catherine mentally reviewed her wardrobe. The blue jumpsuit--dressy,but comfortable enough for the Tunnels--and Vincent particularlyliked the way it ... about to open the door to their bedroom, she wasstartled to hear faint sounds coming from her office across the hall.Changing her direction abruptly, she poked her head in the door."Eric! Are you still here?"

Absorbed in the figures that filled the screen, Eric almost jumpedout of his chair at the sound of Catherine's voice. "It's OK, isn'tit? You said I could use it whenever--"

"Whenever you want. Of course it's OK," Catherine reassured him."I'm just surprised to see you're still here. It's almost time fordinner, you know."

"It is? I was just trying to figure out a way to help Miyoko keeptrack of things easier. You know, like plant breeding records, andnutrient mixes, and ... well, I guess I just don't know enough yet--"

"And you're not going to learn it in the next five minutes, so whydon't you shut down and get ready to come with us?"

"Yeah," Eric sighed. "There's so much to learn." He turned toCatherine. "It's really neat, though. How come you never had onebefore?"

"Never really needed one, I guess. In my old job I spent more timeon the streets and less in my office--it was faster and easier to getEdie or someone else to do it. Gosh, I miss her ... anyway, I spendmore time in the office now and I've learned how to do more of thatsort of thing myself."

"And I bet you can do a lot of the same things from home, too.That way you don't have to stay at the office so late, and Vincentwon't worry so much."

Catherine gave Eric a quick hug. "You're one smart kid, you knowthat? That's one real big reason. Besides, I'd rather be at home withVincent even if I'm working and he's doing something else. I justlike being in the same house with him. Speaking of which, this houseis so much bigger than my old place, I've got room for things likethis."

Eric was quiet for a moment as he carefully shut down the computerand shrouded the equipment in its protective coverings. "Catherine--"he began hesitantly.

"What?"

Eric took a breath. "I think your new job is great. I know youchanged mostly because it was safer, but Jamie told me you spend alot of your time helping kids who've been hurt. I'll bet you're realgood at it, too. I'll never forget how you helped me and Ellie." Hisvoice cracked a little at the last word, and he stared at theshrouded computer, avoiding Catherine's eyes.

When she could trust her own voice, Catherine answered him gently."Thank you, Eric. I'll remember what you said when things get rough."

Suddenly a golden streak shot in the door and bounced off the deskto land on Eric's shoulder. The solemn mood was broken as Vincentfollowed Bulwer at a more sedate pace. Catherine turned to him,contrite. "I'm really going to get dressed now, I promise. Would youtwo gentlemen be so good as to feed Master Bulwer while I do that?"Eric nodded eagerly. Animal behavior was even more interesting thancomputers.

Catherine thoroughly enjoyed the communal dinner Below. Devin wasin a more subdued mood, now that his departure from the Tunnels wasnear at hand. Both he and Catherine found themselves on thedishwashing detail, while Vincent was taken away for Reading-to-Sleepduty as the younger children were put to bed. For a while, Devinconcentrated on providing a steady stream of dishes for Catherine todry. When a slowdown in the dirty dish delivery system caused atemporary lull, Devin fidgeted for a while, then spoke in a rush."You're not too ticked off at me, are you Cath?"

Catherine exchanged her towel for a dryer one, letting him stewfor a moment, then shook her head. "Not really. I think part ofVincent enjoys being teased about our marriage--it reinforces thereality of it." She folded and unfolded the towel before speakingagain. "You know, just last week he told me that sometimes, beforehe's completely awake, he gets the sudden conviction that he'sdreamed it all, and he'll wake up alone."

Devin stared at the soapy water. "God, to think he still ...you've been married almost nine months, and ... uh ... where the hellare those dishes, anyway?"

Catherine laughed and snapped her towel at Devin. "And sleepingtogether longer than that, you were about to say. Over a year, as youand probably everybody else around here knows by now." She becameserious again. "In some ways I'm grateful to you for constantlyreminding Vincent that his dreams really have come true. He did anawfully good job convincing himself they never would--or even worse,convincing himself there were dreams he didn't deserve to have. It'lltake more than a year of loving to make up for the doubts of alifetime, but I'm working on it, and I'll take all the help I canget. Just go easy when the kids are around, OK? Vincent may be awonderful teacher, but I don't think he'd be thrilled at the prospectof answering a 'What does Devin mean?' kind of question."

Devin's reply was delayed by the arrival of another pile of dirtydishes. "I promise--or at least I promise to try. I have to keepreminding myself how much I missed in those twenty years away fromhere. When I left the Tunnels Vincent was a kid; when I came back hewas a grown man and in love--although it took him a while to dosomething about it. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself forrunning out on him. I know I could have made those years a lot lesspainful."

"Hey," Catherine reminded him, "things turned out pretty well inthe end. Don't you start blaming yourself for everything, Vincentdoes enough of that for both of you." She began drying dishes withrenewed vigor. "C'mon, let's change the subject. Charles lookswonderful--he must be getting excellent medical care."

Devin threw up his hands, forgetting for the moment they wereimmersed in dishwater. Soapy drops flew in all directions. "I knewit. You've been talking to Jenny."

"Why Devin, whatever do you mean?"

"Hey, Chandler, that innocent routine may work with a jury, butI'm immune--I was a lawyer for a while, remember? Yes, Charles isgetting terrific care from the doctors Corbeau, both father anddaughter. Yes, Doctor Amanda Corbeau is a terrific woman, and we'vebeen getting closer. That's all I'm going to say for now--I don'twant to jinx anything. I promise, if there's any importantdevelopments you and your hubby will be the first to know--presumingJenny doesn't dream about it and tell you first."

Catherine beamed at Devin. It was about time he settled down, andevents were beginning to look extremely promising. Squirming underher implacably benevolent gaze, Devin tried to distract her. "Just aswell for Vincent. Otherwise you'd eventually come to realize that I'mthe more appealing brother by far--"

"In your dreams, Wells," Catherine countered.

"Oh yeah? Give me two good reasons why I'm not more attractivethan Vincent." The silk-and-gravel voice that suddenly rumbled behindDevin almost caused him to drop William's favorite serving platter."One, you're much too scrawny. Two--" Vincent looked his brother upand down, shaking his head in disappointment. "Much too naked."

"Whaddya mean, naked? Standard Adirondacks winter issue--turtleneck, flannel shirt--"

"He means," Catherine explained while hugging her decidedlyunscrawny husband, "that despite the return of the beard, you'reinsufficiently furry."

Devin looked at his soapy arms and shrugged. "Humph. Guess I'lljust have to find someone who appreciates my type."

"Anything is possible," Vincent replied, smiling down atCatherine.

Catherine smiled back. "I'm surprised to see you so soon. I wassure we'd have the dishes finished long before all the little onesgot to sleep."

"My voice," Vincent admitted, "seems to have quite a soporificeffect on young children."

"Mmmm." Catherine almost purred. "That's not the effect it has onme."

"Hey you two, break it up," Devin commanded as he flickeddishwater on them. "We still have dishes to wash." The few thatremained were finished in short order, and Vincent helped with thefinal cleanup of the kitchen.

Many hours later, Catherine and Vincent crawled gratefully intobed. The bon voyage party had lasted much longer than anyoneanticipated. Devin had become quite a favorite of the Tunnelcommunity, especially after his lengthy visit at the time of theirwedding. The children were especially loath to see him leave, sincehe was an apparently inexhaustible source of wonderful stories. Devinclearly had mixed feelings; an obvious desire to make up for the lostyears warred with an equally obvious desire to return to themountains where he'd made a life for himself and Charles. A life thatwas definitely getting much more interesting, Catherine mused.Vincent settled back after turning out the light, and slipped his armunder Catherine's head as she curled up beside him.

"Vincent?" Catherine asked tentatively. "Are you too tired totalk?"

"No," Vincent replied, "but you should be. You have work tomorrow,and it's already past midnight."

"Dear heart, in our early days together we got by on a lot lesssleep. I wanted to ask you something about Eric."

"Is something wrong? Did he say--"

"No, no--don't worry. There's nothing really wrong, but I'venoticed lately than he's developed quite an interest in science. Hedevours anything Jenny or I can get in the way of books or videos."

