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by Joanne Grier
(Originally written as J. A. Cliffe)
Three shadows slipped quietly across the wide expanse, moving between
the trees, clinging to the darkness.
Safety lie yards away, but from beneath the spreading arms of a
nearby willow came the sound of voices.
Voices that touched fear within their hearts because between the
safe haven of the trees a fourth shadow waited; waited to be reunited; a
shadow that had purposely stayed behind to assure their safe passage.
They stepped back, merging their bodies deeper into the inky blackness
and waited frozen by fear.
Fear of what would happen if they were caught and a more frightening
fear loomed larger.
Father's rage.
Across the moon brightened field a shadow moved, and the air was filled
with a steady rapid-fire tapping.
The meadow became quiet, the voices stilled.
The words, phrases continued to drift then stopped.
The tapping was hypnotic, filling the night with sound, raising
the taste of fear on the tongue and all while the heart begged the
hypnotic sound to continue as it filled them with sweet longing.
The voices rose, suspended
momentarily then were replaced by the crunch of swiftly moving feet
against dry, brittle leaves.
Moving quickly, the shadow left the trees, running toward the welcoming
darkness and the safety of home.
The hidden shadows began to move, and within minutes, the shadows
were rejoined and slid into the drainage tunnel. No sound came as they
hurried toward the secret door and the safety of home.
Releasing the lever and pulling back the gate they waited as the
heavy door rolled back to allow them safe passage.
Chests heaving from the exertion and forbidden excitement, they waited
until the large steel door slid into place and then talking in excited
voices, they dropped in a tangled heap to lie in the dust.
Leaving their shadow counter-parts behind, slowly they sorted out
legs and arms becoming four distinct individuals.
They fell silent, then slowly stood and began the long walk.
They knew their disappearance had been reported and their return
would be broadcast well in advance of their actual arrival in the
library. There was no
thought of fleeing their punishment, escaping it did not cross their
minds. Individually, they
knew they had been wrong and they knew they must accept responsibility
for their actions. That was
a lesson they had learned early.
No lectures, no talking had prepared them for the lore of
spring--the sights, sounds of the world awakening from a long winter
sleep.
The library study was filled, four sets of parents waiting.
One person paced, more fearful than the others, for his son was
the most unique and the least likely to survive in that dreaded world
Above.
Turning as one, they looked up as the rag tag group entered the chamber,
feet shuffling. Voices
rose, echoing then falling to silence and the faces turned as one voice
loudly called for order.
"What do you have to say for yourselves?"
The deep baritone voice was edged with controlled fury.
The eyes' of the tunnel patriarch swept the perpetrators causing
them to shrink back a step as the force of his gaze settled on his young
son.
"The park is especially lovely this time of year, Father.
Surely you do not begrudge us the opportunity to view the beauty
of nature." Clear concise
logic, an appeal to the better side of parental authority.
"We are aware of how lovely the park is, Vincent, but the fact remains
that all of you were Above without permission.
As the eldest you and Pascal," Erica's father deep, rich voice
filled the chamber, "know better than to travel Above without first
alerting family and the sentries."
"Vincent, Fielding is right.
It is not going Above that we object to, though I do have
personal reservations on that subject, but the blatant disregard of our
rules." Father stared
pointedly at his son over his glasses.
"It was not something we planned, sir," Pascal interjected looking at
his friend and hoping to relieve the building tension.
In delivering messages from his own father to Vincent's, Pascal
had overheard several heated discussion concerning Vincent's forays
Above. "We were discussing
the various types of oak trees and I wished to prove a point to Vincent
by showing him a particular tree in the Park.
The night was so lovely we decided to walk.
It is my fault as I thought we could slip out, view the tree and
return before anyone missed us."
"That's right, Daddy," Erica turned toward her father, her face alive
with excitement, "we only meant to look at this one tree...but it was so
breath taking and the night sky and the moon so beautiful."
"It's late, Jacob. The kids
are home safely, they know they were wrong and our continued discussion
will not resolve or change what was."
His smile warmed as he walked toward his son, "Come along,
Pascal, let's go home."
Erica and Laurel were quickly escorted from the chamber and voices of
their parents could be heard for several minutes as they nosily moved
down the passage toward their chambers.
"Father, I’m sorry for causing you and the other parents worry.
Truly we only meant to look at one tree and return.
Pascal was attempting to help me prove a point."
"Yes, I'm sure that's the case," he said wearily.
"The reasons aren't important, but the breaking of the rules is.
If I condone your breaking them, how can I suggest any form of
punishment for rules broken by others?
And, more that most, you are subject to extreme danger each time
you venture Above." Rubbing
his eyes, he felt it was a pointless conversation, one he and Vincent
had on several other occasions with the same results. ********
Pascal had elected to remain in the small obscure chamber behind the
main pipe chamber rather than seeking a larger chamber.
He and his father worked constantly on modifying the codes,
improving, revising them to make communications easier.
At twenty-five he and Vincent were part of a small hand full of
tunnel adults who had decided not to seek chambers in tunnels far
removed from their parents.
Pascal loved the pipe chamber almost as much as his father, the tapping
was an unstructured symphony of sound and he was the conductor.
Leaving his chamber, Pascal walked towards the Great Falls.
If he found Vincent there, fine, but truthfully, he wished to be
alone with his thoughts. He
settled his legs suspended over a ledge beside the Falls.
It was a place few others visited, a place he and Vincent had
discovered and they often ventured there together.
