AMANDA

*January - February 2014*

*(Flashback/September 1994)*

The chamber was hushed, lit by only a few flickering candles.Here, the tapping on the pipes was a distant sound, easy to ignore.Concentrating instead on the peaceful sound of Jacob's breathing,Amanda relished his warmth, his presence. Too soon he stirred.

"'Manda? Are you awake?" he whispered cautiously.

She thought about feigning sleep in the hope he would stay longer,but discarded the idea quickly. He would still leave, but shewouldn't have the comfort of a goodbye. "Mm-hmm," she murmureddrowsily.

Half-rolling to face her, he touched her cheek as she lifted hersleepy gaze to his. "I have to go," he said, regret shining from hisclear blue eyes.

Her arm, flung around his waist, tightened. "I don't want you to,"she protested.

"I don't want to, either, but I have an early class."

She frowned, thinking. "Let's see, tomorrow's Thursday... thatmeans Contemporary Literature, right?"

Chuckling, he kissed her nose and slipped out of bed. "That'sWednesday," he corrected, pulling on his worn and patched jeans."Thursday is Political Science."

"That's right," Amanda remembered, stretching and pushing back thecovers.

"Don't get up," Jacob said quickly, sitting on the edge of the bedwith his long-sleeved undershirt only half on, his light brown hairmussed from pulling it over his head. He slipped his other armthrough the sleeve before bending over her, his face only inches fromhers. "I don't want to disturb you."

"Your leaving disturbs me."

He sighed. "I know, 'Manda, but it can't be helped."

"Yes, it can." Amanda tried hard to keep her voice low andreasonable. "Quit school. Be with me."

He moved away from her and bent to fumble with his socks. "Youknow I can't do that."

She hated it when he shut her off like this. "What are youlearning at Columbia that you'll ever need down here? Why do you needcollege if you're going to live Below?" she demanded. "That life'snot for you."

He paused in the act of reaching for his leather-patched sweater."I know it isn't the way I want to spend my life, but college is anexperience I ought to have."

"That's your mother talking," she snapped. She couldn't quite keepthe bitterness from her voice.

He didn't reply, standing instead to stamp his feet into knee-highboots. Her conscience pricked, knowing how much these argumentsdistressed him.

"I'm sorry, Jacob," she apologized, slipping out of bed to put herarms around him. "I just hate it when you have to go. I want you herealways... beside me when I wake up in the mornings... for meals, andin the evenings..."

He pulled her head to rest against his chest. "I want thosethings, too, 'Manda. You know I do. And someday they'll come true.All of them. I promise."

"Someday's too far away," she whispered, trying not to soundplaintive.

"I know. But this is important to my mother," Jacob entreated."She expects it. I don't want to disappoint her."

"But it's okay to disappoint me."

"'Manda, we're young. We have our whole lives in front of us. Letme just do this and then it'll be our turn."

"Three more years. It's a long time."

"I know, but it's not like we don't see each other all thetime."

"No," Amanda responded bleakly. "But you aren't happy."

"I'm happy enough. And now I have to go," Jacob said, stroking hercheek. "I don't want to argue, 'Manda. I love you."

"I know," she answered wistfully. "I love you, too."

His goodbye kiss was warmly passionate, leaving her slightlybreathless. When he was gone, she threw herself back down on her bed,hugging her pillow in an attempt to fill the empty space beside her.It didn't help.

Her seething mind wouldn't let her go back to sleep. If Jacob washappy with his present circumstance, she wouldn't dream ofchallenging him. His happiness was everything to her, but he wasn'thappy. Jacob found the world Above oppressingly hectic, preferringthe gentler rhythms of Below.

He presented a reassuring facade to the world, but Amanda, whoknew him so well, could see past it. She suspected Vincent could,too.

By nature Jacob was a conciliator, happiest when those around himwere happy, going out of his way to achieve that end. Amandasuspected that trying to please both her and his mother, whose wisheswere at opposite ends of the scale, was wearing him out. He'd lookedtired tonight, and had gone home earlier than usual.

If only Catherine knew how Jacob really felt, it would solveeverything, Amanda was sure... well, almost sure. But Jacob wouldnever tell her, would never risk hurting her feelings or fallingshort of her expectations.

Maybe she could go to Vincent, discuss it with him. He wouldunderstand, and surely he could make Catherine see... As quickly asthe idea came, Amanda dismissed it. Vincent had his own problems,like the flooded section of tunnels where a city water main hadbroken, or the need for a new science teacher since Edward returnedto the world Above. He didn't need another problem, especially onethis vague.

Gradually, grudgingly, Amanda came to the conclusion that ifsomeone was going to speak to Catherine, it would have to be her. Andit would have to be soon, before she lost her nerve. Resolved, sherolled over, still hugging her pillow, and fell into a restless,dream-filled sleep.

* * * *

"You look pretty," her mother greeted at breakfast the nextmorning. "Is something special happening today?" Her voice and smileinferred that the 'something special' might involve Jacob, and Amandafelt her cheeks warm.

"No, Mama," she answered. "Well, maybe," she temporized, realizingshe would need to account for the hours she would be gone. "I'm goingAbove for a while today."

"To see Jacob?" her mother prompted.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I have an errand."

"I see." Her mother turned back to her morning coffee with apleased smile, obviously sure that the trip had something to do withJacob. And she was right, Amanda mused later, as she made the longhike to the exit she planned to use. Nothing else could have gottenher to leave the comfort and safety of her home world. Nothing butJacob...