Catherine felt Vincent relax against her when he realized therewas no serious problem. He was particularly fond of Eric, as he hadbeen of Ellie. Only lately had he begun to examine those feelingsdeeply enough to wonder if they stemmed from the fact that they werechildren Catherine brought him, at a time when the idea of Catherinegiving him children any other way had seemed as impossible assprouting wings and flying over the Abyss. Reaching out his otherarm, he gathered Catherine even closer.

"You're not the only one who's noticed. Father mentioned it nottoo long ago. Eric's been trying to wade through Father's medicalbooks and journals, and asking him questions until he feelsthoroughly wrung out."

"Vincent, you're the best teacher any child could hope to have..."

"But my background in science is limited. Father's is better, ofcourse, although he has so many demands on his time little is leftfor teaching. Do you think Eric needs more than we can provide?"

Catherine didn't answer at first, as she made little circles onVincent's chest with her fingers. "Well ... "

Her fingers felt the chest under them shake with soft laughter."Catherine, your reluctance to admit there's anything I can't do isquite flattering, but unnecessary. Father is well aware of our lackin this area, but it's only temporary and in fact is about to end."

"What do you mean?"

"One of our long-time Helpers, a second-generation one in fact, isa high school science teacher."

Catherine was intrigued. "I've never met him, have I?"

"No ... when he used to come Below often, you didn't. By the timeyou began to visit regularly, he was gone."

"Where was he? Wherever it was, it sounds like he's coming back."

"His parents were both teachers also, and valued Helpers ... butthe weather in New York began to bother them a great deal when theygot older, and they moved to Florida after they retired. About twoyears ago, Benjamin's father became quite ill, and his mother wasunable to cope alone. Benjamin moved down there to help, since he isthe only one of the children without a family of his own. His fatherdied last Fall, and now that his mother feels able to be alone,Benjamin has returned. He didn't quite make it in time forWinterfest, unfortunately."

"Yes, I'd very much like to meet him. He doesn't have a wife orchildren?"

In response, Vincent held Catherine more tightly for a moment,almost in reflex. "No ... he was engaged once, quite a few years ago.His fiancée was killed, run down by a drunk driver. He's neverfound anyone else." Catherine raised her face to Vincent's and gavehim a reassuring kiss. Vincent kissed her back in gratitude."Benjamin is such a good man ... I never would have believed the daywould come that I would have a wife, and he would not."

Sleep was beginning to overtake Catherine at last, but she rousedherself for one last time before giving in. "And you're going to haveone for a good long time, love--so get used to it."

The afterglow of the weekend lasted about ten minutes onceCatherine returned to work the next morning. It seemed like everygremlin that could bedevil her day had been lying in wait, ready tospring on her Monday morning. Witnesses whose memories began to failthem, women who decided to give their husbands one more chance anddropped charges despite bruised faces and broken bones ... a pile ofnew child abuse cases seemed to have spontaneously generated inCatherine's IN basket, any one of them capable of breaking her heartif she let it. Despite reminding herself regularly of Eric'ssupportive words, by mid-afternoon Catherine was nursing a king-sizedheadache--and it was about to get worse.

"Well, my adorable Cathy, you look like you're having a bad day.What you need is to go out for a drink after work with a handsomeyoung attorney--me, for instance. There's this intimate littleplace--"

"Whoa, Fred!" Catherine groaned, rummaging in her drawer foraspirin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't I mentioned beforethat I wasn't interested? Several times?"

The obnoxious Frederick Cabot, Esq., waved his hand dismissively."You're just playing hard to get. You're not married or even engaged,I've been checking. So why not? C'mon, Cathy, we'll be greattogether, you're just my type. I'll bet ..."

"Fred! Just the person I need." Joe loomed up behind Catherine'swould-be suitor, who quickly scrambled off the corner of her desk."Jack was supposed to take this deposition, but I just found out he'sbeen in a car accident. Get over to the Tombs right away and fill in.Good thing you were here."

Fred looked at the paperwork and blanched. "You want me to take adeposition from Mad Dog Kaminsky?"

"That's what it says. He got picked up for aggravatedassault--beat up three guys in a bar. He's probably a little tiredafter that, but make sure the guard stays close. We don't want himattacking one of our ADAs again."

"Again?" Fred croaked.

"C'mon, Cabot, you haven't got much time, so get moving." Joe spunaround, all business, and headed back to his office. "Ms. Chandler,I'd like to see you in my office immediately."

Catherine rose smartly and followed, not even sparing a backwardglance for the hapless Fred. She closed the door behind her andslipped into a chair opposite the desk where Joe Maxwell sat, lookingevery inch the stern boss. Catherine regarded him silently for a fewseconds. "Ms. Chandler? I almost said, 'who's she?' You haven'tcalled me that since the day I was hired."

Joe's face crumpled with laughter. "Sounded impressive, though,didn't it?"

Catherine joined him. Poor Fred. "Just as soon as I stop laughing,remind me to give you a stern lecture about overprotective meddling.I'm a m--a grown woman, for Pete's sake."

"And Fred's an arrogant little pain in the butt who should bekeeping his mind on his job and not hassling one of my best people.You don't have to put up with that kind of crap, it's practicallysexual harassment."

Catherine stopped laughing. "It's hardly that, Joe. Believe me, ifit were I'd do something about it. He's just ruder than most."

"Most? How many guys around here are hitting on you, anyway?"

"Probably more than there would be if my ADA salary were my onlysource of income." Catherine shrugged. "What do you expect? I'm welloff, I'm not about to break any mirrors, and they assume I'mavailable."

"But you're not, are you?"

Catherine squirmed. "Not to them."

Joe noted her discomfort, her averted gaze. "Not to anybody, ifyou ask me. You've been different ever since you came back to workafter last Christmas. This new job of yours must be depressing ashell, working mostly with abused women and kids-- but I've never seenyou so happy. More than that. There's something so settled aboutyou."

Catherine stared at her shoes. "I'm a homeowner now, remember."

"Kid, if buying a house could make a person look like you havethis past year, the real estate market would be better than it is."Joe sighed. "Look, if I'd been splashed over the tabloids the wayyou've been, I'd want to keep my private life pretty quiet, too. Justdon't forget I'm here if you need me."

Catherine raised her eyes to Joe's face. "Believe me, I neverforget that. It means a lot to me, and always has. I couldn't have abetter boss, or a better friend."

Joe got up from behind his desk, gathering up his darts on theway. "Something tells me the first complicates the second." He tosseda dart, hitting the wall next to the board. "Beat it, Chandler." Hegrinned. "If you value your skin."

With a last grateful smile over her shoulder, she left and shutthe door behind her. Joe stared at the closed door for a moment, thencontinued to toss his darts, one after the other.

Later, Catherine trudged wearily up the steps to her front door.Fred had never returned--maybe Mad Dog did beat him to a pulp.Catherine tried very hard not to feel pleased at the prospect.Unlocking the door, she concentrated on sloughing off her lawyer skinand wondered if Vincent was still Below. As soon as she closed thedoor behind her, Catherine knew he wasn't. The house always feltdifferent without him--emptier, colder. As she put away her coat andboots, Catherine wondered how much this feeling was just theexperience of living with Vincent every day, and how much anintensification of the bond in her direction.

Weariness temporarily forgotten, Catherine ran up the stairs tothe master bedroom, where she found Vincent waiting, reading by thefire. As soon as she crossed the threshhold he put the book down androse to take her in his arms. Hugging him as hard as she could,Catherine buried her face against him, soaking up the scent of him,the warmth of his body, and the almost tangible sense of peace hisnearness always gave her. After a moment she drew away.

"How did I ever survive my day without you to come home to? WhileI change, will you tell me what's going on Below? I need to hear howsane people spend their time." Vincent moved to the bed, the betterto talk to his wife as she moved between dressing room and bedroom.Coincidentally, this also provided a much better view as Catherineshed her work clothes and changed into comfortable slacks and asweater. She laughed out loud at his account of little Cathy'stemporary escape from Lena and the serious consequences to severalpiles of Father's books as well as his peace of mind. Devin andCharles had set off more or less on time, and promised to call assoon as the reached their home in the mountains. "I told Father Iwould let him know as soon as we heard."

