*
After a last loving look into the crib Catherine prepared for bed. Slipping under the covers, she was just turning out the light when she heard an unusual sound from the balcony. It was a grating noise as if someone shoved an earthen pot across the rough tiles of the terrace floor. She froze momentarily, listening intently into the ensuing silence. When nothing else happened, she stood up and walked quietly over to the balcony door, looking out into the night.
She didn't really expect someone to be out there, it was just that one became quite protective when responsible for such a small life. Smiling to herself, she remembered the woman she had been only a few months ago. Her life encompassed her work in her father's firm, her friends and the social activities she was involved with. Although she'd lived only for herself, she'd never been alone, never allowed herself to be. A part of her had known very well that that wasn't the life she really wanted to live, but she had pushed the thought away, telling herself that she didn't have too much of a choice anyway.
Finding little Amy in the early days of spring, wrapped in a dirty sheet and left to die behind some bushes at the edge of Central Park, was probably the greatest miracle in her whole life. Everything had changed since then. Catherine had hardly had any time to herself. She'd taken off time from work a lot. No parties, though, no shopping, no opera...and yet she was strangely happy. The only thing that bothered her deeply was that her father thought something was profoundly wrong with her. She knew he was worried, but she was at a loss as to what to do about it.
Peter had been a great help in that regard as well. He had defended her, reassuring her father that what happened with her might be an important step to a new level of her personality. And wasn't that true after all? Smiling, she had to admit that Amy had indeed brought her to a new level of existence.
Stifling a yawn she tore her gaze from the glittering skyline across the vast space that was Central Park and turned to take a last look at the baby before going to sleep. Such a lovely picture. Amy lay on her back, head turned to one side, and her dimpled, down-covered fists rested peacefully beside her on the flat pillow. Even now at the age of about four months those little claws could wreak quite a lot of havoc, Catherine thought with a sigh. This was not a good time to ponder Amy's differences and what was to become of her once she was older and not so easy to hide. But trying to cross a bridge before they reached it wouldn't do any good, and there was nothing Catherine could do about it tonight.
Shivering in her thin gown, Catherine turned quietly and slipped into bed, falling instantly asleep.
*
A soft, whimpering noise from the crib at the foot of her bed intruded into Catherine's dream and gradually pulled her back to wakefulness. Opening her eyes, she needed a little time to clear her sleep-clouded mind. She even yielded to the temptation of letting her lids droop again, when the picture she had just seen made her eyes fly open and stare at the now empty pane of her terrace door. There had been a face, a profile clearly highlighted by the reflections of the city lights.
Catherine swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rose to her feet, inexorably drawn by the unlikely picture that had presented itself to her sleep-drugged eyes only moments before.
The baby was wailing now, impatient that it took Mommy so long to tend to its pressing needs. Catherine took her out of the crib, changed her diaper and fed her a nightbottle. While Amy was dozing off again, Catherine tried to digest the unsettling perception that should have frightened her under normal circumstances. Since Amy had come into her life, her definitions of "normal" had certainly shifted, though. The face Catherine had seen, very fleetingly but nonetheless clearly, was a face like Amy's. Of course there was always the possibility that Catherine had only dreamed it, but she didn't really believe that. There had been someone outside on her balcony. Someone like Amy. Someone who...
The realization cut through her heart like a knife. Someone who had come to get her. To get her back. Yes, she decided, it must have been Amy's mother, or father, outside. Dimly she remembered a silvery strand of long loose hair falling across the strange features.
The pain in her heart turned to anger. What kind of parents must they be to first abandon the helpless infant and then come to pick her up again like nothing had happened. She knew one thing for certain. She wouldn't give up the child so easily. She would make damn sure that whoever came to claim Amy was able to take proper care of the baby. Of her baby.
Cradling the sleeping child against her breast, Catherine wept quietly.
*
Silently reprimanding himself for having taken such a risk, Vincent headed for the park. Of course, he went Above regularly, but usually he avoided the houses, except those where helpers lived. This time, though, he had done something inexcusable, something that went against some of the most important principles he lived by. He had intruded upon someone's privacy, and thus endangered himself and the secrets of his world.
