JACOB

Charles was bouncing noisily around the study under the indulgenteyes of both parents.

"Come on, Charles. It's time for your bath." Catherine stood andheld out her hand.

Charles stuck out his lower lip mutinously. "No!" he declared inhis best two-year-old manner. "No bath!"

"Yes," Catherine told him firmly. "You're dirty!"

"No bath!" Charles repeated stubbornly.

Catherine crossed the room and caught him as he tried to dodgeaway. "Don't tell me `no,' Charles," she reproved as she carried himthrough the nursery and into the bathroom.

Once in the water, Charles' attitude changed and he splashedhappily as Catherine soaped and rinsed him. Wrapped damply in afluffy towel, he trotted back into the study, where he dropped thetowel to stand unselfconsciously naked in front of the fire.

Catherine retrieved the towel and used it to dry Charles' hair andefficiently got him into his diaper and pajamas. After a few strokesof a comb through his thick brown hair, Charles was ready forbed.

"Say goodnight to your father," Catherine urged. Galloping over toVincent's big chair, Charles climbed up for a hug.

"'Night, Father," he said, planting a moist kiss on Vincent'scheek. He offered his own satiny cheek for a return kiss. "I loveyou." Charles wrapped his arms around Vincent's neck for one morehug.

"I love you, too, Charles," Vincent answered.

As Charles slid down, Catherine picked him up and carried him intothe nursery. She held him tightly for a moment, feeling his softcheek pressed against hers and smelling his sweet, clean scent beforelowering him into the crib.

"Go to sleep, now," she directed as she switched off the lamp. Shereturned to the couch and picked up the novel she'd been trying toread.

A rhythmic squeak and bump came from the nursery as Charles stoodand bounced on the mattress. He called repeatedly for both parents,but they ignored him and after a while, he began to cry. Soon hiswails faded away, followed by a silence that indicated he had fallenasleep.

Sometime later, Vincent looked up to see Catherine gazingthoughtfully into the fire. Silently, he watched her for a fewminutes before laying aside his book and going to sit beside her.

She snuggled against him as his arm went around her.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he urged softly.

She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Catherine." His voice was gently remonstrative. "It's something.What is it?"

Burrowing more deeply into his arms, she sighed plaintively."What's wrong with me, Vincent? Why can't I be satisfied with what Ihave?"

He kissed the top of her head and rested his chin there gently."You want another baby." He said it quietly, a simple statement offact.

Catherine pulled back a little, looking up at him wide-eyed.

"I feel the longing in you," he explained softly. "It's thereevery time you look at Charles."

"Yes," she nodded her agreement and rested her head against hischest again. "He's turning into a little boy," she added wistfully."Sometimes I miss my baby."

There was a silence and Catherine shifted a little as she turnedher face up to Vincent's. "I'll get over it," she promised with asmall smile.

Vincent held her quietly for a few minutes. "I had a dream lastnight," he said after a while. "There were children's voices,laughing. Somehow I knew they were our children. Charles was there.He was older, maybe eight, nine years old. I couldn't see the othersclearly, but there were two or three of them." There was anothersilence before Vincent spoke again. "One of them was a little girlwith green eyes," he said softly.

"Was it one of your special dreams?" Catherine asked him.

"I don't think so. It was just a dream." He tightened his armsaround her. "I think it means I want another baby, too."

Catherine pulled away from him. "You're serious."

"Yes." Vincent regarded her with quiet humor. "Does that surpriseyou?"

"I think shock is a more accurate word." She looked at himsoberly. "After all we went through with Charles, after all yourfears for me and for him, you are willing to risk having anotherchild?"

"The risk does not seem so great, now. Charles is a perfect littleboy. Even Father agrees that the odds are good that another childwill be completely normal. And I know now that many of my fears foryou were unfounded."

"You spoke to Father?" Catherine asked, reflecting that Vincentwas full of surprises tonight.

"Yesterday," Vincent admitted.

"So we're going to try to have another baby," Catherine saidslowly, wanting to be sure she and Vincent understood each other.