Catherine flopped down on the bed with a grateful sigh. "So we'reon phone duty for now. That means we have dinner up here."

Vincent looked carefully at the faint lines of strain around herclosed eyes. "You look tired ... let me find something for us toeat."

Catherine opened her eyes. "There are plenty of things in thefreezer, don't worry. Days like this are the reason God mademicrowaves. I'm perfectly happy to be forced to stay alone up herewith you for a while. We'll go Below later and deliver Devin'smessage in person. I need to remind myself there are nice people inthe world."

Vincent gently stroked the hair away from Catherine's face. "Youhad a very difficult day, I could feel it. What happened?" "Oh, justthe usual ..."

"Catherine--tell me. It will help." I wonder, Catherine thought.Knowing he wouldn't rest until she had unburdened herself, she gavean abbreviated account of her day. Although the Fred incident washeavily edited and presented as amusing but peripheral, Vincentwasn't fooled. The furrow between his brows deepened, and his facebegan to assume the brooding look Catherine knew only too well.

"Vincent--don't make more of this than it deserves."

"It pains me that you are subjected to this. If you were marriedto a man you could acknowledge as your husband ..."

"Then I wouldn't be married to you, and I can't think of anythingmore awful than that. Besides, I'm not sure that would stop a jerklike Fred."

With the tips of her fingers, Catherine gently turned Vincent'schin until he faced her. "Dear heart, of course I'd like to telleveryone I'm as married as a woman can get, with such a wonderfulhusband that nobody else has a chance. The fact that I can't is asmall price to pay for being your wife. And if you don't believethat, I'm going to rip your clothes off right now and ravish you onthe spot."

Vincent still appeared morose, but soon his face softened. Helooked directly at Catherine and spoke in a patently insincere voice."I don't believe that."

Since Catherine was a woman of her word, he left her no choice. Along time later, after a perfect example of the rejuvenating benefitsof exercise, Catherine turned to Vincent and complained, "I nevershould have wasted all that time changing my clothes."

Several evenings later, Catherine made a slight detour on her wayhome from work. Entering the lobby of her old apartment building, shewas greeted by the doorman with such a look of mixed pleasure andnervousness she almost burst into giggles. He was probably terrifiedof her coming back here to live. No doubt he and the Tenant'sAssociation had been thrilled to see her go. Since she had convincedJenny to take over her old apartment, the level of unwantedexcitement had probably dropped considerably. If she'd rented theplace instead of owning it, she would have been evicted years ago.Riding up the elevator and knocking on the familiar door, a wave ofmemories assailed her.

"Cathy, hi! I'm glad you could come. If I trip over these boxesone more time I'll break something important."

Catherine regarded the pile of boxes with pleasure. Since Jennyhad become a Helper, the Tunnels had received a regular supply of thefree copies of books that publishers seemed so eager to toss around;many a chamber Below was decorated with the beautiful promotionalposters that come with them. "Wow, what a haul! This is sure to winyou the Helper of the Year Award."

For a moment, Jenny wondered if there actually was such an award.Nothing would surprise her anymore about that amazing place she haddubbed "The Magic Kingdom." She looked at the boxes dubiously. "Areyou sure you can take all this stuff? I know we agreed it would bebetter not to use the Tunnel entrance in this building any more thanabsolutely necessary, but ..."

"It's no problem, Jen. I made the New Yorker's ultimatesacrifice--I took my car today. If we call Luis downstairs he'll sendsomeone to carry them down, presuming you gave him a nice Christmastip. Brooke and Stephen promised they'd be waiting when I got home tohelp me carry the boxes."

"Well, if you're sure ... I should be the one to do this, butthings are so hectic right now ..." At an exasperated sound fromCatherine, Jenny capitulated. "OK, OK, end of guilt trip. The leastyou can let me do is give you tea or something before you tackle thejob."

"That sounds terrific." Catherine began removing her coat. "Thatwill give Brooke and Stephen more time to moon over each other in thelibrary while Vincent diplomatically removes himself to another partof the house."

While Jenny bustled in the kitchen, Catherine looked around theapartment. How different it was with Jenny's things in it. Catherinehad spent some of the best and worst times of her life within thesewalls, and yet she almost never thought of the place any more unlessshe was actually in it. Still, she hated the idea of selling it oreven renting it to a stranger. Walking to the french doors, shelooked out onto the snow-covered balcony. Some of the evenings shehad spent there with Vincent had been almost unbearably romantic--butthe days and nights spent in their new home, or their chambers Below,had eclipsed those memories. And most important, Vincent could cometo her now whenever he wanted without risking the dangers outside.Deep in her thoughts, Catherine jumped when she heard Jenny's voicebehind her.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Only the view," Catherine admitted.

"Well, you're welcome to look at it whenever you like, since youare my landlady." Jenny proceeded to set down a huge pot of tea andenough pastries to feed an army. "Although I imagine the view at yourplace is even better."

Catherine smiled fondly at her friend. One of Jenny's mostendearing traits was her unabashed admiration for Vincent as a hunk.Well, Catherine had always considered her a woman of taste andintelligence. "That it is. Vincent's not just a husband, he's anaesthetic experience."

Jenny eyed a poppy-seed homantash and debated with herself. "Well,as a supporter of the arts, maybe you should give tours like thedocents at the Metropolitan."

"Dream on. If you're very nice to me, maybe I'll let you come withus next summer when we go swimming Below." Jenny's reply was somewhatgarbled (the homantash won) but Catherine caught the gist of it.

"No, I do not mean skinny-dipping. And only if I think it won'tbother Vincent."

Jenny looked at Catherine sharply as she drank her tea. "I thoughtyou and Devin had worked things out. Something else is going on,isn't it? Don't tell me there's trouble in Paradise?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not really--just a lot of littlethings. Oh well," Catherine laughed ruefully, "I knew this job wastough when I took it."

"Want to talk about it?" Catherine was silent for some time,staring into her teacup as if the mysteries of the universe layrevealed at its bottom. As Jenny refilled the cup, she began tospeak. "It just gets on my nerves sometimes, having to pretend I'msomething I'm not."

"Like single?"

Catherine nodded. "I'm as a married as a person can get. It's hardto listen to the other women at work talk about their husbands, whileI have to sit there with my mouth shut. And I can't talk about datesbecause I don't have any. About the only people I go out with arePeter and you, and I doubt anybody thinks I'm romantically attachedto either of you. I'm always afraid they'll think I'm stuck upbecause I don't say anything. It's not that people are nosy--not mostof them, anyway, but you know how it is when you work with a lot ofother people. A certain amount of social grease is necessary to keepthe wheels moving. The hardest part is those stupid affairs you haveto go to, like the Mayor's Dinner. I know you get stuck with thosetoo."

"I'm glad I asked. Knowing you, I'll bet you never say things likethis to Vincent."

"How can I? You know what he's like. For years he kept trying tomake the noble sacrifice of giving me up, so often it began to getdownright irritating. Now that we're safely married he's stoppedthat, but he can still brood at the drop of a hat over how difficultit is for me to have a secret marriage. Good grief, it's nothingcompared to the gift of being his wife!"

"Did something in particular happen lately?"

"Monday was a real stinker of a day, not made any better by theobnoxious Fred. I tried to make light of it, but Vincent zeroed in onit right away. And he's always worrying about how I never goanywhere, in comparison with the dazzling social life I used to have.I wish I could convince him how boring it really was."

"Not completely," Jenny reminded Catherine. "You always lovedopera, concerts..."

Catherine sighed. "Well, yes. But so does Vincent--so when I do goI can never forget how much I want him with me, and how unfair it isthat he can't be."

Jenny reached across the table to touch her friend's hand. "I'msure it bothers you more than it does him." Catherine held her teacupin both hands, as if in need of its warmth.

"True. He keeps telling me that experiencing things Ienjoy--through the bond--is almost as good as being able to gohimself." Catherine drained the last of her tea and stood up. "I wishwe could talk longer, but I really should go home."

"OK, but you and I need to have a good long lunch soon, just usgirls."

"You're on, but only if you let me treat you--maybe Tavern on theGreen. No protests; it's cheaper than therapy."