The high ledge, jutting precariously near the top of the Falls
was safe, but it was a secret and they preferred to keep it that way.
It was their place of solitude.
The eerie majestic beauty calmed his troubled heart, easing the tight
constricted band that settled over his chest as he thought of Erica.
Words burned within him, "You stupid fool!" he thundered, his
voice echoed across the Falls.
He seethed with anger, chafing at the restraints his manners
forced upon him.
He carried the pipe batons with him.
To him, they were a simple extension of his hands and seemed to
magically appear wherever he was.
Thoughtlessly he tapped on the smooth, worn rocks beside him as
his thoughts whirled. The
sound soared, rising above the roar of the Falls filling the cavern with
lyrical notes echoing the despair he felt to the depths of his soul.
Long legs encased in burnished boots swung down beside his shorter legs
and he heard a soft explosive sigh.
"I thought you would be here."
Turning to face his friend, Pascal asked, "What happened after we left?"
"Father's love and concern for my safety rule his feelings.
It was only a short lecture, and then he allowed me to leave."
The silence grew between them, each cocooned within themselves, but
aware of the friend who shared the memory of what had been a beautiful
extraordinary night for one of them. Pascal sighed, his voice whisper
soft, as Vincent leaned forward, head cocked to one side intently
interested in what disturbed his friend, "What was it like, Vincent, by
the lake when Laurel hugged you?"
Sighing softly Vincent settled himself more comfortably; his senses
keenly aware and he felt Pascal's rage mixing with tenderness followed
by pain as he thoughtfully studied Pascal.
"It was nice, but you known as well as I, Laurel is a friend.
Her hug was nothing more than gratitude.
She was happy about being selected as soloist for the choir.”
Vincent suddenly felt far older than his twenty-five years.
It wasn't the first such conversation he had shared and always,
the subject caused intense personal pain.
"Does Erica know how you feel?"
An instant fury, rage filled Pascal's face and as quickly vanished.
He should have known Vincent would know his secret.
"No. She thinks of
me as her brother. She has
no idea that I think of her as more than a friend."
His shoulders rolled forward as his feelings of rejection
swelled, consuming him.
"Part of the problem is that we have all grown up together, close and
knowing each other far better than those living Above.
There are no surprises left, nothing to make me stand out from
anyone else in the community.
I'm not unique like you, I posses no talents to attract, nor am I
handsome or tall--the qualities girls seem to want."
Pascal's voice filled with a bitterness that startled and alarmed
Vincent.
"Erica sees me, if she even sees me, as part of the scenery--pleasant to
be around, but not exciting.
The children find me more exciting because I can teach them to
communicate on the pipes. I
don't wish to spend my life alone, Vincent.
I want to share it, have children and teach them my heritage."
"I know," Vincent's voice was low, wistful as he, too, felt a deep sense
of loneliness. There was
not an extensive circle of bachelors within the Tunnels and their
bachelor status seemed to stand out as he and Pascal had witnessed their
friend’s marriages in the last few years.
Pascal muttered as he continued his constant tapping.
"And, this doesn't help."
He ran his hand through his beginning to recede hairline. "I'm
just not exciting."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, not if you could have heard what Laurel and
Erica said about your drumming as we waited in the Park."
"Don't tease me, Vincent. I
didn't do anything, but cause a diversion, allowing us to reach the
safety of the drainage tunnel without witnesses.
You could have done the same thing: your ability to relay
messages with greater speed far exceeds mine."
"Speed yes, but I don't have your delicate touch when it comes to all
the intricacies of the new codes.
You practice constantly, far more than I."
Vincent made no secret of his admiration for Pascal's skills, the
level of expertise he had attained in creating and teaching new,
improved codes. During a
time of crisis he and Pascal had staffed the pipe chamber for 36-hours,
relaying messages efficiently but Pascal's light, easy touch, and his
speed in translating code caused Vincent many hours of self-doubts.
"What did Erica say, up in the Park, when I started drumming on the
trees? Leaning forward, he
was eager to hear Vincent's words, but fearful of the truth. ********
"Vincent, please sit down.
There is something of a personal nature I wish to discuss."
Father appeared troubled as he paced the study.
Sinking into a nearby chair Vincent waited as Father tried to collect
his thoughts. "Have you
noticed a change in Pascal lately?
He has been depressed for weeks since going to the Park.
Do you think he is ill?
You’ve been good friends since childhood and I hope you can shed
some light. His father is
concerned, but when questioned, Pascal maintains he is fine."
"I don't believe he is ill.
Perhaps he is attempting to resolve a problem and needs solitude in
order to find a resolution.”
"Father, do you know if the chamber vacated when the Maitland's returned
Above has been filled?"
"No, it is still empty.
It's small, away from the main tunnels and they left an old upright
piano there which consumes a large portion of the space.
Were you interested in it for yourself?"
Father stared intently interested by this unusual request.
"I thought I might use it for a special project.
Distance from the main community makes it ideal for what I have
in mind."
A mysterious, enigmatic look peaked Father's curiosity, but deciding it
would be wise not to press the issue, he steadily returned Vincent's
gaze. A sudden smile
followed by Father's erupting laughter caused Vincent to smile.
"Whatever you are being so mysterious about, I'm sure it won't
cause the community or myself the havoc your machinations with Devin
caused--those use to strike fear in my heart!"
“Were we really that awful?
Vincent softly laughed as he, too, remembered some of their more tame
adventures. ********
"Why did you want me to meet you here?"
Stepping inside the desolate chamber Pascal stood, irritated for
no reason at being summoned by Vincent.
