FAMILY

Catherine automatically punched the doorbell and used her key tolet herself into the townhouse.She stopped in the vestibule,divesting herself of her coat and hanging it in the closet.

"Anybody home?" she called out as she opened the vestibule's innerdoor and went into the hall.

"Hi, Mom!" The cheerful shout came from the back of the house.

Catherine followed the voice down the hall, through the diningroom and into the warm, brightly lit kitchen, sniffingappreciatively.

"Hello, Jacob," she greeted her middle son, daring to drop a quickkiss on his cheek.

"Mom!" He squirmed away, still young enough at eighteen to beembarrassed by his mother's affection.

"What's for dinner?" she asked, lifting the cover from one of thepots simmering on the stove.

"Mom!" In exasperation he took the lid from her hand and replacedit. "Please don't do that. It lets the steam out!"

"Sorry," she said uncontritely. "What is it?"

"We're having lasagna," Jacob answered her earlier question first."This..." he tapped the pot she'd peered into, "is an experiment. Wemight have it for dinner tomorrow if it works out."

"Okay," Catherine said agreeably. Jacob's culinary experimentsalmost always did work out, deliciously, but he had been conditionedby years of teasing from his brothers not to discuss them until hewas satisfied with the recipe. Even now, any new dish which containedmeat was sure to be met with wild speculation on the part of hissiblings as to the source of the meat. On one recent occasion, hissister had demanded to count his fingers.

"Where is everyone?" Catherine wanted to know, wondering at theunaccustomed quiet of their usually boisterous home.

"Vicky's at Cassie's house and Evan hasn't come home from schoolyet."

Catherine glanced at her watch sharply. "Did he call?"

"No, but the school did. His counselor wants you to call himtonight. Evan's probably hiding out somewhere." Jacob added somethingto one of his pots and stirred.

Catherine sighed. Her youngest son was as much a trial as a joysometimes.

"Oh, Charles called," Jacob added as an afterthought. "He's cominghome for the weekend. Said he'd catch the shuttle and be herelater."

"Good." Catherine smiled in genuine pleasure. "I miss him whenhe's at school. Where's your father?"

"He hasn't come up yet," Jacob replied as he bent to check theoven. "You'd better hurry if you're going to change before dinner,"he warned his mother.

"Do I have time to call Evan's counselor first?"

Jacob grinned. "I'll give you twenty minutes. Vicky won't be home'til then anyway."

Catherine went back out into the hall and climbed the stairs. Onreaching the second floor, she turned right and entered the largemaster bedroom.

Dropping her purse and briefcase on the bed, she picked up thephone. It said something about her youngest son that she was able todial his school guidance counselor's number from memory. "Mr. Taylor?This is Catherine Chandler. I have a message to call you about Evan?"She listened quietly as Evan's counselor described her son's latestescapade -- pouring jello into the aquarium in the principal'soffice.

"Mrs. Chandler, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come into the school. We need to discuss Evan's behavior."

Mr. Taylor was apologetic.

"All right," Catherine agreed wearily.

"Would Monday afternoon at three be convenient?"

Catherine reached for her briefcase and extracted her appointmentbook. "No, I'll be in court all day Monday."

"This is very important, Mrs. Chandler. Perhaps Evan'sfather..."

"No," she interrupted firmly, years of practice making her adeptat cutting off all inquiries about her husband. "I'm afraid thatwouldn't be possible. Can we make it Tuesday at four?"

After they agreed on the time, Catherine cradled the phonegently. There was a soft, sliding sound and she looked up with atired smile as Vincent stepped through the hidden door in the falsewall and slid it shut behind him.

Catherine stood up and kissed him before moving to her closet."Evan's in trouble again," she said over her shoulder as she began tochange her clothes.

"I know. He came Below today."

Catherine turned in surprise. Of all their children, only Evanrarely visited the tunnels and chambers of his father's world. Hisrestless spirit seemed to find them confining.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"Nothing of consequence." Vincent assumed a half-recliningposition across the foot of their bed. "We played chess."

"Who won?" Catherine asked with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.It was a source of mild chagrin to Vincent that his son won most oftheir chess battles without really trying.

"I did," Vincent replied with dignity, trying to look as if anyother outcome was unthinkable. Then he smiled. "I think he took pityon me."

They were interrupted as the phone rang once, followed by apartial ring as someone picked it up downstairs.

"Mom!" Jacob called up the stairs. "It's Uncle Joe!"

Catherine normally did not accept phone calls during her privatetime with Vincent, but she would always make an exception forDistrict Attorney Joe Maxwell.

"Hi, Joe," she greeted him, sinking down on the edge of the bedand reaching for a notepad. She stopped in mid-motion and beganprotesting in a low voice.

"No, Joe. Absolutely not. No! My weekends are for myfamily..."

