Chapter 3

It didn’t take long before Catherine was feeling like she really fit in Below. Fit in much better than she had Above in the last year or so. The classes she was teaching were going very well, she was enjoying them and the children acted as if they were too. One night every week or so she slept on the cot in the infants’ nursery; a duty shared by nearly all the single women. Right now there were only three babies under the age of two who spent the nights in the nursery. All of them were foundlings from Above; babies thrown away who had been found and brought Below where they were nurtured and would receive all the love and guidance they would need. They would have every chance to grow into the adults they were meant to be.

She was also engaged in a project with Father. He had been attempting for some time to set up a new inventory system for everything used Below. He wanted everyone to use the same system, so that anyone could look at an inventory for any area and know exactly what was needed without having to wait for the person who ran that area to come and either decipher their system or tell them because they had it all stored in their head.

Father’s first guinea pig had been William. He’d gone several rounds with him. William already had a good system on paper that was working for him, but he balked because he thought Father wanted to change it all. Catherine studied Williams system and decided that it was an excellent system; a form of it could be used everywhere. She only suggested a few minor alterations, and it wasn’t difficult to get William to agree that they were an improvement. Everyone agreed that Catherine shouldn’t have studied law; she should have been a diplomat.

As she worked her way through all the storage rooms she got a much better idea of how things were run below. She took one look at Mouse’s workshop and backed out, conceding defeat before she even attempted it. She let Father know that she didn’t think it was possible to inventory Mouse’s stuff or that even if they did get it all down on paper, it was probably futile to think that he would keep it up to date. Father agreed that it probably wasn’t necessary.

The last inventory on the list was the medical supplies. At first glance it was almost as daunting as Mouse’s workshop, but after a while Catherine began to see the order of it.

It was late one evening and she was sitting on the floor of the hospital chamber behind a screen, organizing and counting some miscellaneous items in the bottom drawer of a metal cabinet. Father was at the desk in the corner making notes in a patient’s chart. They had been talking earlier, but as it got later they both began to concentrate more on the tasks at hand, trying to get them done so they could get some rest.

Catherine hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on in the room until she heard someone come in. It had been so quiet she wasn’t sure if Father was still there and she was about to call out to whoever it was and ask if she could help when he spoke first.

"Father," the familiar voice said. "I need your help."

The sound of his voice made her freeze; it had been ages since she had heard it last. "Vincent!" she almost said aloud. She felt lightheaded and then realized she was holding her breath.

She heard Father gasp and the chair scrape on the floor as he rose.

"Vincent, what is wrong?" he asked as he moved as quickly as he could to his son’s side.

"I’m afraid I’ve been a little clumsy. I slipped on a rock fall and cut my arm. I think it’s going to require a few stitches; I can’t seem to stop the bleeding."

Vincent allowed Father to guide him over to one of the exam tables where he sat down. After removing the rough bandage and examining the cut on his upper right arm he shook his head. "I think this is going to require more than a few stitches, Vincent. Let me see if I can find someone to go above to get Jason," he said, referring to a former tunnel child who was now a surgical resident at St. Vincent’s Hospital.

Father stepped over to the pipe that ran across the ceiling of the chamber and tapped out a message. Kipper, who had just come off sentry duty showed up.

"Kipper," said Father, meeting him at the door. "I need you to take a message Above to Jason, at St. Vincent’s and ask him if he could come Below when he gets off duty. We have need of his surgical skills."

"I think he is already Below, Father," said Kipper. "I saw him at dinner and he said he was going to visit with Mary. It’s only 9:00 so he is probably still there, I’ll go check."

"Thank you Kipper, tell him that Vincent has been hurt."

After Kipper left Father went over to the basin and washed his hands before he went back to the table where Vincent was. "Please take off your shirt, Vincent," he requested. "Other than this, how have you been?" he asked as he watched Vincent remove vest, shirt and undershirt.

"I’ve been well Father. I’m sorry to show up so late and bother you; I thought I could handle this myself."

"Considering the time you’ve been away from us," said Father, "I’m surprised that this is the first time you’ve required emergency treatment.

As Father and son continued their conversation, Catherine cowered, obviously forgotten, in the corner behind the screen.

Jason arrived with Mary close behind, and after a quick examination, agreed with Father that Vincent had not only cut the skin badly, but had also damaged muscle and ligament. It was going to require surgery, which would mean general anesthesia, always a tricky undertaking with Vincent. Mary called for Brooke, who had gone to nursing school, and the four of them scrubbed up and prepared for surgery. Finally, when everyone was intent on Vincent on the operating table, Catherine was able to gather her things and creep quietly out and escape the hospital chamber.