She emerged in an alley and picked a fastidious path throughheaping accumulations of trash and stinking garbage to the street.Her destination was the District Attorney's office; it was the oneplace where she could be absolutely certain that no one wouldinterrupt. She turned toward it, scared but determined.

Viewed from afar, Catherine Chandler was everything Amanda wantedto be: strong, capable, self-assured. Amanda seldom went Above andCatherine's visits Below were infrequent, so Amanda didn't knowCatherine very well. When they did meet, Amanda always felttongue-tied and hung back shyly. Catherine was always gracious andpleasant, but Amanda couldn't help feeling that she was also just alittle aloof. Quite simply, Jacob's mother terrified her.

Outside the Criminal Justice Building, Amanda hesitated, lookingup at the imposing granite facade. Catherine was a part of thishorribly intimidating world; the mere thought made her feel panicky,but sternly she quashed her trepidation. This had to be done. Beforeher quavery courage could falter again, she hurried inside, findingthe offices of the District Attorney on the fourteenth floor.

There were more people milling about than Amanda normallyencountered in an entire day; all of them seemed intent on completingsome task and it was a few minutes before anyone noticed her standingby the door.

"Can I help you?" a harried clerk paused to ask.

"Yes, please. I need to see Catherine Chandler." Panic struck anewas it occurred to her that she might be expected to have anappointment; to her vast relief, the young man didn't ask.

"May I tell her what it's about?" was all he wanted to know.

"It's personal," Amanda said firmly, giving her name.

The clerk disappeared into the maze of desks and filing cabinets,returning moments later shaking his head. "Follow me, please," herequested.

The maze was worse once she got into it, and after making a fewturns, Amanda despaired of ever finding the way out. At last theyoung man stopped. "Wait here," he said, indicating a batteredplastic chair. "She'll be out in a minute." He waved toward a closeddoor. Lettered across the frosted glass was a name: CatherineChandler. Smaller letters spelled out her title: Deputy DistrictAttorney. It was impressive, imposing, and Amanda gulped for air.Nearly five minutes passed, and her nerves were stretched nearly tothe breaking point when the door opened.

Jacob's mother, looking impeccably cool and firmly in command,looked out. "Miss Collier?" she began, glancing around. Seeing Amandaseemed to startle her. "Amanda? I'm sorry, when Jeff told me yourname, I didn't recognize it. Please, come in."

Feeling stiff and awkward, Amanda obeyed.

"Is everything all right? Jacob?"

Amanda managed a small nod and Catherine relaxed almostimperceptibly.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soft drink?"

"No, thank you." Try as she might, Amanda couldn't keep her voicefrom sounding prim and entirely too stuffy.

Fortunately, Catherine didn't seem offended. She went around thebig desk piled high with open books and manila folders, sat down andfrowned. "This isn't a social visit, I take it."

Amanda shook her head from side to side. "No, Catherine," she saidin a low voice. "It's not."

Catherine's brow puckered. "What can I do for you?"

"It's Jacob."

Catherine's frown deepened, but she didn't speak.

Amanda groped for the right words, diplomatic words. Somehow theyescaped her. "It's school!" she blurted finally. "He doesn't want togo to school anymore."

Catherine looked faintly taken aback. "Why not?"

"Because it's not where he wants to be! It's not what he wants todo!" She waited for a forceful reaction that never came.

Catherine leaned forward slowly, resting her arms on her desk."Then tell me, Amanda. What does he want to do?"

Inwardly cringing, but relieved that Catherine seemed to be takingthis calmly, Amanda drew breath to answer. "He wants to come Below.He doesn't want your world. He has a place in ours. An important one.We need him. And we want to be married."

Catherine let out a long, slow breath. "I see."

"Look, Catherine," Amanda said quickly, wanting to get it all outbefore her nerve failed. "I know you don't like me. But I'm right forJacob, really I am. We love each other. We make each other happy.Neither of us wants anything else."

A look of shock crossed Catherine's face. "Amanda, who said that Idon't like you?"

Amanda squirmed. Her courage was failing fast. "No one had to sayit," she said, agonizing. "I just know. I could tell."

"How?" Incredibly, Catherine's voice had dropped to anear-whisper, but she didn't seem angry. "How could you tell?"

"The way you've always treated me," Amanda began, uncertainly."Not like the other kids down there. You talk to them, and laugh.With me it's different. It always has been."

She didn't understand the sudden pinched look on Catherine's face."Amanda, I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel singled out, orslighted."

"But you treat me differently," Amanda said, sensing acquiescence."I'm not imagining it."

Catherine nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose I do. I never thoughtyou'd notice, though, and I certainly never meant for you to assumeit was because I didn't like you, or care about you."

"Then why would you treat me differently? Because of Jacob?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, of course not. What I feel for youhas nothing to do with Jacob." She was regarding Amanda with an odd,wistful... dare she call it tenderness?

"I don't understand," she finally whispered.

"You and Jacob have been close all your lives, haven't you?"

The apparent non-sequitur made Amanda blink, but after a moment toregain her mental balance, she nodded gravely. "We've been bestfriends ever since I can remember. When we were little, Mary used tocall us 'the twins', because we were always together."

Something indefinable flickered in Catherine's eyes, and shelooked suddenly distant. "Really. I didn't know that."

