MIRACLES

"No, Jenny, I'm completely sure that I want to be alone tonight. I'm sorry that my sudden exit from your party worried you.... Yes.... Yes, I will. Thank you.... Merry Christmas to you, too." Sighing, Catherine hung up the receiver and slowly turned back toward the glass doors, gazing at the illuminated skyline and resuming her train of thought which had been interrupted by Jenny's phone call.

To Catherine, Christmas had always been tinged with a bittersweet sadness. No, not always, she corrected herself. Her mother's death had made it so. Maybe the magic, the enchantment, was something which only children could see. In a way, though, she had ceased to be a child after she had lost her mother. Frowning, Catherine struggled to remember how those first Christmases without her mother had been. At first, she had tried hard to make everything right for her dad, to break through his dark despair and reach the man he had been before. She had trimmed the Christmas tree on her own, imagining her mother was still with her as she had always been. She'd locked away the sharp pain of loss, not wanting to do to her father what he was doing to her by giving in to his grief and bitterness, especially on Christmas Eve.

Catherine couldn't remember when she had finally given up on Christmas. When she thought back on her teenage years, she saw herself wandering the brightly decorated streets, searching people's faces for that warm Christmas Spirit she missed so much. She would look up at the winter sky with a trembling heart that ached for the wonder of Christmas Night, the miracle that would heal her soul, her life -- and her father's. Yet, she knew it could never be.

Catherine wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled sadly. Of course, she had never really believed her mother actually would come back, walking in through the door one Christmas Eve as if nothing had happened. And yet there was a tiny hope somewhere deep inside her that made her yearn for something wondrous, something incredible, something so great and bright that it would extinguish every dark and lonely feeling she had tried so hard to silence by seeking refuge with any distraction money could buy.

She sighed and tore her gaze from the view before her. Sitting down on her couch, she snuggled into the throw pillows and closed her eyes. Focusing her attention inward like this always brought on memories that teased along the edges of her mind and stirred a gentle warmth inside her soul. She had seen him only for a brief moment, yet thinking of him made her feel better and stronger, although he had been hardly more than a shadow that dove into a drainage tunnel, never reappearing, no matter how much she longed for it. There were times she regretted not having followed him back then. A self-indulgent smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She'd been unable to help it, she had counted the months, weeks, days since the morning she'd set eyes on him. She'd even returned to the place a couple of times. Of course, she never dared to go there after dusk. The park was no safe place at that time. Yet, somehow she had a strong hunch that he would never show up in daylight. She felt herself reminded of a children's story about the sun and the moon being lovers -- and yet unable to ever be together. Try as she might, she couldn't recall any happy ending to that story. Maybe there was none. Not all stories ended happily; life had taught her that much.

Perhaps the image of him she bore within her was only a strange fantasy, but it was one that had influenced and changed her life in an amazing way. It was not only the fact that she had broken up with Tom and finally left her father's law firm; nor was it her sharpened awareness of things and people around her which told her that she wasn't the same person she'd been before. One year ago, she would have enjoyed a party like the one she'd just left, but as things were now, she'd felt disconcerted by all those people milling about her, and the noise of their jokes and laughter had given her a headache. She'd fled to a quiet corner, closing her eyes for a moment, and suddenly she'd seen him before her, as he'd thrown back his head and looked up at the sky; and there was such a peaceful warmth flooding her senses that she sighed with the beauty of the memory. It was then that she'd known she needed to be alone. She couldn't stand anybody's nearness any longer.

And now, sitting here in the soft blue darkness of her apartment, she felt that peace again, as if the fantasy image in her soul calmed her yearning heart by telling her: You're safe. You're safe now. Please don't be afraid.

Suddenly an irrational thought crossed her mind. It wasn't even a thought, rather some remnants of her childhood dream that miracles did happen sometimes. Maybe if she went there tonight -- tonight of all nights....

*

It was late and the streets were almost deserted. Probably by now most people were finished with their last minute shopping and were at home with their families. On entering the park, she stopped and tipped back her head, breathing in the clear, crisp air and sending a silent prayer up to the clouded night sky. Familiar with the paths that led to her destination, she resumed her walk resolutely. This time she didn't stop at her tree, but headed for the culvert where he had stood.