"All right, just this once. Now I'll call Luis and get this showon the road."

Once Catherine reached home, the books were unloaded quickly.Stephen and Brooke were eager to get Below for dinner, since Williamdid not take kindly to latecomers. Catherine released them from dutyas soon as the books were inside the house. She still had to garageher car and walk back; they could always take the boxes Below later.If she and Vincent were late, they were unlikely to suffer anyconsequences. These days, Catherine could do no wrong in William'seyes. Between the fresh foods from her garden and the other rawmaterials that she supplied surreptitiously, she had made William herstaunch supporter. It also didn't hurt that she'd brought in a Helperwhose parents owned the best deli in Brooklyn. Between books andbagels, Jenny was high in William's estimation as well.

"I'm glad you're home," Vincent greeted her. "For more than theusual reasons."

"Speaking of the usual reasons," Catherine replied, "kiss mefirst, then you can tell me about it."

Vincent complied with his usual eagerness and thoroughness. WhenCatherine came up for air, he began to speak. "I was hoping that youcould come Below tonight. Benjamin is planning to visit after dinnerand I know you'd like to meet him."

"That sounds great. I'll change clothes in a minute." When Vincentbegan to follow, she turned around and stopped him, laughing. "You'dbetter stay down here--you know what happened Monday. I don't relishhaving to explain why we've missed dinner." Vincent agreedreluctantly, limiting himself to watching Catherine appreciatively asshe ascended the stairs.

Just in case, Catherine decided to bring William the bay leafwreath that Nancy Tucker had given her for Christmas. If he'd had anynotion of scolding them for being late, that bribe put it right outof his head. Catherine could practically see him mentally flippingthrough his recipe file, deciding how best to use this bounty. Afterdinner, Catherine and Vincent spent some time playing withCatherine's namesake, agreeing wholeheartedly with Lena that she wasan especially attractive and precocious little girl.

Mouse poked his head into Lena's door, practically bouncing up anddown with excitement. "C'mon, everybody! Ben's here!"

As he shot back out into the corridor, the others followed moresedately, although Catherine sympathized with Mouse. She was no lesseager to meet this long-absent Helper, and share with him some of theideas that been proliferating at the back of her mind since Sunday.When they reached Father's study, they had no need to ask where theguest was; the knot of chattering people by the big table told themthat. As the others became aware of their approach, the chatteringceased and the group shifted to allow Vincent and Catherine toapproach.

"Vincent!" As a deep voice rumbled his name, Catherine saw arumpled bear of a man reach out to hug Vincent with the sameunselfconscious affection that Vincent showed toward Father. Whenthey parted, Catherine's image of a bear was reinforced--a teddybear, mostly. The stranger was a few inches shorter than Vincent, butstocky, with a riot of dark curly hair and a full beard. The linesaround his eyes suggested a man who laughed a lot, and he exuded goodhumor. A very comfortable man, Catherine thought.

"It's good to have you back, Benjamin. You have been greatlymissed." When Vincent spoke again, the changed tone in his voicecaused Catherine to reach for his hand. "I'd like you to meetCatherine--my wife." Catherine almost cried at the mingled pride andwonder in that simple statement. Vincent had so few opportunities tointroduce her in that way, she was already grateful to this strangerfor providing one.

Extending the hand that wasn't entwined with Vincent's she greetedhim warmly. "I'm so happy to have the chance to meet you at last."

"And I you. I already knew Vincent was a remarkably intelligentman, but he's certainly proved that by marrying you." Vincent triedto look modest at this and failed miserably.

"How can you tell?" Catherine teased. "You just met me."

"Ah, but your reputation precedes you. You'd come into the picturebefore I left, but the way the kids talked about you I wasn't sure atfirst if you were real or legendary. I've only been back down herehalf an hour, and already I've heard a litany of your praises. You'vedone a lot as a Helper, I gather, but I get the impression everyoneBelow will love you forever just for putting that sappy expression onVincent's face."

"No sappier than the one he's put on mine. I'm sorry you missedthe wedding."

"Sorry doesn't half describe it--the Event of the Century as faras the Tunnels are concerned."

That was all the conversation they were allowed to have for sometime. Everyone wanted to greet Ben and tell him in detail everythingthat had happened since he'd been gone, preferably all at once. Thechildren who were old enough to remember him well seemed especiallydelighted to have him back. Catherine watched these interactionsattentively, plans blossoming in her head like her rose bush in theSpring. Tonight wasn't the time, but she was determined to get himmore or less to herself as soon as possible.

Sitting next to her on the spiral stairs, Vincent watchedCatherine watching Ben. Something was on her mind but he wasn't surewhat and wouldn't ask. The bond told him she was pleased, with anundercurrent of excitement and anticipation. The increased intimacyof marriage made him even more protective of her emotional privacy.Unless it signaled that she was unhappy or in danger, he let hisawareness of her feelings lie as a quiet undercurrent beneath thesurface of their daily lives.

"You seem quite taken with Benjamin."

"I think he's a complete sweetheart. I'll bet he's a greatteacher; look how thrilled the kids are--even Kipper, and he's hardlythe world's most dedicated student."

"He is. Eric knew him only a little while before he left. Benjaminwill be gratified to discover how science-minded Eric has becomesince then."

Catherine leaned her head against Vincent's shoulder, stillholding his hand. "I wonder how much that has to do with Ellie'sdeath. He never seemed that interested before--no more than he was inanything else."

"As Benjamin would be the first to tell you," Vincent replied,"coincidence does not prove causality. In this case, however, I'msure you're right. Ellie's death affected Eric deeply. After the mostacute grief had passed, he kept asking questions: why did Ellie dieand others live? why was I apparently immune? how could a sicknessthat had been known for so many years still be killing people? whycould no one prevent, or cure it?"

"Pretty hard questions," Catherine whispered. How could acts ofcompassion have such tragic consequences? She had rescued Ellie fromthe brutality of the streets to a place of presumed safety; Vincenthad pulled Dmitri from the death-grip of the sea and brought him tothe same presumed refuge. Now both were dead.

Catherine felt Vincent's lips on her hair. "Try not to mourn, mylove. Narcissa, among others, would say there is a greater purpose toit all."

"Maybe. It would help if I knew what it was." Vincent's empathycould still surprise her. Sometimes it seemed he could read her mindas well as her emotions. She determined to shake off this negativemood. The past couldn't be helped, but there were things she could doabout the future, starting now. "Vincent--I'd like to invite Ben fordinner at our house soon. Do you think he'd like that?"

"I'm sure he would. It would increase his estimate of myintelligence even further."

"Only if someone else does the cooking," Catherine laughed. "Ireally want to get to know him better, and I want to hear more abouthis teaching plans. There may be a way I can help."

"You are so good to us all."

"That's what family's for." Catherine turned to Vincent with alook that would melt the wax on ten candles."It's getting late. Whydon't we go home, and I'll demonstrate just how good I can be." Theywere gone so quickly no one saw them leave.

* * *

A little over a week later, Catherine stood in her kitchen,mentally ticking things off her list of pre-dinner chores. She turnedat the sound of the opening door, immediately losing her place in thelist. "Oh ... you look delicious!"

Vincent was clearly pleased but trying not to be too obvious aboutit. "Only because my wife has such excellent taste in birthdaypresents. Is this really a buccaneer shirt?"

"That's what the catalog called it--it does look like somethingErrol Flynn might wear, but he wouldn't look as good in it." Shemoved closer to Vincent to engage in a bit of collar- straighteningand sleeve-tweaking. "I liked it because it didn't look very Topside.It's made by a small company, almost a cottage industry. Why are yousmiling like that?"

"I was just thinking how much Devin and I would have loved shirtslike this when we were younger. We were quite taken with CaptainBlood at one time. Our pirate hideaway was behind the Near Falls."

"Really? Well, maybe we can give Devin one for his birthday--apirate shirt seems very appropriate. I'll bet Dr. Amanda will likeit. Maybe Devin can play pirates with her."

"Catherine, I never realized before we married that you could beso risqué. It's quite Elizabethan."

"Thank you. Now, much as I'd prefer to continue admiring you,there are still some things I have to do before our company comes."

"Such as?"

"Take these flowers into the dining room, for one."

