CHARLES

Charles read the letter for the third time, his elation growing asthe words on the page remained the same. He couldn't keep the news tohimself... he had to share it. Quickly, he pulled his jacket from thecloset and raced down the stairs to the basement. He took the time tomake sure the secret door was properly closed behind him and starteddown the rock-walled tunnel.

By walking quickly and occasionally breaking into a half-run, hesoon reached Father's Chamber and burst into the roomunceremoniously.

"Father! I have something to share with you!" His excitement madehim breathless and he waved the letter triumphantly.

Vincent laid down his pen and reached for the now crumpled paper.Scanning it swiftly, he stood and smiled at his son. "You've beenaccepted at Harvard Medical School. I'm very proud of you." Vincentpulled Charles into a warm paternal embrace. "I know how much youwanted this."

Charles was ebullient. "Yes! Harvard Med School... it's like adream come true. And I already know what I want to do when Igraduate," he added eagerly.

Vincent gave him an inquisitive look and Charles suddenly seemedto lose his impetus and began to flounder.

"I should go call Mother..." He looked down at the letter in hishands and started to back away.

"Charles." Vincent stopped him. "What is it you don't want to tellme?"

"It's nothing, Father... truly." Charles was clearly uncomfortableand didn't quite meet his father's eyes.

"Charles." Vincent waited until Charles looked at him. "What doyou want to do after medical school?"

Charles looked down again at his letter, now reduced to a twistedscrap of paper. "I want to do research..." he said at length. He methis father's eyes firmly. "Genetic research."

There was a pause as Vincent absorbed this and all itsimplications. "That sounds intriguing," he said easily. "Why?"

Charles was incredulous. "Father, I..." He stopped inconfusion.

"I understand it's because of me." Vincent was calm andthoughtful. "But why this path?"

Charles struggled to explain. "There are things I want to know...things I need to understand about me... because I don't know what Iam."

Vincent was silent, assessing his son reflectively.

"There are questions I've wanted to ask... but I didn't knowhow..." Charles stumbled over the phrases.

"Tell me what you want to know."

"I don't know how to say it..."

"Charles," Vincent was gently encouraging. "There are things aboutmyself that I still don't know, but ask your questions. I will answerwhat I can."

Charles braced himself against the desk. "I see Jacob and Amandatogether. They are so certain of what they have. Whenever I meet agirl... and think... maybe she's the one I could love... I stopbecause..."

Vincent waited patiently. When Charles spoke again his voice wasbarely audible.

"How can I ask any woman to marry me... to bear mychildren..."

"When you don't know what those children might be," Vincentoffered quietly.

"Where did you find the courage?"

Vincent began to speak slowly. "I never believed it was possiblefor me to have a life like other men. Even after I met your mother...after she loved me... I never dared to dream of it. It was she whotaught me to believe. It was her courage, not mine, that led us intothe light, and ultimately gave you to us."

Charles looked at Vincent inquisitively. "How did it happen?"

Vincent bowed his head. "It all happened so quickly..."

* * * * *

It was a lovely evening in mid-April. They were on the balcony.Vincent was reading and Catherine was leaning against him, her headpillowed on his shoulder. Finishing the poem, he closed the book andCatherine lifted her face to look at him lovingly. Vincent put outhis hand to gently stroke her hair and caress the side of her face.Without thinking, he bent his head and kissed her.

Catherine had been waiting for this for so long that she hadalmost despaired of it ever happening. As she kissed him backfervently, the fiery desire that both had held back for so longengulfed them.

They were never quite sure how they got from the balcony to thebed, or who began what. Eager hands and mouths explored in breathlesshaste and soft insistent sounds came from both of them as theirbodies moved as one. Vincent began growling softly, deep in histhroat, making a sound that was both sensuous and passionate. It wasexquisite.

Afterward, as they lay together, Catherine reached to touchVincent's cheek. Violently, he jerked away and rolled to huddle onhis side with his back to her.

Puzzled and a little hurt, she watched him for a moment beforerising on an elbow and laying her hand on his shoulder. "Vincent?What is it?" Her voice was full of tender concern.

Again he flinched from her touch and she pulled her hand awayquickly. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh and unforgiving."What have I done... what have I done? I should never have allowedmyself..." He broke off, almost throwing himself from the bed andbegan gathering his clothes from where they lay scattered on thefloor.

Catherine watched in disbelief as he dressed. His fingers fumbledwith the fastenings, his impatience as great now as it had beenearlier.

"Vincent?" she asked again, painfully. "What's wrong?"

Stopping in the doorway, he stood there a long moment beforeslowly turning to look at her, his eyes full of torment.

"It never should have happened. I'm sorry, Catherine. Forgiveme."

He heard the sound of anguish she made but could not stop. As hebegan his descent, Vincent could hear her calling his name, but hecouldn't go back... he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Distraught, he dropped down the side of the building at a recklessspeed. Only habit and instinct kept him from falling. Reaching theshelter of the tunnels, he began to run, seeking release from theanguish and shame.

Finally nearing exhaustion, he found himself deep within the earthin a passage he did not recognize. Both shoulders were sore fromcareening off rough rock walls and his breath came in ragged gasps.He slumped against the wall, consumed with misery.

* * * * *

Father picked his way carefully through a rock-strewn passage. Thetunnels in this section were rarely used anymore and no one botheredto keep them clear of debris. Father himself hadn't been this way innearly twenty years and only his concern for Vincent made him gonow.

Mouse had seen Vincent two days ago, running blindly. Frightenedby the look on his friend's face, Mouse had followed him. When Mousehad reported back to Father, the older man was concerned but notunduly so. Vincent frequently needed time to himself and oftenretreated to remote parts of the world Below to sort out histhoughts.

But for him to be gone two days without telling anyone or sendinga message was unusual enough to prompt Father into making this longtrek to a place that had always been a refuge for Vincent when he wastroubled.

At last Father rounded a corner and stopped just inside a largecavern. The floor was littered with rocks and boulders of varyingsizes.

He was about to call out when Vincent came into view. What he sawboth shocked and unnerved him. Vincent's face was gaunt and haggard.His long mane of hair was a tangled mess, and his clothing was incareless disarray. He paced restlessly, his actions stiff, lackinghis usual grace.