"If you wish for one," Vincent agreed.

Catherine smiled. Standing, she pulled Vincent to his feet andkissed him. "I think now is a good time to start."

* * * * *

After the effortless way she had gotten pregnant with Charles,Catherine anticipated no problems conceiving a second child. Butafter six months of trying, she was becoming frustrated anddespondent.

Vincent spent his days Below with Charles while Catherine worked.One evening he came home to find her sitting on the bed, close totears. Setting Charles on his feet, Vincent sent him into the nurseryto play and gathered Catherine into his arms. "Tell me."

She attempted a smile. "Joe's wife brought their baby to theoffice today. When I held her..." she stopped and shook her head."It's silly to feel this way."

"No," he corrected her gently. "You can't help what you feel."

"I wish I could be as accepting as you are, Vincent. I wish itdidn't matter so much to me." She pressed her face hard against him,fighting back tears as he stroked her hair.A sudden crash from thestudy and a wail from Charles brought the conversation to an abruptend.

With Vincent's help, Catherine was able to achieve a measure ofserenity as the months passed and nothing happened, but she stillfelt frustration at times. At Winterfest, she spoke to Peter aboutthe possibility of medical problems.

He laughed. "I think you're worrying too much."

Catherine smiled self-consciously. "That's what Vincent says."

Peter put an affectionate arm around her. "You come in after thefirst of the year and we'll run some tests to see if there's aproblem. In the meantime, stop trying so hard."

* * * * *

Catherine did go to see Peter after the first of the year, but theonly test he ran confirmed that she was pregnant at last.

A few weeks later, when Vincent was beginning to feel the child'spresence, a perplexed look crossed his face.

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"I think," Vincent said slowly, "there's more than one."

"More than one baby?" She looked down with a mixture of delightand consternation. "How many more than one?" she askedsuspiciously.

Vincent made a helpless gesture. "I can't be sure. I think thereare two."

An ultrasound in Peter's office confirmed Vincent's diagnosis -Catherine was expecting twins. After the initial surprise, everyoneseemed pleased by the idea. Only Charles, who had just turned three,remained unimpressed. Theoretical babies didn't interest him - he wasmuch more concerned with the here and now.

Except for mild morning sickness during the first few weeks,Catherine enjoyed a trouble-free pregnancy. Whether it was Vincent'sexperience as an expectant father or just that he was able to be withCatherine most of the time, this pregnancy was easier on him, too.Although he was careful of her and made sure she took care ofherself, this time he didn't hover and worry. Catherine noticed andwas grateful.

One weekday morning late in June, Vincent was in the nursery withCharles, helping the little boy gather up the belongings he wished totake Below today when Catherine called him, her voice and feelingshovering somewhere between amusement and frustration.

Leaving Charles to finish packing his tote, Vincent went to theopen door connecting the nursery and bedroom. Catherine was sittingon the edge of the bed, leaning back on stiff arms and surveying herfeet ruefully.

"Will you put my shoes on for me?" she asked. "I can't reach myfeet anymore."

Vincent couldn't suppress a chuckle. Catherine was only in herseventh month, but already she was as large as she had been whenCharles was born. Kneeling beside her, he eased her feet into thesoft, flat shoes which were all she wore anymore. Later in the day,especially if she had to stand for any length of time, her feet wouldbegin to swell.

"Who did this for you with Charles?" he asked.

Catherine cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Brooke," sheadmitted. "It was only the last week or so that I couldn't do itmyself and she used to come in to help me. We didn't tell you becausewe didn't want you to worry."

As he finished with the shoes, Vincent stood up. "Was I that bad?"he asked, trying to remember.

"Worse," Catherine told him, holding out her hands. "Help me up."

He pulled her to her feet and she looked at the ceilingspeculatively."I wonder what it would cost to have a crane installedin here."

Vincent grinned. "You don't need a crane," he said, sweeping herup into his arms. "As long as you have me."

Catherine laughed and kissed his cheek. "Put me down," sheinstructed. "This is horribly uncomfortable and besides, I'm late forwork."

