Chapter 7

Father woke to a warm darkness and the sense that he had been asleep for a long time. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew he was not in the tunnels. The quiet was a different one – not silent. He could hear the muffled sounds of a city. He must be in the auxiliary brownstone’s hospital room. He had no idea how he had come to be there.

He felt better, but his chest felt tight. He didn’t have to guess what was wrong with him. He should have delegated more responsibilities, he realized belatedly. He was too old and out of shape to run around the way he had. Vincent would no doubt tell him so when he returned. No doubt that would be soon. That should not have been necessary either. He felt guilty to have been the cause of that. Somehow, he would have to make it up to them. He fell asleep.

Peter looked in later and found Jacob awake and lucid. He looked tired, though, and seemed content to lie still.

"Good morning, Jacob. How are you feeling?"

"As if a train has run over me, Peter. I can hardly get up the strength to change position."

"You won’t have to, Jacob. I’ve made sure every modern miracle is at your disposal. There are folk who will help you move. You need to rest and sleep. I’ve got you on a nutrient IV and I’ll add something stronger to it, if you’re uncomfortable."

Jacob nodded then asked the question uppermost in his mind.

"Vincent?"

"I talked to Agatha last night. She will deliver the supplies to the warehouse tomorrow, as planned and then drive our favourite family to the nearest city tunnel entrance. They’ll be here in the afternoon, at the latest."

"I’m sorry to hear that. I hope they’ve had a good time."

"According to Agatha, they’ve been a delight – and delighted. You need not feel guilty. You know Vincent will never berate you – Catherine either. I think this holiday has been good for them."

"And for us," Jacob mumbled. "I learned my shortcomings very quickly."

"Don’t worry. Everything’s in hand. Mary has taken charge Below and is organizing the women to be more pro-active. When you’re well, you’ll be able to retire to your books and put your feet up."

"It’s no more than I deserve, Peter. I held the reins too long, not realizing that there was nothing on the other end."

"Nonsense, Jacob. You have accomplished wonders Below. But there comes a time when you must let go, let others help."

"Yes. Devin said as much once. He always said I was too dictatorial."

"You were strong, Jacob, when that was necessary. Others are strong now, because you helped make them so. Vincent is your star pupil."

"Vincent will lead us. But he must not take on this burden alone. He has a family to think of – a luxury I never allowed myself."

"Jacob, Vincent knows that – and his holiday will have reinforced that priority. Be prepared to see a new man."

Peter stopped. Jacob had fallen asleep again. He sighed. Samantha arrived shortly afterwards and he went Below to talk to Mary. They had to keep Father from fretting.

He found her in Father’s chamber, looking at a large ledger.

"What’s that?"

"Father’s latest project – a kind of census of all our skills."

"Now, that’s a good idea. How is it coming?"

Mary looked at him and smiled.

"Amazing. I had no idea. Two of our community list milking cows and feeding livestock. Not much use for that here – but I was thinking that perhaps Agatha might want to use them sometime. We owe her a great deal."

"Yes, indeed. I’ll talk to Vincent when he returns. I suspect she’s already been invited, but a farm needs care. A holiday would be good for her, too."

"How is Father, Peter?"

"He’ll be fine. Right now he’s too tired to do much, but wait for a couple of days. Perhaps he can continue with his project from bed. That will keep his mind occupied."

"Yes. I think he can do that. Eric is collecting the information. He could easily take it to the brownstone."

"Good. Well, I must return to my office. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Peter – for everything."

Peter smiled at her and left.

…

The day did indeed dawn bright. After a quick breakfast of granola and tea, Vincent and Catherine took Jacob up to the house. Bo was waiting for them and Jacob ran to him and hugged him. Catherine looked at Vincent.

"I think we’re going to have a hard time separating those two," she remarked.

"Yes, but I think he should stay with Agatha. He would not like the confinement of our brownstone for long. No ladies there."

Catherine laughed. "I’d forgotten about his extra-curricular activities. You’re right, of course."

Agatha came out and greeted them.

"All ready to be trainee field hands? Bo will keep an eye on Jacob. Come, before it gets too hot in the greenhouse."

They spent the next several hours carefully picking the ripe and almost ripe tomatoes and cutting spinach, green onions and some early cucumbers and snub carrots. The smell of the rich soil kept distracting Vincent. He paused to smell it often. Their own garden at the brownstone needed some food crops, he decided. Perhaps he could build a small greenhouse too.

