(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)
Winterfest Fortitude
Angie
"Ah, it’s a lovely thing, to know a thing or two."
Catherine was at the top of a ski slope. Beside her, Vincent was bent over strapping a pair of black leather ski boots into a pair of wooden skis. He was wearing black, stretchy wool stirrup pants, a brightly-patterned ski sweater and a toque. When he stood up, she realized he had pulled down the ski mask part of the hat, so that she could see only vague suggestions of his eyes, nose and mouth through the tiny holes.
He used his wooden poles to approach her from behind, then gave a massive shove on them and scooped her up, her skis between his. They began to go downhill at breakneck speed. Catherine, at first exhilarated, began to get frightened. Snow was blowing into her mouth, which she could not close because she needed air. Her nose seemed plugged, and her face was turning to ice.
They were going faster and faster and trees and people were whizzing by and the slope seemed to go on and on. Then something huge and black loomed ahead of them and she shuddered massively, tried to scream …
… and woke up, realizing as she did so that a squeak had escaped her and she was enveloped in something warm and comforting.
Vincent! He had his arms around her, pulling her to his soft, furry chest. His lips were caressing her forehead. She wanted to stay that way forever.
"Catherine!" he whispered.
She tilted her head to look into his eyes. She could feel his concern through their bond and was embarrassed at having woken him upawakened him.
"I … um … had a nightmare."
"I know. I could feel your fear. Tell me."
So she told him, feeling more ridiculous by the moment. When she was finished, Vincent hugged her tighter, ran his hands down her back and cuddled her. She let herself relax and enjoy the love she felt emanating from her special man.
"What brought that on?" Vincent asked quietly.
"I guess I had been remembering winters past earlier," Catherine mused. "Winterfest is coming soon and I was thinking of my college days. One winter break I went with a group to Lake Placid. I had never skied before and they put me on a pair of skis the requisite 9 inches taller than myself, and gave me these enormous Frankenstein boots. I could hardly move. The boots were leather then, with two sets of laces which had to be done up just so.
"The ski rental guy gave me a rudimentary lesson in how to snowplow, so I figured I could go down the beginner’s slope that way. But the stupid skis kept crossing over each other, either at the tips or at the back, and in my frustration I lost a ski pole. Then I started going too fast and I panicked. The only thing I could think of was to sit down. So I did that and slid down to the bottom of the hill sitting on top of my skis – backwards. The skiers at the bottom thought it was hilarious - and I was mortified.
"After that I stayed in the clubhouse and swore I would never ski again and that the only way I wanted to enjoy snow was in a sno-cone."
Vincent was doing his best not to chuckle, but Catherine could feel his humour. Then his curiosity got the better of him.
"What’s a snow cone?
"You mean you’ve never had a sno-cone, Vincent? I would have thought … being as it’s cold enough Below, in some parts . But of course, why would you have? Oh, Vincent I have an idea!"
Vincent quickly picked up her excitement and had no trouble guessing her idea – if not exactly how it would manifest.
It was traditional, and encouraged, at Winterfest for people in the community to introduce something special. They kept it a closely-guarded secret, but past Winterfests had been remarkable for the ingenuity displayed. The voluntary surprises could include handicrafts, food, songs, poems, dances – almost anything.
Catherine laughed and Vincent looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"I was just remembering Mouse’s snow machine," she chuckled.
One year, Mouse had created a blizzard by painstakingly taking apart scrounged Styrofoam and blowing the pieces around with a hand-cranked fan. The laughter was all Mouse could have hoped for, until everyone realized the "snow" stuck to everything and everyone. The resulting cleanup had taken weeks.
"I’m still finding bits of Styrofoam here and there," Vincent remarked. "It took us hours to sweep the Great Hall – and I know we missed a lot. But you still have not told me what a snow cone is," he reminded her gently.
"Oh, sorry. It’s finely crushed ice in a paper cone with fruit syrup poured over it. The snow part is usually spelled without the "w". They’re delicious – at least in the summer. But I think it would be just as good in the winter, maybe with something a little stronger than fruit juice over it. Some fancy liqueur perhaps or … whatever."