* * * * *

Because twins are often premature, Father and Peter both insistedthat Catherine begin her maternity leave early. She complied withoutargument, thankful for the chance to rest frequently. Sheconscientiously followed orders, staying off her feet and lying downwhenever possible. She quickly learned that forced inactivity can beunbelievably monotonous.

Charles took full advantage of this special treat. For as long ashe could remember, he had spent his days Below while his motherworked. Now she was home all the time, and, since Vincent still hadhis duties Below, he had her all to himself.

One hot July afternoon he played on the bed beside her, runninghand-carved wooden cars along highways bordered by folds of thequilt. Catherine, as usual, was lying next to him trying to read.Concentration was made difficult by the boisterous sound effects asthe cars climbed pillow hills and swept down into blanket valleys.

Something moved against ber belly and she brushed at it absently,thinking it was one of the babies moving. Her hand encountered asmaller one, clutching a car that was vrooming up her side. "Charles,what are you doing?"

He grinned. "Good hills, Mother!"

She laughed and gave up on her novel. "Why don't you go get a bookand I'll read to you."

Abandoning his cars, he trotted into the nursery, returning amoment later with not one, but at least eight books piled haphazardlyin his arms. He dumped them on the bed and climbed up.

"Charles, I meant one book," Catherine remonstrated gently.

He looked up, his eyes round with innocence. "Maybe four?" hesuggested.

"Two," she bargained.

"Three." He stuck out his lower lip, looking sad andmistreated.

Catherine laughed. "Two now," she repeated firmly. "Maybe I'llread another one later. Okay?"

Charles just grunted, rearranging himself to nestle against herside before handing her his first choice. Her arm went around him andshe bent her head to his as she opened it and began to read.

* * * * *

A week later it was Vincent on the bed beside her.

"Jenny called today and we must have spent an hour on the phone,"Catherine was saying. "She's going..." She stopped abruptly, shiftinguncomfortably and rubbing her side.

Charles had been delaying his bedtime by pretending to be verycontent to sit and listen to his parent's conversation. Now hescrambled over to Catherine, curling up beside her and placing hishead very precisely against her abdomen. His face was a study ofconcentration. Catherine stroked his head as she, too, appeared to belistening for something. Suddenly they both laughed.

"What are you doing, Charles?" Vincent was unable to contain hiscuriousity.

"I'm feeling," the boy replied, with the air of one who thinks hisactions are perfectly obvious.

"It's a new game," Catherine explained.

Charles sat up. "It tickles my ear," he said. "I like it." He gavethe right side of Catherine's stomach a proprietary pat. "This onekicks a lot," he told his father seriously. "The other one just goesup and down."

After hugs and kisses, Charles was dispatched to bed. Catherineshifted positions again as the baby she privately thought of as "thekicker" resumed its assault on her ribs. Vincent moved closer,putting his arm across her swollen body as he rested his head againsther in imitation of Charles. The baby kicked in response to theweight and Vincent smiled. "It does tickle," he said, moving so hecould feel the baby's kicks against his cheek.

Catherine indulged him for a little while before nudging the topof his head. "I have to move now," she informed him. "You're in theway."

Vincent moved back against the pillows as Catherine turned heavilyonto her side. He ran his hand across the left side of her abdomen,where the other baby lay. "How is this one today?"

"Making waves," she said irritably. This baby was much quieterthan the other one, but when it did move, it seemed to heave androll. It was an annoying sensation at best.

Vincent smiled at her tenderly. "Have I told you recently howbeautiful you are?"

She scowled at him impatiently. "Vincent, I'm enormous! I waddlelike a duck... I look like a blimp..."

"You are... large," he conceded diplomatically, taking her facegently between his hands and kissing her. "But you'll always bebeautiful to me."

* * * * *

Four weeks before the babies were due, the family moved Below. "Doyou ever think about what they'll be like?" Catherine asked Vincentas they prepared for bed on their first evening there.

"Sometimes," he admitted, helping her lie down before climbing inbeside her.