"This way, come." Vincent
turned, giving Pascal no opportunity to speak, and walked into the small
adjoining chamber. The
space was dominated by a gleaming antique piano, the patina bestowing a
rich umber in the dazzling light of the array of candles which bathed
the chamber in light.
Several chairs in varying styles and sizes were strewn between patched
music stands.
"I need your assistance.
Your gift for perfect pitch will help."
Seating himself before the gleaming piano, Vincent fingered the
notes of an old classic.
"Sit in different places and tell me if the pitch sounds right. I have
moved the piano several times, but to my ear, the notes don't seem true.
The piano is tuned, but something is wrong."
Ignoring the frown on Pascal's face, Vincent turned to devote himself to
the music he played. The
shuffling of feet followed by the creaking protest as Pascal dropped
none too gently into one of the rickety chairs.
After several minutes Vincent changed the tune to something more
lively giving full range to his considerable talents as a pianist.
His large hands surprisingly provided a light, delicate touch to the
keys. He had studied
intently because he liked the music, found it beautiful and wished to be
able to create it for his own enjoyment.
He refused, however, to share his talent with the community,
never joining the talented chamber music group.
After months of begging and pleading, Father had finally realized
no words or logic would change his mind.
"Play something with lower tones, notes," Pascal ordered.
He moved about the chamber and just as Vincent had anticipated,
he was fascinated by resolving the sound problem.
He smiled to himself.
The music filled the chamber, weaving a magic all its own; echoing,
surrounding and enfolding softly as it continued without ceasing.
Vincent seemed lost within the confines of the lofty sounds as
Pascal continued to seek the elusive mystery of less than perfect pitch.
Frustrated, he pulled a chair closer to Vincent, pressing his ear
against the lustrous wood as the music swelled.
Abruptly, Vincent turned to gaze intently. "Do you know this?"
The pipe batons flashed quickly against the chair seat before him, as
Pascal picked up the rhythm.
Changing the timing, Pascal challenged Vincent to follow his
lead. A hint of a smile
played at the corners of his distinctive mouth and Vincent nodded,
racing on to another more difficult melody.
Later as they strolled toward the upper levels of the community, the
conversation was warm and lively.
"I could help you again tomorrow after classes.
I agree there is something less than perfect about the pitch."
Pascal's smile spread reaching his eyes causing a merry soul
satisfying twinkle as the smile turned into a low, happy laugh.
Returning a hint of laughter, Vincent draped his arm over Pascal's
shoulder. "If you would not object, I would appreciate your help." ********
Pascal hurried from the teaching pipe chamber, biding a fond farewell to
his always eager students and sought his own chamber.
Rummaging through an old trunk he found the bag he needed, and
calling a hasty goodbye to his father, he headed to the classroom where
Vincent was teaching.
Finding the classroom empty, Pascal whirled, heading toward the nearest
short cut to the Maitland's chamber.
Passing Winslow with a quick smile and nod, he remembered next
week was his turn to lead the exploring class.
As he walked, he mentally decided on which tunnels he would use
for the educational game of lost and found.
He and Vincent had developed the serious efforts of teaching the
younger children safety as they explored and played in the tunnels into
a course which required Vincent, Pascal or Winslow to become lost and
the children had to find them.
Discovering Vincent's hiding places, which he never repeated, was
graduation for a child.
Mentally plotting his route as he walked, he was surprised to discover
the piano unattended and no sign of Vincent.
Removing the covering from the bag, he withdrew a large flat
stone and realized he still carried the wooden practice pipe batons from
his classroom in his hands.
He placed the stone against one of the chair seats as he dragged a chair
opposite it. He walked over
to the piano struck a note, listening to its echo.
The purity was slightly off to a degree which was so minor only
he and Vincent would notice.
With practiced ease born from early boyhood, the pipe batons flashed,
striking the stone like the caressing kiss of the wind.
The baton arched again and a purity of note flew to join the
echoing sound as the notes shimmered, joined and vibrated in the cool
air.
His foot pressed back against the rock where he leaned, Vincent silently
watched. A slow smile
flashed and he quietly left, lopping easily up the trail then breaking
into a full run.
Concentrating deeply, Pascal was unaware of Vincent's arrival, nor his
silent departure or his return.
He looked up as Vincent entered, arms filled to over flowing with
William's largest soup kettle packed with cardboard cylinders.
Watching in amazement, Pascal waited as Vincent arranged the
chairs in a tight semi-circle, packing the cylinders in a snug
configuration. He accepted,
with shocked silence, the largest cylinder which Vincent shoved between
his knees.
"Let's get started," Vincent tossed over his shoulder as he dropped onto
the piano bench, his fingers already flying over the keys.
"Get started with what?
And, what the heck are these suppose to be?"
Indignation tinged Pascal's voice as he continued to stare at
Vincent's broad back.
"They're drums. You
indicated we need tones in the lower register and your tapping on that
chair isn't going to make it last very long, so I got the boxes from the
kitchen shelf. Let's play,
come on." His voice and
tone were strangely dominating, commanding, allowing no rebuttal and
totally unlike Vincent.
The chamber filled as long, elegantly tapered fingers swept the keys in
a lively up tempo melody.
The notes soared then dipped as Vincent called over his shoulder. "Why
are you so reticence?
Surely you haven't forgotten all your musical training?
You take," he suddenly swung around to face Pascal, his hands
braced against his knees, "the piano if you are reluctant to play
those."