Catherine paused, wondering if it would be practical – or even possible.
"I’ll have to do some research. The stores used to sell a hand-cranked machine to make them. As I recall, there are two types – one which produces shaved ice, and one which makes something very much like snow. There was even a children’s toy version. And I’ll have to talk to William about ice."
Vincent nuzzled Catherine’s face and moved to her lips, as she thought about this and she was soon so distracted that she gave up and clasped him around that furry part she loved best. There was no more talk for some time and then they both needed to sleep.
Chapter 2
When everyone headed Below the next day. Vincent was - Vincent to read literature to a class of children, including their own five year old twins. and Fifteen15- year old Jacob had anto his advanced carpentry class - Catherine went to talk to William. She had to find out if her idea was logistically possible.
She knew William had cold storage, but that it was deep in the caverns. She had no idea how he handled everyday refrigeration. There had been no need to ask. She would need ice enough for a crowd.
The route to William’s kitchen, she thought, was almost chilly enough to make ice. It had been a very cold winter. Maybe this was not going to be as difficult as she thought. She wound her way to William’s sanctum and found him in his office behind the kitchen. She peeked around the ample doorway to see his broad face lift from a massive ledger with a frown, then ease into a big smile. He got up and lumbered over to her as she entered, enclosing her in a hug that left her breathless because his belly did not leave much room for movement.
"Catherine, my dear, what brings you to my den? Vincent looking for something toothsome, besides your delightful self?"
Catherine blushed a little but got her brain in gear. William loved to exchange jibes.
"William, if there is anything he misses living Above, he knows where to find it. You spoil him outrageously with your desserts. And he can smell his favourites a mile away, so he never misses one. They trump me any time.
"But I have a question for you – a Winterfest question, actually. How could I get a very large supply of ice into the Great Hall?"
William looked at bit taken aback at that.
"Ice, Catherine? What are you planning to bring to our festivities – a polar bear?"
"Snow, William. Just snow – made from ice cubes. Like what falls Above but more predictable – and tastier."
William was now intrigued. He decided a tour was in order. "Come with me and I’ll show you what I have."
He led her to one side of his office, took a sudden right angle and then down a corridor shaped to his bulk, just like the door to the kitchen. Kanin had been busy, she thought, stifling a giggle.
They came to a wooden door that looked like it belonged in a hobbit hole, and William lifted a bar set into the rock wall, and pushed. A cold mist billowed out from the opening and Catherine gasped. Ranged along the floor were huge blocks of ice covered in sawdust. On shelves, there were bricks of ice, arranged like loaves of bread, and smaller trays of cubes. She turned to look at the big cook.
"How on earth do you make ice here?"
William looked smug.
"Well Catherine, it’s easier than you might think. I make large blocks of it in the ice caverns far below and have it a supply brought up here about once a month. In the winter, I can make the smaller pans of ice right here. It’s cold enough - which is convenient, since I need some for Winterfest. Kanin made me a kind of dumbwaiter to get the ice down into the Great Hall. We need it to keep our desserts and wines cool. It’s over there." He pointed at a small square door into the rock.
Catherine made a decision. Winterfest or not, she could not keep this secret from William, since she needed his help. Maybe he would be willing to collaborate.
"William, we want to make sno-cones for our Winterfest surprise. Do you remember them? I’ll need your help."
William’s eyes got a little distant and a slight smile turned up his lips.
"Remember them? Catherine, I almost lived on them one summer when I worked on Coney Island. I was just a kid – well, about 18 – and I worked a sno-cone machine and a candy floss maker in a tacky booth. I always gave the nice-looking girls a bit extra. Funny though, when I got my break, I could never find any of them. Shy things they were. Not like you."
He chuckled and winked at Catherine.
"I’d be happy to help you with your surprise, Catherine. I remember how to make them – and I can provide enough ice - but how do we crush it?"
"I’m going to go looking for a couple of hand-cranked models, William. I’ll take care of the flavouring and cones too. I want my children to do the real work in this venture. They’ll love it."
William’s eyes twinkled.