From his place at the foot of the bed, Vincent could hear Joe'scajoling tones and knew how this conversation would end even beforehe felt Catherine's resolve weaken.

"I know it's an important case, Joe..." She listened some more,then lifted her hand in a gesture of defeat.

"Okay, okay. You can have four hours of my time tomorrow. Fourhours, Joe. And not one second longer!"

Joe said something that made her laugh, and she hung up the phone,turning apologetically to Vincent.

"I have to go in tomorrow. They think they've found some newevidence on the Bradley case and we're supposed to go to trial onMonday."

Tilting his head in calm acceptance, he watched with quietamusement as Catherine rose and began to pace back and forth.

"I think it's time for me to tell Joe I have to cut back,"

she announced suddenly. "This job... it just takes too much timeout of my life... out of our life." She pivoted to face him. "Youdon't believe me!" she accused.

"I believe you," Vincent said serenely, the underlying current ofamusement evident in his voice. "But I've heard you say these thingsbefore."

"I mean it this time."

"You mean it every time." He rose gracefully and came to standbehind her, enfolding her securely in his arms. "And you'llrelinquish some of your responsibilities and have more time untilanother case comes along that touches your heart... until there'sanother wrong you think you can right... and then you'll be rightback where you are now."

"You know me so well," she said, leaning back against himcomfortably.

"I've seen it happen," he reminded her.

"Do you mind, Vincent?" she asked suddenly. "Does it bother youwhen I'm working so much? I feel I have so little time for you, forthe children..."

"I miss you," he admitted softly. "When you're absorbed in a case,sometimes even when you're here, you're not here. But," he shruggedlightly. "That is what makes you who you are. If you gave up yourwork, it would change you."

"Maybe for the better," she laughed softly.

"Impossible."

Their quiet moment together was shattered by the staccato buzz ofthe front doorbell, followed by the door opening and excited youngmale voices all talking at once.

"Charles is here!" Catherine smiled and hurried to finishchanging.

"Mom! Dad!" Evan bellowed from the foot of the stairs. "Charles ishome! And Jacob says that dinner's almost ready!"

Catherine winced at the clamor from below. "Why does he have toshout like that?" she asked almost plaintively.

"Because he's sixteen. And because it's much easier to yell thanto actually walk up one whole flight of stairs." Vincent wasmatter-of-fact.

Catherine shook her head as she followed Vincent out into the halland down the wide staircase. Having grown up an only child, with homea place of rest and tranquility, she was still sometimes overwhelmedby the noise and confusion caused by a houseful of teenagers.Vincent, with years of tunnel life behind him, seemed to handle thetumult with much more equanimity.

Their son Charles came to meet them at the foot of the stairs.Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with the same fluid grace thatcharacterized his siblings, and which they all had inherited fromtheir father.

"Mother," he greeted Catherine quietly, bending down to kiss hercheek as he hugged her. "Hello, Father." He turned to embrace Vincentas well.

Catherine looked on with pride as the two men faced each other.Her first-born child, and for nearly four years, her only child, wasa constant source of wonder to her. Of all their children, Charleswas the one who most resembled his father, not so much in looks,though there were similarities, but in temperament. They shared thesame quiet intelligence, the same subdued sense of humor, the samecompassion for others, and the same implacable sense of justice.

Physically, Charles was actually a little taller than Vincent,with the same powerful build. Charles' eyes, however, were his own -a light, clear gray that sometimes changed to gray-green or steelblue, depending on his mood. His coarse, straight hair wasnon-descript brown, perhaps a shade darker than his mother's.

He wasn't a handsome man. His high, prominent cheekbones, deep-seteyes and slightly flattened nose precluded that, but, like hisfather, there was something almost magnetic about him, an air ofauthority that inspired confidence.

Catherine's thoughts were interrupted by Evan, who draped a casualarm around her shoulders and grinned ingratiatingly. "Hi, Mom!"

She scowled at him. At sixteen, Evan already towered over her andhad his father's and brother's powerful physique. His hair was stillfair enough to be called blond and his eyes were an indeterminateshade of blue. Evan was beyond bright, seeming to absorb knowledgelike a sponge. Between his youth and his ability to master almost anysubject with minimal effort, he was often left bored and impatient,which led him into all sorts of trouble.

"I want to talk to you later," Catherine told him sternly.

He had the good grace to look abashed and dropped his armguiltily.

"Evan!" called Jacob from the kitchen. "Will you set thetable?"

"It's Vicky's turn!" Evan protested indignantly.

"She's not here," his brother replied, wiping his hands briskly ashe came into the hall.

"Evan, do as your brother asks," Catherine said quietly.

Evan looked as if he wanted to argue, but a firm glance from hisfather sent him into the dining room, where he could be heardrattling silver and china impatiently.

