Part Four
If the police expected to find a frightened, hysterical woman they were in for a surprise. Relying on a source of strength they were unaware of, she quietly and calmly answered their questions as truthfully as possible. The detectives decided that she was in shock and would need medical attention. With bated breath she watched them search the warehouse. Only when they decided that there was no one hiding in the darkness did she take her first deep breath. She rode with her father’s body to the city morgue where she was met by Peter and Jay. Releasing her into Peter’s care, the detectives followed the body into the autopsy room.
When Peter came around the corner and held his open arms out to her, her stoic front crumbled. He held her tightly as she silently cried, wetting his shoulder with her tears. “Are you ok?” he asked.
“I’m ok,” she hiccupped.
“I’m so sorry, Cathy,” Jay tentatively touched her shoulder. “Do you know . . . did they say anything about why?”
She turned to him, searching her memory. “Yes, something about a Mr. Aloisio.”
“Oh, my god,” Jay gasped. “I need to get to the office and find out what Charles did with that file. I’m the one that brought that account into the firm.” He started down the hall but stopped when Catherine called out. “Be careful, Jay. Take the police with you.” With a curt nod he spun on his heel and hurried away.
“Why don’t you come home with me, honey?” Peter asked,
throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Millie would love to take care of you.” Catherine
had known Millie, Peter’s housekeeper, since
she had come to work for Peter when he had become a widower.
She was one of Catherine’s favorite people.
“I’d rather go home if you don’t mind? Tell Millie not to worry, that I will be fine, ok? I just need to be alone.” Patting this dear man’s arm, her thoughts were already turning to Vincent’s comforting presence.
“Are you sure?” he protested. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
“I’m sure. Really, Peter, I will be fine.”
“All right,” he agreed grudgingly, “but . . . I’m going to call Jenny and have her meet us at your place.”
Too tired to argue, she nodded in agreement. She could send Jenny home after he left.
****************
Jenny never said a word, just gathered her grieving friend into a comforting hug.
“Having you here, Jen, makes it all bearable for me. Your presence helps to ease the pain.”
“I’m glad I could be here for you, Cath, glad I can help. It’s all so baffling.”
“I know,” Cathy whispered.
“I’ve drawn a nice hot bath for you and put in some of your favorite bath salts. Take off those dirty clothes and I’ll throw them away.”
For the first time Catherine looked down at her clothes, seeing all the dirt and her father’s blood that stained them. She shivered in revulsion and hurried to the bathroom. Quickly, she undressed and taking a pair of scissors began to cut her clothing into pieces. The more she cut, the angrier she became and the faster she snipped until she was frantically ripping them to shreds. She dropped the scissors onto the pile of shredded clothing--she would never use them again--and collapsed against the chilly bathroom counter top shaking in a cold fury. Tears of rage and frustration ran down her cheeks as she dropped her head into her hands. Finally, she gathered the pieces of shredded cloth together and threw them, along with the scissors, into the waste basket.
Gratefully she sank into the hot, scented water, laying her head against the back of the tub. The events of the night played themselves out before her tightly closed eyes as her tears continued to flow. It was so hard to think that her father was gone, and it seemed a lifetime ago that they had sat side by side enjoying Smetana’s music. ‘The Moldau’ would always remind her of him, and it would be many years before she could hear that piece of music without tears forming in her eyes.
Sitting on the low wall that surrounded the roof, waiting to go to Catherine, Vincent cursed the fate that kept him from her side when she needed him. He could feel an intense fury and frustration well up in her and each angry sob resonated through him. She was weeping. Eventually the weeping stopped and he could feel the warmth and love he had sent her echo back to his heart. She knew he was here waiting for her.
Pulling herself together, Catherine dried off and donned the terry cloth robe that hung on the bathroom door. She changed into a cream silk nightgown and peignoir, and slipping her feet into matching satin slippers, she returned to the sitting room. With a rueful look Peter replaced the handset into its cradle. “Looks like I’m needed at the hospital, honey. Are you going to be all right?”
She wondered how many more times she would be asked that question in the next few days. “Yes,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek. “Go bring a new life into the world. We’re one short tonight.” Her voice broke on the last word.