"Well, if we can find some patio umbrellas and get the children to make some decorations, we can have a carnival-type sitting out area."
"A wonderful idea, William," Catherine declared. "I’ll put Jacob onto that." She hugged William for a second or two longer than absolutely necessary.
"Gosh, I hope Vincent isn’t around. He’d throw me in the compost heap – just to see if he could," William remarked with a grin.
Catherine laughed.
"William, your girth is the mark of the best chef Above or Below. You have changed my eating habits and made me a cook – of sorts. Vincent would tell you I had no such talent before, so he can hardly complain if I show my appreciation occasionally."
With that, she said goodbye and returned to the brownstone. Then she put on her "Above" clothes and went to look for sno-cone makers.
Catherine soon found out that the machines ranged in price from a few dollars to several hundred – and that sno-cones had become rather more than just ice and syrup in the interim. She decided to stick with the old-fashioned type and looked for machines that did not need electricity, but would produce a nice soft snow. Shaved ice did not sound appealing in the winter.
She found two good-quality, sturdy-looking metal machines and bought them both, rationalizing that the twins should both be occupied. She then invested in a quantity of paper cones. All she needed now was the toppings. She opted for a variety of liqueurs, alcoholic and none – cream, licorice, cherry, orange, mint, coffee, coconut and pineapple then found some bottles with squeeze pumps to dispense them. She hauled the stuff back in a taxi and put it into the cupboard under the stairs.
She was sure that William would have already figured out the best way to set up the sno-cone table. If she remembered rightly, some corners of the Great Hall were very cold indeed. The twins would be delighted – and hopefully would not have not time to get into trouble.
Her plan now solid, she revealed it to her children. Jacob went to work finding umbrellas and the twins got busy making decorative paper chains and streamers. The cupboard was almost overflowing by the time Winterfest neared. Everyone carried the booty down to the Great Hall the day before and set up the table. Now all that was needed was the ice.
And to think this all started with a nightmare, Catherine marveled. Even Vincent was amazed at the industry shown by their children.
Chapter 3
Winterfest had been in full swing for hours and was starting to wind down. A good many of the older folk, or helpers with jobs to go to the next day, had already left.
Catherine sat under the tapestries on a big pillow, a handy perch for watching the activities across the Great Hall without being required to participate. Others had taken advantage of this retreat, but for now, she was alone. That suited her fine. She was interested in only one reveler.
Vincent was dancing with one woman after another. He and she had danced a great deal already and she had come up here both because she needed a rest – and because she wanted to watch him. He was one of the few energetic dancers on the floor.
She so seldom saw him move like this. His feline grace was captivating. He seemed hardly to touch the floor and she could feel his happiness through the bond. He was the kind of dancer that every woman loved. No matter how bad you were, with Vincent you danced like Ginger Rogers. In her experience, very few men had that talent.
Come to think of it, few men even liked to dance any more. Look at all the males talking to each other or bunched around William and his beer keg! A good many women were sitting in the "patio" area near the sno-cone booth, eyeing the men, but attracting little attention. No wonder Vincent was in such demand.
He also looked incredibly dashing. He was wearing a turquoise, velvet leisure suit that made his eyes glow, even from where she was sitting. He was wearing a pair of soft black boots she had found for him. Her own outfit was the same colour, but in a low cut, full-length gown. She was wearing soft dancing shoes.
She had sat with the tunnel seamstress Annabelle, for weeks, designing and overseeing the making of this festive wear. Although it was one piece, Vincent’s outfit looked like two. The jacket was tailored and fell to his thighs with row of silver frogs down the front. She knew well the reason for his insistence on the length and it made her warm just thinking about it.
Then there was the fact that Vincent had refused to wear even his usual thermal undershirt beneath it. That made her feel even warmer. Of course, she had nothing under her own outfit either, but that was because the gown was lined and did not need anything more.
Catherine caught his eyes over the top of Rebecca’s head and knew that his own heat was building as he caught hers. It was now just a matter of how long they had to stay for the sake of politeness. Their son Jacob would take the twins back to the brownstone and let his parents have a few stolen hours Below in Vincent’s chamber. She was sure even they would be tired by then and be no trouble.