A key grated in the lock and the front door began to open slowly.Remembering that the inner door had been propped open while hebrought in his things, Charles stepped quickly in front of Vincent toscreen him from view.

"Vicky!" Charles cried in irritation. "You forgot the bell!"

His sister leaned out the open door to jab at the bell, producinga truncated buzz. With exaggerated care, she closed the outside doorand locked it. "Happy now?" she asked her brother, giving him anenthusiastic hug.

"It's important, Vicky," Charles remonstrated.

"You worry too much," she replied breezily. "Daddy knew it was me.Didn't you?" She pirouetted gracefully and fell into her father'sarms.

"Yes, but Charles is right." Vincent couldn't help smiling at hisirrepressible daughter. "It's easier on everyone when you rememberthe bell."

From the time they had been old enough to go outside alone, allthe children had been taught to always, always ring the bell beforecoming inside. The chance that Vincent would be caught unaware by asuddenly opened door was slim, but, as Catherine repeatedly pointedout, any risk was too great. Now it was habit for all of them tosound the warning before opening the door. Only Victoria, mercurial,high-spirited, and with a definite flair for the dramatic, keptforgetting.

Vicky was fifteen and already two self-conscious inches tallerthan her mother. Fine, strawberry blond hair fell in tangled waves,framing a high forehead and cheekbones, deep-set green eyes, a wide,full-lipped mouth and narrow chin. The combination of her featureswas both unusual and arresting.

She looked at her father now, wide-eyed, and tried to lookcontrite. Vincent was perfectly aware that he spoiled Victoria, butsomehow he could never resist those incredibly expressive eyes thatCatherine claimed were just like his.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she apologized.

"Dinner's ready," Jacob informed them from the dining room door."Everybody come sit down. Vicky, get the salad for me, will you?"

Shorter and slimmer than his brothers, Jacob was the child whomost resembled his mother. He had her light brown hair and finerfeatures, though his eyes were his father's blue. Quiet andthoughtful, it was Jacob who efficiently managed the household andmothered the younger children.

He carried in a steaming pan of lasagna and set it carefully onthe table as Evan leaned forward for a closer look.

"Is that all?" Evan asked in disappointment.

Jacob grinned. "Don't worry, Evan, there's another pan in theoven."

"I see you haven't lost your enthusiasm for food," Charlescommented cheerfully as he served himself a healthy portion.

"Hey, save some for me!" Evan grabbed for the spoon.

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Aren't you two ever going to grow up?"

"Just call me Peter Pan." Evan raised his fork with a flourish,knowing he had gotten in the last word.

There was a brief lull as the rest of the family filled theirplates and began to eat. As usual, they launched into two or threesimultaneous conversations.

"Guess what, Mom!" Vicky asked excitedly. "Colin Becker has a newplay opening off-Broadway next month. Can we go?"

Catherine smiled indulgently. Vicky had developed a school-girlcrush on the young actor after seeing him in a play last year. "Sure,Vicky. Write a note to remind me and I'll call for tickets. Doesanyone else want to go?" She looked questioningly at the boys, whoall shook their heads. "Looks like it's just you and me, then,Vicky."

Evan gave his sister a derisive grin. "Colin Becker! Oh, he's socute!" he said in a high-pitched falsetto. "I'm in love with ColinBecker!"

"Stop! Daddy, make him stop!" Vicky appealed for help.

"Evan, please don't tease her," Vincent said mildly.

Evan changed the subject quickly. "Mom, I have a soccer game nextWednesday. Can you come?"

"What time will it be?"

"Three o'clock. We're playing Westland Prep. They're undefeated,but Coach thinks we can beat them!" Evan's enthusiasm wasapparent.

"Evan, I can't promise you. I'm supposed to be in court all dayWednesday," Catherine began, apologetically.

Evan's face closed abruptly. "Yeah. Right," he saidexpressionlessly.

"Evan, I'll try," Catherine entreated. "Please understand."

Evan stared stonily at his plate and Catherine looked to Vincentbeseechingly. He shook his head slightly and adroitly changed thesubject.

"There is a music recital Below tomorrow evening," he addressedthe table at large. "Robin is playing Dvorak's Cello Concerto. Wehave all been invited."

"I'm already going with Nathaniel," Vicky volunteered, naming thetunnel boy she'd grown up with and still called her best friend.

"I'm taking Amanda." Jacob smiled as he thought of the girl fromBelow.

"I promised David we'd get together tomorrow to work on that newcomputer program," Charles said.

Catherine touched Vincent's hand regretfully. "I can't," she saidsadly. "There's the award banquet for Joe tomorrow night. I have tobe there."

Vincent's eyes told her he understood.

"I'll go with you, if nobody else will, Dad!" Evan's voice was notquite defiant, but the look he gave his mother was clearly achallenge.

There was a moment of tense silence before Catherine rose from thetable. "If you'll excuse me, I have some work to do," she saidstiffly and left the room.