Tears glinted in his eye as he moved toward the door. “I left something for you with Jenny to help you sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Quietly he closed the door behind him.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Jenny asked from the kitchen.
“Yes, thanks.” Catherine stepped out onto the terrace into the warm night air. A continuous ringing brought her back from her memories. It was the phone.
Jenny waved her away as she answered the phone. “I’ll screen the calls, Cathy. Stay where you are.” In between calls Jenny finally got her a cup of coffee, and at last, Nancy got through. Finally she was able to speak with her other best friend. As usual Nancy was comforting and supportive, and she promised to be there early on the day of the funeral.
“Turn the volume off, Jenny, and let the answering machine take the calls.”
“Ok. Are you ready to go to bed?” Jenny asked.
“No, not yet.” Catherine wondered how to get Jenny to go home; that could be a big problem. She had a wide streak of mother hen in her and could be incredibly stubborn when she felt someone needed her help. Peter said he had left something to help her sleep. If she could get her old pal to take it, she could still meet Vincent on the balcony.
Half and hour later Jenny was sound asleep on the hide-a-bed. It had been easier than Cathy had thought. She simply asked for the medicine, gave Jenny a nightgown to wear, helped her put sheets on the bed, and slipped the pill into her coffee. Jenny would have the best sleep she had had in a long time. Cathy felt a little sneaky about doing this to her friend, but she simply had to see Vincent. She needed his comforting presence.
She stepped out on the balcony knowing with a certainty that she didn’t understand that he would be there offering his comfort and friendship.
“I’m here, Catherine,” the velvet and gravel voice whispered from the shadows.
“Oh, thank you for coming,” she said, watching him move lithely from the darkness. For a large man he was incredibly graceful.
“You needed me. I will always come when you need me.”
Unable to speak as the tears started to fall, she begged, “Hold me. I need your arms around me. I need the comfort of your arms.”
There was no hesitation this time; there never would be again. “I know.”
She leaned into him and he closed her in his arms. Soon she is sobbing uncontrollably. Sweeping her up into his strong arms, he carried her into her bedroom and sank onto the bed, holding her in his arms. Never had she felt so cosseted; he made no demands on her, freeing her to grieve without reservations. At last, she cried herself to sleep. Through the night, even though Jenny was in the other room, he watched over this woman who had become the corner stone of his life. At dawn, he reluctantly awoke her, “It is almost dawn. I must leave soon.”
“Will I see you again?”
“If you wish.”
“Oh yes, I need a friend.” His heart constricted at the word friend. He felt so much more than friendship for her, but if that was all she needed of him that was what he would be for her. “I will always be your friend.”
“And I will always be yours. Vincent, how did you know that I needed you?”
She settled back against the headboard, waiting for him to tell her. He would tell the truth; he would never lie to her. How did she know that? She simply knew.
Pacing beside her bed, he stared at his hands, “It is difficult to explain, but all my life I have had a sense of people. When they are in pain, when they are sad, when they are in happy. But with you, it is so strong that I feel what you feel, almost know what you think. Have you never felt it?”
“I . . . I think so. There were times when I felt as if someone . . . was strengthening me. That was you!”
“I have never purposefully invaded your privacy, Catherine; I want you to know this. We are connected--there is a bond between us--whether we want to be or not.”
“Do you wish it were not so?”
“No, oh no. I don’t think I could survive if the bond was broken. You have ended my aloneness, Catherine. It is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”
She was silent for a long time and Vincent gave her time to explore the bond and her part of it. At last, she looked up at him with shining eyes. “The warmth that I feel is you, isn’t it?” He nodded. “Then I’m not alone either,” she said. “I have you.”
“Yes, wherever you go, wherever I am, I am with you.”
“And I’m with you.” She understood so much now: the courage that she didn’t know she had, the strength she displayed in the hospital, her lack of hysteria in the warehouse--she had always been easily frightened--all due somehow to this magical being who stood beside her bed. She knew deep down inside of her that she had so much yet to learn, and he had so much to teach her. For some reason she had been singled out to meet and to know this man. Why? Maybe, someday she would figure that out, but right now she was grateful that he was in her life.