She ran all the way back to her chamber. When she got there she dumped her clipboards and papers on her desk and collapsed in the upholstered chair where she usually sat to read. She had been taken by surprise, not only by Vincent’s arrival in the hospital chamber, but by her reaction to him. The sound of his voice had gone right through her and she had forgotten to breathe for a moment. Then she had pulled herself into a tight ball up against the cabinet and had remained that way until she worked up the courage to peek around the screen to make sure the coast was clear for her to make a break for the door. If her luck held, he would only be in the hospital chamber for a day or two and then he would be gone again. She had never thought she would see the day that she would try to avoid Vincent.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

The surgery went quickly and well. Father and Jason had cleaned up and left Mary and Brooke to tend to the patient. Brooke stayed with Vincent until he woke and helped him move from the operating table to one of the beds. Then she took his blood pressure, pulse and temperature and noted them on the chart.

"Everything looks normal. Are you comfortable?" asked Brooke. "If you would be more comfortable in your own chamber, I can go put clean linens on the bed and get someone to help you move."

"No, Brooke. Thank you, but that isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine where I am for now," Vincent assured her as he settled himself more comfortably against the pillows.

Brook handed him some pills and a glass of water, "These are antibiotics, and there is pain medication if you need it."

Vincent took the pills and drank the water. "Can I have some more water, please?" he asked.

Brooke brought the pitcher over to the bed, refilled his glass and left the pitcher on the bedside table next to the two pill bottles.

"Father said to make sure to tell you that if you leave before he sees you in the morning that you are to take the antibiotics with you and take one tablet every twelve hours until they are gone. If you need the pain medication; take it with you also. And change the dressing twice a day until it scabs over. He wants you to come back to have the stitches taken out, don't try to do it yourself. But he would really like you to stay at least until he sees you. He wants to check the dressing again and make sure the wound isn’t draining excessively," Brooke said as she took the empty glass from him and placed it on the bedside table next to the pitcher. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I’ll be fine. Father didn’t tell you to sit with me all night, did he?" asked Vincent.

"No, he said to stay until you woke, make sure you are OK, give you your meds and then I could leave." Brooke had been all business up to this point, but just before she turned to leave, she smiled at Vincent. "It is good to see you, Vincent. You are greatly missed." She was almost to the door before Vincent spoke.

"Thank you Brooke. I miss everyone here too. Good night."

When he was alone, he settled back on the bed wishing he had a book to read. His thoughts turned toward his friends and family. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Brooke that he missed everyone too. Lately, he was missing them more and appreciating his solitude less. He considered himself lucky that his injury hadn’t been worse. When he had fallen, he had narrowly missed hitting his head on a boulder that had been to one side of the rock fall. If he had, he could have been hurt much worse, and could have possibly lain there until someone discovered him or until he died. There was a lot to be said for living among people who cared for you and who insisted that you let them know where you were going and when you would be back, and who would go looking for you if you didn’t return when you said you would. Maybe he should consider moving back home. He decided to sleep on it and talk to Father about it in the morning.

It was late when Catherine finally calmed down enough to sleep. She had paced, then gone to the bathing chamber to soak in the hot water, hoping it would relax her. Finally she’d taken a book to bed and nodded off while reading, but not before she heard the 2:30AM sentry check in.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

Vincent was just waking up early the next morning when Mary arrived carrying his clothes and a breakfast tray.

She set the tray across his lap and then settled down to keep him company while he ate.

"I think I managed to get all the blood out of your clothes," she said as he ate. "And I mended the hole in your shirt, and replaced a few buttons."

"Thank you Mary. My clothes have become pretty shabby over the last few years," he admitted. "I’ve never been very good with a needle and thread."

"All you need to do is stop by the store room and pick up some more things; I’m sure there is stuff in there that will fit you. Or you can drop off whatever needs to be repaired," she pointed out with a smile.

"I know, Mary, but I am usually here in the middle of the night and I don’t want to bother anyone."

Mary rose and patted Vincent on the arm. "It’s no bother, no matter what you do or where you go, you are still one of my children. All you have to do is leave a bundle outside my chamber or send it with Mouse. I’ll fix anything that needs to be fixed and send it back with Mouse when he delivers your supplies."

Vincent thanked her and watched her leave.

Half an hour later he was dressed and in Father’s study. Father was drinking tea and offered a cup to Vincent. He accepted it and took the chair across the table from him.