"Good going, Evan," Jacob muttered sarcastically.

"Evan." There was an edge of steel in Vincent's voice. "You knowyour mother has obligations to fulfill. And you know it hurts herwhen you behave as if she were abandoning you deliberately."

"Isn't she?" Evan asked bitterly, unwilling to concede the point."She doesn't have to be gone all the time."

"The work she does demands a great deal of her and it may seemthat it leaves her little time for us," Vincent explained moregently. "But she loves you very much, Evan. She has always been herewhen you've needed her."

"You always take her side!" Evan lashed out angrily.

"There are no sides, Evan. I love both of you. But your attitudehurts your mother, it hurts me and I know it makes you unhappy. Whydo you continue to make us all suffer?"

Evan settled back in his chair sullenly. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one who needs to hear your apology," Vincent saidevenly as he rose to his feet.

He went up to the second floor and opened the door to the study.Catherine hadn't bothered with lights or even candles. Instead, shehad opened the heavy drapes that normally covered the window whereshe stood forlornly looking out into the night.

"He makes me feel so inadequate," she said despondently as Vincentcame to stand beside her.

"I know. It's difficult for him to understand why he can't havethe kind of family he thinks he wants."

"Don't you mean the kind of mother he wants?" Catherine askedwistfully.

"No. I think Evan is unhappy with both of us, with the life we areforced to lead. But he directs his anger at you because he knows Icannot change what I am."

Catherine looked up sadly. "What if I did try to stay home more?Would it help? I miss so many of his games because of my work."

Vincent shook his head. "He wouldn't be any happier," he said."There is something in Evan that will always be dissatisfied, nomatter where he is or what he does. I feel the restlessness inhim."

"But maybe if I gave him more attention..." Catherine leaned herforehead against the cool glass. "That's what he's crying out for,with all these childish pranks he pulls. He wants my attention."

"Don't blame yourself, Catherine. The problem lies with Evan, notyou."

Catherine shook her head sadly and went into Vincent's arms forcomfort.

A few minutes later she was at her desk, already lost in her work,while Vincent sat reading behind the huge old mahogany desk that hadonce belonged to Catherine's father. The drapes had been carefullyclosed before Vincent lit a few of the candles ranged around the room- they always made him feel more comfortable, even though the smalllamp on each desk provided adequate illumination. Besides the desks,which were placed at right angles a few feet apart, there werebookshelves all around the walls. The ones behind Vincent werelargely filled with old, leather-bound volumes of poetry, literature,biographies, and history. A few shelves held newer books, most ofthem gifts from Catherine, and there was a shelf full of old medicalbooks that had belonged to Father.

The shelves behind Catherine's desk were much more business-likeand much less inviting. They were lined with law books - her own andones which had been left to her by her father.

The other end of the big room held a battered leather couch andtwo big wing-back chairs that had seen better days, arrangedinvitingly before a large fireplace. The shelves at that end of theroom contained an interesting assortment. There were children's booksthat had been outgrown, textbooks, a few modern novels and a widearray of non-fiction, covering almost any subject. It was acomfortable room, always dimly lit, and always welcoming.

Their home was a judicious blend of Above and Below, combiningelements of both worlds. To Catherine, it was a place that held theinner peace of Vincent's world, even when the noise level threatenedher sanity.

There was a light tap on the door and Evan slipped inside,crossing to his mother's desk.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Mom," he said diffidently,casting an uncertain glance in his father's direction. "I guess Iknow you'd come if you could."

Catherine wasn't sure if he meant his soccer game or the recitalBelow, but she decided not to pursue it. "That's all right, Evan."She gave him a forgiving smile before becoming more serious. "Now,about the phone conversation I had with Mr. Taylor thisevening..."

She was aware of Vincent closing his book and listening, ready tolend his support and wisdom to any disciplinary action which might benecessary. Evan shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Oh, comesit down, Evan," Catherine said in exasperation. "You make me feellike an ogre when you stand in front of my desk that way."

He dragged a straight chair over from its place against the walland sat down.

"Why don't you tell me what happened," Catherine suggested.

Evan squirmed. "It was supposed to be a joke," he said vaguely. "Iwanted to see if I could do it."

"You wanted to see if you could do what?" Catherine pressedhim.

"If I could get in and out of the principal's office and not getcaught."

"I see. And why the jello?"

Evan moved restlessly in his chair and did not answer.

"Let me guess," Catherine said after a moment. "The jello

was the sign you left to prove you'd actually been there."

Evan put on a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Prove it to who?"

"Come on, Evan, give me a little credit. This was a sort of dare."

Evan grinned suddenly. "Yeah," he admitted. "Some of the guys saidit couldn't be done. I said it could."

His grin faded a little under his mother's scrutiny. "I guess itwasn't very funny," he added slowly.