Rising, Pascal moved to the piano bench as Vincent curled his large
frame into the protesting rickety chair, thrusting the cardboard
cylinder between his knees.
Flexing his fingers, Pascal slowly began picking up the disrupted
melody. The sounds coming
from behind him were grating at best and painful to his sensitive
hearing.
"That is worse than any four year old beginning pipe student," Pascal
thundered as he rose from the piano, storming across the chamber to
snatch the pipe batons from Vincent's hands.
"Get up and let me do it!
At least I am able to follow a beat and your drumming is like a
game of pick-up sticks played with lead sewer pipes!"
Walking back to the piano, Vincent suppressed a silent chuckle, smiling
to himself and again began to play.
The sound began immediately to improve, soothing rather than
grating. Remembering a
lively show tune from a park concert, Vincent eased into it, increasing
the temp, glancing over his shoulder, as Pascal's batons began to rise
and fall as he easily followed.
"You play the next chorus, while I listen," Vincent’s voice rose over
the sound as he stood to move across the chamber.
He appeared to be listening, but beneath his deep set eyes, he
watched with tender affection as his life-long friend fell captive to
the magic, pride swelling as his wrists flexed, rising to send the
batons flying over the cylinder’s tops.
Muted, ethereal waves of sound floated as Pascal slowed the tempo
to a haunting pace of longing and suppressed dreams.
Seeing Vincent's intense gaze, Pascal flashed a smile and shrugging his
shoulders, sent the notes soaring again in double time.
"How do you do that?"
The awe clearly evident on Vincent's face startled Pascal and he
abruptly ceased playing.
"I just did. I don't know
how, it flowed from me and I was as amazed as you by the sound." His
face flushed warm under the steady gaze of appreciation, envy and awe he
saw in Vincent's eyes.
"Do it again, please."
Straddling one of the chairs, Vincent watched as Pascal picked up the
batons.
The library filled swiftly as the community gathered to hear the council
debate solutions to a series of problems which plagued them.
Pascal stood opposite his father's chair, hidden by the circular
staircase and from there; he was able to observe Erica.
She stood, her hands flying as she signed an animated conversation with
Mr. Albertson, the tunnels' senior deaf resident.
Her dark eyes sparkled and as she tossed her hair, the candle
light caught the raven tresses as they glistened with silky highlights
of red and flecks of midnight blue.
Seeing Pascal, she waved, then excused herself and came to stand
beside him. "I'm supposed
to try to worm the location of where Vincent is going to hide next week
from you. Gerald is determined not to fail the course this time."
"Perhaps your younger brother would best be served by a serious
commitment to learning the safety rules and not assign his sister to a
role that is sure to bring failure."
His smile was warm, but his eyes spoke of the seriousness and
dangers involved in failing to follow the safety rules.
"Failing the safety course is serious."
"I told Gerald it was useless to ask the location and to get him off my
back, I said I'd do it. I
never expected you to divulge the secret. You are too honorable to do
anything of that nature."
Hearing Father's call to order, Erica impulsively hugged Pascal.
"Bye and thanks," she whispered then dashed back to Mr.
Albertson's side.
Murmuring apologizes as he slipped through the crowd, Vincent moved to
stand behind Pascal hidden in the deeper shadows.
Sensing his friend's mixed emotions, he wanted to offer some
words of solace, but as he moved forward to speak, he heard Father call
his name. Later, when he
looked up, Pascal was no longer in attendance. ********
"How is your special project progressing?" Father and Vincent had
settled over the chess board after the council meeting.
"Oh, it's coming along nicely. Father, do you feel the community could
benefit from a recital? In my wanderings I have heard a most unusual
sound; one I feel would bring joy to the whole community."
"The musical talents of our community are varied and if you feel it
would gladden the hearts of the community, by all means, arrange it and
I will announce it at the next general meeting.
Who is this gifted artist?"
"A member who wishes to remain anonymous as their talent is untried.
Someone who would benefit from encouragement to try their wings,
receive the admiration and praise of their peers. And who will impress
the community with the proper setting and accompaniment."
Vincent glanced from the chess board and his mysterious look told
Father he would divulge nothing further. ********
Vincent left the classroom, tucking a flask of water into his cloak and
set off at an easy lope down the trail. Pascal continued the classroom
instructions, checking the small packs of each student, and as he called
out their names, they lined up in groups of two.
"Each of you knows the rules, no searching alone. Vincent is
hidden within the tunnel areas we have explored over the last weeks; he
has left clues, markings all of you have learned.
"Winslow is stationed at the outer perimeter and you have three hours in
which to search. When you
find Vincent, he will give you a token and you are to quietly walk to
Winslow, giving him each token. Everyone who receives a token then moves
on to the next phase of training. Okay,
as I call your names, you may leave the room and begin searching."
Swirling dust rose from the tunnel silt as the eager students filled the
passage way, quickly breaking into smaller groups becoming shadows
disappearing into various openings in search of the elusive target.
Their laughter could be heard
echoing distantly, then the silence settled over the empty classroom.
Pascal knew from experience to be prepared for any emergency during the
search test and he began re-checking the medical kit he kept. He cleaned
and straightened the chamber then hoisting the kit to his shoulders, he
headed toward his observation point.
Climbing easily to an out cropping that gave him an uncluttered view
over the largest tunnel areas, Pascal settled to wait.
He never knew where Vincent hid and was always surprised when the
first of the children returned proudly bearing their tokens to disclose
where they had discovered Vincent.