"Charles seems so like I imagine you must have been at his age...quiet and thoughtful... full of questions..."

Vincent chuckled. "Father says he is."

"He's so funny sometimes. I have so much love for that

little boy... and now these two..." She shook her head in wryamazement. "Did you ever think we'd be the parents of threechildren?"

There was a long pause and she looked up at him, touching hishand.

"I never believed I would be a parent at all," he reminded herfinally. "Now, to be not once, but three times blessed... it is atreasure beyond words."

"It's going to be chaos for a while," Catherine said. "Twonewborns demanding to be fed and changed at all hours... keeping upwith Charles..."

Vincent smiled, remembering the time and effort expended to meetthe needs of one infant. Two babies would be at least twice as muchwork and their lives would be altered drastically. Some of thechanges had already begun to take place. In their house, two cribswere wedged into the tiny nursery, joining Charles's small bed and asingle chest of drawers. The toybox and bookcase had been moved intothe study and the only place for the rocking chair was a corner oftheir bedroom.

"I wonder if we're having girls or boys or one of each," Catherinesaid wistfully, changing positions with an effort. She and Peter hadagreed when she was carrying Charles that any prenatal tests whichrequired labwork would have to be foregone. The risk of Vincent'schild having, like its father, qualities that might be identified as"not human" was too great to take. Things had not changed in thatregard and amniocentesis was one of the tests which had not beenperformed. Peter had done several ultrasound tests in his office,but, he freely admitted, he wasn't qualified to do much more thancount limbs and check the babies' positions. Their sexes remained amystery.

"Doesn't matter," Vincent answered sleepily. "We already lovethem."

"I know it doesn't matter," Catherine moved closer to him, tryingto get comfortable. "It would be nice to have a little girl,though."

"Mmmm," Vincent agreed, automatically adjusting his own positionto hers.

He was just drifting into sleep when, with a sharp sound ofdiscouragement, Catherine pushed herself up to sit tensely on theside of the bed. Immediately alert, he watched her with carefulpatience. Sympathetic questions were likely to elicit irritation andhe knew from experience it was best to wait for Catherine to speak.

After a moment, she did. "I can't sleep." She sounded almostresentful. "I haven't slept in a week."

Vincent knew that was very nearly true. She had been up and downseveral times each night recently. Most of the time she went into thestudy, where he could see a light and knew she was trying to read orwork. Sometimes he heard her ponderous step as she wandered the roomrestlessly.

Those nights, he remained in bed only because he knew she washappier believing he slept. When she did return to their bed, sheslept only fitfully, waking often to begin the cycle again. Twice hehad found her dozing uncomfortably in a chair.

"When I lie down, I can't breathe," she complained now. "Thebabies press on me and I have to sit up." She sounded suddenly on theverge of tears. "I'm so tired, Vincent. I don't know if I can do thisanymore."

Wordlessly, he rearranged the pillows to form a backrest andsettled himself against them before reaching for Catherine. "Comehere," he urged softly. She did, burying her face against him as hestroked her hair. After a while she began to relax in the security ofhis arms and at last she fell asleep.

Despite her protests, he held her in the same semi-sittingposition night after night so she could sleep, snatching what rest hecould at odd times during the day.They were both relieved when laborbegan a week later.

As previously arranged, Vincent carried a sleeping Charles toKanin and Olivia`s chamber and summoned Mary and Father. They werejoined by Lena, who had become Mary's apprentice midwife two yearsago, following the birth of her son. Father sent a message to Peterbefore settling in to monitor Catherine's labor. After Mary or Fatherexamined her, Lena would examine her, too. Catherine found it trying,but she knew that Lena had never seen a twin birth before and thiswas an important learning experience for her.

Peter arrived, and, not too many hours later, the first twin wasabout to be born. "Here's the head," Mary said. "Bear down one moretime, Catherine... it's a boy!" Quickly she handed the baby to Lena.

As she had been taught, Lena cleaned his mouth and nose and madesure he was breathing properly before wrapping him snugly in ablanket. She held him in her arms as they waited for the birth of thesecond twin.