"Not for the fish, I'm sure," Catherine agreed drily.

Evan looked startled. "I didn't hurt the fish!"

"Evan, you put jello in their tank!"

"Yes, but I took the fish out first. I didn't want them todie!"

Catherine swiveled her chair away from him abruptly and put a handover her mouth. It took Evan a minute to figure out that she wastrying not to laugh. Sneaking a glance at his father, he decided hewas trying to smother amusement, too. Evan leaned back in his chair,reflecting that maybe he wasn't in as much trouble as he hadthought.

When Catherine turned back to him, her face was composed, but hethought he could still detect a glint of humor in her eyes. "Andafter all that, you got caught."

"They didn't catch me," Evan protested. "I confessed."

His mother looked confused.

"They thought Matthew Jenson did it because he had these redstains on his hands," he explained earnestly. "He didn't even knowabout it. I didn't want him to get in trouble."

Catherine smiled and shook her head, exchanging despairing glancesof amusement with Vincent. "What are we going to do with you, Evan?"she asked rhetorically.

The boy shrugged and smiled hopefully. "I don't know."

Catherine thought a moment. "Okay, Monday morning you willapologize to Mrs. Webster for entering her office without permissionand for vandalizing the fish tank. You will clean the aquarium andreplace the fish. If any of the fish have died, you will use yourallowance to buy new ones. Is that clear?"

Evan nodded. "Are we finished?" He was anxious to be off the hook.

"Yes. We're finished." Catherine dismissed him with a wave of herhand.

When he was gone, she turned to Vincent. "Did I do the rightthing? I didn't punish him..."

"Why do you always doubt yourself when you deal with Evan?"Vincent asked. "You don't do that with the others."

"I don't know." Catherine was at a loss to explain. "He's sorebellious and hostile sometimes. I can't help but wonder, if Itreated him differently, would he respond differently?"

"You aren't doing anything wrong, Catherine. You must trustyourself."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door as Vicky came in tosay goodnight. She was followed presently by Jacob, who wanted to letthem know he would be spending the night Below.

Finally Charles came in for a friendly game of chess with hisfather. As they moved to the chess board, the quiet murmur of theirvoices reminded Catherine of years past, when the children weresmall. Vicky would curl up in Vincent's lap while the boys gatheredaround to hear Vincent tell stories or read to them. SometimesCatherine would join them, but more often she would be at her desk,half-listening and glancing up now and then to smile at her family.Times like that were rare now that the children were growing up andshe missed the closeness.

She was working on her opening statement for the Bradley case,absorbed in it, and she was startled when Vincent touched her armquietly.

"Will you be much longer?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Vincent, I need to finish this." She looked down ather notes and back up regretfully. "Maybe another hour?"

"Charles has gone upstairs," Vincent said. "If you are going to beworking, I thought I might go out for a while."

"All right," she said, a little forlorn. She wanted to be withhim, but she knew sometimes he needed to be Above and alone.

She couldn't, however, help worrying about him. "Be careful."

He reached down to pick up her hand. "I will," he promised,bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing them tenderly. "I won'tbe long."

She watched him go through the door that led to their bedroombefore she bent her head to her notes and tried to regain her trainof thought.

At last she was satisfied with what she had accomplished, andbegan stuffing papers into her briefcase. Switching off her desklamp, she moved easily through the darkness, going out into the unlithallway and climbing the stairs to the third floor. As she alwaysdid, she checked on each of the children, though they weren't reallychildren anymore, she reminded herself.

Charles was working at his computer and she exchanged a few quietwords with him before saying goodnight. Vicky was sleeping peacefullyin her own room, and of course Jacob was Below tonight. Catherinepaused in Evan's doorway and looked in at him, sprawled out on hisback, his blankets in disarray.

Carefully she ventured into his room, picking her way through thechaos to pull the covers up over his bare torso. He looked very youngand vulnerable lying there and on impulse she leaned down to brushhis cheek with a light kiss. Wistfully, she remembered theaffectionate little boy he'd once been, and wondered if the two ofthem would ever be in harmony again.

Downstairs, she went into the darkened master bedroom and gotready for bed. Going to the secret door that led to the basementtunnel entrance, she listened for a few seconds, but heard nothing.With a sigh, she made a conscious effort not to feel lonely. Vincentcould be brought home more quickly that way, but she never liked theidea of manipulating him.

Shivering, she crawled between cold sheets and turned off thelight. As she grew warmer, she began to relax and gradually slippedinto an uneasy sleep. She was half-awakened sometime later by theshifting of the bed as Vincent eased himself in beside her.

"You're cold," she protested drowsily, turning to nestle againsthim anyway.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep," he whispered soothingly and kissed herforehead lovingly. Obediently she drifted off again.