"She never said it in front of you or Vincent," Amanda hastened toadd, feeling an unexplainable need to smooth over whatever had justbeen disturbed.

"No. I'm sure she didn't." Catherine paused, her gaze focused onsome distant point. "Amanda, did anyone ever tell you that Jacob is atwin?"

"Excuse me?" Amanda wasn't certain she'd heard correctly.

Catherine's smile was bittersweet. "Vincent and I had fivechildren, not four," she said slowly. "First we had Charles, and thencame a set of twins, a girl and a boy."

*Oh, my God*, Amanda thought, panicking yet again. *She's going totell me I'm her long-lost daughter, and that Jacob and I aresiblings*. The very absurdity of the thought broke over her aninstant later. If such an outrageous thing were true, someone wouldhave put a stop to her relationship with Jacob long ago and no onehad even tried.

Catherine went on, her voice wistful. "Jacob's sister lived only afew minutes."

"I'm sorry," Amanda managed to whisper. "I didn't know."

"It was a very difficult time for me, Amanda. Vincent was grievingtoo, of course, but he had his work to occupy his mind. I had Charlesand Jacob to care for, but I also had too much time to think, tobrood. It was hard..."

* * * *

Catherine laid her three-week old son into his cradle and coveredhim, tucking the soft quilt around him tenderly. Her fingers trailedacross his smooth cheek in an aching caress, and she crouched besidehim for a few minutes, watching him sleep. This new life wasprecious, doubly so because of the loss of his twin. She touched himagain, letting her forefinger trace the split in his upper lip; thebaby's nose, a miniature copy of Catherine's own, twitched inprotest.

To Catherine, the cleft lip didn't matter; her baby was strong,healthy, and beautiful. But it mattered to Vincent. He was adamantthat this child would have all the opportunities denied his father;that other children would never point fingers, or laugh at him, ortaunt him with cruel names. Peter and Father agreed that surgicallyrepairing little Jacob's cleft lip was a relatively minor procedure,and Peter had already contacted a plastic surgeon who would performthe operation in a few weeks.

In the passage outside, Catherine heard the sound of voices androse to greet visitors. It was probably Olivia or Kanin bringingCharles home; he'd been playing with their younger son Jonathan allafternoon.

"Here he is, Catherine," Kanin said cheerfully. He was still grimywith rock dust from his day's work and declined her invitation to sitdown. "Olivia says to tell you he was good," he added dutifully. "Heand Jon had cookies and milk about four o'clock, so don't worry ifhe's not hungry right away."

"Thank you, Kanin. Thank Olivia for me, too."

"I will." With a wave and a grin, he left.

"So," Catherine said, turning to her three-and-a-half year oldson. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes! Me and Jonathan played cars. We made a thing with a board,"his gestures suggested a ramp of some sort, "and the cars went reallyfast and bam! They wrecked!" His hands demonstrated the dramaticcrash with enthusiasm.

"That sounds like fun," Catherine said. "I hope you weren't toonoisy."

"No," Charles assured her. "After a while, 'Livia read us a storyand we ate cookies. Then Kanin brought me home."

"And the cookies had chocolate in them, didn't they?" Catherineasked sagely.

Charles scrubbed automatically at his mouth.

"It's too late," Catherine said. "I've seen it." Charles scowled,knowing what was coming; like most children his age, he detestedhaving his face washed.

She had her back turned, wringing out the cloth, when the sound ofa wonderfully familiar step in the doorway was overlaid withCharles's awed voice. "Father, you're all over blood!"

Catherine was beginning to smile at the oddness of the phrasingwhen the meaning of her son's remark sank in and she wheeled around,letting the cloth drop from suddenly nerveless fingers. Vincent hadpaused in the doorway and she flew across the chamber to his side.There was a large patch of dark, drying blood soaking his tunicacross his lower abdomen and right hip and she reached outfrantically, seeking the injury.

"Catherine, don't," he said, catching her hands. "It isn't myblood." There was more blood on his sleeve, but his hands, holdinghers, were clean. "I'm all right," he assured her.

"Then who? What?" Her panic was ebbing.

"Elaine's baby was born this afternoon. A little girl." He wasstill holding her hands; his calm expression was edged withconcern.

Catherine knew Elaine, though not well. She'd grown up in thetunnels but when she reached young adulthood, had decided to try herwings in the world Above. There, she fell in love with a youngconstruction worker and after a brief but ardent courtship they weremarried.

Their happiness was short-lived. As her husband was coming homefrom work one evening, a shopping bag in each arm, he was brutallymurdered in the course of a senseless mugging. Devastated by hisdeath and disillusioned with the world Above, Elaine returned to herhome Below. Not until several weeks later did she learn she wascarrying his child.

Catherine frowned. "Isn't it too soon?" she asked uncertainly.

He nodded gravely. "The child was premature, but Mary says sheseems strong enough. She's breathing well..."

Catherine flinched, only a little, but of course Vincent noticed,and knew that she was remembering their own little girl, whose lungshad not been developed enough for survival.

"The blood," she prompted him.

"Elaine was bleeding excessively," he explained. "Neither Mary norFather could stop it. We had to take her to Peter; he's had heradmitted to a hospital."

"Is she all right?"

"We don't know yet. Peter will send word as soon as he can, but heseemed to think she would recover."

"That's good." Despite her words, her eyes strayed to the splotchof blood on his tunic.

"It looks worse than it is," Vincent told her. "Don't worry." Thelook in his blue eyes was reassuring.