As he sat, his hands silently drummed the hypnotic music which seemed to
fill his soul. The time
spend in the piano chamber, as he had come to call it, was a place of
peace. It was a place where, while they played, he was free from the
constant thoughts of Erica and how lonely his own life had become.
The sound of a failing stone alerted him as he heard his name called.
"Pascal, where are you?"
"Up here, the out cropping to the right of where you are standing."
Peering down, he drew back sharply as Erica's face appeared inches from
his own. She stretched out
her hand and he grabbed it, helping her over the last rock. Perching on
the rock beside him, she smiled and asked "Have any of them returned?"
"No, it's far too early. They have only been gone not quite an hour.
Vincent will lead them over as much of the trial as possible,
doubling back on them, attempting to confuse them before any of them
finally locate him. It's a
hard, difficult program but happily none of the children who have
graduated have ever gotten lost.
"I can remember spending hours searching for a certain almost grown up
young lady who went exploring and couldn't find her way home." He smiled
warmly in remembrance. "It
was after that, we started the search and explore program as it is known
today."
"Yes, I can also remember how scared I was. And how warm, safe I felt
when you found me, gathering me in your arms while I sobbed. I had such
a crash on you for months afterwards.
You were a bigger hero to me then Vincent. All the kids worship
Vincent and the girls all want to grown up to marry him!"
She smiled warmly.
Pascal realized Eric was staring intently at him and that she was
waiting for his response. He had heard nothing after her words about
having a crush on him. "Oh,
I'm sorry, what did you ask?"
"I asked if you wanted a bite of apple?
I brought it along--William just put them out and I remembered
you were fond of them. I
could only get one and I got hungry so I ate a few bites."
Her eyes gazed warmly at him as she held out the apple and
started to laugh.
Accepting the apple, Pascal took a bite then handed it back. "Thanks,
but if you are hungry, go ahead and eat it."
Between bites, Erica talked of her feelings at being lost so close to
home and how she never thought she would be found. "Do you suppose I
could help with the classes, the pre-school kids, learn the codes for
help and their names? I know," she paused breathlessly before rushing
on, "I'm not as good as you and I could never hope to be that good, but
I have a way with little kids and maybe I could help."
Taking out his batons, Pascal tapped out "fine and when?" in code and
handing her one of the batons, he waited.
Her quick, effortless response surprised him. "There is," he explained,
"a newer code father and I are developing.
It's designed to short-cut a lot of the more common words. Would
you like to start learning it? We are hoping to introduce it to the
community within a couple of months, so it would be especially
expeditious if you started the children learning the newest code."
"You mean, you'd teach me? Really, you would?" Her enthusiasm bubbled
forth, her large eyes becoming iridescence. "Oh, Pascal, that's great.
I’ve wanted to be of more service to the community."
Reacting to the warmth, vitality radiating from Erica's happiness,
Pascal couldn't help the smile he knew was spreading across his face. He
started laughing and it seemed to begin in his toes, working upward
until it sprang from his lips in mirth filled thunder.
"What was that you were tapping just before I called out to you?
It was very lovely, like the sound you created in the Park?
I heard the sound echoing above me when I came looking for you
and I knew you were close by. No one," she exclaimed softly, "could
create such beauty but you."
"I wish I knew. There is no
conscious knowledge of it, rather it flows from me, holds and haunts
me." His demeanor was like
the shy look he gave her, unsure of his role and aware only of how his
heart pounded at her nearness.
"Would you consider playing it again?
I'll be very quiet, won't disturb you.
It's so haunting."
Her request surprised him, shaking him and caused his hands to tremble.
Pascal hesitantly picked up the batons then, closing his eyes, he
took a slow calming breath and allowed the music to flow.
The sound changed, seeming harsher to his sensitive ears as he
drummed against the rock.
Striking a smaller stone, he found a sound less grating to his senses.
Looking up sharply his face registered his surprise as he had been lost
within the music, to become aware of the shrill sound of his name being
called. "Pascal, Pascal, where are you? I found him, Harry found him,
too!"
"I'm coming! Wait where you are, I'll be there in a moment."
Smiling, Pascal reached out to Erica and together they climbed
down. They were immediately
surrounded by two giggling, completely happy children.
Digging into their pockets, they produced their tokens.
"We passed, didn't we? We
passed! You said we had to
find him and we did, we found Vincent!"
They jumped up and down in their glee and Pascal unconsciously
reached out to brush the hair from Becca's forehead. Surrounded by the
laughing children, he shared their excitement and happiness.
"Mark in the book, mark the book," Harry called excitedly.
"I want everyone to know I passed the first time."
Pascal withdrew his book and with a great flourish, painstakingly placed
a bold "C" beside their names.
Giggling with excitement they dashed toward home to share their
glory with their happy families.
"Is it always like this?"
Erica looked at Pascal as his smile lingered on the disappearing
figures.
"Always! Finding Vincent is
the high point, it will be a story told and re-told for months," he said
shaking his head in amazement. ********
Vincent stood listening as the sweet sounds filled the passage way.
He slipped into the chamber, silently moving toward the piano and
sat down. After several
moments the sound and pattern of the notes became familiar and he placed
his fingers against the keyboard, instinctively following where Pascal
led.
They played unaware of the passage of time.
The chamber grew dim and still the music poured into the growing
darkness. They had been
weary when they entered, but the music refreshed them and they continued
as the darkness closed around them.
"Pascal, would you consider performing a recital, sharing your talents,
with the community?"
Vincent's rich, smooth voice filled the chamber as he paused briefly.