When Catherine woke again, Vincent was gone. Pale daylightfiltered through the drapes as she stretched and looked at the clock.With a muffled gasp, she scrambled out of bed and disappeared intothe bathroom.

A few minutes later, she hurried down the stairs and heard a burstof laughter from the dining room. Vicky stuck her head out the doorand called her.

"Don't go yet. Daddy says you have to eat breakfast. I fixed yousome eggs and Charles already called you a cab. It'll be here in tenminutes." Vicky retreated into the dining room and Catherine smiledand followed.

Vincent and Charles were there, talking over cups of coffee andCatherine stopped to give each of them a good morning kiss beforesitting down to the steaming plate Vicky placed in front of her.

"I know the eggs are underdone," Vicky apologized. "And the toastis a little burned. I'm a lousy cook."

Catherine laughed as she poked a cautious fork into the slightlyrunny eggs. "You don't need to explain it to me," she said, taking abite and chewing carefully. She looked at Vincent

and laughed again. "You're being very noble," she told him.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"I know what you're thinking - `like mother, like daughter.'You're just too polite to say it."

Vicky and Charles thought that was enormously funny and Vincentgrinned widely. By the time the cabby blew his horn, Catherine wasfeeling fortified by both the food and the brief time spent with herfamily and she left for work almost cheerfully.

* * * * *

Catherine's mood had deteriorated considerably by the time she gothome that afternoon. The four hours she had promised Joe hadstretched to nearly double that. The new evidence in the Bradley casewas not significant, but it would benefit the defense. WhileCatherine was no longer certain she could get a conviction, Joeremained confident and refused to allow her to ask for acontinuance.

Tired and frustrated, she walked into a house vibrating with theharsh sounds of discordant rock music. Just from the noise level sheknew Charles was gone and that Jacob and Vincent must be Below. Coatslying on chairs in the entry told her that Evan and Vicky had friendsin the house.

Sighing over Evan's taste in music, she went to the kitchen to fixherself a snack, but stopped in the doorway, appalled. Obviously, theteenagers had not been shy about feeding themselves. Empty breadwrappers, chip bags and pop cans littered the counters. Dirty platesand glasses were piled haphazardly in the sink and crumbs wereeverywhere.

It was the last straw and Catherine snapped. She heard the clatterof feet in the dining room and whirled, eyes blazing, to confrontEvan and his friend Jason.

At sight of her face Evan stopped. "Hi, Mom," he saidtentatively.

"I think Jason had better go home now," Catherine suggested icily."Tell Vicky it's time for her friends to leave, too."

Evan's expression turned sullen, but Catherine was so angry shedidn't care. Jason lost no time in getting out the door and Evanretreated upstairs.

Catherine began to tidy the kitchen, slamming drawers and cabinetsviolently. Evan and Vicky both knew better than to leave a mess likethis! Abruptly, the music stopped and there were quick whispers andfootsteps in the entry. She heard the front door open and close asVicky's friends left.

Catherine continued clearing away the debris savagely.

Sensing movement in the doorway, she spun around to beratewhichever child had been unwise enough to venture near.

Vincent stood there regarding her sympathetically. She looked athim for a moment before turning back to the mess with less fury inher movements.

Vincent came in and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning hertoward him. Catherine's anger made her resist for a second before,suddenly, it was all gone and she leaned against him hopelessly.

"Everything's wrong," she said, her voice muffled against hisshoulder. "Evan hates me. I haven't had time to even see Charles yetand he has to go back tomorrow. We're going to lose the Bradleycase." The words came in a torrent. She looked up and finished in awhisper. "I can't even go to the recital with you tonight." Sheburied her face in his shoulder again as he rocked her gently backand forth.

He bent his head and began to speak softly. "Evan doesn't hateyou. He's fighting with himself. Charles is an adult. He doesn'texpect you to be here all the time. If you lose in court Monday, itwill not be because you failed. You've done everything you possiblycould. Now it's up to the system." Lifting her chin with his fingers,he turned her face to his. "And I know you would rather be with metonight."

"I guess." Catherine was calmer but unconvinced. She leanedagainst him for a few more minutes, and looked up with aself-conscious smile. "I'm feeling sorry for myself, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little," he agreed.

He drew her out through the dining room, into the hall and up thestairs, one arm still firmly around her shoulders. "You shouldsleep," he advised softly when they reached the bedroom.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. "No!" she protested,denying her exhaustion. "I haven't seen you all week."

Resolutely he led her toward the bed. "We have all of tomorrow tobe together," he reminded her. "You're tired."

He was right, of course, and Catherine yielded to his wisdom."Will you read to me?" she asked, wanting to salvage something fromthe wasted day.

His answer was a smile and a kiss before he went through to thestudy, returning a moment later with a slim volume in his hand.