“Yes. But I must leave,” he said again, turning to the balcony.
Catherine bounded out of bed, following him to the open French doors. Impulsively she hugged him and standing on tiptoe reached up and innocently kissed him on the cheek, unaware that a simple kiss bound him ever more tightly to her.
Blissfully he returned her embrace then he put her away from him, climbed over the balcony wall and, with a backward look at the woman he loved, he disappeared into the predawn darkness.
Feeling guilty about being so happy on the night of her father’s death, Catherine returned to her bed where she fell into an exhausted sleep and dreamed. In her dream she is sitting in the park with her father listening to the River Moldau. He takes her hand in his and says, “Don’t be afraid to be happy, Cathy, even tonight. I know you love me, and if you have found someone to care for and who cares for you, I can go without regret. Your mother is waiting for me. Remember we love you and are always with you.” Leaning over, he presses a kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes savoring her father’s lingering kiss. When she opens her eyes, she is alone. In her sleep she smiled. Once again, her father had answered her.
Vincent swung into his chamber, dropped his cloak on a chair, and sat down at his desk. For several minutes, his mind went over the events of the day. He opened his journal, uncapped his pen, and began to write of those events. Writing his thoughts and the happenings of the day in his journal had always helped him to sort out his feelings. He knew that his life had been irrevocably changed in a manner that neither Father nor he had ever dreamed of. Finally, weary he went to bed, and as he slept, he dreamt impossible dreams.
______________________________________________________________________________
“That was a very unique eulogy, Cathy,” Nancy said. The four musketeers minus one--Susan, Peter’s daughter was unable to come from Santa Fe--were sitting with Peter on her terrace reminiscing about Charles Chandler’s life. Sipping iced tea, they were seated around a small wrought iron table in the bright late afternoon sun. “The Velveteen Rabbit must have held great significance for your father.”
“Yeah, it was a favorite of his when he was little; he read it over and over to me. He put great store in being real.”
“He was a man to be proud of, Cathy,” Peter stated. “I was proud to be his friend.”
“Not as proud as he was to be yours,” she said. She reached across the table to gently pat his hand.
Peter’s thoughts strayed to memories of his long time
friend, remembering how they had met as freshmen at Harvard and had taken an immediate liking
to one another; rooming together, double
dating, getting into the usual trouble that young, free
males could get into; finally going their separate ways, Charles into the law, he into medicine;
then meeting again in New York. Their lives were intertwined from that time onward. He
was there for Charles when Carolyn died, and Charles was there for him when his
own beloved Sandra had died. And now it was his privilege to be there for his goddaughter. He would look
after her as if she was his own; at times it seemed as if she was. The sound of laughter brought him
out of his reverie. He had no idea what the three girls thought was so funny and decided to listen.
“Have you decided yet what you’re going to do with the firm?” Jenny probed. “I don’t think you’ll keep it.”
“Another one of your dreams, Jen,” Cathy scoffed.
“Well, if you must know, yes. You’re not going to go back to the firm.”
“Oh, I’m not, huh?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Now, now kiddies, let’s not fight over a law firm. I always had to referee their little spats,” Nancy explained to Peter who chuckled and shook his head at their silliness. Cathy had been displaying an amazing strength since her attack, and Peter thought she became more like her mother every day.
Belying the silliness of the previous minutes, Cathy stated, “I’m thinking about applying with the D.A.’s office. They always need help.”
Jenny pounced on her words like a cat on a mouse. “That’s what I dreamed in a round about manner.”
“Oh Jen,” Cathy sighed and then gently laughed.
“Well, I can’t help it,” Jenny groused, pouting slightly. “That’s what I dreamed. And they will hire you, too.” She underscored her words with a so-there look. “And I won’t even say I told you so when they do,” she added.
“Knowing you, you won’t be able to keep from it,” Cathy charged, merriment sparkling in her eyes.
****************
The three women whipped up a light supper for the four of them and then it was time for Nancy to return home.