After filling several bushel baskets, they carried the baskets into the barn, and piled them next to some sacks of potatoes and the remaining apples from the previous year – mostly Spys now, large and rich-scented still.

"We’ll give them some more dairy products too. We can load all but those into the truck tonight, and then we can take off right after breakfast tomorrow."

"Good idea, Agatha. After dark?"

"Yes, after you’ve picked up the mail, perhaps, and before supper. It still cools off quickly here at night. Now for some dinner. You probably want to clean up, so I’ll get going on it and ring the gong when I’m ready."

"Agatha, how do you find the energy? I’m pooped," Catherine confessed.

"Just practice – and a good breakfast," Agatha laughed.

Catherine, who had never been much of a breakfast person before meeting Vincent, recognized the truth of that. She could never last the morning with just a coffee any more.

"Just the same, I think you have some secret vitamin," she joked.

"No, just fresh air and sunshine – when it doesn’t rain," Agatha returned. "You people in the city don’t realize how bad air affects your energy level. Haven’t you felt stronger and hungrier out here?"

Vincent looked around at the still wet fields and road and breathed deeply. Jacob was holding onto his leg and he lifted his son up.

"Yes. I wish I could bottle some of this air and take it back with us."

"Unfortunately, that’s still impossible, but I do have something you can take as a reminder. I’ll give it to you at dinner."

The went back to their cabin and had a joint shower and a fresh change of clothes.

"I think we should launder these before we go back tomorrow," Catherine remarked. "Laundry day is something that I don’t want to think about – and I hate the idea of hauling dirty clothes."

"Yes, I agree. I hope Father is behaving. There will have to be some changes when we return. I cannot shoulder all of the load, either. It isn’t fair to you and Jacob. I have to learn to delegate, just as Father has."

Catherine hugged him.

"Yes, Vincent, but you would be unhappy if you did not participate in life Below. Everything in moderation."

"Except love."

"Yes. I don’t believe there is such a thing as too much love. Luckily for us."

"In the meantime, we should get the mail. There may not be time later. I think it’s my turn," Catherine commented.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want to enjoy the great outdoors one last time."

She pulled on her boots and coat and tramped down the lane. She felt a little guilty, knowing that Vincent would probably have liked to go, but she had not been for a walk on her own since they arrived. She felt the sun on her back and breathed deeply. She could well understand how this place affected Vincent. She reached the mailbox and pulled out the contents, stuffing them into one of the large pockets without looking.

On the way back, she reflected that their holiday had done wonders for both of them. They had gained some perspective and she was sure they would be coming to the farm again. Knowing that made her feel joyous, blessed. She had never seen Vincent so happy and carefree. That was worth any sacrifice – and none had been necessary.

She sighed and reached the cottage just as the gong sounded. Vincent emerged with Jacob, almost immediately, and they walked up to the house. Agatha met them at the door and seemed wreathed in delicious smells. Catherine handed over the mail to Agatha’s sigh and mumbled "more bills".

Vincent was distracted and smiled. There was a smell he recognized! He took Catherine’s arm and followed their hostess into the dining room. In the middle of the table was a beautifully-browned pork roast surrounded by apples and spiced with rosemary. He sighed.

"Agatha – another meal fit for a king!"

"No, just good plain country fare – and all my own produce. Nothing better."

They ate with gusto, everyone taking seconds, and Vincent thirds. After a decent interval, Agatha cleared the table to make room for a huge, hot apple pie, a bowl of whipped cream and slabs of cheddar. There was no talk for a long time as they ate these delights.

Vincent finally sat back and patted his stomach.

"I must I have put on 10 pounds since we arrived."

Catherine looked at him.

"Nonsense, Vincent. You never put on weight. I don’t know where you put all that food, though. My grandmother would have said you have hollow legs, except that they don’t look hollow to me."

Vincent laughed and was joined by Agatha’s guffaw.

"I’ll have to take your word for that. Pity!"

Catherine laughed too. "I made him a pair of shorts, but the weather was uncooperative.

"Which reminds me, Agatha, can we do a quick load of laundry? The stuff we wore today needs a wash. Then we can pack all clean clothes."

"Certainly. Just bring it up later and I’ll put it in. It can dry while we load the truck and you can take it back with you. If you want a snack before bed, just come up. If not, I’ll see you at daybreak. I’ll have a special breakfast."