"I won't. But I want to know when you hear from Peter."

"I promise." Arm around her shoulder, he looked toward their elderson. "You've been eating chocolate," he said with mock severity, andElaine and her baby were forgotten.

* * * *

The following afternoon, Catherine was rocking Jacob when ahesitant voice called from outside the chamber door.

"Come in, Samantha," she called.

Sixteen now, Samantha had fulfilled her childhood promise ofbeauty. Thick dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyeswere soft and expressive. A thick book was clasped to her breast.

"Are you going to study?" Catherine asked conversationally.

"Biology," Samantha confirmed. "Timothy says if I don't bring mygrade up, I'll never get into college, much less medical school."

Catherine smiled. Timothy taught mathematics and science to thetunnel children and Samantha was one of his prize pupils. "He's justtrying to push you into doing your best, Samantha," she said."Father's already planning for the day when you can take over astunnel doctor."

Catherine stood; Samantha put down her book and reached for Jacob.Catherine gave her baby one last loving touch before surrenderinghim.

She moved toward the door hesitantly. "And speaking of Father, ifI don't hurry, I'll be late. I've just fed him," she added. "He'llprobably sleep the whole time I'm gone. If he wakes up, clean diapersare stacked on that shelf, and nightgowns beside them. Charles is inKanin and Olivia's chamber. I don't think he'll be back before I am.I'll be in Father's study..."

"I know all that, Catherine," Samantha chided gently. "You act asif I've never looked after a baby before. You'll be right down thepassage if I need you. Now go on. Have fun."

Prosaically, Samantha tucked Jacob into the crook of one arm,dropped into Vincent's chair, opened her book, and began to study.Catherine gave one last backward look and went out.

She suspected Father had invited her to join him this afternoonsimply because he thought she needed to get out, and tea in his studywas a good place to start. Although she hated leaving little Jacob,even for an hour, she went because she knew it would ease herfamily's concerns. As she turned into the short passage leading tothe study, she heard the distinctive rumble of her husband's voiceand brightened. She hadn't known he'd be there, too.

She paused just inside the entrance. Vincent and Father wereacross the chamber, backs to her and heads close together as theyconsulted over something. Catherine waited for Vincent to recognizeher presence and acknowledge it, but he seemed oblivious. His voice,low but clear, reached her.

"No, Father. I can't ask it."

"Vincent, you must. Or let Mary."

"No." Vincent sounded adamant. "It's too soon, Father. The strainwould be too great. We'll have to find another way..."

"That is precisely what we are trying to do, Vincent, but in themeantime, what choice do we have? You know Mary's been trying her ondifferent formulas; she seems unable to tolerate any of them."

"I can't help that, Father."

"Perhaps Catherine could just..."

At the sound of her name, Catherine started. Vincent felt it, andspun around to face her.

"What?" she asked, coming down the short flight of metal stairs."What could I do?"

"No, Catherine," Vincent said. "We'll find some other way."

"At least tell me what it is," she said, ignoring the chair heoffered. "What child are you talking about?"

Father and Vincent exchanged startled glances; Father sighedheavily. "Elaine's baby," he began in explanation. Vincent made abrief, aggravated gesture and turned away.

Catherine glanced from Father's worried face to Vincent's rigidback. "How is Elaine?"

"Better. The doctors at the hospital were able to control thebleeding. She should be able to come home in a few days." Father'sexpression was bleak; it wasn't often that his medical skills failedto the point that he had to send a patient Above.

"What's wrong with the baby? Vincent said she was doing well."

Father glanced unhappily at Vincent's back. "She was, at first,"he said. "But Mary's found her unable to tolerate any of theformulas. She's getting very little nourishment."

"What can I do, Father?" Catherine's voice had dropped to anear-whisper. "What does she need?"

Beside her, Vincent sighed in defeat, and turned around. "Sheneeds milk, Catherine," he explained gently. "But no one is nursingright now except..."

"Me," she finished for him, understanding dawning at last. "Sheneeds my milk. But what about Jacob?"

"Catherine, Elaine's baby is very small. It is likely you'll havemilk enough for both, for the few days it will be necessary. And iffor some reason you do not, little Jacob is a fine, strong boy. I'msure he can tolerate the formula," Father assured her.

"Catherine, if you don't feel up to this, we'll find another way,"Vincent began. She could see the concern on his face, and touched hisarm.

"We have no choice, Vincent. We can't let her starve." She turnedto Father. "Where's Mary?"

"With the baby, in the hospital chamber," he answered, and beforethe words were quite out of his mouth, Catherine had wheeled andstarted out of the chamber.

She half-expected Vincent to follow, but a hurried glance over hershoulder showed no one behind her. Catherine felt physically well andemotionally pretty stable, considering it had been only three weekssince she'd experienced childbirth and its accompanying tragedy, butshe knew Vincent worried. Still, there was nothing to be done aboutit now. She entered the hospital chamber with a sigh.

"Hello, Mary," she said, announcing her presence.

Mary turned, a small, blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. A frail,mewing sound came from the bundle and instinctively, Catherine movedcloser.

"Let me see," she begged, and Mary offered the bundle.

Catherine took it, gazing at the tiny, wizened face within. "She'sso small," she breathed.

"Yes," Mary acknowledged, a trifle sadly. "She weighed fivepounds, ten ounces at birth."