Vincent followed Catherine as she moved into the next room, thenstopped in surprise as he saw the table. "Why are there four places?I thought only Benjamin was coming."

"Oh, I invited Jenny," Catherine replied lightly, scrutinizing thetable. "Didn't I tell you?"

"No," Vincent answered suspiciously. "I enjoy Jenny's company anytime, of course--but was there a particular reason you invited hertonight?"

"Well, you know I want to talk to Ben about ways I can help withhis teaching. Since Jenny gets a lot of books for us I thought sheshould be in on it too; she may be able to give Ben what he needs."Catherine sounded more like a lawyer trying to bamboozle a jury thana hostess explaining her dinner arrangements.

Suspicion became certainty. "She may indeed. But do you thinkshe'll be fooled for a moment?"

"I can't imagine what you're talking about." Catherine turned tothe door, avoiding her husband's eyes. "I really must get dressed.They'll be here soon."

Vincent watched her leave, shaking his head. The road to theirpresent happiness had been a difficult one. Catherine had apparentlyconcluded that if the path to true love was proverbially rocky, itwas best to hire a bulldozer early on. When Ben arrived he was giventhe complete house tour. He had just settled down in the library witha glass of wine when the doorbell rang again. Jenny had walked over,and it took several minutes to unwind her from the protectivecoverings necessary for even a short winter stroll.

Catherine scrutinized her friend. The cold gave her cheeks aflattering blush, and the snowflakes that managed to land on her haironly made it curlier. The kindness and good humor that were soul-deepin Jenny gave her face a combination of sweetness and animation thatCatherine had always loved.

"Why are you staring? Did I forget to button something?"

"I was just thinking how nice you look."

Jenny took Catherine's arm as they moved toward the library. "Onlya woman secure in the affections of her husband would be glad I lookgood. Let's go admire one of New York's finest and furriest sights."

"Actually, two," Catherine said quietly as they entered the room."Meet Ben Goldman--he's another Helper. Ben, this is my best friend,Jenny Aronson."

Mumbling something that sounded like "Yenta Alert" at Catherine,Jenny moved toward Ben with an outstretched hand and dazzling smile.Ben certainly looked appreciative, Catherine noted.

After a few minutes of conversation, Catherine excused herself. "Ijust need to take care of a few last-minute things in the kitchen.Vincent, would you help me?" Trying not to raise his eyes to heavenat this decidedly unsubtle ploy, Vincent followed.

Some time later, Ben sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh."That was a wonderful dinner, Catherine. And the conversation equallysatisfying."

"Well, I can't take much credit for either one. You and Jenny didmost of the talking. And as for the food--Vincent made the salad andI made the dessert, but our housekeeper was responsible foreverything else."

"Do you remember Margaret Maloney?" Vincent asked Ben.

"Maggie? Of course! She's your housekeeper?" Ben lookedthoughtful. "It's been years since I've seen her--she didn't come toWinterfest very often, as I recall. I thought she had a job living inwith some disgustingly rich family on Park Avenue. I remember beingappalled at what those people threw out, even though most of thestuff ended up Below. I'll never forget the time they tossed out thatbig erector set just because their kids got bored with it--"

"And Mouse used it to construct an automatic candle-dipper forRebecca," Vincent finished.

"Did it work?" Jenny wondered.

"At first." Vincent winced. "When it failed, it did so quitespectacularly. Unfortunately, I was in rather close proximity at thetime. After Mary finally cut all the wax out of my hair, I lookedlike I had been set upon by a mob of homicidal barbers."

Ben grinned at the memory. "So what happened to Maggie? Did shefinally get fed up?"

"No," Vincent replied sadly. "Despite the character of heremployers, it was a good position for her. They paid well, and shewas happy to be able to supply us with so many useful discards. Thenshe was in a fire ..."

Ben snapped his fingers. "I did hear about that. Dad's illness hadjust started getting serious about then, and I was prettypreoccupied. She recovered all right, didn't she? She must have, ifshe's working for you."

"Yes," Vincent continued. "But it was a long and painful process,and her face was badly burned ..."

Catherine, who had been slowly coming to a boil, finally couldhold herself in check no longer. "Those rotten people let her gobecause of the way she looked! They said she 'distressed theirguests.' After all those years they treated her like a piece offurniture that clashed with their decor!"

Vincent took Catherine's hand and squeezed it. Catherine took adeep breath and tried to calm herself. Memories of her own slashedface were still too vivid. There but for the grace of God andexpensive plastic surgery ...

Giving Catherine more time, Vincent took up the tale again."Margaret comes here during the week to care for the house. Catherinehas tried to convince her to live in, since the house is so large,but she doesn't wish to."

Catherine, her voice quieter now, broke into Vincent's narrative."It's silly for her to pay rent, and I know it's painful for her whenpeople stare on the subway. But she insists on keeping herindependence."

"It's my theory," Jenny offered, "that she also wants to leave thenewlyweds alone. The Irish have a serious romantic streak, I've beentold."

As intended, that brought the smile back to Catherine's face."Speaking of the size of this house, it's time to discuss the reasonI invited you tonight--other than the pleasure of your company."

"Do tell," Jenny remarked drily.

Ignoring her, Catherine continued. "I bought this house becauseI've loved it for years, and couldn't pass up the chance when an oldfamily friend decided to sell. But it is awfully big for two people;it makes me feel guilty to have so much space. I figured on usingextra bedrooms for people Below who want to make the transition toTopside, like Michael or Laura did. But there's no one at that stageright now, and a lot of space is sitting unused."

Ben smiled. "I can tell a Tunnel convert when I see one. Wastinganything drives you crazy now, doesn't it?"

Jenny matched his smile. "She badgered the DA's office for monthsto set up a paper recycling program. And she lectured her boss somercilessly he wouldn't touch a styrofoam cup now if his lifedepended on it."

Catherine made a face at her. "As if a certain publishing houseweren't getting a little pressure itself. Let me shift the subjectfor a moment." She turned to Ben. "Vincent's been telling me howvaluable you are to the children Below, teaching them science."

Ben looked embarrassed. "Vincent and the others teach them theimportant things--love of learning, and how to think for themselves.Teaching kids that have that kind of preparation is easy--and apleasure."

"I'm sure you're too modest." Out of the corner of her eye,Catherine caught the admiring look Jenny was giving Ben, and indulgedin a brief bout of self-congratulation before continuing smoothly."From everything I've heard, you're a terrific teacher. But what doyou do for equipment? It's such a technological world these days,computers are being used for everything. Some of the children willchoose to stay Below, but for others the Tunnels are a way-station, aplace to heal until they're ready to return Above. I want them tohave as many chances as they can when they get there."

Ben sighed. "You've certainly zeroed in on a problem. I have someequipment at home. I bought a loft way back in the days when theywere going cheap, and it looks a lot like Mouse's chamber most of thetime. But teaching high school is hardly the world's most lucrativeprofession. I can't keep up with the latest stuff. The public schoolsare so strapped they have trouble getting adequate equipment in thefirst place; when they do, they use it till it falls apart."

He leaned forward, becoming more animated as he became involved inhis subject. "Besides, that's only good for the kids who are able togo Above. Eric's still listed as a runaway, I know, so he shouldn'trisk going Topside. Same for Rosa's girls, among others. Even if Icould scrounge enough for Below, the stuff pulls too much power. Adrain like that would set bells off at Con Ed."

Catherine sat back, nodding at the confirmation of herexpectations. "How would you like me to make you an offer you can'trefuse?"

"Pardon me?"

"You've seen the house. Except for the solarium, most of the roomson the top floor are empty. How about turning them into labs? Tell mewhat equipment you need, and I'll see that you get it."

Ben stared at her, mouth open. "Are you serious? By God you are!But how--"

Catherine grinned at his astonishment. "I guess no one Below wascrass enough to mention it, but I am disgustingly rich, although not,I hope, disgusting."

Ben's face turned red as he tried to remember just what he'd saidabout Maggie's ex-employers. "I didn't mean ..."

"Ben ... I take no credit for it, or blame. My ancestors earnedit--honestly, as far as I know--I only inherited it." Catherinelooked lovingly at Vincent sitting beside her in his buccaneer shirtand patchwork vest. "My tastes are very simple these days. I'd lovethe chance for the money to do something besides earn interest."