The sno-cone works were a huge success. Vincent and Jacob had repaired several old patio umbrellas and set out a few chairs and bistro tables. The twins manned the machines and cranked out the ice with great gusto. Their first delighted whoops as they squirted on the flavourings could be heard across the hall. They were a little quieter now, but their energy seemed undiminished. Jacob was making sure that they did not sample the alcoholic toppings, but they had been kept so busy, it seemed likely they had not had much chance to try even the less potent ones.
Catherine leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her senses had improved thanks to her bond with Vincent. It was so strong now that if he sneezed, she would probably reach for a handkerchief, she mused. She let herself inhale the joy and the wonderful odours in the Great Hall and tested herself on her ability to differentiate them.
There was the malty smell of William’s special Winterfest brew, cakes, pies, buttery shortbread, cold cuts. Those were almost strong enough to taste too. She could hear Devin pontificating, probably to Father, then Charles’ low admonition. There was the shuffle of the dancers and the twang of a guitar as the band began to play a polka.
Catherine reached out her mind, to see if her empathic bond could sense anything – and stilled.
Someone was watching her. It wasn’t unfriendly, exactly, just intense. She was careful not to let on she felt anything and kept her eyes closed, trying to locate the source. She desperately hoped it was not some remnant of Paracelsus’ gang bent on revenge – although it seemed a little late in the evening for that. There were many new faces among the helpers and some were not all that well known. Someone could have slipped in.
As her panic grew at this thought, she felt Vincent’s sudden awareness. His senses were sharper than her own, so he might be able to pinpoint the person.
Catherine kept her expression neutral but opened her eyes to locate Vincent. He had stopped dancing and was now standing near Devin, looking over the dance floor. She could sense his concern and frustration. He did not seem to be able to find the observer either. Catherine felt a shiver run up her spine and concentrated. If she was the target, she should be able to fine-tune the direction at least. She closed her eyes again and moved her feet, as if in time to the music.
The observer was close by. How was that possible? Catherine opened her eyes and looked slowly around. There was no one close to her at all. She looked at Vincent and saw him turn to her, gaze at the tapestry above her, and suddenly burst into motion, running towards her, the dancers parting to make way for him.
The rug above her head suddenly wobbled furiously. She felt a push at her back, gasped as something tried to get past her - and then a heavy weight fell on top of her. She tried to move, but found herself trapped. Then she tried to take a breath and choked. She had a brief flashback to her nightmare and wondered, idiotically, if she was being buried under an avalanche. Then she blacked out.
Vincent, reached the tapestry a moment after it fell from the wall in a cloud of dust and the ubiquitous styrofoam bits. Through the choking haze, he saw a small form in rags run up the stairs and out of the Great Hall. He had to let it go because he could sense that Catherine, trapped under the massive folds, was unconscious. Kanin and Devin had joined him and with one arm over their mouths, they lifted the rug. Vincent gathered Catherine to him and ran down the stairs to the floor, coughing. He glanced back to see Devin run after the intruder, grabbing something from the coat hooks on the way out. Kanin, still coughing, was looking into a hole suddenly revealed by the fallen tapestry.
Vincent rushed Catherine to the drinks table and Jamie wordlessly poured him a shot of brandy, which he carefully slipped into her mouth. She sputtered and he relaxed a little. Jamie gave him a wet cloth and he wiped her face, amazed at the dirt. No one had thought to beat the rugs since they were hung – as far as he knew.
He looked more closely at Catherine’s dress and himself and sighed. Wait until she saw what their new finery looked like now.
He gave Catherine another sip of brandy.
Catherine’s mouth was on fire and it seemed to be running down her throat. She gasped, flung out her arms and opened her eyes, choking. She realized she was being cradled by Vincent. There was no more music and everyone seemed to be staring at her.
"Gaaa," she said, trying to reconcile a mouth full of dust and delicious blackberry brandy. The latter was William’s special distillation – and she had often said it could make the Statue of Liberty dance. Vincent handed her a glass of water and she rinsed her mouth and spat into a towel he held for her, ignoring the proprieties.