The word `tortured' came to Father's mind as he stepped forwardand called his son's name.

Vincent's eyes were dulled with pain. "Father." He acknowledgedthe other man's presence in a flat monotone.

"Vincent, are you all right?" Father moved toward his son asquickly as he dared on the rocky, uneven floor.

"How did you find me?" Vincent's voice was stillexpressionless.

"Mouse saw you running. It frightened him and he followed you. Ithought you might be here." Father moved closer. "Vincent?"

"Please, Father. Leave me." Vincent turned away from Father'sgentle inquiry.

"Tell me what's wrong."

Vincent shook his bowed head. "I cannot speak of it. My shame istoo great." He couldn't bring himself to meet Father's eyes. "Icannot be forgiven for what I did."

"Vincent, what did you do?" Father's voice rose in alarm."Vincent? ...You had planned to visit Catherine," he remembered. "Didyou see her?"

Vincent's head bent even lower. "Yes." His reply was nearlyinaudible.

Father was filled with dread by Vincent's obvious torment andoblique responses. "Vincent, tell me what happened!" he implored.

Vincent was silent for a long moment. Without raising his eyes, hebegan to speak, slowly, disjointedly, needing to share his terribleburden and trusting Father to help him shoulder it.

"Catherine and I have shared... the greatest intimacy a man andwoman can share... what should be the most beautiful... and joyousexperience... brings me such feelings of shame... and fear. Thetorment in my soul... is more than I can bear. I lost myself..." hisvoice trailed away.

"Is Catherine all right?" Father asked the question sharply.

Vincent lifted his head then and met Father's eyes for the firsttime. "I did not hurt her... physically..." He resumed his raggedpacing. "The pain I have caused her is much deeper than that... shecan never forgive me." He looked at Father again. "I couldn'tstop!"

"Did Catherine want you to stop?" Father asked it tentatively.

Vincent stopped pacing and looked across the cave. "No," he saidat last. "Not then."

"And now?" Father moved closer.

"Now..." Vincent closed his eyes, feeling Catherine's grief washthrough him. "She suffers... because of me."

Father chose his next words carefully. "Catherine loves you,Vincent... as you love her. What happened between you was anexpression of that love..."

"Are you condoning what happened, Father?" Vincent almost snarledthe words.

"I would not have advised it," Father said slowly, still speakingwith caution. "But it happened. Surely you and Catherine can..."

"Look at me, Father!" Vincent thundered in rage, flexing hisfurred, clawed hands so Father could see them. "Look at me! Such arelationship with any woman is wrong for me!" For a moment his eyeswere bright with fury, then his voice dropped to a whisper as all hisanger drained out of him. "I can never forgive myself for what Idid."

Looking utterly defeated, he stood with slumped shoulders andbowed head. "Please, Father. I need to be alone."

Father hesitated and nodded slowly. "You know where to find me ifyou want to talk." He came close and touched Vincent's shoulderlightly, as if to reassure him. "Remember, Vincent, your thoughtswill not change what has happened. They can only serve to tormentyou. Time alone to think may be your worst enemy." He squeezedVincent's arm gently, and reluctantly turned to leave.

* * * * *

Catherine was devastated by Vincent's reaction that night. Whatshe had found to be joyous and pleasurable was causing him to agonizeendlessly. While she couldn't understand his fears, she knew theyexisted and was trying to give him time to come to terms with thosefears. After three endless days and longer nights, she could nolonger endure the pain and uncertainty. She had to see him. They hadto face his fears.

Approaching Vincent's chamber with nervous determination, she wasat once disappointed and relieved to find it dark, cold and empty.She stood in the passage outside his chamber for several minutes asshe tried to think what to do. With a sudden decisiveness, she movedoff toward Father's chamber.

Father looked up as she entered. "Catherine?" He crossed the roomand took her hand. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

She stared at him. "Vincent told you what happened."

"Yes." Father looked away, embarrassed.

"Where is he, Father? I have to talk to him..."

Father shook his head. "Catherine, he is in great pain."

Catherine hugged herself as if chilled. "I waited for him to comeback," she said, staring sightlessly across the room. "I can't waitany longer." She looked quickly at Father and away again. "He askedme to forgive him." Her voice reflected all the pain that plea hadcaused her.

"He doesn't believe he deserves to be forgiven," Father explainedgently.

"There is nothing to forgive. What happened... I wanted it. I haveto make him understand that. I have to see him. Tell me where heis."

Father looked at her helplessly. "I don't know. Yesterday I wentand talked to him. I sent one of the children with food and freshclothing this morning... he came back saying Vincent was gone."

Catherine's chin went up as she looked at him steadily. "Then I'llwait for him."

"Catherine, it may be days!"

"I'll wait," she repeated stubbornly.

Catherine retreated to Vincent's chamber. Father had sent someoneto light the brazier and the flames were beginning to chase away thedamp chill that had invaded the room in Vincent's absence.

Catherine prowled the chamber restively, picking up a book orornament and examining it for a few seconds before putting it downand moving on. Several times she tried to sit or lie down and rest,but she could only be still for a few minutes before her innerturmoil drove her to her feet again.

At last she sat at the table with pen and paper, trying to makesense of all the things she was feeling and thinking. She had a vagueidea about writing a letter to Vincent in an effort to make himunderstand that there was no shame in what had happened, but shecouldn't get beyond the first sentence. As she paced the room again,a sound from the doorway made her turn to see Vincent watching hersadly.

They faced each other for a long, awkward minute before Vincentdragged his eyes away from her and came into the room.

"You shouldn't be here." He spoke quietly without looking ather.

"I have to be here." Her voice was low and fierce. "Vincent, wehave to talk."

"There's nothing to say."

"Vincent..." Catherine took a step toward him, but stopped when herecoiled from her. "Vincent..." she tried again. "Why did youleave?"

"You know why." Vincent still refused to look at her.

"I don't. Tell me." She wanted to go to him, but somehow she knewhe needed the safety of these few feet between them.

"It was wrong..." Vincent began painfully.

"It was beautiful..." Catherine interrupted forcefully.

Vincent turned his back. "Catherine, you must go."