"A recital? I don't know,
Vincent. I don't know if I
want to play in front of others.
I'll think about it, but don't be disappointed if I say no."
"I won't. I thought your music would brighten the community with its
haunting beauty."
Their speech interrupted the sound, breaking the magically spell, and
with a slight rolling flourish, Pascal took the music soaring into a
fast tempo, pushing Vincent to keep pace.
The faster they played, the more they laughed and the laughter
seemed to dispel the darkness.
The music ended as they convulsed in laughter, which suddenly died in
their throats as the sound of applause echoed from the passage way.
"Who's there?" Pascal called.
The soft sound of padding steps reached them, a shadow loomed in the
entry seemingly large and foreboding, then Erica's lithe form was fully
visible. Her large eyes swept the chamber as she gracefully crossed to
stand before them.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eaves drop, honestly. I had been visiting
with Rebecca and in walking back; I heard the sound and was drawn to
follow it. It was
delightful!”
"You both are so talented, I envy your skills.
Could I...no, I won't ask that, I would be intruding, something I
have no right to do. You go
ahead, continue and just, well, just pretend I was never here."
She turned to go.
"Erica, please, won't you sit down?" Vincent's voice sought to ease her
nervousness, calm and reassure her of their acceptance of her presence
in the chamber. "If I
remember correctly, Erica, you have considerable talent with the piano
yourself. Would you
consider playing? I’d like
that very much."
The directness of his appeal and soothing sound of his voice made Erica
forget her nervousness in being alone with her two heroes.
One she had worshipped since childhood and one who currently
caused her heart to flutter.
"Oh, could I? I mean, well,
I had such trouble keeping my fingers still this afternoon when you...,"
her gaze rested heavily on those warm brown eyes before she forced her
own away, "you were drumming while we waited for the children.
You should have heard it, Vincent, it was so lyrical!"
"Yes," he said softly, "I'm sure it was." Vincent rose from the piano
bench. Extending his arm,
he bowed slightly, as his eyes encouraged Erica to sit in his place.
Erica crossed the chamber quickly and seated herself at the piano,
looking expectantly at Pascal.
Pascal started then shook his head, assuring himself she was there, and
picked up on the batons and began to slowly play. He closed his eyes,
allowing the magic to consume him.
Vincent stood beyond the candlelight, smiling as he watched the serene
look of happiness which transformed Pascal, easing the tense tight
posture of the last weeks.
Sighing softly to himself, the thought filled him that perhaps one day
he, too, would know such a happiness and as the thought was formed, he
pushed it away knowing it was not possible.
Melting further into the shadows, he quietly slipped from the
chamber and silently made his way toward home.
The last candle sputtered, surrendering its last burst of energy then
died leaving the chamber in blackness. "Pascal!" Her voice echoed in the
abrupt stillness.
"Sit still, Erica, I have a stub in my pocket, just a moment." Seconds
passed, then a dim soft glow filled the chamber with eerie shapes and
shadows. She straightened
her shoulders, forcing back the childhood fear of the dark which had
suddenly consumed her, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
"Perhaps it’s time we left and journeyed toward our respective chambers.
The hour is late and I have early duty on the pipes in the
morning." (‘Please,
he prayed silently, don't let my voice truly sound as strange as I think
it does!’)
"Yes, it is late. Thank
you, Pascal, and you, too Vincent....Vincent, where are you hiding now?"
Her rhetorical question and the ensuing silence caused her to
laugh. "When did he leave?"
"Quite sometime ago. I
didn't see him, I just heard the sound of his feet striking the stone
outside the entry way."
Shaking her head she turned to stare at him again, "You never cease to
amaze me." ********
Pascal rose early, long before necessary, fixing a mug of tea and moving
to stand in the vast cathedral of pipes.
His ears attuned to the early chatter as daily activity was
planned and gossip exchanged.
Wrapping his partially gloved fingers around his mug, seeking the
warmth that lingered, he settled comfortably on a restored stool which
had seen life Above in someone's kitchen.
By his own internal clock he had roughly thirty minutes before
the activity reached full volume.
He felt rested in spite of his lack of sleep. After walking Erica to her
chamber, he retraced his steps and headed toward the underground spring.
He had stayed in the lake, swimming for hours, floating and thinking
about Erica and Vincent's request. Vincent found him there floating and
they had talked of life until late.
Tilting his head toward one particular pipe, a smile began spreading and
he found himself laughing.
He was still laughing when his father entered.
"Ah, so it begins! Each
unique story of finding Vincent will reaffirm their rite of passage into
the next level of training. By
night fall, there will be no one within the community who will lack the
salient points." His rich
voice warmed Pascal as did the smile which gladdened his heart.
"You are proving to be an excellent teacher, Pascal, and I am very proud
of you. Before the creation of the lost and found classes, there was a
residing fear in all our hearts where the children were concerned.
The heartbreak of losing one child, finding them too late, has
been eased because of your dedication and teaching skills.”
"The problem--the one you vehemently deny exits--is easing. Oh, you
don't," he waved his hand dismissing the already forming protest, "need
to worry, I won't pry. I
can tell by your posture, the problem is resolving itself.”
"Time heals much in our lives, Pascal.
The passage through time may be difficult, impossible during its
passage, but the gift of pleasure it gives far outweighs the pain." ********
Silently, they walked toward the deserted chamber and Pascal stepped
inside, lighting fresh candles, then returned to escort Erica inside.
"It's much smaller than I remember from last night." She walked
into the larger chamber where the piano dominated the largest wall and
stood in stunned silence.