"Agatha, you are too kind. I hope you will visit soon," Vincent remarked. "We will miss you – and this place."

"Whoops! I almost forgot."

Agatha went into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of pale wine.

"Dandelion wine," she told them. "Bottled sunshine and fresh air."

Catherine gasped. "I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. Ray Bradbury wrote a story with that title - one of my all time favourites - and I’ve always wanted to try it."

"He was right," Agatha declared. "There is no finer drink on this earth. I don’t make much because it takes a lot of dandelions, but every bottle is a miracle. Enjoy."

"Oh, we will. Thank you so much!"

"Now, I think we should go back and pack," Vincent declared. "If you give us a basket, we can bring up the remaining perishables in the morning."

"Thanks. That would be a big help. See you later."

They helped Agatha rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher, then took their leave with a basket. The afternoon was waning, but it was warm.

Jacob ran ahead, followed by Bo.

They packed in a leisurely fashion, making sure the crossbow and dandelion wine were well padded by clothes, then put their packs by the door, untied, for any last minute items in the morning. They checked every nook to make sure they had missed nothing, but in truth, they had not brought much.

Vincent took an inventory in the kitchen. There was certainly enough food for their light supper. He brought out a bottle of cider and sat it on the table with two glasses and a mug. There was enough cheese, crackers, pickles and fruit for a nice snack. Even Vincent did not feel like a large meal now. Perhaps he had filled his hollow legs at last, he mused.

"I think this would be a nice way to enjoy our last sunset on this farm." he remarked to Catherine with a grin.

"Yes, let’s do that. Jacob could have some too. It’s been a hectic day. He’ll rest better."

"That is my thought too."

They moved onto the porch and sat sipping the cider and watching as the shadows grew in front of the cabin.

Vincent sighed and lifted Jacob onto his lap, then put an arm around Catherine. Bo, ignored, gave a massive yawn and lay across Vincent’s feet.

They said nothing, their bond transmitting a calm and happiness that needed no words.

When the sun set at last, they put Jacob to bed. He went to sleep almost immediately. They walked up to the house, put the basket of perishables inside the back door and strolled over to the barn. Agatha was backing up the truck.

It took them about an hour to pack in all the bushel baskets and crates. Agatha strung a net across the back to keep them from shifting then stopped and put her hands on her hips.

"I’m an idiot!" she exclaimed. "Come with me, Vincent."

She led him to a stall at the end of the barn and pointed to a rickety rattan loveseat with a worn cushion.

"I think that will make your journey a little less uncomfortable tomorrow. We have further to go. I can’t have you bouncing around on hay bales – and there’s no room anyhow."

They carried the couch back to the truck and Agatha secured it with the net.

"It’s a pretty tight fit, and I still need to get in the dairy chest, but I can take your packs in the front with me."

"This will be fine, Agatha. We can hold onto each other. Thank you."

Agatha grinned at them both.

"Last night of freedom. Enjoy it and I’ll see you in the morning – just before dawn. The gang will probably be waiting by the time we get to the warehouse."

"Good-night, Agatha," Catherine whispered, giving the older woman a big hug and a kiss on her cheek. "You’ve been the best hostess anyone could want. We owe you, big time."

"You owe me nothing. It’s been a pleasure. I’ll give your laundry to you in the morning. Good-night my dears."

Vincent and Catherine walked slowly back to the cabin, hand in hand. It was a warm, calm night. Both were trying to think of something they could do to mark this last night – besides the obvious, which would certainly be part of it.

They walked past the cabin as the moon came out from behind a cloud. There was a sheen to a large patch of ground between the two cabins and they stopped. Grass! Vincent walked to it and bent to feel it. It was dry and he looked up at Catherine, a question in his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

They removed their clothes and lay naked on the soft grass. Catherine wondered how it had come to be there and then noticed a battered croquet set under a sheet of clear plastic, leaning against the other cabin. She laughed and kissed Vincent.

"What’s funny?"

"We’re making love on a croquet green."

"That explains why it’s so soft. Almost as soft as you."

They made slow and luscious love on their green cushion, then and lay side by side in the moonlight.

Catherine snuggled under Vincent’s arm and whispered.

"I bet you have a poem for this occasion too."

"No. My brain is not functioning well at present. I can only think of one.

‘The moon was a ghostly galleon

Tossed upon cloudy seas…’ "

Catherine giggled.