"No. Vincent, what happened was my fault... my need was toogreat..." Involuntarily, she took another step toward him and againhe moved away.

"You must go," he repeated doggedly. "We cannot be together anylonger. I can no longer trust myself..."

Catherine saw Vincent's agony clearly and she longed to reach outto comfort him, but suddenly she was angry, too, that once again hewas pushing her away, refusing to let her help him in his pain.

"Vincent, look at us! We have been together in the most intimateway and we're still here! The sky didn't fall and lightning didn'tstrike! What are you so afraid of?"

Vincent shook his head in mute denial.

"Vincent..." Catherine spoke softly now. "I don't regret whathappened. I wanted it too much." Her voice began to tremble. "It wasbeautiful, Vincent. But if I lose you... the price is too high.Please don't let that happen to us..."

Vincent was silent, each of her tears a hot knife burning its wayinto his heart.

"It must never happen again," he said finally. "Never."

"If that's how you want it to be," she agreed quietly, sensing hisdetermination and wanting him back on any terms.

Looking at each other, they were painfully aware of the gapbetween them now. Slowly Catherine moved toward the door. Stopping inthe opening, she looked back. "I love you." Tears ran unchecked downher face as she walked away.

* * * * *

The next few weeks were difficult. Vincent never went toCatherine's balcony, and on the few occasions when she came Below,there was a formality, a constraint which had never been therebefore. They didn't touch and were never truly alone together.

Sometimes Catherine would look across the space between them andache for Vincent to hold her, or just to look at her tenderly. It wasbecoming increasingly difficult to accept the limits he set.

She spent a lot of her time alone brooding unhappily and she knewher work was suffering. There were no glaring mistakes but her edgewas gone. Several times she caught Joe eyeing her speculatively,though he never said anything beyond a gentle offer of help if sheneeded anything.

Vincent endured long, solitary hours in his chamber. There weretimes when it required all his self-control not to go to Catherine,take her in his arms, and tell her how much he loved her, but hisfears held him back. He no longer trusted himself.

Because he knew Father was worried about him, he struggled topresent a facade of normalcy, though he wondered at times if his lifewould ever be the same again. His pain was compounded by the sorrowhe felt from Catherine and sometimes her sadness threatened tooverwhelm him.

He only saw her when she came Below now, and those infrequentvisits were so strained that the intimate details of their lives wereno longer shared. He longed to know what was happening to produce thebrief flashes of anger, serenity or delight he felt.

Mostly he felt her despair and depression, but after severalweeks, these feelings began to change. For a period of days, Vincentcould sense Catherine's feelings of apprehension and anticipation sostrongly, they might have been his own. Something of consequence wasabout to take place. Once, he would have known the source of thosefeelings because Catherine had always shared everything with him.Although he ached to know what was happening, she did not come to himnow and he still could not bring himself to go to her.

Finally, one morning, he was staggered by an explosion of emotionthat was so intense... shock, joy, and fear followed each other inrapid succession. Sometimes one would take precedence, then another.They would subside for a time, then surge up again.

Whatever the cause, these conflicting emotions remained high...powerful enough to keep Vincent from concentrating on anything. Byevening, he found himself at the entrance to Catherine's basement.Impatiently he waited, certain she would come to share whatever hadaffected her so deeply. Hours passed and still she did not appear. Hefelt the sadness and fear more strongly now, crowding out the otheremotions. At last he could bear it no longer.

* * * * *

Slipping silently over the balcony wall, he hesitated. Memorieswere strong here and for a moment he wavered. But Catherine neededhim, so he stepped to the french doors and peered in.

Sitting huddled on the bed, she was hugging her knees and restingher forehead against them in a posture of utter despair. When hetapped on the window she froze, as if gathering courage, beforeslowly swinging her feet over the side of the bed and coming towardhim.

Feeling acutely her sense of dread, he began to be frightened. Hebacked away from the door to give her room to open it, and as shecame outside, he looked at her, truly looked at her, for the firsttime in weeks. He drew in a sharp breath, aghast at what he saw.Catherine was alarmingly pale and her face had a drawn, pinched look.Her eyes were hollow and darkly circled from lack of sleep.

Crossing to the wall, she stood silently, looking out at thecity.

Vincent scrutinized her profile fearfully. "Catherine? What'swrong?"

There was a moment's silence as she leaned her hands on the lowwall and studied the skyline. "I went to Peter's office today."

From the way she said it, he knew immediately that she had seenPeter as a patient and not as a friend.

"Are you ill?" The words threatened to choke him as he forced themout.

She smiled a sad half-smile as she continued to gaze out into thenight. "No. I'm... Peter says if I don't start eating and sleepingagain I will be ill... but I'm all right." She paused for a deepbreath before going on. "I'm going to have a baby..." She turned andlooked at him almost pleadingly. "Our baby."

"No!" Vincent was paralyzed with shock and fear as a series ofterrifying images flashed before him... Lena's screams of pain whenher baby was born... Devin's mother dying in childbirth. Worst wasthe fear that the child would be like him. Even though he knew itwasn't true, the horror of the story Paracelsus had told him abouthis tearing his way out of his mother's body still haunted him.

"No!" he said again. "Catherine, you mustn't! The risk is toogreat!" His protest was instinctive and involuntary, a rebellionagainst a terrifying reality.

She turned away from him again and he could sense how tired shewas. The stress and anxiety of the past weeks had left her withlittle strength.

"I want this child, Vincent," she told him wearily. "It's thefulfillment of our dream. I know your fears... but they are not myfears... and I don't have the energy to deal with them now. I needyou to be here for me... if you can't..."

All her earlier joy and fear had drained away and he could feelonly her pain. Backing away slowly, he remembered the times he hadasked her to leave when he was suffering. A part of him wanted to behappy, wanted to rejoice in the new life they had created. But hisfears for Catherine's safety overwhelmed him, and his belief in theshamefulness of the union between them made the fruit of that unionalso seem wrong.

"Catherine, this distance between us... I feel it growing...it'stearing us apart. It is as though we are on opposite sides of a vastchasm, and what you most need, I cannot give you. All I can leavewith you is my love."