"Father, I need to talk to you about something," he started.

"Certainly, Vincent. You can talk while I check that dressing," he went to a cabinet and took out his medical bag and brought it back to the table and set it down next to Vincent.

Vincent removed his shirt and as Father removed the dressing and checked the wound, Vincent searched for a way to start the conversation.

Finally he just blurted it out. "Father, I spent a good portion of the night thinking and I’ve decided that I would like to come home, if it is all right with you and the council."

Father was so shocked he almost dropped the rolled bandage he was using to secure the new dressing. After he recovered from his shock he couldn’t keep the broad smile from his face. He hugged Vincent before he handed him his shirt indicating he should put it back on.

"Vincent, you are one of us. You don’t need anyone’s permission to return! Everyone will welcome you home. In fact, it is Saturday, and most everyone has some spare time, would you like me to put the word out and find some help to move your things back?"

Vincent was smiling in relief and a little bit of amusement at his parent’s enthusiasm. "No Father, I’m sure I can find help, and I don’t have to do it all at once."

"That’s true, but the sooner you get all your things back here the sooner you can settle into a normal routine again." Father was having a hard time containing his excitement. "Are you sure I can’t find someone to help you? You really shouldn’t be doing any heavy work with that arm; you did have general anesthesia for the surgery just last night."

"Father, don’t worry. I will find some help. I’ll get Mouse and a couple of the older boys. If we use the flatbed carts used to bring things down from Above, none of us will have to do much heavy work." Vincent drained the cup and stood to leave. "If we get started now, we should be done by lunch."

"Good, good," exclaimed Father, still grinning, "I’ll see you at lunch then."

"Lunch," agreed Vincent, with a smile. He dropped a kiss on the old man’s head and went out in search of Mouse.

Within seconds of Vincent exiting the chamber through the side entrance, Catherine entered on the other side. She was down the steps before Father even noticed her. The look of shock on his face made her hesitate a moment.

"Are you all right, Father?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear, quite all right. But I fear I’ve made a muddle of something." He shook his head.

"Is Vincent all right?" she asked as she sat down. Without thinking about what she was doing she picked up the mug that Vincent had just drained and filled it with tea from Father’s pot and started to sip it.

"You were still in the hospital chamber when he came in last night?" he asked.

"Yes, I was behind the screen. I stayed there until everyone was occupied with Vincent, then I slipped out."

"Vincent is fine. Jason repaired the damage, and at the rate that Vincent heals he will be back to normal in a week or two. There are just a couple of things."

"I’m glad he is going to be OK. What things?" she asked.

"He is moving back to his chamber…today; should be done by lunch, in fact."

"He’s moving back?" The look on Catherine’s face was pure shock. "Oh my," she added in a small voice. "Did you tell him that I’m here?"

"That is the other thing. I didn’t even think of it. I was so happy when he said he was coming back that I didn’t even think to tell him about you." Father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "But I’m sure everything will be fine, Catherine. He seemed so much happier, and what you might call, up beat, this morning. Much like you’ve been since you moved Below. I’ll just have to make sure that I tell him straight away, next time I see him."

Catherine looked worried. "Maybe I should stay in my chamber until he knows; I would hate to just run into him in a corridor. It might shock him into having me escorted out before I get a chance to explain."

"I’m sure he wouldn’t. You know he doesn’t have it in him to be rude to anyone, especially not to you. For that matter; he will be working with Mouse and some of the boys all morning, one of them is bound to tell him. He will probably know before he gets back here."

"I hope so. I’ll just spend the morning in my chamber grading papers," she unintentionally mimicked Vincent’s actions when she stood, drank the remaining tea in the mug, then stepped over and dropped a kiss on Father’s head. She turned to leave and called back over her shoulder "Let me know when it is safe to come out."

"I will, my dear. I’ll send one of the children."

"Thank you, Father."

Catherine spent the morning reading essays and was surprised when Eric showed up with her lunch.

"Did you hear, Catherine?" he said, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "Vincent is back and he’s going to stay."

"Yes, Father told me. Has he finished moving yet?"

"All his stuff is in his chamber, but he hasn’t put it all away yet. It looks as bad as the boys’ dorm after a pillow fight." He grinned. "I’ve got to go, I promised to help him organize his books as soon as I’ve finished eating.

"Thanks, Eric," Catherine called after him as he left.

"Welcome, Catherine," he called back.