Entering the park, he had no ears for the familiar sounds of small animals bustling to get out of his way and the summer breeze rustling in the foliage overhead, nor did he see the starry night sky. In his thoughts he replayed what had happened back on the terrace over and over again. He would have preferred to think that the woman hadn't seen him, but he knew that she had. If only the baby hadn't begun crying! He might have been able to stand there just a little longer, watching over their sleep and savoring the warmth he felt at the fact that someone cared enough to take in a lost and abandoned little soul, sheltering, nourishing, and even loving her.
The woman, Catherine, had been sleeping on her side, her face turned toward him, and he had allowed himself briefly to admire not only her courage but her beauty as well.
Unfortunately all those mellow feelings had made him lower his guard, and when the woman had awoken at the sudden whimpers of the baby, for an instant her eyes met his, and he froze. Fortunately she had closed her eyes again, and he hoped against hope that she would think of him as a dream. Just before withdrawing from the window, though, he had briefly seen her face, wide-eyed and alert.
Before entering the drainage pipe that served as an access to his world, he paused and turned to look back toward Catherine's apartment building, remembering the expression on her face when she had bent over the crib and regarded the child. That look of pure love wove itself around his heart, caressing it in a way he'd have been helpless to describe. He never noticed the sigh that escaped him when he averted his brimming eyes and ducked into the tunnel.
*
"These are for you, Vincent," the little girl said, dumping a heap of colored autumn leaves on Vincent's writing table and dashing off again as quickly as she had appeared.
Putting aside the book he had been studying, Vincent smiled indulgently and took one leaf to hold it closer to the candle. Even in the dim light of the flame its russet and golden hues did not fail to delight him.
"Thank you, Samantha," he said quietly to himself, touched that the child had thought of him during her trip to the park. Throughout the hot months of summer the children rarely went Above, but now that the weather was cooler again they enjoyed the fresh air and the sunshine.
His own nightly visits to Catherine's terrace had been restricted, too, by the hot and humid summer nights, since even the lightest of his cloaks was an unbearable burden. That was just as well, because he had sworn not to go there too often anyway. Now that the nights were clear and fresh again it had become a little harder to keep that vow.
Sometimes he would go there only to find another woman with the child. And although he kept telling himself that he came mainly to see little Amy, he was strangely disappointed when Catherine was not there.
The baby was able to crawl now, and once she had still
been up when he arrived at the balcony soon after dusk. Amy had been creeping
across the carpet, giggling delightedly, while Catherine pretended to try
and catch her....
The leaf was crumpled between trembling fingers when
Vincent recalled Catherine's happy laughter as she'd scooped the baby up,
swinging her around playfully. Beautiful. She was so beautiful.
He shook his head, hoping to alter the direction his thoughts had taken. Carefully shoving the leaves aside, he retrieved the book he had been reading and searched for the line where he had left off. But it was a futile attempt. His mind kept wandering, returning to the woman and the child that had come to mean so much to him.
Against his better judgement never to go Above in an emotionally charged state of mind, Vincent rose and grabbed his cloak. Swinging it across his shoulders with the easy practice of many years, he headed for the park.
With a sigh of relief Catherine leaned back on the couch,
closing her eyes. Tonight it had been particularly straining to put the
active little girl to bed. After the office hours, she'd had to attend
a meeting, which meant having had to leave Amy with Emily for the most
part of the day. Emily loved the little girl dearly, it was just that she
tended to spoil her a little too much, and that was something Catherine
always felt when she returned. The child used to be hyperactive and irritable
every time Catherine was away longer than the usual hours she had to spend
at the office.
Maybe, Catherine mused, some part deep within Amy's soul
remembered being abandoned and left alone in the cold and dark, fearing
that it might happen again. Besides, Amy did not have as many people in
her life as most other children had. So she was probably more dependent
on the one person that had come to be the center of her life.
Suddenly eager to get some fresh air, Catherine rose and
walked to her balcony door, quickly pushing it open and taking a deep breath
of the crisp evening breeze. A movement in the shadows to her left made
her whirl around.
"Who's there?" she exclaimed automatically, although
on second thought she was not sure that she really wanted to know.
A heavy silence answered her, and it would have been easy to retreat into the apartment, thinking that there was only the wind stirring the twigs of her balcony plants. But Catherine's natural curiosity and persistence, and something else which she could not name, drove her to gain certainty on the matter.