"Six ounces less than Jacob," Catherine observed, her gaze fixedon the little face while she tried not to remember her other baby,who hadn't been even this big...

"She weighs less than that now," Mary said.

"That's normal in newborns, though, isn't it?"

Mary looked unhappy. "Not this much. None of the formulas agreewith her..."

"I know," Catherine said. "That's why I'm here."

Mary's sudden smile was full of gratitude. "I knew if Vincentasked, you would come," she said.

Catherine's own smile faltered a little at mention of Vincent butshe lifted her chin bravely. "Shall I feed her now?"

"If you would, Catherine," Mary answered, gesturing toward anearby chair. "The poor little thing is half-starved."

Catherine settled into the chair and opened her blouse; Mary'spresence made her a little self-conscious, but she resolved to ignoreit, and concentrated on the baby.

"Come on," she coaxed tenderly as the infant rooted blindly. "Youcan do it."

Mary stood back, observing, and didn't try to help. The baby mightnot know how to nurse, but obviously Mary had confidence inCatherine's experience. After a moment Catherine was successful inguiding the little mouth to her nipple, and smiled. "Good girl," shewhispered, head bent low.

The baby settled down, but her manner of nursing wasn't theno-nonsense way that Jacob had, or that Catherine remembered fromwhen Charles was small. She seemed half-hearted, sucking for a momentand then stopping, sometimes losing the nipple altogether. After onlya few minutes she ceased the struggle, relaxing into sleep. Catherineglanced at Mary dubiously.

"It's all right," Mary assured her, coming to take the infant."She hasn't much strength now. When she's rested, she'll wantmore."

Catherine nodded. It was only then that she noticed Vincentwaiting tentatively in the doorway. She didn't know how long he'dbeen watching, and smiled at him.

Mary turned, noticing him too. "Come in," she urged in her usualeffusive way. "The baby's just eaten," she informed him. "We'll waita little and see if she keeps it down."

"What happens if she does not?" Vincent asked.

Mary sighed. "Then she'll have to go Above," she said. "I knowElaine doesn't want that, but we'll have no choice. We can't let herstarve."

"No, of course not," Vincent agreed. He glanced at Catherine. "Howoften will she need to be fed?" he asked Mary. He seemed determinedto guard Catherine's strength, whether she wanted him to or not.

Mary's reply didn't reassure him. "I'd imagine she'll want more inan hour or so," she said. "And every couple of hours after that, fora day or two. As she grows stronger, she'll eat more, but lessfrequently."

Vincent nodded sagely. "Then we'd better take her to our chamber,"he said. "Catherine is already getting up twice a night to feedJacob; she needs her rest."

Mary agreed. Neither of them consulted Catherine, but she didn'tobject to the arrangements, and held the sleeping infant whileVincent helped gather the items needed for the new baby's care.

When they reached their chamber, Jacob was just waking from hisnap, wanting his dinner, so Catherine gave Elaine's baby intoSamantha's eager arms and took her own baby to the rocking chairwhile Vincent and Mary crowded the new baby's things onto the nurseryshelf. When everything was arranged to her satisfaction, Mary tuckedthe new baby into one end of Jacob's cradle; the babies were smallenough that they could share, at least for a night or two.

"You're certain you don't want me to stay?" she asked Vincent onelast time.

"Quite certain, Mary," he assured her. "Kanin and Olivia will keepCharles for the next few nights; Catherine and I will manage."

Mary looked unconvinced but acceded to Vincent's assurances. Whilethey talked, Catherine tucked Jacob into his own end of the cradleand lingered over it, touching first one infant, then the other,fussing with their blankets, adjusting the tiny knitted cap Elaine'sbaby wore to conserve her body's heat. She smiled, feeling a softglow of contentment that had been absent for too long. When Vincenttouched her shoulder, she rocked back onto her heels and sighed. "Shelooks so fragile next to Jacob."

"Yes, she does," Vincent admitted. "But Mary says she is doingwell," he added, and drew Catherine to her feet, turning her to facehim. She looked up into his beloved face; the look in his eyes wasfaintly troubled. "If you are to do this, you must rest," headmonished softly. "William should have supper prepared; I'll bringyou a tray."

She knew him too well to argue when his mind was made up, andbesides, she was feeling hungry. She nodded acquiescence. "Stop andsay goodnight to Charles," she urged. "I'll lie down until you getback."

He waited until she had stretched out on the bed, covering herwith a quilt and bending for a soft kiss before he left the chamber.Catherine rolled onto her side, curling up comfortably under the warmquilt where she could see the cradle, if not its occupants. Her restdidn't last long, though. She was just drifting into a light dozewhen a soft mewling brought her back to alertness.

Tossing back the quilt, she went to the cradle where Elaine's babywas fussing quietly in between attempts to suck on her fist. "Comehere, little girl," Catherine admonished softly, picking her up. Aquick check of the diaper showed it to be dry, not altogethersurprising in a child who'd eaten little since birth. "We'll fixthat," she murmured, taking the baby back to the bed.

When Vincent came back bearing a covered tray, the baby hadfinished nursing and was just falling asleep. "I think she ate alittle more this time," Catherine told him, encouraged. "And she'skeeping it down."

"Good," Vincent said, approving. He took the sleeping infant intohis own capable hands. "I'll put her back to bed," he said. "Eat yoursupper."

He'd brought a plate for himself as well, and Catherine cleared aspace on his writing table so they could share a quiet mealtogether.