Ben's words tripped over themselves as he thanked Catherineeffusively. "You're offering a teacher's dream come true! Eric willbe beside himself--heck, I'm beside myself. Mouse--" Ben stoppeddead. "Is your insurance paid up?"

Laughter rippled around the table as Catherine stood. "Don'tforget to add lots of fire extinguishers to your equipment list.Let's go upstairs so you can look at the rooms again, takemeasurements, whatever. I can hardly wait to start."

When the party finally broke up later that evening, Ben insistedon walking Jenny home before catching the subway. While he finished alast conversation with Vincent, Catherine accompanied Jenny into thefront hallway to retrieve her coat. "Am I forgiven?"

Jenny tried to be stern. "I should kill you. You know how I hatebeing fixed up. But ..."

"Yes?" Catherine held her breath.

Jenny looked up to see Vincent and Ben emerge into the hallway.She turned to Catherine, speaking very softly. "Chandler--I think nowI owe you one."

Ben was so excited at the prospect of "Chandler Labs" he beganwork almost immediately. Fortunately, and much to Catherine's relief,one of the Helpers was an electrician. This meant not only greaterspeed, but secrecy. She had worried that an outsider might concludeshe was some sort of mad scientist, or a computer hacker bent onbringing down the global banking system or starting World War III.

In the next month, many evenings found Ben asking if he could comeby. Catherine was a little amused at the obvious war within himbetween eagerness to work on his pet project and reluctance toviolate their privacy. Did everyone assume that she and Vincent didnothing but make love nonstop whenever they were out of sight?Appealing, but unrealistic. Not even Vincent could do that, and if hecould, she'd be in the hospital.

They left Ben to his own devices for the most part. Coping withMouse's eager help, and Eric's, was more than enough for anyman--even though Cullen was usually along to keep them in line. WhenCatherine and Vincent did drop in for one of their periodicinspections a few weeks into the project, they were amazed at theprogress that had been made. Most of the furniture was set up, andthe equipment that Ben had brought from his loft already in place.Extra computer hookups would take longer, and much of the newerequipment had been ordered but had yet to arrive. Still, it wasfinished enough that Ben had already begun giving lessons there.

"Vincent! Cathy--what do you think?" Ben beamed proudly at thebusinesslike setup.

"I'm astonished," Catherine admitted. "I never expected so muchprogress so fast."

"All it takes is a blank check and a lot of enthusiasm," Benlaughed. "Have I thanked you lately?"

"Not since you arrived ninety minutes ago," Catherine answered.

"Well, consider it repeated. See the latest addition? SomethingI've always considered words to live by." Prominently displayed onone wall was an elegant framed needlepoint that bore the legend,RESIST ENTROPY. "One of my colleagues made that for me before sheretired. She said if I planned to stay in the New York public schoolsystem I'd need it."

"I wonder if she'd make me one for the DA's office," Catherinemused.

"It's beautifully done," Vincent observed. "Are you sure youwouldn't rather have it at home?"

"No, I know it'll be safe here, as well as appreciated. Besides, Ireally have to clean out my loft a bit. It looks like some messy oldbachelor lives there."

Only when Catherine turned to him with a delighted look did herealize what he'd said. Seeing him desperate for escape, Vincent tookpity. "Eric is very excited about his new opportunities. Father hasbegun to hope the boy might consider a career in medicine, and takeover for him some day."

"Oh, he's well on his way already. You know I don't believe inkilling animals for classroom use ..."

"Yes." Vincent smiled. "So Eric has been scouring the Tunnelslooking for dead vermin to dissect."

Catherine made a face. "Oh, yuk! Are we getting a refrigerator inhere?"

"It's on order," Ben assured her, glad of the change of subject."And besides that ... do you know you have mice in your basement?"

Vincent regarded Catherine fondly as she squirmed. "For somereason, Catherine cannot bear to kill anything furry, even a rodent."

Ben looked at the two. Watching lovers made him feel verybenevolent lately. "Well, Bulwer doesn't seem to have the samescruples. He's become quite attached to Eric lately--"

Catherine sighed. "I suppose because Eric likes it when dead miceare dropped at his feet."

Jenny fidgeted. The fire was blazing nicely in the fireplace.Candles on the table. Dinner in the oven. Wine--good grief, had sheforgotten to chill the wine? She ran to the kitchen and pulled openthe refrigerator. Wine--OK good, OK fine, as a friend of hers waswont to say.

Doorbell. Doorbell! She rushed back to the living room, screechingto a halt just in time to avoid opening the door the hard way. Takinga deep breath, she managed to remember to check the peephole first,just in case it was some criminal type who hadn't heard CatherineChandler didn't live her anymore. She peered out. Definitely not acriminal type. When she opened the door, a bouquet of flowersentered, followed by Ben. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Jenny grinned in delight and confusion. "Valentine's Day wasweeks ago."

"Happy Early Valentine's Day, 1992."

Accepting the flowers, Jenny gave Ben a kiss. "Dinner will beready soon. While we're waiting have some wine and tell me how thelab project is going. Between work and the big pickup in my sociallife lately, I haven't seen Cathy in too long."

Telling about the lab lasted at least halfway through the dinner.Jenny was happy to eat and watch Ben as he enthusiastically describedtheir progress. Fortunately, he had decided the account of Eric'svermin could be shared at a time that didn't involve food. Then theytraded accounts of Life as a Helper, more anecdotes about theirfamilies, opinions on the Mideast Crisis, plans for the future ...Jenny had discovered early on that talking with Ben was one of themost satisfying and energizing things she'd done in years. Dinnerover, they settled on the sofa before the fire. Comfortable quietreigned for a while as they watched it flicker.

"Jenny?" Ben broke the silence. "Who's your cousin Myron?"

Jenny lifted her head from Ben's shoulder. "How did you know I hada cousin Myron? I'm sure I never mentioned him."

"No, you didn't--it was something Cathy said in passing. It wasn'tso much what she said as how she said it ... kinda gave theimpression he's not one of her favorite people."

"With good reason. Myron was one of Cathy's pseudo-dates."

"Her what?"

"Remember, only a few Topsiders know Cathy and Vincent aremarried--all Helpers. And me, of course. I'm the only one that washer friend before I became a Helper. None of her other friends know,and nobody at work."

"That must be tough on her."

"It is." Jenny snuggled back against Ben. "Most of the time shegives a pretty good impression of a dedicated career woman who's veryreticent about her private life because she's been splashed over thepapers once too often."

"But people would wonder if she never went out--she's wealthy, andalmost as pretty as you--she must get plenty of offers."

Jenny rewarded Ben with a kiss. "You sweet talker, you. She getstoo many--not to mention the occasional semi-official social functionshe can't get out of."

"God, I hate those." Ben shuddered. "I've had my share over theyears."

"Well, when things like that come up, Cathy needs to find guysthat look like dates but aren't really. Get her to tell you about thetime she went out with Devin. Better yet, get him to tell you, it'llbe even funnier."

"So what did Myron do to get on Cathy's you-know-what list? Make apass?"

"Heck, no! One of the reasons Cathy picked Myron was his totallack of romantic interest in her. Myron goes for tall, busty,bleached blondes."

"To each his own," Ben snorted, deciding to kiss a medium- sizedbrunette.

"Mmmmm," Jenny said some time later. "Where were we?"

"Myron."

"Right. Myron's problem is, he's a shrink. He concocted thiselaborate theory about why Cathy only went out with guys she wasn'tinterested in. He was positive she had developed this deep-seatedrejection of men because of her negative experiences. After all,everybody from complete strangers to her ex-fiance tried to kill her.And the ones that didn't try to kill her outright kept beating her upor sacrificing her to voodoo gods or--"

"Did you say voodoo?"

"I did. You missed a lot while you were gone."

"To put it mildly. OK, Myron developed this theory, but I stilldon't see why--oh, no. He told her, didn't he?"

"Bingo. You'd think somebody who'd been studying human behaviorall those years would have more sense."

"Did Myron survive the experience?"

"Oh, he probably doesn't even know she's mad at him. Cathy'sperfectly capable of kicking a guy in the--where it hurts, ifnecessary. But unless she's defending life or honor, she's usuallypretty polite."