She bowed her head at his words and, lowering himself over herbalcony wall, he began his long descent, acutely aware of herisolation. She was so alone, and much as he wanted to, he could notbe there for her. His own feelings of guilt and dread prevented himfrom saying the things he knew she needed to hear.

Vincent struggled for several days, trying to reconcile his fears.At last, he reached a place within himself where he could be withCatherine, talk to her, even enjoy her company, but he stillmaintained a careful distance between them and couldn't bring himselfto speak of the child.

Hurt by his withdrawal, Catherine nevertheless tried to preservethe delicate balance of their relationship, accepting what he couldgive her without asking for more. Her heart cried out for him butthey were still so far apart she wondered if the gap would ever bebridged.

* * * * *

Nearly three months had passed since the night that Vincent wantedso much to forget. Catherine was Below for a rare visit and as shestood talking quietly to Mary in the passage outside Vincent'schamber, Father and Vincent approached.

"William's making corned beef and cabbage for supper tonight,"Father commented cheerfully, sniffing the air. "You can always tellby the smell..."

Catherine had been fighting the nausea caused by the cooking odorsfor several minutes and at Father's words she clapped a hand over hermouth and disappeared into Vincent's chamber. Mary went after her,but when Vincent, concerned, tried to follow, Father restrainedhim.

"She won't want you to see her," he explained gently.

Vincent looked in to see Catherine hunched over a basin, retchingmiserably, before allowing Father to draw him back out into thepassage.

Mary supported Catherine's shoulders until the spasms were over,then brought a wet cloth to wipe Catherine's face.

"Are you sick often?" she asked.

"All the time," Catherine confessed.

Mary looked worried. "You've been under a great strain lately,"she said, with a reproachful glance at Vincent, who now stood in thedoorway. "Stress can aggravate morning sickness," she added.

"I know. Peter told me."

Vincent listened to this exchange in alarm. He had known, ofcourse, that Catherine was trying to manage the same sorrows hewrestled with, but she hadn't told him of this persistent sickness.Suddenly, he saw clearly that not only was his refusal to accept thechild's existence causing Catherine great emotional distress, but wasactually making her physically ill, as well.

He was very quiet as he walked her back to the basement of herbuilding, trying to create order out of the chaos of his thoughts.When Catherine turned at the opening for the slightly formal exchangewhich had become their farewell, he lifted a hand to stop her.

"Catherine," he began, unsure of what he was going to say."Catherine, forgive me..." All at once everything fell into place forhim and nothing mattered except their love. He held out his arms and,after the briefest hesitation, she came to him.

They clung to each other, crying with joy that they were togetheragain and with regret for the time they had lost.

At last Vincent pulled back far enough to look at her tenderly. "Ican feel it," he said in a voice tinged with wonder.

Catherine looked at him in confusion. "Feel what?"

"The child. I can feel its presence... very vague and unformed,but it's really there."

She smiled at him through her tears. "Yes, it's really there."

A powerful wave of love for Catherine and the child swept throughhim as he pulled her close again. He held her tightly, as if to makeup for the long weeks of estrangement. "Your courage, Catherine," hewhispered into her hair. "Your courage held us together and made thishealing possible."

"I love you, Vincent." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder."I never stopped loving you."

"I love you," he echoed softly. "I never stopped..."

* * * * *

Nearing Father's chamber, Vincent walked more quickly, knowingCatherine was there waiting for him. He stopped short, however, whenhe saw Father pressing his stethoscope against her abdomen andlistening intently.

His anxiety was quickly dispelled when Catherine looked up andsmiled radiantly.

"Peter heard the baby's heart today," she explained. "Fathercouldn't resist," she added fondly.

Father smiled sheepishly as he got to his feet. "A fine, strongheartbeat," he pronounced. "Would you like to hear it?"

He offered the stethoscope to Vincent.

Vincent came slowly and knelt by Catherine's chair. Father helpedhim adjust the earpiece and placed the bell on the spot where it hadrested before.

Vincent frowned. "There are so many sounds..."

Father chuckled. "Can you hear a regular, rhythmic whooshingsound?"

Vincent nodded.

"That's Catherine's heart," Father explained. "Now listen for thesame kind of sound, but much faster and lighter."

Vincent listened again. "I hear it," he said softly. "The beatingof an unborn heart." Listening raptly for a little longer, he raisedhis eyes to see Catherine smiling at him tenderly.

Well into her fourth month of pregnancy, Catherine's morningsickness had all but disappeared and she fairly glowed with happinessand health. Vincent could not remember her ever looking sobeautiful.

In the months to come, he would still have occasional struggleswith his fears for Catherine's safety, but gradually these fears werebeing replaced by a sense of joy and protectiveness he had neverknown before. Often he would find himself daydreaming about thefuture of their unborn child.

Fascinated by the child's development, he sat for long periodswith his hand on Catherine's growing abdomen, waiting for the baby tomove. He read everything in Father's extensive library aboutpregnancy and childbirth and asked Mary endless questions.

Sometimes what he read provided him with a sense of security aboutCatherine's well-being, while some things only heightened his fears.It never ceased to amaze him that Catherine could be so serene in themidst of all the changes that were taking place in her body and herlife.

* * * * *

Winterfest came when Catherine was eight months pregnant and theGreat Hall was alive with gaiety and excitement. With the openingritual over, couples were dancing, while others were eating, drinkingand enjoying the festivities.

Vincent worked his way slowly across the crowded room. Returningto where he had left Catherine safely ensconced in Father's care, hissensitive ears picked up fragments of conversation from those aroundhim. Normally, Vincent would not have dreamed of eavesdropping, butthese conversations were centered on him and Catherine and the comingchild. Half expecting to hear someone censure the relationship andits result, he found himself pleasantly surprised. He did not knowwhat he would or could do if someone denounced Catherine's part init, but he knew no one could say anything about him that he had notalready said about himself. He truly did not realize how much he wasadmired, respected and loved by those who lived Below and those whohelped them.

Everyone was talking about the coming baby, but no one seemed toquestion whether or not it was appropriate. The only concern,expressed discreetly by some of the adults, was what the child mightlook like. Vincent shared those concerns and understood them.

Delighted at the thought of Vincent's baby, the children madeCatherine the center of attention. Vincent stopped just outside thegroup of youngsters gathered around, waiting their turns to feel thebaby kick.