The evening went quickly as Catherine fed the new baby twice moreand Jacob once before Vincent took note of her weariness and put herfirmly to bed. She lost track of how many times she was up in thenight, feeding one baby or the other.

Near morning, a thin, demanding wail pierced her exhausted stupor.She felt Vincent slip silently from the bed and knew he was trying togive her just a few more moments of rest. She turned her head,watching him from sleep-heavy eyes. She didn't recognize the cry - itwasn't Jacob's vigorous wail, but it didn't sound like the new baby'ssoft mewing, either.

He bent over the cradle and lifted one of the infants carefully."Hush, little one," he soothed, lifting Elaine's baby in both hands.The cry dwindled at the sound of his voice and Catherine could seethe baby's dark eyes trying to focus on his face.

He took the baby to the dresser whose top was used as a changingtable and she began to wail again as he unpinned the sopping diaper.Her cries grew in intensity while he changed her and by the time hefinished, Catherine had pushed herself up, rubbing the sleep from hereyes.

Vincent brought the highly indignant child and laid her inCatherine's arms. "She's stronger this morning," he observed.

Catherine acknowledged his droll understatement with a sleepysmile of agreement. "I can hear. How long has it been since her lastfeeding?"

"Nearly three hours," Vincent told her; it was by far the longestinterval since Catherine had taken over the baby's feeding.

Opening her gown, she brought the baby to her breast. The criesstopped abruptly as the baby began nursing greedily; she had the hangof this now.

A stronger, but no more insistent, cry started from the cradle;Jacob was awake now, too, and Vincent went to pick him up. By thetime he was changed, he was loudly demanding his breakfast. Catherinehad read of mothers of twins nursing both babies simultaneously, soshe knew it was possible, but she didn't relish the idea of actuallytrying it right this minute. "Hurry," she urged the child in herarms, but Vincent never hesitated, turning to the nursery shelf andtaking down a small bottle of prepackaged formula Mary hadprovided.

It took only a moment for him to break the seal and peel the stiffplastic cover away from the already-attached nipple, and a momentlater Vincent lowered himself into the rocking chair and offered thebottle with more competence than Catherine expected. At first, Jacobtried to spit out the unfamiliar rubber nipple, making her worry thathis cleft lip was interfering, but the baby soon figured out therewas food in there, and in moments was nursing comfortably on thebottle.

Catherine felt a prickle of indignation. "What are you doing?" shedemanded, and then wondered guiltily if it was fatigue that made hersound so irritable.

"I'm feeding my son," he replied mildly.

"I can feed him," Catherine retorted defensively. "I'm hismother."

"And you've been up most of the night tending the little one,"Vincent answered. He sounded infuriatingly reasonable. "You mustconserve your strength. Jacob is fine. Besides," he added, lookingdown at his son's face, "I've never done this before."

It wasn't right. Jacob was her baby; it was her duty to care forhim, feed him, protect him. Her defiant protest died in her throat,though, as she recognized the pleasure on Vincent's face. Herresentment faded and she wondered why she had never thought tosuggest giving a bottle for an occasional feeding so Vincent couldshare the experience.

Temporarily mollified, she turned her attention back to the babyin her arms. Five minutes into the feeding she was still suckingvigorously; it was a definite improvement, and her little tummy wasdistended with milk when Catherine tucked her back into the cradleand covered her with a quilt.

Days passed, and Catherine grew accustomed to the care of twoinfants. Charles came back from his stay with Kanin and Olivia;Elaine's baby required feeding less often. Catherine's days werebusy, but there was fulfillment in the work.

Vincent helped too, of course, but he had returned to his usualduties and often she didn't see him from breakfast to dinner.Sometimes in the evenings, during what used to be their quiet timetogether, she found Vincent watching her with an odd expression andwondered if he was missing those times of sharing. Despite the almostunceasing demands, though, there were still moments of peace andthose were the ones most filled with joy.

One afternoon, when Elaine's baby was a week old, Catherine wasenjoying one of those rare moments. Jacob was asleep in the cradleand she had succeeded in persuading Charles to take a nap as well,leaving only the new baby awake. There were times in the past weekwhen Catherine had shared the rocking chair with all three children,but now she had only the new baby cradled in her arms. The baby wasalert, watching her with enormous dark eyes and Catherine smiled,running a finger over the soft dark hair.

"If you would go to sleep, I might have a half-hour to myself,"she informed the infant. "What do you think?" With pleasure, shenoted how the little face had lost its pinched, wizened appearance.The child was looking less like a little old lady and more like ababy with each passing day. She touched one diminutive hand, smilingas tiny fingers curled around her larger one, gripping tightly.

Softly, rocking rhythmically, Catherine began to sing her mother'slullaby. She was on the fourth or fifth rendition and the baby'seyelids were drooping when some indefinable urging made her look up.Vincent stood motionless in the doorway, watching, and she smiled athim. He stayed where he was; his expression didn't change.

"What?" she asked, softly so as not to disturb the baby.

He made a small, 'I don't know' gesture with his head andshoulders. "The sight of you there, looking the way you do right now,is a memory I want to keep, forever," he said. He moved, crossing thechamber to her side.

She looked up at him, freeing one hand so she could reach out forhis. "How do I look?"

"Like a Madonna... serene, and radiantly happy." He knelt besideher, now studying the baby's sleeping face. "She has brought yougreat joy," he observed slowly.