"Pascal, are these what you were playing last night?"
Her eyes flashed in merriment.
"Yes, why? What's wrong?"
Seeing nothing wrong as he peered about the chamber, he was
puzzled by her question.
"I thought, well, I mean," she stammered realizing from his quizzical
expression that she had blundered, deeply hurting his pride and wounding
his ego, "well, just skip it."
"No, tell me what you mean, why are you hiding, finish your thoughts."
He stared feeling that somehow, in some way he had failed; that he had
misled her.
"I thought you had real drums, not those."
"They work, don't they?"
Abruptly he turned on his heel, spinning as his legs carried him from
the chamber.
Hurrying after him, calling his name Erica found only an empty
passageway and no sign indicating where he had gone.
"He disappears as fast as Vincent," she muttered. She went back
inside, wiping the tears with her fists, determined that she wasn't
going to cry, she just wasn't!
Looking closer at the cylinders, she realized to her amazement they were
old oatmeal boxes fitted with abandoned canister lids from Above.
Upon closer inspection she saw a couple of them still contained
oatmeal having their original soft cardboard lids. Sinking into one of
the chairs, she realized how remarkable the sound created by this
strange collection truly was and the talent of the man who created it.
She never knew the community had such a collection of oatmeal
boxes, but then she remembered how William recycled everything until
there was nothing left to use.
Blowing out the candles, she made her way towards her chamber, wondering
how and when she would find Pascal to apologize for her inadvertent
blunder. She suddenly broke
into a run as an idea formed and she rushed to find Mouse. ********
"Here someplace. Saw it
sometime, know it’s here."
The young man was only ten, but already his genius for inventing was
well known. "Mouse help you
fix, Rica, fix good."
"If you can find the stuff, I think I can do it myself.
Honestly, I'd rather do it because it is, well, I hurt someone's
feelings and I hope this will somehow let them know how sorry I am."
She smiled. "You understand, don't you, Mouse?"
"Yeah, hurt, make better.
Father says so." He
rummaged in his growing collection of odd bites of stuff then giggling,
he produced the requested items.
Thanking him, Erica prepared to leave and as she reached the entry,
Mouse rushed toward her thrusting several things into her hand. "Best
take, you might need."
She hurried back along the way she had come, stopping at her own chamber
to retrieve several things she thought she might use.
Reaching the piano chamber, it was, as she expected, empty.
Lighting the candles, she spread the things and began working.
Flexing her shoulders, she tried to ease the cramped muscles as she
realized how long she had sat bent in one position.
Bending again to the task she concentrated trying to hurry her
fingers. "Oh, damn!"
Realigning the pieces she again struggled to position them correctly.
"Perhaps another pair of hands would help."
Startled, she looked to see Vincent standing over her, his eyes
smiling as he sat down. "Do
you think it would work if I held this?"
"Oh, yes."
They worked silently for several minutes and Erica's happy smile
rewarded Vincent for his few minutes of work.
Sensing her unhappiness, Vincent did not question, but sat
silently looking at her creation.
"He will be pleased."
"If he ever sees it," she sighed softly. "I hurt him badly by speaking
without thinking or realizing how it would sound. I didn't mean to
ridicule his invention.”
Tears brimmed her lashes and her fingers flew to brush them away.
"Pascal is a fair man. Give
him time, Erica. He will
realize you meant no pain by your remark.
Time heals even imagined wounds."
Picking up the cloth, she polished the area and packed up her things.
"I hope you are right."
Later that evening Vincent returned to the piano chamber, finding it
empty. He checked the lake
and, finding it deserted, he traveled toward the
Pascal looked at him, acknowledging his presence, but remained silent.
They sat without speaking, a comfortable silence, born of long
association and shared friendship.
A whispered voice drifted toward them from below. "Come on, Erica, it
can't be that bad. So you
blundered. If Pascal is as
sweet as you say, he will realize everyone commits a slip of the tongue
at some time in their lives.
Let's go, it's late and I’m exhausted."
The sound of voices faded and only the thundering Falls remained.
"I'm such a fool, Vincent, such a fool." His voice shook. "I knew even
before now, that I was wrong to react as I did.
And why I did it is more important because I can't figure out why
I reacted as I did!”
"I’ve always been a fair man, never judging people and have always been
mild tempered. My actions were
out of proportion to what Erica actually said and my behavior was
inconsiderate and rude."
"Perhaps, Pascal, you allowed fear to govern your action." Vincent's
expression was filled with concern, his focus upon the anguish he felt
rising within his friend.
Seeing his puzzled expression, he continued.
"Fear is basic to all of us, the fear of ridicule and rejection.
Whatever Erica's words were perhaps the fears of ridicule caused
you to strike out, rejecting her and allowing you to escape from feeling
foolish?"
"What am I going to do?"
"When you have resolved your feelings and have forgiven yourself, you
will be able to seek Erica's forgiveness, easing the pain you both feel
so deeply.”
"Would you prefer I leave, allowing you to be alone with your thoughts?"
His own need for privacy was strong and Vincent was never sure if
others needed solitude in order to resolve life's challenges.
"No, don't go. Stay.
Yours is the only sagacious, rational voice I have heard since my
brains left my body early this morning, leaving a buffoon in control."
In spite of himself, Vincent found he was smiling at Pascal's sharp wit
and he knew his friend would not tarry long in the valley of self-doubt. ********
Erica sat against the furthest wall, away from the other early risers
who were gathered in the community dining area. She had purposefully
selected this place, as she needed solace and time to regain control of
her wavering emotions. As
she stood waiting for tea, the talk had been of the children's
graduation from the lost and found class and her memory of Pascal flowed
quickly to the surface.