"Catherine!" One young voice rang out above the others.

"Yes, Miranda." Catherine smiled at the chubby eight year old.Miranda's freckles were too numerous to count and her bright redpigtails stuck out at different angles. She smiled confidingly as sheleaned close, gazing at Catherine with wide green eyes.

Vincent winced a little because Miranda had an insatiablecuriosity and a propensity for asking potentially embarrassingquestions in the most public places.

True to form, Miranda's voice carried clearly as she asked, "Willyour baby look like Vincent?"

Vincent froze, waiting for Catherine's answer, and more important,her feelings as she delivered the reply.

Her voice was even and Vincent could sense only serenity as shesaid, "We don't know. We won't find out until it's born, just as wewon't know if it's a girl or a boy until then." Catherine put an armaround Miranda. "But it doesn't matter. Whatever the baby looks like,we'll love it." Her gaze shifted and she caught sight of Vincentwatching her intently from the edge of the group. She smiled at himtenderly, lovingly, as Miranda pulled at her arm with anotherquestion.

"But don't you want the baby to look like you, instead?"

A number of the adults had overheard the questions and a hushseemed to fall over the room as everyone waited for Catherine torespond.

Although she spoke slowly, choosing her words with care, Vincentknew she was speaking from her heart. "It would be nice if the babylooked more like me, because then it can choose whether to live Aboveor Below. But there's nothing wrong with a baby that looks likeVincent... I think Vincent's beautiful." She smiled at Vincent again."What I'm really wishing is that the baby is like Vincent in otherways... I want it to be strong, kind, gentle and wise."

Because Vincent and Catherine had never discussed the child'sappearance, he knew she had spoken more for his benefit thanMiranda's. Moving through the throng of children, he stopped besideCatherine's chair and reached for her hand.

She let him help her to her feet. Leaning close to him, she asked,"Dance with me?"

Vincent hesitated.

"Dance slowly with me?" she amended, seeing his doubt.

Smiling, he led her to a secluded part of the room, where shestepped into his waiting arms. Catherine's condition precluded awaltz as well as effectively preventing them from dancing too closelytogether. But love finds ways, and they moved gently to the strainsof a dulcimer, oblivious to all else but each other.

* * * * *

Two weeks later, Catherine entered Peter Alcott's office andlowered herself carefully into one of the chairs facing his desk.After her routine examination was over, Peter always took a fewminutes to talk to her before she went on her way.

"Well," he told her cheerfully, looking up from her chart, "You'reas healthy as a horse. And so is the little one."

Catherine laughed. "Would you write that down so I can show it toVincent?"

"Is he still fretting over you?"

"Yes." A look of compassion crossed her face. "I shouldn't teaseabout it. Underneath, he's still very frightened."

Peter sighed. "Jacob asked me to talk to him. I'll have to findthe time before I leave."

Catherine was surprised. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, didn't I tell you? I'm going to Susan's for Christmas. I'llbe gone a week. Don't you dare have that baby before I get back!"

Catherine laughed and glanced at her watch. "I have to run. I'mdue back in court in twenty-five minutes."

Peter frowned. "I thought you were taking a leave of absence."

"I am." Pushing herself awkwardly to her feet, she reached for hercoat. "The city will let me have six months maternity leave. Itstarts Monday."

"Well, don't work too hard in the meantime. I want you to letJacob take a look at you next week, and I'll be back for your checkupthe week after."

She grinned at him. "You'll have to make a house call. I'm movingBelow this weekend."

"That's right, I'd forgotten. Make sure Jacob sends for me ifanything happens. I'd like to be there when the baby's born." Petercame around to open the door for her.

"I'll tell him," Catherine promised. "Give my love to Susan!" shecalled over her shoulder as she exited.

* * * * *

Vincent stared pensively at the far wall of Father's chamber,ignoring the medical book which lay open on his lap.

"Vincent? Is something wrong?" Father came into the room andstopped by Vincent's chair.

Vincent came back to himself with a start. "What? Oh, no, Father.I was just thinking..."

Father noticed the book in Vincent's lap. "About the baby." Hecrossed to his desk and sat.

"Yes," Vincent confirmed, looking down.

"Isn't Catherine coming down in a day or two?" Father tried todivert Vincent's thoughts.

"On Saturday." Vincent fingered a page of the book.

"You don't seem happy about it..." Father ventured.

Vincent closed the heavy volume with a snap. "She should be Above,in a hospital, where there are better facilities to care forher."

Father was puzzled. "But it's been settled for months... Catherinewants Mary to deliver the baby..."

Vincent rose to his feet and began to pace in agitation. "I knowwhat Catherine wants. But I'm frightened, Father. And the more I readof all the things that could go wrong, the more frightened Ibecome."

Father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "`A little learning is adangerous thing,' Vincent," he began. "Women have been having babiesfor centuries and the complications you've been reading about takeplace in only a very small percentage of all births."

"I know. But still, it frightens me. She would be saferAbove."

Father spoke gently. "We must face reality, Vincent. The child maybe like you. Think what would happen to Catherine if she were to givebirth to such a child in the world Above."

"But if anything should happen to her, Father... because of me,because of our child..." Vincent's anguish was plain to see.

Father tried to reassure him. "You must stop worrying. Catherineis strong and healthy. There is no reason why anything should happen.Mary and I will both be there..."

Vincent bowed his head in defeat. "I know..."

* * * * *

By the end of the week, Catherine had cleared her desk and turnedover the few cases she still had pending to one of the otherattorneys in the office. She had closed up her apartment and madearrangements for her mail to be picked up and her bills paid. Sixmonths was a long time to be away from home, but they would be spentBelow, with Vincent... and soon, with their baby.

To avert suspicion, she had to be seen leaving her building,suitcase in hand. A waiting cab took her a short distance and let herout near the entrance she and Vincent had agreed upon.

It was the Saturday before Christmas and the sidewalks werecrowded with last-minute shoppers. Catherine, moving slowly becauseof her bulk and the suitcase she carried, was buffeted by carelesspedestrians hurrying by. Her destination was a nearby subway stationand she held firmly to the handrail as she descended the stairsleading to the trains. Assailed by the dank odor omnipresent insubways, she made her way unobtrusively to a door at the rear of theplatform. After a casual glance around to be sure she was notobserved, she opened the door and slipped through, pulling it shutbehind her.