"Yes." Catherine smiled down at the little face and couldn't helpfeeling a mother's pride. "Look how pretty she's getting."

Vincent nodded agreement. "She's going to be beautiful," he said."Like her mother."

Catherine flinched and raised her gaze to meet his implacable one.She could see his determination to ground her in reality before herdreams could take her too far away from him.

"Elaine will be glad," he added.

"Yes," Catherine acknowledged after a moment, looking back at thebaby in her arms.

"Peter is pleased with her recovery," he said. "She should be homein a day or two."

Catherine bristled defensively. "Yes, I know."

"Mary thinks there is no reason why Elaine can't care for her ownbaby, once she's returned," he added relentlessly.

"I know that, Vincent," Catherine said hotly. "Don't patronizeme."

He recoiled a little, and a small sliver of remorse wormed its wayinto her consciousness. His steady gaze didn't falter, though. "Willyou be able to give her up when the time comes?" he asked softly.

"Of course," she answered brusquely. She saw the faint disbelief,the fear for her, in his eyes, and softened. "I know she isn't mine,Vincent. However much I might wish otherwise... however right itseems to have two babies sleeping in the cradle..."

His hand came up, then, to stroke her cheek and she tipped herhead toward it, welcoming the touch.

"I'll be all right, Vincent," she assured him softly. "Iwill."

He nodded gravely, but her reassurance couldn't quite dispel thedoubt in his eyes. After that, she was acutely conscious of the wayhe watched her, understanding his fears at last, and did whatever shecould to comfort him. Inside, though she knew it would hurt, she wassupremely confident of her own strength... and she believed thatright up until the morning Elaine came home.

* * * *

"Peter said ten o'clock," Mary fretted aloud.

"Perhaps something has held them up," Catherine said reasonably.Inside, she didn't feel reasonable at all; she felt on the verge ofpanic, waiting for an imminent blow. Any delay, for whatever reason,was welcome. She wished Vincent could be there; his mere presencewould bolster her, but he was in the upper tunnels, waiting to bringElaine down. Unconsciously Catherine clutched the blanket-wrappedbundle a little more tightly. Inside the blanket, Elaine's babysquirmed in protest.

Mary bent to peer at her. "She's changed so much in the past week,I'm not sure Elaine will recognize her," she marvelled. "She's verylucky you were here."

"Who?" Catherine asked, trying bleakly to inject a note of humorinto the morning. "Elaine or the baby?"

"Both," Mary said firmly. Her expression softened, and she gaveCatherine a penetrating look. "But this is hard for you, isn'tit?"

Catherine had determined to be stoic, but Mary's compassionbreached her resolve. Her defiant shake of the head dissolved into anunhappy nod. "I convinced myself I could do this," she whispered."And now it takes all my strength of will not to take her and run offinto the deepest tunnels where no one could find us."

"You wouldn't do that, anyway," Mary said, a warm hand on herarm.

"No," Catherine agreed sadly. "But I'd like to."

"She's a sweet baby," Mary acknowledged. "And she's beenfortunate, Catherine, to have had your care and your love for thefirst week of her life. You've given her a good start."

It was what Catherine needed to hear, and she managed a smile justin time. In the passage outside were voices, and the sounds offootsteps.

Vincent came in first with Elaine cradled in his strong arms. Hecarried her to the waiting bed and put her down gently, but his gazewas fixed on Catherine. She produced a shaky smile solely for hisbenefit, and stood up, stepping softly to his side.

"Here she is, Elaine," she said, and gave the baby into hermother's care.

Elaine reached for her daughter eagerly; her fingers fumbled onthe blanket as she pulled it open in the time-honored way of newmothers.

"She has all her fingers and toes," Catherine assured her. "Icounted for you."

"I know she does. I just need to see for myself, I guess," Elaineadmitted shyly. Her face was thin and pale, but lit from within byher joy at being home. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Catherine agreed solemnly, her heart breaking.Despite the others in the room, Vincent took her hand, holding itsurreptitiously between them. His touch helped immeasurably.

"Catherine, and Vincent, I can't thank you enough for taking careof my baby." Elaine included both of them in her heartfelt look.

"It was nothing," Vincent assured her, discounting the sleeplessnights and the distress he'd suffered over Catherine. "You shouldrest now. Catherine and I will leave you to become acquainted withyour daughter."

Still holding her hand, he drew Catherine toward the door.

* * * *

"...And the baby was me," Amanda said, rapt.

"Yes," Catherine said softly. Her eyes were still fixed onsomething far away.

"What happened after that? I mean, to you?"

Catherine smiled. "Vincent took me back to his chamber, and Icried a little, and we held each other and talked."

"About me?"

"About you, and the baby we'd lost, and about us."

"And it helped."

Catherine smiled. "Talking with Vincent always helps," she saidsimply.

"That's how it is with me and Jacob." Amanda leaned forward in herchair. "Catherine, please understand. It hurts to be apart. And Jacobisn't happy. He wants to be Below. Can't you see that?"

Catherine rose abruptly and turned to look out the window. Thesilence that followed seemed to stretch out interminably. "I've beenholding him back, haven't I?" she asked finally. She didn't turn fromthe window, didn't really seem to expect an answer. "He's denyinghimself what he wants most, just to please me."

"Yes," Amanda ventured in a very small voice. "He loves you verymuch," she added quickly. "He admires you."

Catherine nodded, but the gesture seemed grim. "Do you know," sheasked slowly, "just why it's so important to me that he finishschool... that he continue his life Above?"