Looking up, she saw Pascal enter and then watched in fascinated terror
and fledgling hope as he strode directly toward her. As his legs carried
him closer, she felt panic rising and wondered where she could hide from
the determined man who rapidly approached.
Standing before, her he noticed the unshed tears that wet her lashes,
the way her lower lip trembled and his shame was deeper.
Taking her hand, Pascal pulled gently and she rose to stand
facing him. "Come," he said gently, "we must be alone.”
Turning, Pascal started across the chamber, his hand securely
holding hers, his shoulder riding comfortably close, touching hers.
They walked silently through the main tunnels. Pascal's face revealed
nothing to Erica and she felt her stomach flip as her fears mounted.
They had almost reached the piano chamber when the sound of her
no longer silent tears halted Pascal in mid-stride.
Seeing her standing closely beside him, her body shaking and the tears
splashing down her beautiful face broke Pascal's heart and he tenderly
drug her forward putting a hesitant arm around her.
Willingly, she stepped the rest of the way, her head pillowed
against his neck as his arms gently enfolded her.
"Forgive me, please," he whispered against her hair. "I was wrong.
I behaved badly and I know your words were not intended as they
came out. I allowed my own
insecurities to hurt you."
"I never meant to hurt your feelings, Pascal, or make you feel foolish.
Just being near you makes me...makes me disconcerted and I can't
talk straight."
“Love does that to people," he said softly as he moved to tendered kiss
the tears from her face. "I felt like a shy, awkward school boy while we
waited for the children to return.”
His lips traveled lightly across her face as he spoke, caressing
her cheeks and eyelids. He
felt her trembling as her eyes fluttered open.
Her gaze traveled to his lips, lingering, entreating him, then
swept upward seeking his eyes.
Holding her closer, Pascal tenderly kissed her and felt his heart
soar as her lips welcomed him.
Shakily, they drew apart, smiling shyly as their arms intertwined in a
mutual embrace. Slipping her
hand into his, together they walked toward the piano chamber.
Pascal entered, striking a match and finding the candle, he lit the
taper, filling the chamber with a soft glow.
He returned to take Erica's hand then gently tracing her lips
with his, "You need not fear the dark," he whispered against her mouth. ********
The community gathered, seating themselves in the chairs and benches
placed along the tunnel way outside the piano chamber.
The older children perched on rocks, while the younger children
sat at the feet of their parents, playing in the soft silt as they
waited. Candles pushed away
the traces of darkness and warm friendly voices filled the stillness.
"Friends," Father's voice called them to order, "we have gathered in
less than our usual place to hear a recital tonight.
We have come to share the talents of someone who has never
performed for us." He peered seriously over his glasses. "It seems my
own son holds the key to this mystery and in his absence, I will ask for
your kind attention." Rising his
voice slightly, "Shall we being?"
The coughing and settling of the crowd was finally complete.
Faintly, a sound drifted out to them, rising, soaring filling the
air as the air drafts, currents, carried it aloft.
It rose to fill the passage, catching itself against the rock
walls, shimmering back against them to haunt, tease and echo its magic.
A hushed stillness lay over the enthralled community as the waves of
sound poured over them touching, moving and rendering them mute with its
beauty. Climbing, it
carried them, lifting them away and settling them in a peaceful place of
happiness. It dropped then
rose again, carrying them higher as its gentle wings beat steadily
against hearts, entreating entrance and once inside, the joy, majesty of
it cradled them within its soul.
Held within the lyrical sound, moments passed before they realized the
sound had faded and slowly they stirred, then erupted in thunderous
applause and cheering.
As their approval faded Father again stood and his voice filled the
stillness. "Please, won’t
you come out, so that we may all properly thank you and express more
personally our pleasure?"
He turned, looking into the dim recesses of the chamber and saw figures
moving slowly toward him.
Erica and Pascal stood before their friends as the waves of love washed
over them and they were surrounded by the press of bodies moving to
encircle them. The circle parted, leaving only two people, eyes
commanding as he strode forward.
His arms enfolded in an embrace of love which spoke more than
word, silently telling his son of his joy and pride.
"Pascal, my son, my son."
The community slowly drifted up the passage tunnel, the sounds of their
voices echoing as they headed toward the library where William had set
out refreshments. "Dad,
would you take Erica to the library?
I need to speak to Father for a moment.
I won't be long."
"All right, come along, Erica."
He slid his arm through hers, walking on, but paused to call over
his shoulder, "Pascal, don't be long."
Father paused, leaning heavily against his walking stick as Pascal spoke
softly. ********
Vincent sat against the great stone wall, his head resting on his arms,
listening to the sound which played within his heart.
Smiling, he rose to retake the seat he had recently vacated and
ran his tapered fingers over the keys.
Hushed sweet sounds filled the chamber, floating freely drifting
to fill the passage way. He
played from the depth of his heart and the happiness he felt for Erica
and Pascal, rejoicing in their newly discovered love.
Time lost all meaning as the music flowed, filling the night.
Realizing he would miss their party if he didn't hurry, he rose
and walked toward the entry.
He stopped seeing the figure there and then walked quickly into
the out stretched arms. "Father, please, you must not cry.
We must rejoice."
Worn hands caressed his proud features as dry firm lips reached to kiss
his cheek. "My son, in you I have found my greatest joy."
The End |