"The moon never looked more like a ghostly galleon. Look at those clouds. Ah, Vincent, if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget tonight – our first lovemaking outdoors."

"And on a croquet green. But I think we’d better get to bed. We have an early day tomorrow."

"Yes, my love – my one and only love."

She nuzzled his lower lip and in moments they were again wrapped in love, their climax as soft as the grass beneath them.

"Oh, Vincent. I’ll never tire of you. Every time is like the first – but better."

"Yes. Our bond makes us one, completely. Each day is different and we change a little every day, so our lovemaking is never the same twice."

"And you, my big hairy love, have never looked more wonderful."

Vincent grinned and with a big scoop, gathered their clothes and Catherine into his arms and carried her back to the cabin. They hung up the coveralls and lay down in their love nest, spooning together. They were soon asleep.

Chapter 8

Vincent woke first and looked around with relief, half afraid he had slept in. It was still dark, but he could sense that daybreak was near. He stroked the soft hip beside him and Catherine woke with a groan, then turned to him and pressed herself to him.

"Hmmm … you are the most delightful wake-up call."

"Catherine, we must shower and get ready. It’s almost sunrise."

"All right. Let’s take Jacob into the shower with us, or we may get distracted."

"Good idea."

They washed carefully and put on their coveralls, not forgetting their underwear this time. The tunnels would be chilly. Catherine sat Jacob and then Vincent down and brushed their hair. So alike, she thought. Perhaps Jacob should keep his hair long. They packed the rest of their items and left the cabin, not without a sigh. Jacob was quiet, sensing something different was happening.

They knocked on Agatha’s door and walked in. She was just piling up a plate with tiny pancakes and beckoned them to the kitchen table.

"I thought we’d be casual this morning. I made some porridge too. Help yourselves. I’ll bring the tea and coffee."

They sat down and served Jacob a bowl of porridge. He ate it quickly, one eye on the pancakes. Catherine gave him several and poured on some syrup. She fed him and watched him wolf them down. Had he even tasted them?

They were drinking their tea and coffee when a tapping sounded at the back door.

Agatha got up, puzzled, and went to see who it was. She came back with Neal.

The boy ran to Vincent, who had turned in his chair, ready for flight if necessary. He hugged the child, then pulled back to look at him. He had obviously been crying. Catherine never ceased to be amazed at how children took to Vincent, without thought. If only adults would do the same.

"Tell me," Vincent demanded quietly of Neal.

"My father came back yesterday, while I was at school. He was gone before I got home, but he hurt my mother. She was crying. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid he’ll come back. My mother told me to come to Miz Agatha and stay away, just in case."

Agatha frowned.

"Are you sure it was your father, Neal?"

"Yes – I remember from the last time. It was a long time ago. He smokes those awful little cigars and gets drunk. There was an empty bottle."

Catherine spoke quietly.

"What’s your last name, Neal – and your mother and father’s first name?"

"Porter. My mother is Muriel and my father’s name is Conan."

"When did your father visit last, Neal?"

"A couple of years ago. He’s not supposed to. My mother told me."

Catherine kneeled down in front of the boy.

"Neal, you must keep safe. I’ll try and help as soon as we get back to New York. That won’t be until noon or so. Can you find a place to hide until then?"

"He can stay here," Agatha declared. "I’ll phone his mother and tell her. Neal won’t get into trouble, will you?" she asked him.

"No, Miz Agatha. I won’t do anything."

"Well, you can sit in the living room and read. Stay inside, ok? There’s a couple of pancakes and a lot of cookies in the jar. Bo will keep you company. I’ll be back as soon as I can, probably early afternoon."

"Okay."

"Well, folks, we’d better make tracks. I’ll just pile the dishes in the dishwasher and make that phone call and we can go. Oh, your laundry is piled on that chair over there. Don’t forget it."

They crammed the clothes into Catherine’s backpack and waited for Agatha. They heard her talking and a minute later, she joined them.

"Muriel is okay, but frightened. She’s happy Neal is safe."

The boy stood at the door as they all left and waved to them. Vincent waved back and hoped Catherine would be able to help quickly.

"That boy has been through a lot." Agatha commented. "His mother is a lovely person, but she married a brute. Thank goodness Neal has a good head. He’s never seen much of his father. That man is trouble."