She was in a small maintenance room. Cleaning supplies and boxedfluorescent light tubes lined the shelves along one wall. A couple ofpush brooms and a string mop were propped in a corner, while anindustrial type mop pail with wringer stood nearby. Catherinebypassed all of this, going to the back wall and moving a few emptycardboard cartons aside. She was raising her fist to pound on thewall when a section of it began to swing silently away from her.

Vincent waited on the other side and she stepped past him into thetunnel beyond. He quickly pulled her suitcase into the passage,restacked the empty cartons in front of the opening, and pushed thehinged section of wall closed. Only then did he turn to Catherine andshe smiled and held out her hands. He reached for them, then changedhis mind and swept her into a tender embrace.

"Are you well?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm fine, Vincent." A slight testiness in her voice indicatedthat perhaps she'd been asked that question once too oftenlately.

He ignored it and picked up her suitcase. His other arm wentaround her shoulders as they began the long walk to the heart of hisworld. Taking her to his own chamber, he set the suitcase on thebed.

Catherine looked at him in confusion. "Your chamber? I don'tunderstand."

"Mary told me how much it means to you to have the baby here, inmy chamber," he said gravely. "I can sleep somewhere else while youare here."

"Vincent, you don't have to give up your room..." she began, butstopped when she saw the pleading in his eyes.

"Let me do this for you, Catherine. Please."

After a moment, she smiled and nodded her agreement. Going to thebed, she opened her case.

"When I was going through some of my father's things last year, Icame across a box my mother had saved. Look." She held up a tinyyellow nightgown. "This was mine when I was a baby."

Vincent reached out to touch a sleeve that wasn't much longer thanhis finger. "It's so small."

"Babies aren't very big, Vincent." She laughed softly

and leaned her head against his shoulder for an instant beforereaching into the suitcase again. She pulled out three or four morenewborn sized gowns and set them aside, then lifted a threadbare blueand white checked blanket. "Look at this. I dragged it around with meuntil I was five or six. My mother used to have to practically pry itout of my hands to wash it."

She fingered the worn fabric lovingly and Vincent smiled at herobvious delight in the memory.

"Ow!" Catherine straightened suddenly and clutched her side.

"Catherine, what is it?" Vincent was immediately alarmed.

"I've just been kicked!" she said indignantly. "Right in theribs." She rubbed at the spot gingerly.

"Shall I get Father?" Vincent asked anxiously.

Catherine was quick to reassure him. "No, Vincent, I'm okay. It'sjust a painful place to be kicked."

"You're sure?" Vincent asked, not entirely convinced.

"Yes, I'm sure." The testiness had crept back into her voice."Where shall I put these things?" she asked more gently.

Vincent helped her put away the things for the baby and showed herthe clothes Mary had provided for Catherine to wear while she wasBelow.

"Thank you, Vincent," Catherine said when everything was safelystowed away. "Now I think I'll try to take a nap."

"You're tired." He was concerned all over again.

Catherine smiled. "I'm sleeping my life away lately... but Petersays it's perfectly normal." She put her arms around him. "Don'tworry," she whispered.

Vincent returned the embrace gently. "Rest now. I'll benearby."

* * * * *

Catherine slept soundly for nearly three hours and woke refreshed.She was looking through her tunnel clothes and debating whether ornot she should change when Father came in.

"Catherine, you're awake!"

"Hello, Father." She greeted him with a smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked sympathetically.

Her smiled quickly faded to a frown. "Why does everyone ask methat?" she said, her voice edged with frustration.

He put an affectionate arm around her shoulders and squeezed."Because we care," he reminded her. "And now that you're here, we cankeep an eye on you."

"Speaking of keeping an eye on me, where's Vincent?" She smiledself-consciously.

"I sent him on an errand." Father shook his head. "I'm beginningto think that if he asks me one more question..."

"You'll scream," Catherine finished for him. "I know. He asks meat least five times an hour if I'm all right."

They smiled at each other with understanding and sympathy forVincent's fears before Father cleared his throat. "Vincent wastelling me about the clothes you brought down for the baby," hebegan. "And I remembered this." He produced a tiny sweater andoffered it to her.

Catherine took it gently, a question in her eyes.

"Grace made it when she was carrying Devin," he explained. "Bothof my sons wore it when they were infants." He smiled sadly. "I keptit out of sentiment, I suppose."

Catherine was touched. "I can't believe Vincent was ever smallenough to wear this."

"Not only did he wear it, it was once too large for him," Fatherchuckled. "And even as sick as he was, Vincent was a big baby."

Catherine's face clouded. "Father, I've been wanting to ask you...I know Vincent was very ill as an infant... he nearly died..." Shehesitated. "Was it because of the way he is?"

Father was instantly comforting. "No, Catherine. Vincent was halfstarved and suffering from exposure. It was bitter cold and there'sno telling how long he was outside before Anna found him. Don'tworry. Even if your baby is like Vincent, there's no reason to thinkit will be anything but strong and healthy."

"Thank you, Father." Catherine accepted what he told her and lether mind be set at ease.

"Now," Father told her, "I believe it's time for supper."

Offering her his arm, he asked, "May I escort you to the diningchamber?"

* * * * *

Catherine had been Below for more than a week and Vincent wasbeginning to get on her nerves. She tried to be patient with him,knowing how fearful he was, but he seemed to be constantly underfootand she bumped into him every time she turned around. She wasn't surewhen he slept, because every time she woke up he was there, watchingover her. While it was nice to be so loved and cared for, Catherinewas starting to feel smothered.

"Please, Vincent," she begged one evening. "Go play chess withFather. Go for a walk in the park. Go up and look at the city lights.Go do something, anything, somewhere else!"

Almost immediately contrite, she called to him, but he had alreadyleft the chamber. She was afraid she had hurt him and wisheddesperately that she hadn't said anything. These last days ofpregnancy were making her irritable, but that was no excuse forlashing out at Vincent.