Catherine had kicked her shoes off and was waiting for him. Hestretched out beside her on the bed, his arm going around her as sherested her head on his shoulder. He felt her relax as he opened thebook.

"`...But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine onmy life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different fromall the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath theground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow...'" Vincentstopped reading. Catherine was fast asleep against his shoulder andhe laid the book aside as he carefully eased her head to a pillow. Hecovered her tenderly with a light afghan before he left the room.

* * * * *

Catherine was still feeling a little depressed as she began todress for the evening's banquet. Even with all Vincent's reassurance,she had awakened from her nap with the inner conviction that she wasa poor mother, an inadequate wife, and a not-quite competentprosecuting attorney.

She chose her gown and laid it out on the bed before going to takeher shower. When she came out a few minutes later, drying her hair,Vincent entered through the small room that connected the bedroomwith the study and settled into his favorite chair. This was a ritualwhenever Catherine had to go out. Vincent kept her company while shedressed, and somehow, sharing this special time together made theevening spent apart easier.

Catherine was just beginning to comb out her damp hair when Vickytapped on the door and bounced into the room. "I'm sorry about themess in the kitchen, Mom," she said breathlessly. "We were going toclean it up later. Daddy already yelled at us, so you don't have to,"she added to ward off any further admonitions.

Catherine knew Vincent hadn't yelled - he never seemed to raisehis voice to the children, but his reprimands could sting andapparently this one had. "Just be more considerate next time,please," she requested, wincing as her comb hit a snarl.

"I'll do that." Vicky took the comb. "Are you going to let me doyour hair tonight?" she asked eagerly.

Catherine eyed Vicky's reflection in the mirror doubtfully. "Allright," she conceded. "But remember, I have to give a speech in frontof the mayor and a group of other dignitaries. Don't get carriedaway."

"I won't," Vicky promised cheerfully. "I'll do somethingappropriate for an old lady lawyer."

Catherine laughed. Vicky had a flair for styling hair and tonightshe pulled Catherine's hair back gracefully in a simple chignon thatwas both dignified and becoming.

"There," she said in satisfaction as she placed a last hairpin."What do you think?"

Catherine turned her head from side to side to examine herreflection before glancing at Vincent for his approval.

Vicky caught the look. "There's no point in asking him," shesaid in exasperation. "He thinks you're gorgeous no matter how youwear your hair!" Catherine laughed and even Vincent chuckled.

"Thank you, Vicky, it looks perfect."

Vicky went to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed as Catherinebegan to apply her makeup. She always loved to listen to her parent'squiet conversation on these evenings. Their love was so real,sometimes she thought she could reach out and touch it.

The doorbell rang and Vicky leaped off the bed. "That's UncleJoe!" She dashed out, not quite slamming the door behind her. Sailingdown the stairs, she threw open the door to greet Joe Maxwell with anenthusiastic hug.

"Hi, Vicky," he grinned at her, returning the affectionate hug."Where is everyone?"

"They heard you were coming, so they left." Vicky took Joe's handand patted it fondly. "But I'm here." There was a teasing twinkle inher eyes as she fell into their customary easy banter.

Joe scowled. "You know, you remind me more of your mother everyday."

"Thank you," Vicky returned graciously. "I wish I could saysomething as nice about you."

Joe pretended to frown. "I'm old enough to be your father, younglady. I deserve to be treated with some respect!"

Vicky giggled, looked past Joe, and smiled. "Mom, you lookbeautiful!" she said in admiration as Catherine started down thestairs.

Joe turned and whistled softly in agreement. "Not bad, Radcliffe,"he teased. "I guess I'll let you walk in to dinner with me afterall." He looked past her to the head of the stairs. "Hi,Vincent."

"Hello, Joe." Vincent followed Catherine down.

Vicky got her mother's coat and held it while Catherine slipped iton.

"Thanks, Vicky," Catherine smiled at her daughter. "You have agood time tonight, okay? Say hello to Nathaniel for me."

"I will," answered Vicky cheerfully. "And you," she fixed Joe witha stern look. "Don't keep my mother out too late."

"No, ma'am, I won't." Joe was speaking to Vicky but his eyes neverleft Vincent's face. "I promise to have her back safe and sound bymidnight."

"If you two are finished discussing my curfew, I'm ready to go,"Catherine announced, picking up her purse.

She paused for an instant to touch Vincent's hand as she passedhim and their eyes met briefly, exchanging silent messages oflove.

Joe closed the inner door before opening the outer one andushering Catherine into the frosty November air. It was beginning tosnow and Catherine pulled her collar tight as she cautiouslydescended the steps to the waiting cab.

In contrast, the interior of the cab was uncomfortably warm. Joespent an unproductive few minutes trying to get the driver to turndown the heat, but the man didn't appear to understand much English.The glass partition between the front and back seats further hinderedcommunication, so Joe gave up and rolled his window down an inch ortwo to admit some fresh air.