"It's really not such a bad theory, just totally wrong. And notmuch help to Cathy," Ben decided. "If it got around all her friendswould think she was seriously neurotic, and start figuring out amillion not-so-subtle variations on 'get thee to a therapist.'"

"Very perceptive. Anyway, it's all academic. Myron just gotmarried last fall."

"To a tall busty blonde?"

"Actually," Jenny grinned, "to a tiny redhead with a plan."

"Oh, Jenny," Ben laughed. "I could listen to you talk all night."

"I hope not," she replied so softly Ben wasn't sure he heard.Standing up, she reached out a hand to him. "It's warmer than usualtonight. How about getting a good look at the most romantic view inManhattan?"

Ben followed her onto the balcony. It was a little chilly, butbearable if you had someone close to put your arms around. They spenta moment looking at the view in silence, then Jenny began to speaksoftly.

"Standing here, I've often thought of all the times Cathy andVincent must have spent here before I knew he existed. It must havebeen awful for her, bearing that secret all alone for so long. AndVincent--can you imagine loving a woman so much you risk your lifejust to see her? To touch her?"

"Yes," Ben whispered. "I can."

Leaning against the solid warmth of his body behind her Jennyshivered, though not with the cold. "Ben--since I've lived here, Ifelt the place was special. I--well, I sort of feel things, youknow."

"I've heard about the famous Jenny dreams."

"I can understand why Cathy didn't want to give this place upcompletely. A lot of bad things happened to her here, but so manygood things, so much love. Enough to more than balance the scales. Somuch I can feel it in the air, in the walls." Jenny moved out of thecircle of Ben's arms, but held on to his hand. "Let's go backinside." As he turned toward the doors they had come through before,she stopped him. "Not that way. This way."

Ben's grip on Jenny's hand tightened. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure. This place has seen plenty of love; it's about time itsaw more."

Ben nodded, and followed Jenny toward the bedroom. "Let's add ourshare to the balance."

Catherine stared moodily at the street. In Spring a young woman'sfancy turns to thoughts of love ... unfortunate, when her husband'sturns to thoughts of leaks. And floods. It was almost April, stillpipe-patching and dribble detection season Below. No sooner wouldVincent get back than another breach would be discovered, and hewould be drafted onto yet another repair crew. She turned to thewindow, steeling herself to face the pile of work she'd brought fromthe DA's. The sensible thing to do was to spend this time catching upon it, while Vincent wasn't around to distract her. She hadn'tcounted on his not being here distracting her even more.

She opened a file and began to read, but after a few pages herthoughts began to drift again. Of course, it rained every Spring, butlast year at this time she and Vincent had been immersed in theirplans for the wedding. Or maybe it was the stupid Mayor's Dinner thatwas bothering her. Last year had been a lark. Devin had escorted her.Between the beard, an Australian accent, and his uncanny ability toput on a new personality, no one suspected her "date" was the sameyoung lawyer who had worked so briefly at the DA's the year before.It had been fun, like children playing "let's pretend," and Devin hadeveryone Below in stitches afterwards with his extremely irreverentaccount of events.

The memory brought a smile to Catherine's face, but it faded asthe present crowded in again. Too bad Devin lived so far away, andhad other responsibilites. He was such an accomplished imposter hecould be someone different every year and no one would catch on. Thedate-parking-the-car routine wouldn't work again. Not that it reallyworked the first time--who would believe she'd date men stupid enoughto take a car in Manhattan? Maybe Jenny would let her borrow Ben. Ofcourse, first she'd have to find Jenny. Catherine gave up on the fileand stared out the window again. At first Catherine was inordinatelypleased with herself at how successful her matchmaking hadbeen--until she realized the price. She saw so little of Jenny thesedays. Only now was she beginning to appreciate how much she countedon her being around, ready for dinner and the movies on short notice,or a visit to a gallery ... berating herself for selfishness,Catherine vowed to tackle the file again as penance when the phonerang.

"Jenny! I can't believe it--I was just thinking about you."

"Probably trying to remember what I look like."

"Well ... I have missed you, but I've no one to blame but myself.Getting you and Ben together seemed like a great idea at the time."

"It will go down in history as the best idea you've ever had, nextto falling in love with Vincent. Now it's my turn to have a greatidea, and I want to talk to you about it."

"Sounds intriguing. Do you want to come over?"

"How about going to Tavern on the Green next Saturday for thatlunch we never had? Except it won't be just us girls; there's somepeople I want you to meet."

"Why not? They've got more windows to watch the rain from."

"Hey, cheer up. Weather report says clear by the weekend. Gotta gonow, Ben's coming for dinner. Cath--he really is the nicest thing youever did for me."

Catherine's grey mood dissolved at the obvious happiness in herfriend's voice. "Hey, that's what friends are for, remember. Have agood time tonight, and say hello to Ben for me. See you Saturday."

Jenny's prediction turned out to be correct. Although it rainedFriday evening, Saturday dawned bright and clear. As she walked downCentral Park West, Catherine was buoyed by a feeling of renewal atthe sight of the park. In winter it always reminded her of anetching, stark branches against white snow and grey sky. Now it was awatercolor, all washes of pale blue and brand new green. Jenny waswaiting for her just inside the restaurant, and they were led to atable for four.

"So where are these mysterious people you want me to meet?"Catherine wondered.

"They'll be here soon, I'm sure. So, how have you been? Vincentstill doing a lot of pipe-patching?"

"Too darn much," Catherine complained. "The last job was so faraway he didn't make it back last night. I stayed Below just in case,but no luck. Father doesn't really expect the crew back until lateafternoon."

Realizing Jenny's attention was focused across the room, Catherinefollowed her gaze. Two men were approaching their table. One was acomplete stranger. About Ben's height, but thinner, at first helooked familiar to Catherine because he reminded her of many of theboys she had grown up with. The clothes, the easy confidence ... itseemed a hundred years ago now, a life that belonged to someone else.But if she met one of those long-ago sailing and dancing companionsnow, surely he would look just like the man walking toward her. Theother was older, taller and tweedier.

"Jenny--that's Carl Hoffmann. I've met him lots of times."

"Yup. Best science editor in the business, and we've got him."

"Enough commercial. Who's the other one?"

"That, old pal," Jenny replied, "is your date for the prom."

Before Catherine had time to demand an explanation, the menreached the table. After they seated themselves, Jenny performedintroductions. "Cath, you know Carl already. This is Paul Hancock,Carl's--"

"Longtime Companion, as Time so charmingly puts it." Hiseyes twinkled as he took Catherine's hand. "After Jenny told me wewere going to meet you, I discovered we have a tenuous connection. Mymother's on several committees with Kay Hamilton."

"Really?" Catherine's smile was genuine. "Kay's a dear friend,she's known my family for years. I even thought for a while she mightbe my stepmother."

"Yes--I actually met your father with her once, at thePhilharmonic. Kay was very attached to her late husband, from what mymother tells me. I doubt she'll ever remarry."

Catherine nodded. "I came to the same conclusion. I think myfather was the same way."

Conversation during lunch was interesting, and Catherinediscovered she was enjoying herself a great deal. She had alwaysliked Carl. He was rather formal, but a kind, generous man with agift for making the most arcane scientific concepts make sense. Jennyencouraged him to talk about a book he was editing on recent medicalbreakthroughs, knowing that Catherine would soak up as much as shecould to relay to Father. Not until the coffee was served did Jennybegin to assuage Catherine's curiousity.

"I know you're probably going crazy, Cath," Jenny apologized, "butI'm always afraid the waiter could be moonlighting for theEnquiring Star."

"What has that got to do with it?" Catherine was more confusedthan ever. "Are you going to tell me you've seen Elvis?"

"Hardly. I've just discovered that Paul has a problem similar toyours, and I think you could help each other out."

Catherine stared at Jenny. What problem could Paul possibly havethat was similar to hers? If Carl had fur and claws he was hidingthem well.

"Look," Jenny said, "let me explain about Paul and you'll see whatI mean. Carl can tell you that being gay in the publishing business,at least in New York, is no big deal. But Paul has a job that forceshim to stay pretty much in the closet."