She could already see the shrubbery which surrounded the drainage pipe, when a vivid anticipation accelerated the beating of her heart. The feeling was so intense that she stopped and pressed one hand against her chest, incredulously scanning the area in front of her. Despite the park lamps, the opening of the tunnel lay in deep shadows, but strangely, she felt no fear of the darkness -- not tonight. Confidently, she moved closer.

Did she dare enter the eerie blackness that greeted her? How far could she go? She silently reprimanded herself for not having brought a flashlight with her. How thoughtless and how stupid of her. Not quite as certain as a few moments ago, she leaned against the rough concrete wall, searching within her heart for the confidence and anticipation that had driven her on just a few minutes earlier. It was gone. What she could feel, though, was a radiant joy that brought tears to her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and ventured into the opening.

*

Sniffing the clear night air, Vincent approached the exit that led to the park. He needed to be by himself for a while before he felt up to meeting the merry assembly in Father's study on this Christmas Eve. Not that Christmas was such an important event Below; it was just that in the Tunnels every inhabitant's customs were respected and heeded. And there were many to whom Christmas meant a lot, especially the children.

As he was nearing the end of the drainage tunnel that opened into the park, Vincent stopped and raised his eyes in anticipation. Even before he actually stepped over the threshold and into the park, he knew that the sky was scattered with millions of brightly twinkling stars. Impatient to drink in the beauty of the sight, he set into motion again.

Suddenly a soft noise outside the tunnel made him flinch and stop dead in his tracks. He turned his head slightly and strained to listen into the darkness. Someone was coming down the slope and nearing the access tunnel. Without thinking twice, he pivoted and retraced his steps to the antechamber from where several concrete pipes branched off in different directions. Only one of them led down into his world, and since the intruder's footsteps were this near, that entrance had to be avoided at any cost. Vincent knew it was too late to trigger the opening mechanism anyway. The intruder was too close. The grating sound of the heavy metal door would inevitably draw his attention.

Swiftly and with cat-like grace, Vincent pulled himself up onto a small ledge above one of the openings and crouched on the rim of the pipe where it was embedded in the concrete wall. Automatically he covered his face and hands with the folds of his cloak and thus melted effectively into the shadows, becoming invisible even to those who would raise their heads and look in his direction in the meager light that filtered in from the park lamps outside.

The footsteps drew closer and Vincent noted, mildly surprised, that they were those of a woman. She hesitated briefly before she crossed the threshold and tiptoed through the culvert, nearing the spot where he sat and he fought to calm his breathing while casting furtive glances down to where he knew she must emerge any moment. He was confident that she would not see him, even should she look at him directly, whereas, due to his superior eyesight, he would be able to see her quite clearly.

When finally the woman became visible to him, Vincent was surprised at how small and fragile she looked despite the bulky coat she was wearing. Her gaze was riveted to the floor, and he couldn't see her face, but when she stopped to investigate some object at her feet, her hair fell forward and parted above her collar, and Vincent glimpsed the pale skin of her slender neck. So vulnerable, he thought involuntarily. What could she possibly want in here? What was she looking for?

And then his breath caught in his throat, for she leaned her head back and scanned the vaulted ceiling of the room. There was something about her that struck him as deeply familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He was certain that he'd never seen her face before.

She was craning her neck, trying to make out something in the darkness above her head, and Vincent stopped breathing altogether as her eyes met his -- or would have if she had been able to see in the darkness the way he could. There was a childlike wonder in her gaze -- and a deep sadness he knew he wouldn't be able to forget ever again.

The woman closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and releasing her breath in a sigh. She stood there for a long while, listening into the darkness, waiting. Then she turned and made her way back through the pipe to the park outside. Desperately, Vincent fought the urge to follow her, to see where she would go; to see that she was safe. Why was he suddenly feeling so protective about a total stranger? Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to count to ten before he dropped soundlessly to the sandy floor. He took a few hesitant steps towards the opening, but then stopped and turned back to the barred door that kept his world apart from the world above. It was time to go home now, but the memory of the stranger's face would follow him, easing his regret that he hadn't been able to watch the stars after all.

SECRETS