“Give my best to Paul and the children,” Cathy said. “Thanks for coming.” Nancy was her first best friend and would do anything for her. The hug she gave Cathy held all her love and compassion.
“Love ya, Cathy. If you need anything let me know, ok? Maybe you could come and spend a week with us or, at least, a weekend.”
“I’ll see how everything goes and I’ll call you next week. Love you, Nancy.”
Nancy touched her cheek softly then turned to the door. “Can I give you a lift to the station?” Peter asked. “I’ve got to go. I have early rounds tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.”
“But, Peter, that won’t help,” Jenny quipped.
“Humph! I can see I’m not appreciated around here, I’m going home.” Playing the martyr to the hilt with wounded dignity but with laughing eyes, he grabbed the doorknob, and opened the door with a flourish.
Cathy reached up and pecked him on the cheek as he marched into the hallway. “Night, Peter. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, night, Peter,” Jenny chimed in.
“Be good, you two,” Nancy admonished over her shoulder, following Peter to the elevator.
The door clicked shut and there was a sudden silence. “Guess it’s time for me to go too,” Jenny said.
“I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for me, Jen. You’re one in a million.”
“Watch it there, Cath, you’ll give me a big head.” Sobering, she drew her bereft friend into a warm embrace. “I wish I could have done more.”
“You did everything I needed and more. I love you, Jen.”
“I love you too, Cath.” Dabbing at the tears in her eyes, she attempted to lighten their mood. “Enough of this sentimental stuff. I’m going home unless you need me to stay tonight.”
“No, I’ll be fine. You need a good night’s rest.” After Jenny left, she turned off the lights and stepped out on the terrace. The warm night air caressed her skin as she leaned against the surrounding balcony wall. She wished that Vincent could be there but realized that it was up to her to be strong, to face whatever life handed her on her own terms. A small spark of warmth began to glow in her heart soon filling her small body with the knowledge that he was thinking of her. Bolstered by the knowledge that he was with her, she changed into her night clothes, then climbed into bed and was instantly asleep.
****************
A week later, Catherine was sitting outside the office of District Attorney John Moreno, watching him and Joe Maxwell, an ADA, discuss the advisability of hiring her. Mr. Maxwell was playing with a rubber band, something she would learn was a constant habit with him when he was deep in thought or making a decision, and frowning occasionally at her. He didn’t look too happy as he bent to say something to Mr. Moreno who answered him back with a slight nod in her direction. An air of resignation settled about Maxwell, he slid off the edge of Moreno’s desk, opened the door and sticking his head around the door frame, said, “Ms. Chandler? Mr. Moreno will see you now.”
When she left the building at five that afternoon, she was walking on air. She had her own desk which was already overflowing with files. They had hired her as a Deputy District Attorney. As an investigator, she would be Joe Maxwell’s eyes, ears, hands, and legs. It could be dangerous, and since the attack and her father’s death, she had felt the need to learn some kind of defensive training; so, before she left the office she had found out who was the best self-defense instructor. She was given the name of Isaac Stubbs, and she made an immediate appointment with him. Tomorrow would be her first session and she looked forward to it.
****************
“Well, I can see you are about to go Above again.” Father’s disapproval washed over him like a shower of ice. “How long are you going to continue to risk yourself and this world in these foolish excursions of yours?”
“The risk is to myself alone, Father,” Vincent replied as he fastened his cloak. He strode to the entrance and over his shoulder tossed, “Don’t worry about me, I will be fine. I will return before dawn.”
Oh, the impudence of the man! To walk away from him, leaving him with unspoken words and ominous warnings to spell out. They would speak of this tomorrow. Vincent was changing before his very eyes and he didn’t like it one bit.
Catherine was asleep by the time Vincent arrived, and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He knew she was finding it difficult, but rewarding, to settle into her new job. She wasn’t used to working this hard; she came home dead tired and could barely eat before she fell into an exhausted, deep sleep. He stayed on her balcony for several minutes watching her, then took his usual walk through the dark streets and alleys of the only city he knew--New York at night.
****************
Although it was early morning, Father was waiting for him in his chamber when he returned home.
