FATHER AND SON

Joan Stephens

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Hoping Vincent was still awake, Catherine hurried through the tunnels. The meeting had lasted much longer than she had anticipated but he had promised to wait up for her, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the warm, golden glow emanating from their chamber.

She stopped suddenly at the tableaux spread out before her. Vincent was fast asleep, lying on his back with a knee bent and Jacob’s head nestled securely beneath his chin. They were the picture of contentment. Soundly sleeping also, Jacob’s fist was entangled in his father’s hair. Every breath the child took caused Vincent’s hair to quiver and dance then float softly down to rest on his chest. Jacob took a deep, cleansing breath. Then, wriggling, he snuggled deeper into his father’s neck. Large furry hands almost covering the tiny child held him close, safe on Vincent’s breast.

With melting heart, she gazed fondly at the scene, wishing she had a camera. She sighed wistfully, Oh, Kristopher, where are you when I need you?

Fini