Run To the Sea
Chapter 19
Sue Glasgow
Back in the shelter of the cave Vincent found the copy of "300 Days" in Catherine's pack. He looked again at Brigit's picture inside the dust cover and recognized the Owl Woman. He noted the bookmark's dates of Brigit's American tour. She was to be in New York City October 29 through November 2. Vincent tried to calculate today's date. He was not certain, but he thought it must be about October 19. There should be just
enough time...
As he read, he found himself caught up in a story of tender love, torn loyalties, great passions, and heartbreaking loss. Brigit's words were an echo of his most hidden thoughts. She lived in one world and loved in another. Her father and her countrymen set boundaries upon her actions, her life, and her right to love. They listed truths which they felt were inviolable, set in centuries of bitterness and hate. But through all of Brigit's story there could be only one truth for her...the truth of Ian O'Donnell's love. In spite of that love...maybe because of it...Ian O'Donnell had died. She wrote that although the price they had paid had been high, she would change nothing, would regret nothing. And she would willingly pay that price until the end of her days. She concluded her story with the words, "It was a thing Ian always knew, and I have finally learned. No matter how our hearts may fear, sometimes we must leave our safe places and walk empty-handed among our enemies."
Vincent finished reading the book, and he read it again as the sun rose.
Finally closing it, he held it between his hands and remembered Catherine's fondness for this story and her insistence that he must read it. Brigit had spoken to Catherine. Catherine had recognized the challenges and the dangers. She and Vincent were living with many of the same threats in their own lives, and they risked paying the same price. Did Brigit really believe her own words? Would he willingly pay a similar price for Catherine's love?
Suddenly he knew he had to go home. As unreasonable...as impossible...as it was, he had to try to see Brigit O'Donnell. He pushed the book back into the bag and quickly assembled all his things. Pulling the shoulder packs into place, he climbed down to the tunnel below him, lit his lantern, and left the sea.

***

He walked through the day and into the night, stopping only to eat. Finally when he was tired and certain the hour was very late, he made camp on a shelf above the river and settled into a dreamless sleep.
Vincent woke in total darkness with a vague feeling of urgency, wondering where he was. He heard the sound of water rushing below his ledge, and he reached for the lantern. Igniting it, he felt comfort in its warm glow.
As he ate breakfast, he anticipated covering many miles today, and if all went well he would pass the falls and arrive at the Black Grotto before he slept again. With this in mind, he moved down over the ledge to refill his canteen.
The next few miles were easy ones. Only rarely did the ledge drop away, causing him to cling to the toe and hand holds in the cavern wall. Grateful the holds were there, he wondered again what ancient man had carved them while sharing this same journey. The black carbon smudges on the lower ceiling sections eventually became rarer as he traveled, and at last after several miles they stopped altogether. That ancient man before him had come no further than this, and Vincent felt almost as if he had lost a traveling companion.
After hours of hiking he was hungry again. He stopped at the falls and took out Catherine's pack. He was developing a taste for her mixture of nuts, seeds, and dried fruits. For a moment he thought of her, and instinctively he started to reach out to check her well-being in spite of his promise to Father. He stopped. What purpose would it serve? If she was well, she did not need him, and if she was not...he was too far away to be of any use to her. No. He had a promise to keep, and this was a time when he must function outside the bond. Pulling on his packs, he looked up at the crest of the waterfall and began his ascent.
It was less difficult climbing up the falls than it had been descending them. As he resumed the walk at the top, his thoughts turned to Brigit O'Donnell. Her book rested safely in his pack, and he knew tonight he must read it again. For a reason he could not understand, he had expected to find answers in her pages, and all he had found were more questions.
The Owl Woman flickered in his thoughts. Never had he dreamed morevividly. His vision of her had to have been the result of his ownsubconscious thoughts...that's what dreams were made of. But she had asked questions and made accusations he had never thought of before. Had he really been afraid to read the book? Was he so uncertain of his relationship with Catherine? The Owl Woman had said he was seeking
reassurance.
It was certain he would get none from Father. He had opposed Fatherbefore, on less important issues. There had been times when the Tunnels had echoed with their arguments, leaving the Tunnel people whispering and cautiously giving wide berth to Vincent and Father both. But never had one of their disagreements struck at Vincent's core as this one did. Always before, he had been safe in the knowledge that his love for Father would prevail, that nothing could erode their love and come between them. But now Father was forcing him to make choices. He shook his head sharply. It was a thought he did not want to consider.
Again, he thought of Brigit. She had chosen. For her Ian, she had left her family, her home, and her security. On her wedding day her father had cursed and disowned her, and as far as Vincent knew, that estrangement had not ended when Ian died. So now she was alone, withouta husband or a family, struggling in a political movement very few supported. And would Brigit still tell him Ian's love had been worth it? He wondered about the Owl Woman's words. "Find her for yourself." Find Brigit O'Donnell in New York City and speak with her personally? Surely that was a remarkable fantasy, and he was a fool to be hurrying home, trying to make it come true. If by some miracle Brigit O'Donnell was in New York, of what possible use could that be to him? Did he think because she had grown up with fables of owls and fairies and leprechauns she would accept him without fear if he appeared on her porch or balcony?
He crawled over an enormous boulder which blocked his way and leaped, sliding down a steep embankment of loose rock and shale. When he stood on firm ground, he brushed the dust from his pants and moved on at a slower pace.
He almost laughed at the irony. Brigit's balcony...he would not even go to Catherine's balcony. No, he told himself. That was no longer true. The stormy night in the park had given him back that much loved terrace. The Owl Woman had been right in that. In the midst of the lightning and wind he had reclaimed the Above as his right.
The society Above was no better and no worse than it had been before the night he was blinded. But the terrible aversion he had felt toward the Above was gone. The lightning had released him, but it was Catherine who had made it possible. His mind went back to the moment at the base of the ladder in his chamber when she had come to him in his humiliation. He could feel her again, pressed against his chest with her arms thrown tightly around him. She had forced him to touch the scar upon her uplifted face, and he felt again her warmth as she had held his hand there. No, there had never been shame in what had happened to her, and slowly he had accepted the truth in her words. She had given him back his pride, his self-confidence, and the Above. He sighed deeply, and he whispered, "Owl Woman, how could Catherine's love not be worth it?"

When Vincent finally arrived at the Black Grotto he was tired. Sitting upon his bedroll, he read "300 Days" again by lantern light. Afterwards, he had no trouble falling asleep, and if he dreamed he could not remember it.
For three more days he moved along the river's edge, skirting its more hazardous banks, resisting the temptation to make side trips to investigate interesting sounds and sensations that came from adjacent passages and dark openings in the cavern walls. Perhaps it was foolishness, but he felt he must return home as soon as possible.