“Father,” he nodded, hanging his cloak in his antique chifforobe. Trying to keep it light, he said, “You’re either up early or you haven’t been to bed yet.” But he could see by Father’s stormy scowl that he was in for a stern lecture. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he asked, “What is it you have to say to me that you haven’t said many times before: the danger, the cruelty of those Above, the hatred, the deception, the betrayal? All true, Father, but there is also beauty, kindness, friendliness, honesty, loyalty, and love, Father. Above all, love.”
“And where have you found all these sterling qualities? Not in any I have met Above,” the angry man retorted.
“You condemn yourself with you own words. Are our Helpers not of Above?”
Waving Vincent’s words aside, Father angrily replied, “That’s different . . . they help us.”
“So . . . only those who are our Helpers are to be considered among the enlightened?” Vincent flung himself into his large, comfortable chair and leveled an uncompromising stare at an increasingly uncomfortable Father.
“You’re twisting my words all around. That is not what I am saying. I merely want you to be safe, to consider the consequences of your actions.”
Chuckling ruefully, his obstinate son retorted, “I am afraid it is a little too late for that. There is something that calls me Above.”
“Some . . . thing?”
“Someone.”
“Someone? Who?” Vincent stared steadily at him. A nasty suspicion began to form in the older man’s mind. “Not . . .” Vincent nodded slightly. “. . . the woman in the park? Catherine Chandler?” Turning on him, Father shouted, “I thought I told you to stay away from her. My god, Vincent, what have you done?”
“Nothing that any other man would not have done.” His glare dared Father to deny his manhood. Suddenly, the tension dropped from him, and with a lost puppy look on his unique face he stated, “I did not ask for this, Father. It just happened. But I would not change it for the world. I love her. She is more important to me than my life.”
Slowly, Father sank onto the bed and wearily passed a shaking hand over his face. What he had most feared had happened, Vincent would risk his very life to be Above with the woman he loved. “The risks . . . the danger, son.” Miserably he looked into his son’s eyes and saw a steely determination to be with the woman he loved.
“Know this, Father, I will not knowingly or carelessly risk my life. Please believe that, understand that.”
“All right, my son, but you can’t keep me from worrying.”
“I know that,” Vincent said as the two men warmly embraced. Then Father patted the stubbled cheek and left the chamber.
Vincent took a deep cleansing breath. Well, that had gone better than he had thought. He could now begin to tell Catherine about his world. Quickly doffing his clothes, he changed into a thin night shirt and patched sweat pants then climbed into bed. Maybe, he could get a few hours of sleep before Mouse woke him up for more pipe repair.
****************
Once again Lucifer was presiding over a meeting. Only this time, he was livid with rage. “Who ordered the killing of Charles Chandler?” he demanded as his cold, deadly eyes swept the room, nailing each of his subordinates for a few terrifying seconds.
Of the seven only three men were present: Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel. Each of them had denied the deed. Gabriel spoke up, “I think it was Aloisio. He thought by doing that he could cover his ass. He’s made too many mistakes and I think he might go to the cops for protection.”
Lucifer sagged into his chair, his outburst having tired him. His doctor would have a fit if he had seen the old man raging like a bull. His heart was racing and he took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed the nitroglycerine pill stored in his desk, but he would never show any sign of weakness to these men. It could be dangerous.
“Well, he thinks wrong. He’s one of yours, isn’t he, Gabriel? I want him disposed of as soon as possible. And I don’t want any more mistakes. Do I make myself clear?” He slammed a shaking hand down on the desk for emphasis. Each of the men nodded vigorously with the exception of Gabriel who nodded only slightly. He had noticed the old man’s reaction and the shaking hand. Lucifer was not going to be around much longer and he, Gabriel, meant to take over when the leader was gone. He could wait, that was what he did best.
“Shall I make the arrangements?” Gabriel asked coolly.
“Yeah, Gabe, you handle it, since he was one of yours.” The old man smirked at him knowing how he hated to be called ‘Gabe’. “And I would suggest you keep better control of your men.” The threat did not go unnoticed. Gabriel inclined his head but kept his feelings to himself. His time would come.