"Terrible waste of brandy," she muttered to general laughter. Vincent waved at the spectators.
"Catherine’s fine. Back to the party!" he shouted.
Catherine looked at him in surprise. She had almost never heard Vincent raise his voice. But it worked. They were soon left alone but for their son, who was keeping one eye on them and one on the twins, who seemed oblivious to the excitement and were cranking out ice again. The music began again, a jaunty air for energetic dancing.
"Catherine," Vincent whispered, planting a soft kiss on her lips and raising her blood pressure. She pulled his head down for a better one.
"Vincent, you are the best thing to wake up to – always."
Vincent’s throat felt rough as well. He took another shot from Jamie and swallowed it himself. He was gruff.
"Nightmares are one thing, Catherine, but this was serious. You could have suffocated. Enough dust was thrown up to give us all a sample."
Catherine shivered a little. Vincent picked her up and carried her across the dance floor to where Father, Mary, Charles and some of the other seniors were sitting. Catherine glanced at the tapestry wall and saw a dust cloud still masking the area. Vincent gently placed her on a chair, found her an afghan and sat beside her. Jacob had followed them.
"I’m ok, Jacob. Really," Catherine managed to rasp out, her throat still choked with dust. "You’d better get back to the terrible two."
Jacob had turned away to do that when the music suddenly stopped again. Devin had returned and was approaching them holding something large and wriggling wrapped in fabric. The dancers made a path for him and Vincent stood up, curious.
Catherine’s mouth fell open in surprise as Devin reached them. Strangled animal sounds were coming from Devin’s chest. He folded back the cape to reveal the hairy black head of a chimpanzee. It was dressed in the ragged remnants of a clown outfit, its eyes huge. Charles reacted quickly, taking the bundle from Devin and holding it close. The animal was wrapped in Charles’ cape, she realized.
The animal stopped struggling as soon as Charles cradled it. Charles had an affinity with children that never ceased to amaze Catherine. Obviously that talent included animals as well.
"Where did you find him, Devin?" Vincent asked quietly, stroking the chimp’s back and head gently as it clung to Charles.
"It’s a her. She was clinging for dear life to the railing outside the Hall, almost blown off by the wind. She must be near starvation. I would never have caught her otherwise – or been able to carry her. Chimps are much stronger than any man – except perhaps you Vincent." Devin said this last with a grin.
William had come over now too. "I’ll bet she’s been stealing from my waste pail. Thought it seemed to be taking a bit longer to fill lately. Thought maybe I was hallucinating – or sampling too much of the Winterfest brew," he chuckled.
There was a general laugh among the small group of observers.
"Let us see, let us see," came two voices and Catherine looked over to see her twins trying to get between the legs of some of the adults. They emerged just behind Vincent and squeezed to stand in front of Charles looking up open-mouthed.
"A monkey! Can I hold him, Uncle Charles?" Joseph asked. Jennifer was dancing from one foot to another, trying to see more.
Charles hunkered down and moved the chimp so she sat on his lap. She clung to him like a limpet. The twins stood paralyzed, but were now quiet.
"There, see? She’s just a poor thing without any friends," Charles said quietly. He looked up at Devin.
"Dev, I want to look after her. She needs food. I can feel her bones."
Devin straightened up.
"Folks, we’ll introduce you all to her later – when she’s fed."
There were mumbles of disappointment, but the crowd dispersed and Charles sat down on a chair again, the chimp holding onto one of his hands as if afraid to let it go. She kept her face turned into his chest.
Vincent looked at Devin. "You probably have first hand knowledge about the feeding of these animals. What would you suggest?"
Devin looked at Charles and his charge, and sighed. "Yeah, I’ve handled them, Vincent. She’ll need some liquid, nothing cold though, milk would be good, and some fruit – an apple or banana, to start.
"I’ll find her something," William offered.
"Thanks, William," Devin smiled. "I’ll come with you."
Vincent looked down at his twins.
"And you monkeys should get back to your booth. I promise you’ll see the chimp again – after she’s fed and rested. Tomorrow."