Agatha and Vincent quickly loaded the dairy products into a lined metal trunk and carried it into the van. The loveseat just fit at the back, but there was little room for their legs. Vincent sat sideways, and Jacob sat between his legs, while Catherine fit on the other end. They would not have to worry about falling off. Agatha drove quickly along the bumpy roads to the warehouse. When they arrived, they put Jacob in the front seat while they carried all the root vegetable and apple baskets into the warehouse. Agatha knocked on the floor hatch and it was soon pushed up from below.

Geoffrey and Kipper clambered up, followed by Cullen and Zach.

There were hugs and greetings all around before Vincent was able to ask the question uppermost in his mind.

"How is Father?"

"We left before he became ill, but the news on the pipes is that he’s being good. He’s resting and recovering."

"Good. Agatha’s driving us to the city. We’ll see you back home."

Cullen made a face.

"Wish we could find a faster way. But at least we have a good trolley now."

Vincent looked puzzled and was about to ask what he meant, when Cullen made a dismissive gesture.

"Don’t ask, Vincent. Long story. You’ll hear all about it when you get home."

"Right," Agatha exclaimed. "We should be on our way. I can make this trip easier on you. I’ll take all the perishable vegetables, as well as the dairy products, this time, since I’m going into the city. That will make your trip faster. I guess I’ll have a crew a week from now to pick?"

"Yep," Zach replied.

"Judging by the bright eyes of these three, it was a nice vacation," Cullen remarked with a grin.

"It was fantastic," Vincent agreed.

They waved at the tunnel crew and left. Agatha and Vincent tied the chair closer to the front of the van and she gave them their backpacks.

"What entrance should I aim for, Vincent?"

"I think the warehouse entrance we use for major deliveries would be best. You can drive the truck right inside and we can go down the freight elevator with all the goods. Remember that, Catherine? Can you give Agatha directions? I know the underground route to get there, well, but not that from Above "

"Indeed I do." She gave Agatha directions and set off without further ado. That old warehouse was where she had first learned that Peter was a helper, in those awful days of the plague. Later, she had discovered that he owned the building with her father. It was used by a small charity that took some of the hundreds of unwanted bicycles in the police yards, fixed them up, and shipped them in a container to poor African states. That was done once a year. The rest of the time, the warehouse was at the disposal of the tunnel community. A fine arrangement all around.

The ride was long and the three passengers managed to nap a little. Once they entered the outskirts of the city, Vincent became tense and Catherine found the smells made her want to gag. How had she managed to breathe in New York? Eventually, the van stopped and Agatha knocked on the panel, then opened the back doors.

"I think this is the place."

They all got out and looked around. Vincent moved to the elevator and tapped on a pipe nearby as Agatha backed up the truck. A few minutes later, a deep rumble sounded from far underground and the large cage arrived and the gate lifted. Mouse waited for them, a big smile on his face and a trolley fitted with a large box.

"Home again. Good. Come on. Father waiting."

Catherine held onto Jacob, who was itching to run somewhere, while the Vincent and the others unloaded the truck and piled the goods on the trolley, putting the milk bottles and other dairy products into the box. When they were done, they all stood quietly, unwilling to say goodbye. Catherine gave Agatha a long hug.

"I’ll phone you with any news about Neal’s father," Catherine promised. "Oh, I’d better have Neal’s address too."

Agatha gave it to her and thanked her. She waved at everyone, climbed back into the van and drove away. Catherine had seen tears in her eyes and felt her own burn a little. She hoped they would meet again soon.

Vincent sighed and took Jacob’s hand as they picked up their packs and joined Mouse in the elevator. A crew met them to take the food. The walk to the home tunnels seemed dreamlike. Catherine found it hard to believe they had been on a farm only a short time before. At least the air was better Below. It wasn’t long before the scent of candles met her and she sighed. Home. Yes, this was home.

They entered the brownstone’s secret entrance and Vincent went straight to Father with little Jacob. Catherine strode upstairs to the office and called Joe – hoping that he was working on a Saturday. He answered right away.

"Joe? What are you doing in the office? I’m glad you are. I need your help. It’s urgent."

"And a very good day to you too, Radcliffe! Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. You need to relax, Radcliffe. You’re losing it. The gentry must be working you too hard."

Catherine laughed.

"Sorry, Joe, but a child is in danger – and his mother has been assaulted. Can you look up a guy by the name of Conan Porter? I’ll wait on the line."

There was a clunk and she could hear the sounds of a filing cabinet drawer and then a pause. Joe came back quickly.