Vincent spared a glance at the baby and turned his attention backto Catherine. There would be time enough to see his second son afterthe other twin was born. It was only a few minutes before Mary wasdelivering the second baby. "This one's a girl," she smiled. Suddenlyher expression changed. "Father!"

Father and Peter responded quickly to the alarm in Mary's voice,taking the baby and placing her on the table. As they workedfrantically over the too-still form, Catherine began to panic,struggling up on her elbows in an effort to see.

"What's wrong?"

"Vincent!" Mary snapped commandingly. "Make her lie down!"

Vincent, too, wanted to see what was happening to his daughter,but at this moment, Catherine needed him more. Gently, he pressed herback down and persuaded her to cooperate while Mary delivered the twoafterbirths. She complied, but she stared at him with wide,frightened eyes.

Over his shoulder, Vincent watched Father and Peter. From where heknelt at Catherine's side, he could feel the small life slipping awayas Peter stepped back, looking at Father with compassion in his eyes.Slowly, painfully, Vincent got to his feet.

"Father." Gently he laid his hand on Father's arm. "It's over. Youtried."

Tenderly, Vincent wrapped the lifeless form in the blanket thathad been waiting for her and lifted her in his arms. He cradled herclose, looking at her for the first time. She was tiny, much smallerthan Charles had been at birth. She had fine, dark hair and her eyeswere peacefully closed. Her resemblance to Catherine wasunmistakable, and, like Charles, she was completely human inappearance.

The room was eerily quiet as Vincent held the baby... the childfor whom life had come and gone so quickly. Catherine's voice,unnaturally steady after her near-hysteria a few minutes before,shattered the silence.

"I want to see her."

Vincent looked at her uncertainly.

"Please, Vincent. I want to see her."

Mary helped Catherine to sit up and Vincent approached hesitantly.Doubt shadowed his eyes as he placed the child in Catherine'sarms.

He knelt beside her. His heart ached as he watched her tenderlyexploring the tiny features of their little girl. Her fingerscarefully smoothed the dark wisps of hair before travelling down togently touch the baby lips, brush across a soft pale cheek, and traceone perfect little ear.

Opening a fold of the blanket, she exposed one diminutive hand.She picked it up and uncurled the long, delicate fingers which laylifeless across her palm. Quickly, protectively, her hand closed overthe smaller one as she clutched the little body closer.

It was Mary who came, after a few minutes, to take the baby away.Catherine gave her up reluctantly and turned to the strong, quietstrength of Vincent's arms.

Lena stood unobtrusively in a corner, the firstborn twin in herarms all but forgotten by the others in the room. Since his birth,the child had been quiet, but now he let out a plaintive cry.

Catherine turned toward the sound. "Lena," she whispered hoarsely."Bring him here."

Lena looked down at the baby... and hesitated.

Panic began to creep back into Catherine's voice. "Bring himhere!"

Lena came slowly, hesitating again before finally laying the babyin Catherine's arms.

This child was fair, with a square face, wide-set eyes and aperfectly molded nose and brow. His mouth was wide, too, with a fulllower lip and narrow upper one. His upper lip was cleft.

Catherine looked at him for a long time before lifting her face toVincent. "He's beautiful," she said, her voice daring anyone to denyit.

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "He looks like you."

* * * * *

Despite his lip, the baby had no trouble nursing, and after he'dbeen bathed and fed, Vincent went for Charles.

The little boy came in more quietly than usual and climbed up onthe bed. "Hello, Mother," he said gravely. "Father says I have to becareful and not bounce too much." He paused. "Can I hug you?"

Catherine smiled. "Of course you can."

Charles put his arms around her neck in a fierce embrace andkissed her cheek wetly.

"Do you want to meet your new brother?" Catherine asked him. Thebaby was sleeping beside her in the bed and she picked him up,holding him for Charles to see.

Charles looked at the baby with no more than casualinterest."Where's the other one?" he asked innocently. "You saidthere were going to be two babies."

Catherine gave Vincent a helpless look of despair and he came toher rescue.