He still hadn't returned when she went to bed and she lay awakefor some time, waiting for him. When she opened her eyes, Vincent wasdozing in a chair at her bedside.

"Vincent!" She whispered to him and reached to touch his hand.

He was instantly alert. "Catherine?"

"I'm all right," she assured him automatically. "Vincent, I'msorry for what I said. I'm so grouchy these days..."

"No, Catherine. The fault is mine," he interrupted gently. "I havegiven you no time to be by yourself, with your own thoughts."

She shook her head in denial. "I'm worried about you."

"About me?" He was surprised. "Why?"

"You aren't sleeping... you're always here. Vincent, that'slovely, but you need your rest."

He smiled gently. "I'll sleep later. I want to watch over you...if you don't mind?"

"No... I don't mind." An idea struck her and she offered ittentatively. "Vincent... if you want to be here with me, I think thisbed is big enough for all three of us." She looked at himhopefully.

He studied her thoughtfully for a minute, before moving slowlytoward the bed. Sliding over, she made room for him as he gingerlylaid down on top of the blankets.

At first he held himself carefully away from her, but she nestledtrustingly against him and fell asleep almost at once. Soon Vincentbegan to relax and enjoy lying with Catherine in his arms. The childwithin her stirred and kicked vigorously but Catherine slept on,undisturbed.

Vincent wondered how she did it. He was sure he couldn't sleepwith those little feet (at least, he thought they were feet) thumpinghis side rhythmically where Catherine pressed against him. But in theend he did sleep, and in the morning he woke a little cramped, butwonderfully refreshed.

From that night on, they shared the same bed. Vincent woke everytime Catherine did and couldn't help asking her each time if she wereall right, but she resisted the impulse to snap at him. Patiently,she explained whatever had awakened her and let him walk with her onher frequent nocturnal trips to the bathroom. Most of all, shereveled in the feeling of having him close by.

One night she awoke suddenly, for no reason she could pinpoint.Reassuring Vincent, she tried to lie quietly, but couldn't go back tosleep. She was unable to find a position that seemed comfortable anddidn't want to disturb Vincent's rest. Finally, she got up and pulledon a robe.

"I can't sleep," she told Vincent in a whisper. "Don't let me keepyou up. I'm just going to walk for a while."

"I'll come with you." Over her protest, he rose and followed herout into the passage.

Catherine didn't know why she felt so restless, but Vincentfollowed her patiently as she wandered through the passages near hischamber. She tried once to lie down and go back to sleep, but shestill couldn't get comfortable and went back to walking. Severaltimes Vincent offered to get Mary or Father, but Catherinerefused.

"There's nothing wrong, Vincent. Let them sleep."

She had been having mild contractions off and on for severalweeks, so she didn't pay attention when they started again. But asthey gradually grew stronger, she began to suspect that this might bethe beginning of her labor.

She tried to hide it from Vincent as long as she could to sparehim anxiety, but finally, as another contraction gripped her,Catherine put one hand against the wall for support and the other onher belly. Vincent's arms went around her at once, holding hersteady. When it was over, he lowered her carefully to the tunnelfloor.

"Stay here," he instructed firmly. "I'll get Mary."

Catherine tried to call him back, but he was already on his way toMary's chamber. When he returned a few moments later with a sleepyMary in tow, Catherine was gone. Exasperated by her fierceindependence and distressed over the ordeal to come, he followed hissense of her and caught up with her just outside his chamber.

"You should have waited," he chided.

"Vincent, I'm all right!" Catherine turned to Mary. "I told himnot to wake you yet. I'm sorry."

Mary smiled. "If it will set Vincent's mind at rest, I don'tobject to being awakened in the middle of the night. Are thecontractions regular?"

"I think so. They seem to be getting stronger."

"How far apart are they now, and how long have you been havingthem?"

Catherine looked blank and Vincent answered for her. "The last fewhave been about seven or eight minutes apart. She woke almost fourhours ago and hasn't been able to go back to sleep. I have beenfeeling the contractions for the last two hours."

Catherine looked at him and laughed shakily. "And I thought I wasdoing such a good job of hiding them from you."

Vincent smiled at her tenderly and Mary laughed.

"Catherine, I'd like to examine you to see what's happening," shesaid. "Vincent, you'd better wait outside."

Vincent left the chamber reluctantly and paced impatiently untilMary called him back.

"Her labor's started," Mary told him. "There's still a long way togo. I'm going back to bed, but call me if there's any change or ifyou have any questions. And Vincent," she paused to lay a hand on hisarm. "Try not to worry. Everything is perfectly normal so far."

"Can I keep walking?" Catherine wanted to know.

"Catherine..." Vincent started to protest but Mary squeezed hisarm.

"If she wants to walk, let her, Vincent. It won't hurt her and itmay speed things along."

Vincent acquiesced reluctantly and he and Catherine resumed theirslow progression through the nearby passages. When a contractionbegan, Catherine would stop for a moment while Vincent supported her.As the contractions grew more intense, Catherine began to turn andlean against him for each one, letting him hold her and whisper wordsof encouragement.

They walked for hours until the community began to wake up.Growing tired of explaining why they were pacing the tunnels,Catherine finally allowed Vincent to take her back to hischamber.

Soon Father and Mary came. In an attempt to distract him, Fatherdragged Vincent unwillingly off to breakfast.

"Catherine will need you to be strong later," he told his son."Mary wants to examine her now and will stay with her until youreturn."

News of the impending birth spread quickly and Vincent was therecipient of many smiles and encouraging pats and hugs from otherswho were taking their morning meal. At Father's insistence, heallowed William to fill a plate for him, but he was acutely aware ofeach of Catherine's contractions as they occurred, and he was unableto swallow more than a few mouthfuls. Finally Father admitted defeatand dismissed him and Vincent flew back to Catherine's side.

Mary had persuaded Catherine to lie down and Vincent went at onceto sit beside her, taking her hand in his.

"She's doing fine, Vincent," Mary told him. "Everything ishappening just as it's supposed to."

Vincent was a little comforted by that, but as Catherine's laborprogressed, each contraction seemed to take her farther and fartheraway from him.

"It hurts," she whispered, as a particularly strong contractionsubsided.