"Where did you meet this guy, Cathy? He doesn’t seem like your type. He’s wanted in three states for assault, robbery, extortion and DUI. A real prince."

"I haven’t met him, Joe, but I can tell you where he was yesterday. Maybe the local cops can watch for him. He said he would be back."

She gave Neal’s address.

"Right, Radcliffe. I’ll get the locals onto it. Don’t worry. These guys are predictable. He’s careless because he’s near home. They’ll find him. Thanks."

"Will you let me know as soon as you hear anything, Joe? It would mean a lot to me."

"Of course, Cathy. I’ll get on the blower now. Keep this line open."

"Will do. Thanks Joe."

Catherine sat down and sighed with relief. She would have to be within range of the telephone for the next few hours, but that was nothing new. Vincent came in as she started to go through the papers on her desk.

"Working already, Catherine?"

"I got hold of Joe, Vincent. He’s going to tell the local police about Neal’s father. There are several warrants out for his arrest. I have to stay close to the phone."

"No, you do not. I will wait here while you go to see Father. He wants to speak with you. Jacob went Below with Rebecca."

"Thank you, Vincent."

Catherine went down the stairs to the basement hospital room and found Father sitting up. He looked tired, but his colour was good. She sat down in a chair next to the bed. He smiled at her, a little guiltily.

"How are you feeling, Father?"

"Better, Catherine. I’m sorry you cut short your vacation. It wasn’t necessary, you know. I told Vincent so. I’m a tough old bird."

"Well, Vincent would have worried, you know. Don’t feel guilty. We had a wonderful time. I think we need to do something for Agatha, though. She’s so alone there. I worry about her."

"Yes," Father agreed. "I had never really thought about that aspect. She gives us so much. Also, those trips to her warehouse aren’t very convenient for us – and very long. She drove you back today, didn’t she? Maybe she’d be willing to make deliveries that way on occasion. Then she could stay for a meal, at least."

"Father, that’s a wonderful idea. We want her to visit for a few days, if we can get a crew to do her chores. They’d have to go the old way, though."

"Yes, we don’t want to close that tunnel, just make moving goods more convenient. It won’t hurt the crews to walk there. They’re used to it – and I believe they enjoy getting away and working in the fresh air."

"Good. I’ll be talking to Agatha again soon. I’ll tell her."

Father nodded.

"Catherine, there’s something else. I realized I had been putting too much of a burden on Vincent. I tend to forget he has family responsibilities. Mary has been re-doing the rosters and delegating some of the jobs. Eric has become my personal assistant. I took on too much when you and Vincent went away – with this result. I’m forcing myself to retire from all but the most sedentary responsibilities.

"I’m sorry, Catherine. I was blind. Vincent will be our leader one day, but he has to live his private life too. Not like me. I let my work trump my family. I almost lost Devin as a result. Your vacation has been an education for me. Long overdue. I hope you can forgive an old man’s petulance."

"Father, there’s nothing to forgive. Just get well. The children love you and your stories - and I’m sure they’re missing them."

"It’s Vincent they really miss, but thank you for the kind words, Catherine. You will find some changes, Below. Those wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone on holiday. I’m glad you had a good time. Vincent seems much happier. I’m sure it was a wonderful experience for him. You must do it more often. I’m in your debt – and very grateful you are one of us."

Father yawned. "I’m afraid I have to nap now. Thank you for your understanding, Catherine."

She took his hand and kissed it. "Any time, Father."

She left him dozing off and returned to the office. Vincent was on the phone, but holding it away from his ear. He was obviously talking to Joe; she could hear his voice from the doorway. She waited until he put the phone down and then put her arms around his neck and kissed a hidden ear.

"News?"

"Yes. They caught the man quickly. He was driving back to the farm. He will not bother them again."

"Good. I’d better phone Neal, but I’ll ask him to not leave until Agatha gets back. Otherwise she’ll worry."

"Well, I think we can finally settle back in our home, Vincent."

"Yes, and I believe there are clean sheets on the bed, Catherine."

"You don’t mean …."

"Yes. What better way to declare ourselves home?"

They went hand-in-hand upstairs and discovered that the joy of love in clean sheets under the skylight was just as wonderful as that on grass. Their bond sang with joy as they lay contented, holding hands, afterwards.

This vacation, Catherine mused, had been a catalyst for many things. The next one would be easier.

END