"Come here, Charles," he said, holding out his hand. "Come sitwith me."

Charles clambered down obediently and went to sit on his father'sknee.

"I have something to tell you," Vincent said, softly and slowly.Charles watched him, wide-eyed, and waited.

"There were two babies," Vincent went on, studying Charles' faceto be sure he understood. "This baby," he gestured toward the bed,"and another one, a little girl. Your sister."

"Where is she?"

"She was very sick, Charles... she died."

"Oh." Charles was quiet, resting his head against his father'schest and swinging his feet reflectively. "Father?" he asked after aminute. "What does died mean?"

"It means she went away, Charles."

"Oh. Is she coming back?"

"No. She will never come back."

"Oh." Charles sat quietly for another minute before looking up."Can I go play with Jonathan now?"

Vincent smiled in spite of his sadness. "`May I,' Charles. Andyes, you may." He watched the boy scamper out and went to thebed.

Catherine was curled on her side, so still that, if not for theirbond, Vincent might have thought she was asleep.

Sitting beside her, he touched her shoulder and she rolled back tolook at him.

"I'm glad you were here to talk to him," she said. "I couldn'thave."

"If I had not been here, you would have found the words."

Catherine closed her eyes briefly. "I can't even feel sad,Vincent. I just feel... empty. As if I'll never feel anythingagain."

"What you feel now is shock. It will take time for it to seemreal." He shifted his attention to the new baby. Catherine washolding the child tightly against her body, as if drawing comfortfrom his closeness.

Catherine followed his glance. "I can't even feel any happinessfor this one," she said, touching the baby's head lightly. "Hedoesn't even have a name."

"We chose names," Vincent reminded her gently. "One for a boy andone for a girl. Have you changed your mind?"

After a moment, Catherine shook her head. "His name is Jacob," shesaid softly. "Father will be pleased."

"Yes," Vincent agreed. "And our little girl? Will we give her thename we chose?"

Catherine looked at him with some of the numbness gone from hereyes. "She existed, Vincent. She lived, even if for a very shorttime."

"Then her name is Rose."

"Yes."

It had been Catherine's grandmother's name, and a name that seemedsymbolic of their relationship.

* * * * *

Much later, Father found Vincent in the Chamber of the Falls.Carefully, the older man eased himself down beside his son. They satin silence for several minutes before Father spoke.

"How is Catherine?"

"She's sleeping now."

Father nodded. "That's good, she needs to rest." He paused."Vincent, I thought you would like to know... Peter and I examinedthe baby... your little girl..."

"Rose," Vincent interrupted, his eyes on the waterfall. "Her nameis Rose."

"Rose," Father repeated. "A pretty name." He gathered his thoughtsagain. "I thought you would want to know... what happened wasunavoidable. Peter and I suspect a rare condition called congenitalalveolar dysplasia. It means that her lungs did not mature as theyshould. They were simply not developed enough to allow her tolive."

"If she had been born Above, in a hospital..." Vincent's voice washoarse and laced with bitterness.

"No, Vincent. She might have lived a little longer... an hour ortwo, perhaps a day. But no more."

"And if she were not my child?" His tone was accusing, full ofself-blame and loathing.

"No, Vincent." Father's air of authority was absolute. "This is acondition which occurs in human babies. It does not appear to begenetic. It has nothing to do with you." His voice softened. "Believeme."

"Why, Father? They were only three weeks early. Why would one babybe fine and the other... unable to survive?" Finally, a kind ofpleading anger had crept into his voice.

"No one knows, Vincent. Sometimes it happens that way. What youmust remember," Father continued, trying to comfort, "is that youhave two fine sons. Your new little boy is healthy and strong."

After a reflective moment, Vincent nodded. "I know."

He climbed to his feet and reached down to help Father up and theystarted back toward the living chambers. "We named him Jacob,"Vincent said after a few minutes. "After you."

Father grumbled a little, but Vincent knew Catherine was right -he was pleased.

As they neared the entry to Vincent's chamber, he laid arestraining hand on Father's arm. "If you'll wait a moment, Father,I'll walk with you back to your chamber."