The children moved so slowly, their heads still turned towards Charles, that Vincent had to give them a pat on their behinds to reinforce his command.
Charles and Vincent, between them, stripped off the ragged clothes, which were soiled and rank. Then they did a perfunctory clean with a facecloth and wrapped the chimp in the towel. She would not take her eyes off Charles’ face and kept hold of one hand or the other, throughout the process. Any effort to separate her from him made her squeal. She did not seem to mind Vincent’s touch though, Catherine noticed. Vincent’s affinity with animals was legendary.
Devin brought a basket of fruit and a bowl of milk and the chimp shrank back a little when she spotted him. Devin sighed and handed the food to Vincent.
"I wasn’t gentle – but it was the only way I could capture her. She was half mad with fright."
"You did what was necessary, Devin," Vincent told him. "You saved her life. She’s emaciated. I wonder where she came from."
Charles was cuddling her in his lap again and Vincent handed her a banana and watched as she peeled it and began to eat, still grasping Charles hand, as if to confirm he was still there. She finished quickly and Vincent held the bowl of milk out to her. She seemed familiar with containers for she grasped it and drank thirstily.
Catherine was at a loss for words. This was what had been spying on her? The chimp must have smelled all the Winterfest food and gone almost mad with hunger. Her sitting against the tapestry, blocking the route, must have made it desperate enough to try and force its way out.
Father, shuffled over and took a chair nearby. He gazed at the chimp in amazement.
"I can’t believe that creature has been living among us without us knowing. How did she get here?"
Kanin came up to them as Father spoke. "I had little Robby follow the hole where the chimp had been hiding. It leads to one of the main pipe conduits. The chimp could easily move along that to pilfer here and there. I know that conduit. One branch comes out in the kitchen ceiling – one of the vents I made for the stove. It’s too small for any of us.
"As to how she got here, Luke told me there used to be an old guy with a performing chimp in the park. He and some of the children used to take him sandwiches and cakes left over from lunch – and fruit for the chimp. He didn’t think either of them ate much any other time. Apparently he hasn’t been seen for a couple of months. The children haven’t been able to find him. He might have died and the chimp could have followed the children back without them knowing. She’d remember them. That chimp had a clown suit, according to Luke."
The chimp had now calmed down completely and Charles wrapped her in his cape again. She pulled his hand to her chest and a few seconds later her eyelids drooped and she was sound asleep.
Charles smiled affectionately at his new charge and looked over at Devin, who shook his head, glancing at Catherine with a wry grin.
"Well, if I have any plans for tonight, they’d better include a neurotic chimp. a menage-a-trois."
Vincent looked over at his brother and Catherine could feel his annoyance.
"Devin, that’s not very kind. This creature has been traumatized. She needs care for awhile. Charles is the perfect caregiver."
Father chuckled. "Perhaps we can find an old cradle for her, if she’ll allow herself to be separated from Charles."
Charles spoke up. "She can sleep in my cape with me as long as she wants. But she needs a bath. Could you help me do that Vincent?"
Vincent nodded and looked at Catherine.
"I think Catherine and I will leave now. We need to remove our finery, which is somewhat the worse for wear. Then I’ll give you a hand, Charles. We can use the laundry room."
Catherine gazed down at her dress for the first time. It looked as if she had been caught in a sand storm. She tried not to think what her face and hair looked like. Vincent, was bedraggled and grubby too. They were hardly fit for polite company. She sighed.
"Why is it that every Winterfest has some kind of unplanned, often messy excitement?" she asked to no one in particular.
Father chuckled. "Well, we do encourage surprises. We just never know what form they’re going to take. Your sno-cone idea was brilliant, Catherine. It may become a regular part of Winterfest.
"But we’ll have to see to those tapestries. I had no idea they were so badly hung – or so dirty. You’ve had an unpleasant end to the evening, Catherine."
Kanin spoke up. "The tapestry wasn’t loose Father. The chimp literally ripped it off the wall. It must have been desperate. It’s going to take a lot of work to get it back up."
"A good opportunity to beat it – and the others - clean then. I’ll add that job to the work roster," Father declared.