"Who is there?" she repeated, switching on the terrace lamps and scanning the balcony for any sign of a possible intruder.
And there he was, emerging from the shadows at the farthest corner of her terrace. The man with a face like Amy's. His appearance, his size, the way he moved, everything about him was male. Except the long strands of hair that escaped his hood.
It had not been a dream then, as she had kept telling
herself when no one had ever come to claim Amy.
"Please don't be afraid," a soft voice said. It was throaty
and even a little hoarse. "I will do you no harm." He paused, and Catherine
had the fleeting impression that he assessed her frame of mind in order
to choose a way of talking to her without frightening her too much. It
was only then that she realized she was not frightened at all. She knew
she should have been, but all she could feel was concern whether he was
here to get Amy.
"You've come for the child, haven't you?" she began.
He advanced a few steps and halted again, apparently at a loss as to how to answer.
"Is she yours? I mean, are you her father? How could anyone leave a helpless child out here and..."
"No!" he cut in sharply. And then, more softly, he repeated, "No, I'm not her father. Don't worry, I'm in no position to take the child away from you. Nor am I the one who left her out there wherever you found her."
Catherine was mystified. "But you look like her. You must know where she comes from."
He shook his head, and she wondered if she only imagined the sadness she saw in the gesture.
"I don't even know about my own origins," he said finally.
Catherine's puzzlement increased by the minute. Then how did he know about her? He must have watched her the evening she found Amy, and followed her when she took her home. Although she could hardly believe all this was possible without his knowing more about the baby, she did not have the feeling that he was lying to her either.
"Please won't you come in?" she suggested spontaneously. "Maybe we could talk."
But he shook his head vigorously. "I should go now. I'm sorry. I should never have come here."
That was the moment little Amy chose to join in their conversation. She let out a plaintive wail that demanded immediate attention.
Turning to go to her, Catherine briefly grasped his arm. "Please don't leave yet. I have a feeling that the two of you would like being introduced to one another."
Hoping he wouldn't flee, she quickly went to fetch the child. Wrapping her in a blanket to protect her from the evening chill, she brought the baby out on the terrace, noting gladly that he was still there, a tall shadow against the lights of the buildings across the park. She shifted the baby in order for her to get a good look at their visitor. At first Amy was completely and utterly stunned. Her eyes widened in surprise, and just when Catherine began asking herself if her actions had been wise after all, Amy's face broke into a delighted grin and she extended one chubby hand to gingerly grasp a piece of the enormous dark cloak their visitor was wearing.
"May I introduce," Catherine said with mock formality, "Amy, this is..."
"Vincent," he provided softly, never taking his eyes from the small being that resembled him so much.
"...Vincent," she repeated, and watched in awe as he pulled back the hood from his face. She was touched by the quiet tenderness that shone from his eyes and warmed his unusual features.
"Vincent," she completed her introduction, "this is Amy."
Suddenly the child leaned forward in Catherine's arms, her whole body begging that he take her. Without hesitation, and with the secure movements of someone accustomed to holding children, Vincent reached for her, affording her a closer look at his face. Tentatively, and to Catherine's relief quite gently, little Amy patted Vincent's cheek, leaning her forehead against his for a moment. Then she smiled at him shyly and slowly leaned back in his arms to be taken up by Catherine again.
He handed her over, his eyes still luminous, and Catherine's heart constricted with the emotions she saw reflected there.
"You never saw anyone like her before," she stated, immediately sorry for having broken the spell.
"No," he confirmed and turned to look out at the illuminated skyline as if to hide what his eyes had already betrayed. There was an air of loneliness around him, the aloneness of someone who was the only one of his kind. Or had been for a long time. And maybe it was the knowledge that this wasn't so any longer which brought forth the tears that she glimpsed glittering on his cheeks.
Long after he had gone, and Amy had fallen asleep again, Catherine lay still awake, marveling at the exquisite intensity Vincent exuded. Obviously the child had felt it, too. Or maybe it was simply the kinship that had drawn the two of them together right from the start. But strangely she had felt some sort of kinship between Vincent and herself as well.
Must be because I feel so close to Amy, she mused before she finally fell asleep.