Father waited in the doorway as Vincent bent first over the bigbed, then the cradle.

"It's strange," said Vincent, as they resumed their journey towardFather's chamber. "I knew Catherine was still sleeping and that shewas all right, but knowing it through our connection wasn't enough. Ifelt... compelled... to see with my own eyes that she and the babywere well."

"Not so strange, Vincent. You lost a child today. It's onlynatural that you feel the need to safeguard the rest of yourfamily."

They reached Father's chamber and Vincent accompanied himinside.

"I see Mary has brought me my pot of tea," Father said. "Will youjoin me for a cup?"

Vincent sat across the table from Father as the old man poured outthe herb tea Mary made for him every evening. They sipped the hotliquid in silence for a time.

Setting down his cup, Father said, "You know, Vincent, "You needto begin thinking about the memorial service for little Rose. Ifthere's anything special you or Catherine want..."

Vincent put his cup down abruptly, sloshing some of the contentsout onto the table. "I can't, Father." He sprang to his feet andbegan to pace in agitation. "I can't think about it now. Perhapstomorrow..."

"All right. Perhaps tomorrow, Vincent," Father agreed, rising andgoing to his son. "It's late. You should try to sleep."

The two men embraced, comforting each other before Vincentreturned to Catherine.

* * * * *

The next morning Vincent and Charles walked slowly back frombreakfast. Charles had been giving yesterday's events a great deal ofthought and he had more questions to ask.

"Why did our baby die, Father?"

"Because she wasn't able to breathe, Charles."

"Did she want to die?"

"No, Charles. I don't think so." Vincent knew these questions werenecessary for Charles to grasp what had happened to his sister, butthey caused him deep pain, which he hid for fear of frightening theboy.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Charles hadanother question. "Are you going to die, Father?"

Vincent stopped and looked at Charles for a moment before droppingto one knee. "Everyone dies, Charles," he answered carefully. "Butmost people don't die until they are very old. I hope I won't die fora very long time."

Charles' light gray eyes were almost colorless in the dim light ofthe passage as he stared at his father. "Am I going to die?"

Vincent could never be less than honest with his son. "Yes,Charles, someday. But probably not until you are very old."

Charles had a wisdom beyond his years, but he was still just alittle boy. His curiosity was satisfied and his fears were soothedfor now. But Vincent knew, even as he and Charles resumed theirstroll, that these questions would come up again and again untilCharles could be at peace with the idea of death.

* * * * *

Two mornings later, Vincent sat at the table in his chamber,leafing through a book Father had given him. Catherine had justfinished feeding Jacob and was putting him back in his cradle.Vincent looked up from his book to watch her. Her stoicism disturbedhim. She had not yet shed any tears for the loss of baby Rose andVincent knew she needed to cry before she could truly begin to mournand heal.

Looking down, he began to skim the page before him. Abruptly, hestopped, went back, and began to read more carefully.

"Catherine," he said, after reading the page twice. She looked upfrom folding freshly laundered diapers.

"Come sit with me. Let me read something to you."

She came and sat beside him as he began to read, softly.

"`Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing foritself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which youcannotvisit, not even in your dreams...'"

* * * * *

As he spoke, Vincent looked at the faces of those who had gatheredby the Mirror Pool to mourn for little Rose. Catherine was seatedbeside him with Charles standing solemnly by her side and Jacob inher lap.

She wiped away a tear. Earlier this morning, as Vincent read thesame poem to her, he had felt her grief and looked up to see tearsrolling down her face. He had laid the book aside to take her in hisarms and together they had cried for the loss of their daughter.

Rose's body had already been laid to rest, deep in the catacombs,and this, her memorial service, was almost over.

"`...For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as livingarrows aresent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,and hebends you with His might that His arrows may go swiftand far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves

also the bow that is stable.'"

As the sound of Vincent's voice died away, a single column ofsunlight shafted down to reflect off the smooth surface of the MirrorPool. It was, Vincent thought, a ray of hope.

THE END