* * * * * * * * * *

As hard as he tried all day, Father was just not able to get Vincent alone to tell him about Catherine. He managed to talk to Mouse who told him that he hadn't mentioned Catherine to Vincent, and neither had any of the others. Lunch was a free for all. Both of them had a hard time getting their lunch eaten because everyone had to come over and welcome Vincent home. The message had gone out over the pipes just as soon as Pascal had heard, and within minutes everyone Below knew.

Vincent’s chamber was more like Grand Central all afternoon; he had plenty of help to put away his belongings. There was no worry about him pulling his stitches, all he had to do was sit back and give directions.

Dinner turned into a party, and within minutes, Father knew he wasn’t going to have an opportunity to talk to Vincent alone so he had one of the children take another tray to Catherine. He was sorry she was missing the fun and excitement, but he agreed with her that it probably wasn’t a good idea for Vincent to just run into her somewhere. Father was afraid that it would drive him back into his self exile. And it amazed him that no one else had told him; it was as if there was a silent agreement that no one would speak of Catherine unless Vincent mentioned her first; even the children seemed to understand.

Vincent was able to take a few minutes to talk to Father. "I left the chamber I was using furnished and I left some supplies there. I thought it would be a good place to use as a retreat for anyone who might feel the need for quiet and privacy."

"That is a splendid idea, Vincent. We’ve always needed something like that. Mouse said that it even has a hot spring to bathe in?"

"Yes, I managed to make it all quite comfortable during the time I was there. It only takes about an hour of walking briskly to reach it from the home chambers. I can hear the pipes from there, but I doubt anyone else would be able to."

"We will have to keep it in mind, but if it gets out we might have to take reservations; it is likely to become very popular."

Later in the evening Father looked in on Vincent hoping to find him alone, but he wasn’t. He and half a dozen friends were all sitting in Vincent’s chamber trading stories of the last few years. He hadn’t seen Vincent look so happy and relaxed in years, so he decided to let well enough alone and let him enjoy his evening and his friends. Vincent was sure to stop by his chamber in the morning on his way to breakfast. He would tell him then. Before he went to bed, however he went down to Catherine’s chamber to talk to her.

Catherine smiled sympathetically as she listened to Father’s story. "I understand, Father. I’ve been listening to the pipes all day. I can feel the excitement! Everyone is so happy to have him back. I know how you all missed him. I’ve missed him too. I’m just glad he is back with his family. I don’t know how he ever managed to exist off all by himself for all that time."

"Thank you for being so understanding, Catherine. I will talk to him first thing in the morning. I promise."

Catherine hugged him and said good night.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

It was late when everyone finally wore out and headed back to their own chambers. Vincent took his things and went to the small bathing chamber he and Father used and lowered himself into the hot water for a relaxing soak, being careful to keep his bandaged arm above water.

It had been a long, exciting day; he was tired, but knew that it would take a while to unwind before he would sleep. The happy mood of the rest of the tunnel residents had communicated itself to him and he had to admit that he felt better and happier than he had in years. He hoped it would last. The darkest days were over; had been for some time. While he had been in his self imposed exile, during the earliest months he hadn’t been in contact with the rest of his family at all. His constant companion had been that other part of himself that he had battled since he was a teenager. In the beginning it had mocked and defied him and he had continued to push it away; hide it in the darkness, but after a while it became more conciliatory, and he had finally allowed that part of himself to surface and he had examined it closely. He had eventually come to accept that it was a normal part of him, not some evil entity that had attached itself to his soul. Catherine had been right about that, as she had been right about many things. Once he acknowledged that part of himself it ceased to be a threat and he felt more at peace than he had since he was a boy.

He had also come to acknowledge, at least to himself, that he was a man; not a beast. Catherine had been right about that too. His outward appearance might say otherwise but inside he knew the truth: he had the thoughts of a man, the feelings of a man, the needs and wants of a man. As Devin would say, "If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it must be a duck" or at least mostly. How he had gotten the way he was, he didn’t know; he would probably never know, but he was what he was, and it seemed that other people had been more willing to accept him as a man than he had been himself.

He had written about all this in his journals. During his time away, he had probably filled nearly as many journals as he had in the previous twenty years, but it helped him to sort it all out.

Thinking about all this he returned to his chamber where he reached for his current journal so he could bring it up to date with all the new happenings. Several more pages would be filled tonight.