"No."

"Neither did I... until just now. I told myself that it was forhis own good; that he needed to see and experience both worlds inorder to make an informed choice..."

"But he's been experiencing your world all his life," Amanda saidin bewilderment. "He knows what it is. He doesn't want it."

"No, I see that now. And I realize that it isn't Jacob I've beenthinking of... it's me."

"You? How?"

"You thought I didn't see how much he wants to be part of hisfather's world, your world, didn't you?"

Amanda nodded cautiously.

"But I do. And I've resisted it not because I truly thought Jacobcould be happy in my world; I know he can't. It's because it's easyfor him... to give up my world, to go and live in yours."

Amanda's bewilderment was growing by leaps and bounds. "I'm sorry,Catherine. I don't understand."

"Did you ever think, Amanda, that my life with Vincent doesn'thave to be the way it is? Separate? That I could have chosen to giveup my life, and join him in his?"

"I guess you could have..." Amanda began slowly. Catherine cut heroff.

"But I didn't. Some part of me couldn't bear to let go of theglitter and glamor of the world Above. And so we live the way we do,in a world apart, with me not completely a part of his world, and henot permitted in mine." She sounded bitterly self-recriminating andAmanda rose, going around the desk to stand beside her.

"But, Catherine," she said softly, "you wouldn't be happy in ourworld. Everyone knows that."

"Do they?"

"Of course! But it's okay because you found a way to make it work.You're happy, and Vincent's happy, and you have each other."

"It seems so lacking in conviction... the wanting to have the bestof both worlds; to have Vincent, and to have my work, too..."

"You live in both worlds because you can," Amanda argued withconviction. "But if something happened where you had to choose, you'dchoose Vincent."

"Would I?"

"Of course you would."

Catherine turned from the window; her smile was genuine. "Ofcourse I would," she agreed. "And I suppose I knew that all along,but I thank you for reminding me. Sometimes I need that." She moved,bypassing her desk to sit on an old leather couch that was pushedagainst one wall, patting the spot beside her.

Gingerly, Amanda sat.

"When you came in, you said something about wanting to bemarried..."

* * * *

Beyond the thin wooden partition, Amanda could hear the muffledbuzz growing louder as more and more guests arrived. Nervously, shelooked down, into her lap; the knuckles of her clasped hands werewhite and she made a deliberate effort to relax them.

"There. You can look now." Jacob's sister Vicky held up a handmirror and Amanda ducked her head a little to scrutinize herreflection.

The girl staring back from the mirror looked like a frighteneddeer, with enormous dark eyes; artfully arranged tendrils escapedfrom her drawn-back hair to soften and frame her too-pale face.

"It's fine," she managed to whisper. "Thanks, Vicky."

"It's perfect," her mother added. Elaine was suspiciouslymisty-eyed. "You're absolutely beautiful, Mandy."

Amanda ducked her head shyly. "I hope Jacob thinks so."

"He will," declared another voice, from the door. "You're lovely,Amanda; he couldn't possibly miss it," Catherine added, crowding into the tiny cubicle.

"Yeah. His mama didn't raise no dummies," Vicky chimed.

"Victoria." Catherine's tone was severe and Vicky offered animmediate, if somewhat insincere, apology.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. This is a solemn occasion, right?"

Truthfully, Amanda was glad she had said it; it had broken thenearly unbearable tension that had been building inside her allmorning. Standing, she smoothed her dress, looking to Vicky forreassurance.

"Are you ready?" Vicky asked.

"I think so," Amanda said. "I'm scared."

Elaine put an arm around her. "Not of Jacob," she saidconfidently.

Amanda shook her head; the very idea was ludicrous. "Never ofJacob. Just... of the people, I think. They'll all be watching."

"You won't see them," Catherine predicted. "You won't see anyonebut Jacob. Trust me."

The thought gave Amanda courage and she lifted her head; for thefirst time, she could feel a smile twitching at the corners of hermouth.

Things had happened with alarming speed once she and Catherine hadtheir talk. Surprisingly, it had been Jacob himself who had insistedon finishing the semester at Columbia University, but that was overnow; he'd taken his last exam. He had effectively moved out of hismother's house, bringing his personal belongings Below; even now theywere stacked in boxes, crates, and untidy stacks against one wall ofone of the newest chambers. Sometime today, Amanda's things would bebrought to that chamber, too.

Today, she and Jacob were to be married and embark on a new lifetogether. "I'm ready," she said, pleased that she'd found her voiceagain. She wanted to sound sure and firm when she repeated her vows.Taking charge, Vicky pressed a single blue cornflower into herhand.

"You two go sit down," she instructed. "Nothing can happen 'tilyou're out there."

"My baby," Elaine sniffled, hesitating. "Getting married. Andalready I'm crying."

"Me, too," Catherine confessed, and the mothers hugged each other,sentimentally weepy, before taking turns hugging Amanda. Vicky gave atheatrical shrug and rolled her eyes in Amanda's direction as shefinally succeeded in ushering them out.

A moment later, the sweet strains of a violin filled the suddenlyhushed chamber, and Amanda stepped out from behind the partition,ready to make her way, as Jacob was from his side, to the center ofthe chamber, where Vincent waited to marry them. Her gaze foundJacob's across the room, and as Catherine had promised, everyone elsefaded away. She smiled, and stepped forward to meet him.

The End