"What do you do?" Catherine asked. "I just assumed--"

That I spent my time looking after my investments?" Catherinenodded sheepishly. "Don't look so guilty, it's not an unreasonableassumption. It's true that I don't depend on the job for mylivelihood. But I'm good at what I do, and I love doing it."

"He teaches elementary school," Jenny announced.

"Ouch," Catherine said. "I see the problem."

Paul shook his head sadly. "There are still an awful lot of peoplewho think 'gay' and 'child abuser' are synonymous."

"That's ridiculous," Catherine exclaimed. "I work with abused kidsall the time. Anybody who looks at the statistics--"

"You're preaching to the converted, Catherine," Carl interruptedgently. "Prejudice pays no attention to reality. Jews don't eatbabies, or engage in any of the other ridiculous things they've beenaccused of over the years. That didn't stop six million from dying inthe Holocaust. Or gays, or gypsies ..."

"The witch persecutions may have killed as many as nine millionwomen," Paul added. "For most of them, their only crime was beingold, or too outspoken--or maybe just knowing about herbs and keepinga cat."

Catherine stared into her cup. Vincent was the most loving,intelligent and sensitive man she had ever known. That hadn't keephim from being thrown into a cage and treated like an animal. "If Ican help you in any way, I'd be glad to. But how?"

Jenny took over. "If Paul were seen squiring a certain womanaround town now and again, it wouldn't hurt."

Paul watched Catherine carefully. "There are times when I'm forcedto attend events I can't get out of--work-related things, anoccasional charity function. Most of my women friends are marriednow, or involved. Please don't feel obligated; I can see Jenny didn'tprepare you for this ahead of time."

Catherine looked at Jenny. Clearly Jenny had told her friendsnothing about Catherine's situation. She was giving Catherine thechoice of how much to reveal. There was no one Catherine knew, exceptVincent, whose judgment of people she trusted more than Jenny's. Sheturned back to Paul. "I understand everything now, including Jenny'sparanoia about the waiter." She took a deep breath. "I'm secretlymarried, to someone I can't even be seen with in public. Who he is,and why it has to remain a secret, I can't tell you ..."

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything."

"You've been honest with me, I want to be as honest with you as Ican. Frankly, you could be an answer to a prayer. I'm tired of makingup creative explanations for why I never seem to go out. I go crazywhen one of those attendance-not-optional shindigs looms. I'mespecially tired of fending off the Freds of this world."

"The whats?"

"Never mind, I'll tell you that story some other time."

Paul searched Catherine's face carefully. "Does this mean there'llbe another time?"

Catherine leaned back in her chair and carefully folded hernapkin. "Mr. Hancock, would you do me the honor of accompanying me tothe Mayor's Dinner?"

Weeks later, Catherine moved along the familiar route between thehidden entrance to her house and her chambers Below. She wasimpatient, but the long dress and high-heeled shoes wouldn't let hermove any faster. She hadn't gotten very far before a familiar figureapproached. "Vincent!" She threw herself into his arms.

Catching her easily, Vincent swung around once then planted herdown in front of him. "I felt you Below, and it surprised me, Ididn't expect you so soon. Why didn't you take the time to change?"

"Well, you didn't have the chance to see me all dressed up beforeI left for the dinner ... and besides, I couldn't wait to see you. Imissed you."

"Dearest, you saw me only this morning." Catherine took his handas they began to walk toward their chambers.

"That was fourteen whole hours ago."

She was too busy watching her feet to see the quirk of amusementthat flitted across her husband's face before being forcefullysuppressed. "You should have at least changed your shoes," Vincentsuggested. "You could hurt yourself."

"Does this mean the honeymoon is over?" Catherine pouted. "I'mwearing a drop-dead dress, and all you can think of is my feet."

"Of course not," Vincent said diplomatically. "You lookbeautiful." Of course, she looked equally beautiful to him wearingher wedding dress, an old sweatshirt, or nothing at all, but hedecided this was not the time to mention it. "Did you have a nicetime on your date?"

Catherine whirled around to face him. "Vincent! It wasn't a date,not really--oh, damn! What is it with me and heels? They get near myfoot and they can't wait to fall off." Leaning against Vincent, shepulled off the offending shoe in exasperation, then the intact one.She moved forward tentatively and grimaced.

Manfully resisting the urge to remind Catherine of his warning,Vincent easily swept her up in his arms and continued their journey."You seem upset." He looked at her face for a moment, then saidgently, "Did you really think that I would be distressed by this?That I would be jealous?"

"Oh, God, I don't know ..." Catherine buried her face in Vincent'shair and mumbled into his ear. "I feel practically adulterous."

"Jenny warned me you might feel this way. There's no need." Hiswife didn't reply, burrowing deeper. "Oh, Catherine," he whispered.He carried her in silence for a while, until Catherine began doingthings with her lips and tongue he couldn't ignore. "If you do thatone more time, I may drop you."

Catherine continued, but stopped long enough to make one remark."Then maybe you'd better hurry." He hurried.

A great deal later, temporarily exhausted but extremely happy, heturned his head to regard Catherine speculatively. "If this is theresult, perhaps you should date more often."

Catherine punched him in the chest, laughing, then rolled over ontop of him. "You rat! All right, maybe I was a little silly, but itfeels strange to have people think I'm romantically involved withanyone who isn't you. It is a good idea, I know-- Paul is just thesort of guy most people expect me to go out with. Joe looked like hewas already trying to figure out what to buy me for a weddingpresent."

Vincent stroked Catherine's back contentedly. "Could that be aproblem?"

"Paul already thought of a solution. If I want to look more likeI'm playing the field, he's got several friends who'll be happy tooblige. It sounds like I could practically rent myself out."Catherine stopped speaking all of a sudden and began to rub her cheekagainst Vincent's chest.

"Is something wrong?"

Catherine sighed. "All this cloak-and-dagger stuff is fun, in away, but it also makes me sad and angry. It shouldn't have to be.Maybe our problem is unique, since you're pretty unique. But plentyof other people have similar ones. I don't feel quite so sorry for usanymore--I feel sorry for the world at large, needing to put peoplein little boxes and hating the ones that don't fit."

"We can only hope things will get better, love." Vincent put botharms around Catherine, holding her close to him. "Sometimes I thinkthere are only two kinds of people, creators and destroyers--thosewho build up, and those who tear down. I keep thinking of Benjamin'smotto--resist entopy." "It's a tall order, but it can be done. Lookat Father--he's one of the best entropy-resisters I know."

"And you are another."

"Me?"

"Ever since I've known you, your life has been devoted to stoppingthe destroyers, and helping others build, create meaningful lives forthemselves. And you've built a life together for us more completethan I ever dared to imagine."

Catherine slipped her arms behind Vincent's shoulders, hugging himhard. "I didn't do it alone," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "Perhaps that is the most powerful force of all.Look at the web woven around us--family, friends, Helpers. You gaveJenny a gift, she gave you one. You and Benjamin give Eric the giftof knowledge, and who knows what gifts he may give us back some day."

"You're wonderful, you know that? You always know just what to sayto make me feel better." They lay in comfortable silence for a whilejust holding each other. Then Catherine began to caress Vincentslowly, moving her hands over torso and thighs as she covered hisface and neck with little kisses. She shivered at the touch of hishands as they began to move over her skin, caressing it as gently asthe spring breeze caressed the new leaves in their garden. While shecould still speak, and think, she pulled away a little to look at hisface.

"Vincent--it's Eros and Thanatos again, isn't it? The life- force,love, against death. The creators and destroyers, the builders-up andtearers-down, entropy--it's all the same thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," he whispered, in a voice rough with feeling, and need.

"Then love me," she said. "Love me."

And he did, while candlelight flickered across the stoneceiling--and far above in their garden, a rose, eager to bloom,waited only for morning.

First published in Reflections in Candlelight (n.d.),edited by Rita Davies (UK)

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 most emotionalabout and the first (and so far only) one to inspire her to writefiction. She had seven "continuing classic" stories published in thelate 80s and early 90s, in zines now out of print. New storiesinclude the rather racy "My Furry Valentine" in the A Kingdom by theSea conzine and several in issues of Sanctuary.