Later as he was finishing up the entry, he was gazing around the room feeling relaxed; the love of those around him was almost palpable. His eyes landed on the suede pouch lying on his nightstand, right where he had left it over five years before. He had taken it off one night before he’d gone to bathe and just had not put it back on. It had stayed in that spot the whole time since. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten it when he left the chamber; and he’d had opportunities to pick it up and put it back on during the years, he just hadn’t done it. At his lowest point, when he had contemplated stepping off the bridge into the Abyss he had almost gone back to his chamber and retrieved it, so that he could take something of Catherine with him into the next world, but something had stopped him from retrieving the rose and taking that long step.

Now he leaned over and picked it up off the table. He opened the pouch and dropped the ivory rose out into the palm of his hand. Gazing at it, his eyes filled with tears, and he wondered what Catherine was doing, how she was. It had been well over a year since he had last relaxed the constraints on the Bond completely. He had deliberately damped it down to a bare trickle; just enough to know that she was safe and well. He couldn’t consciously detect any feelings from her. But consciously had been the operative word, when he was asleep, he would often unconsciously reconnect with her; almost sharing her dreams. That was how he had found out just how sad and depressed she really was. Not long after that she had tried one last time to come Below and he had blocked her. He just wanted to get away from all of it; her pain as well as his, and that was when he had gone into his self imposed exile.

He replaced the rose in the bag, and placed the cord around his neck. It settled against his chest like a bird going home to roost; right where it belonged. He picked his pen up and finished the entry, then recapped it and closed the journal. He almost got up to go to bed then, but just one more time, he decided to open the Bond and check on Catherine. He relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes preparing himself. But he couldn’t possibly have prepared for what he found. The feelings slammed into him like a landslide. He sat up straight and his eyes flew open. She was so close! He probed again. Not just close, she was Below; he was sure of it. How could that be?

He jumped up, almost knocking over his chair and headed out into the corridor, following the pull of the Bond. He didn’t have to follow it far. Less than a hundred feet down the corridor on the other side of Father’s chamber. He hesitated outside the chamber door, making sure she slept. Then he stepped just inside. The sight that met his eyes sent his back up against the wall for support. Catherine was in the bed only feet away. She was sleeping, but not very peacefully. She wasn’t having a nightmare, but it didn’t seem to be a very pleasant dream.

He stood for a time just watching her and as he watched she calmed, relaxed and sighed in her sleep. The dream had passed. The Bond calmed.

She was different. Her hair was longer, less sun streaked, she was thinner, if that was possible. He could see one hand, palm up, on the pillow next to her head. No more professional manicures; her nails were trimmed short and there were a few new calluses that hadn’t been there before, but her small hands were still neat and well kept. He glanced around the room and recognized a few pieces of furniture and a few knick-knacks from her apartment. It looked like she wasn’t just visiting. Why hadn’t Father told him? And why was she Below? Was it a permanent move or was she vacationing?

Without conscious thought he moved quietly across the room to the easy chair that was pulled close to the side of the bed, near the foot. He could see her sitting in that chair reading with her feet propped on the bed, she’d done it many times in his chamber. He sat in the chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, his hands clasped under his chin and just drank in the sight before him. He was so comfortable he dozed off.

The next thing he knew he was hearing the 4:00AM sentry check in on the pipes. He immediately remembered where he was and his eyes popped open. Blue eyes met green and he knew he’d been caught. He opened his mouth to explain when Catherine smiled sleepily at him and scooted over in the bed. She pulled back the blankets on the side closest to him and patted the sheet.

"What are you doing in that chair, Vincent? You’ll be stiff in the morning. Come back to bed."

That was when he knew that she wasn’t awake and was dreaming. If only she knew how tempted he was to take her up on her offer, but he couldn’t take advantage of the situation. He walked over to the bed.

"In a minute, Catherine," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

She snuggled down in the bed, smiling. "OK, but don’t stay up all night." She closed her eyes and was immediately soundly asleep again.

Vincent sighed deeply then pulled the blankets back up over her shoulders, being careful not to touch her. He could feel deep contentment and love flowing through the bond to him from the woman in the bed. He couldn’t believe she could still feel that way, after what he had done, after the way he had treated her.

"I remember, my love…every moment, every word, every look, every touch. My love still

lives! I hope my stupidity and stubbornness did not destroy yours, destroy us; but love cannot die. We are safe now. Sleep my love…" he murmured softly.

He turned and walked slowly back to his own chamber, blinded by his tears. By breakfast time he knew what he was going to do, what he had to do. He was going court Catherine; to work to prove to the woman he loved that he had been a fool and that he was sorry for all the pain that he had caused her; caused them both. If he could he would earn her love and trust once more. He just had to figure out how to go about it.