"Where's Vicky off to tonight?" he asked conversationally.

"There's a concert Below this evening." Catherine couldn't quitekeep the wistfulness out of her voice.

"I'm sorry, Cathy. I wish neither one of us had to go to thisdinner tonight." Joe understood the sacrifice Catherine had made.

"Joe!" She scolded him lightly, determined not to spoil his momentof glory. "This dinner is in your honor and you're getting acommendation from the mayor. You should be proud of yourself andenjoy every minute of it."

He looked pleased.

"The real question," Catherine continued, "is why you're goingwith me." She looked at him thoughtfully. "It's been what, sixteen,seventeen years since your divorce?"

"Haven't we had this conversation before? Frequently?"

Joe waited for the inevitable. He knew that once Catherine gotstarted on this topic, she didn't let go. "Let me see if I canremember the next line," he continued. "`You need to find someone,Joe. You deserve to be happy.'"

"You're not taking this seriously, Joe. I'm concerned about you.You're my friend."

"I know." He looked pensively out the window. "I think about beingmarried again," he admitted. "If I could just find the right woman...but I don't think that's possible anymore." He turned to give her ahalf-smile. "And it's all your fault."

"My fault!" Catherine's voice rose in mock indignation. "Why is itmy fault?"

Joe looked out the window again. "I see what you have, what youand Vincent share, and I want that," he said softly. "I want a womanwho will look at me the way you look at him. I want someone I canlove the way he loves you. And it's just not there for me." Hestudied her face as the cab came to a stop in front of the hotel. "Iwonder, Radcliffe," he added slowly, "if you realize just howincredibly lucky you are."

Joe climbed out of the cab. Catherine sat motionless for a fewseconds before sliding across to let him help her to the sidewalk.

They found the banquet room and spent a few minutes greetingfriends and acquaintances before taking their seats at the headtable. The dinner followed the usual format of a cold, tasteless mealfollowed by too many long, dry speeches.

Catherine was one of the early speakers and she managed toentertain the guests with a funny story or two about her early daysworking for Joe and still impress them with how much she liked andrespected this man. As she sat down amid polite applause, Joe leanedover to whisper to her.

"It was worth coming tonight just to hear you say so many nicethings about me."

"Enjoy it while you can," she laughed. "On Monday I'm back tobeing myself again."

As the speeches went on, Catherine let them wash over her unheard.She began to think about what Joe had said in the cab. Somehow shewas losing sight of what was really important.

Joe's right, she thought. All too often, I don't remember howtruly fortunate I am. I have the world's most wonderful husband, fourterrific kids... well, three terrific kids... and Evan. Evan is Evan,and sometimes I'd like to strangle him, but I love him and can'timagine a life without him...

Now she understood what Vincent had been trying to tell her. I'vebeen looking at things backwards, she mused. Instead of dwelling onwhat I can't accomplish and can't have, I need to take satisfactionin what I can do and what's already mine.

Lost in thought, she jumped when Joe leaned over to her again andtook her hand.

"Get out of here, Chandler," he told her. "I'll make excuses foryou. Go, be with your family."

Catherine stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. As hismeaning became clear, her eyes brightened. "Thank you, Joe. I oweyou."

Embarrassed, he made a dismissive gesture with his hand and sheneeded no further encouragement.

Retrieving her coat from the check room, she waited impatiently asthe hotel doorman hailed a cab. She gave the driver an address thatwould leave her conveniently close to a tunnel entrance and a fewminutes later she was Below, walking quickly toward the heart ofVincent's world.

She heard the music long before reaching the cavern that was stillknown as `Father's Chamber.' Stopping just inside the entrance, shelet her eyes wander around the chamber. Across the room was Vicky,listening with a rapt expression on her face. Her friend Nathanielwas beside her, and Catherine was both amused and alarmed to see thatNathaniel was as engrossed in Vicky as Vicky was in the music. Jacobwas sitting near the back of the audience, holding hands with Amandaand smiling gently.

Catherine looked across the dim, crowded room, searching for Evanand Vincent. Beginning to think they might not be there, she finallyspotted Evan sitting on the floor only a few feet away. Vincent stooda little behind Evan, leaning against the wall with his head tippedback and his eyes closed. Quietly she made her way toward him, tryingnot to disturb the others.

Catherine wondered for a moment if he knew she was there becausehe seemed so absorbed in the music, when, without opening his eyes,he smiled and stretched out his hand. She moved to his side, restingher head against his shoulder and immediately his arm went aroundher, pulling her close.

Between the music and Vincent's embrace, Catherine began to feel acontentment that had been missing for too long. If only Evan could bemore understanding...

As if Evan could hear her thoughts or feel her eyes upon him, heturned and, seeing her in his father's arms, he smiled.

THE END