Vincent and Catherine got up to go and said their goodbyes to everyone.
"Meet you in the laundry room in a few minutes, Charles," Vincent added.
He and Catherine left the Great Hall. Catherine legs were still shaky, so Vincent carried her up the stairs and to their chamber. They immediately stripped off their finery and draped it over a chair. With a steamy but regretful look at Vincent’s perfect nakedness, which he tried hard to ignore, Catherine went into their bath chamber to clean up. Vincent sighed, put on a coverall and clogs and trudged to the laundry room.
Charles was already there, the chimp now awake and watchful. Vincent quickly filled two wooden tubs with warm water and found a bar of soap, a washcloth and a towel. He smiled at Charles, who was still cuddling the chimp in his cloak.
"You’d better let me wash her, Charles. You don’t want to get all wet. You just hold her hand to keep her calm. She doesn’t seem to mind me – but it’s you she loves."
Vincent washed the chimp gently. She seemed calm, but gripped Charles’ hand so hard that he winced at one point. Once she was clean, Vincent moved her to the other tub and rinsed her, then lifted her out into the towel. He held her in his lap and carefully dried her. Charles stroked the chimp’s hand softly, his face beaming with a smile.
"She’s beautiful, Vincent. What shall we call her?"
Charles’ smile was infectious and Vincent tried to form his mouth into one. He could never match his friend’s, though. His face just wasn’t formed that way.
"She may have a name already, Charles. We’ll have to ask Luke and the children.
"I think she may be a bonobo – a smaller chimp species which can walk upright some of the time. The females are very affectionate. She’s probably quite old – see the grey hair around her muzzle? But chimps can live a long time – up to 60 years. She’s had a hard life, though, so she may not be more than 30."
Charles looked at Vincent. "I’ll make sure she has a good life now, Vincent. Do you think Devin will mind?"
Vincent smiled at his friend. "Devin will do anything for you - you know that Charles. He’s not as hard as he likes us to think."
Charles hung his head and spoke slowly. "Yes, Vincent, I know. I wouldn’t be here if not for Dev. He’s looked after me and taken me places and been my friend."
He looked at Vincent. "I wish he could take you places, Vincent."
Vincent’s mouth quirked. Charles had said this often. Vincent’s reply was almost rote.
"Charles, I have much to be thankful for. I have three children and a wife who loves me as much as I love her. I’m happy. Every life has limitations. Catherine had made my life much less constricted. I’ve even become a gardener."
Charles moved to hug Vincent, the chimp between them. The love which poured from the big, deformed man always surprised Vincent. He was remarkable. The horrors of his early life had merely made him more loving and affectionate.
The chimp, cuddled between two large men, shifted a little and put her arms around both necks, looking from one face to the other, as if trying to decide which one she liked best. As the two men separated a little to give her room, she planted a big-lipped kiss on each of their cheeks.
"Well," whispered Vincent. "She’s quite the gal. And very diplomatic. Now, let’s take her back to your chamber and get her to bed. She’s had a hard day."
"And tomorrow is the first day of the rest of her life," remarked Charles, grinning at Vincent.
"And we’ve had another memorable Winterfest," Vincent remarked. "Father’s right – we never know what to expect."
"Except that we are always among friends," Charles said gently.
"And that is the best gift of all," Vincent declared softly, as they rose, Charles holding the chimp like a baby, her head over his shoulder. She was fast asleep again.
"And the only one that really matters," he added as he left Charles at the guest chamber and continued on to his own. He could sense Catherine waiting for him, half asleep herself. Jacob and the twins were on their way to the brownstone.
With mild regret, he realized that he hadn’t even tried a sno-cone, but was equally sure he had not seen the last of them.
Winterfest always ended well, whatever surprises manifested themselves, Vincent reflected. That was part of its magic. How could it be otherwise when love was the motivating factor?
And now he wanted to dispense a little of his own. He felt Catherine’s eager anticipation as he moved through the privacy curtain.
A little later, Vincent realized that Winterfest had another benefit – the utter and contented quiet of a sated community.
A few minutes later, two more joined that happy confluence.
END