"I know." Vincent could feel her reaction to the pain and he wasfrustrated by his helplessness. If he could, he would gladly take hersuffering away, but as it was, all he could do was to soothe her withhis voice and his touch.

Perhaps Catherine sensed this, because her eyes opened. "I loveyou."

He kissed her damp forehead. "I know."

By midafternoon the contractions were coming in such rapidsuccession and were of such intensity that at times, he wasn't sureCatherine even knew he was there. Between contractions she wouldsometimes smile at him distractedly as he wiped her face or smoothedback her hair.

"It won't be much longer," Mary announced from her position at thefoot of the bed. "Catherine, how are you doing?"

Another contraction kept Catherine from answering. Vincent talkedher through it as he knelt by the bed, his face close to hers.

As the contraction ended, Catherine gripped Vincent's sleeve. "Ican't do this anymore," she gasped futilely. "I want to go home.Please, Vincent, take me home."

Vincent looked at Mary in dismay. Catherine's despair wasunexpected and overwhelming and he didn't know what to do.

Peter came quickly from the corner where he'd been quietlyobserving and knelt by the bed. "Come on, Cathy. You can do one more,can't you?" He spoke as he would to a frightened child.

At her reluctant nod, he went on. "Okay. One more and you can gohome. Vincent will take you home. You can do it, Cathy."

She seemed satisfied with that and Vincent could feel herconfidence coming back as he stared at Peter.

"She can't go home..." he began, appalled.

"She knows that, Vincent," Peter explained, with a warm glance atCatherine. "At this stage of labor, she isn't entirely rational. Justtell her what she wants to hear." With an encouraging pat onVincent's shoulder, he retreated to his corner just as the nextcontraction began.

Vincent followed Peter's advice and it seemed to work, givingCatherine the strength she needed to get through each contraction oneat a time.

Soon Mary was telling Catherine she could bear down, and theconfusion Vincent had been sensing from her slipped away. Pushing washard work but it seemed to him to be less painful and morefulfilling.

"I can see the top of the baby's head," Mary said after a while.She smiled at the two curious faces looking back at her. "It has lotsof dark hair," she added.

"Dark hair?" Catherine laughed tiredly and looked at Vincent. "Iwonder where that came from."

A few more pushes and Mary beckoned for Father. "On the nextcontraction, don't bear down," she instructed Catherine. "Take short,quick breaths."

With Vincent's encouragement, Catherine obeyed, resisting theoverwhelming urge to push. Moments later, Mary was telling her tobear down again and the baby slid into the world, screaming hisdispleasure with his first breath.

"It's a boy!" Father exclaimed over the baby's outraged cries. "Aperfect little boy!" He wrapped the infant in a blanket and broughthim, still wet and struggling, and laid him in Vincent's arms.

Vincent cradled his son gently, holding him so that Catherinecould see his face. She reached to touch him and looked up at Vincentin wonder.

"He's beautiful," she whispered. "Let me hold him."

Carefully, Vincent laid the baby beside her. The infant hadstopped crying and was trying to put his clenched fist into his openmouth. Almost reverently, Catherine stroked the child's head,marvelling over the thick dark hair. She thought she could see avague resemblance to Vincent in the contours of his face, but helooked completely human.

The child had been weighed, measured, washed and diapered andVincent was holding him again when Catherine began to shiveruncontrollably.

"It's a normal reaction," Mary assured as she covered Catherinewith a warm blanket. "You'll be all right in a few minutes."

When the tremors began to subside, Vincent placed the baby besideher again. "Father says he appears to be completely normal," he saidthankfully. "He weighs eight pounds, three ounces and is twenty-twoinches long." A certain amount of pride had crept into his voice andCatherine smiled at him lovingly.

Father came back and looked at Catherine. "His public is waitingoutside," he gestured toward the door. "May I take him out so theycan see him?"

Exchanging glances, Vincent and Catherine agreed and Fathergathered his grandson in his arms, carrying him out into the passage.A ragged cheer could be heard as Father emerged. The chatter ofvoices grew louder as those who had waited for the birth gatheredaround. Father returned in a few minutes and Vincent took the childand cuddled him close.

"Have you chosen a name yet?" Father was frankly curious.

Catherine looked at Vincent. "We never even discussed names," shesaid with a small laugh. "Vincent..." she waited until his attentionwas fully focused on her. "You name him."

Vincent looked down at the tiny face, then back at Catherine."Charles. His name is Charles."

Catherine's smile was more eloquent than any words and Vincentknew how much he had pleased her by selecting her father's name fortheir son.

After a short time, Mary, Peter and Father excused themselves,leaving the new family alone together for the first time.

* * * * *

A few days later, Peter came down to admire the baby's progress.Since Vincent was elsewhere, he visited with Catherine.

"You are planning to register his birth Above..." he begantentatively.

"Of course. He is a child of both worlds. He can choose which onehe prefers when he is old enough, but he will grow up in both."Catherine was matter-of-fact.

"Good!" Peter was obviously relieved and produced the applicationfor a birth certificate that he'd brought with him. "I filled out thefirst part, about you," he explained. He looked at Catherine closely."You know you're going to have to say `father unknown'"

She nodded tightly. "I know. It wouldn't be safe any otherway."

Peter nodded his agreement, and went on. "I filled in his firstname - Charles. Does he have a middle name?"

Catherine smiled. "Tunnel children don't have middle names," shepointed out.

"I thought he was going to be a child of both worlds," Peterchallenged her.

Catherine considered that and her face brightened as she thoughtof a way for Charles to carry his father's name. "Vincent," she saidclearly. "His name is Charles Vincent Chandler."

* * * * *

As Vincent came to the end of the story, Charles looked at hisfather with love and respect. "So that's how it happened. I alwayswondered."

Vincent was carefully thoughtful. "I still don't know if what I amis hereditary," he explained. "Each of you has some of mycharacteristics, but none of you is completely like me. Perhaps yourchildren, if you are able to have them, will be perfectlynormal."

Charles grimaced. "That still leaves the problem of finding awife."

Vincent smiled slightly as he looked at his son. "You must do as Idid, and find someone who is strong enough and brave enough to riskeverything for you. If you can do that, Charles, you will findhappiness. I promise you."

THE END