My Brother’s Keeper

Vee Horning

Kipper jumped when Vincent laid a hand on his shoulder. He’d been watching the intruders with such concentration that he hadn’t heard Vincent approach. Stepping aside, Kipper held up two fingers and pointed to the view port cut unobtrusively in the granite wall. Vincent stooped to nearly half his height and peered through the portal. Immediately, he stood upright, his hands on his hips and look of stunned confusion on his face. Again, he bent to observe the couple standing in the corridor just beyond.

The man was tall, with shaggy dark hair streaked with gray at the temples. Dressed in a pea coat and jeans, he leaned against the rock wall with an air of blatant arrogance; his arms folded across his chest, a cigarette between his lips. Two large duffle bags waited at his feet. The woman beside him retrieved the cigarette, dropped it into the dust and tamped out its fire with a leather booted foot.

"You promised to quit."

"Come on, Duchess. You know you can’t trust me."

Vincent did not try to stifle the sputter of laughter as she punched the man hard in the stomach.

"Did you hear that?" Her whisper fairly vibrated with trepidation and excitement as she turned toward the sound. Vincent caught his breath at the light shining from her dark eyes.

She stood a full foot shorter than the man. Perhaps ten years younger, her skin was a soft mocha color and her hair was arranged in long thick braids that fell over the hood of a leather parka. Despite her lack of height, or perhaps because of it, she could only be described as elegant.

"I told you, Duchess. They know we’re here. They’re just trying to figure out if they want to acknowledge me or not."

The man looked straight at Vincent, still hidden from his view, and spoke in a loud mocking tone. "Damn it, Vincent! Open the door, will ya? We’re freezing."

Vincent reached above Kipper’s head and pressed a mechanism releasing a gate some ten feet beyond the couple. Shaking his head, Vincent moved quickly to intercept them while calling over his shoulder.

"Kipper, will you please send word to Father that Devin’s come home? And tell him that he’s brought a friend."

***********

Devin jumped down the four steps leading to Father’s library and dropped into a chair beside Vincent. Father closed the book he’d been pretending to read and folded his hands on his desk.

"Has Mary gotten Ilia settled in?"

"Yeah. They’re chatting like magpies in the guest chamber next to mine. I knew they’d get along great. They’re a lot alike."

"Good. She’s…uh…she seems like a…lovely girl, Devin."

Father let his eyes drop as he fidgeted with his glasses. He was obviously trying to think of something non-confrontational to say and failing miserably. Sighing at the familiar silence between father and son, Vincent turned in his chair to face Devin.

"Yes, she is striking. But I don’t understand, Devin. You never wrote that you had been… I mean we never suspected you’d gotten…"

He fell silent, suddenly uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Devin laughed aloud and clipped Vincent on the arm.

"Relax, you two. I haven’t brought a wife home to meet the folks, if that’s what you’re thinking."

Angered by Father’s audible sigh of relief, Devin wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like a bad little boy in his father’s presence.

"Don’t get me wrong, Pop. I’d marry her in a minute if she were dumb enough to allow it. But the Duchess knows me too well. It’s…not that way with us."

Father cleared his throat and passed a hand across his face.

"Devin. You know the rules about bringing strangers down here. Do you mind if I ask, precisely, who is she?"

Devin rose and crossed the room in four strides. He suddenly needed to put some distance between himself and his father. An overloaded section of bookcase stood in a corner just beneath the landing. Devin placed both hands on a shelf and leaned into it as if to push the bookcase over. Vincent stood up, but did not approach. He recognized the stance as the one of helpless frustration he himself employed often. Devin’s voice was almost inaudible.

"Ilia is not a stranger, Pop. She’s the one who took care of Charlie."

They knew few details of Charles’s illness other than he’d been diagnosed with cancer soon after he and Devin had reached Alaska. Devin had written they had found someone to move in with him when Devin was out at sea on the fishing boat, The Madeline Mae. But no one had any idea how serious the cancer was until Peter received the phone call letting them know Charles had died.

In the intervening six months they had heard nothing more from Devin. Vincent’s letters, mailed with Peter’s help, came back unopened. All Catherine’s official inquiries found no trace of him. They did not even know if Devin had stayed in Alaska, or relocated elsewhere.

Vincent knew that his unexplained disappearance and, now, sudden arrival was the source of Father’s reserved attitude. He also knew Devin always misinterpreted Father’s reactions.

Vincent took a step forward then turned to look down at Father, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he sat silent, stoically studying his hands.

Irritated, Vincent turned back toward Devin only to be stopped in his tracks as Ilia appeared on the landing above. Upon their first meeting, Vincent had found her eyes deep and caring, instantly accepting of his otherworldly appearance. Now, those same eyes seethed with anger.

"Vincent. Miss Mary said I might find somebody still up. Do you know where Devin is?"

Vincent wondered at the shiver of dread that ran down his back at the tenor of her voice. Before he could speak, Devin squared his shoulders and stepped out from his hiding place beneath her into the center of the room.

"I’m right here, Duchess. You need something?"

"Yeah, I need to beat you with a big purple stick."

Spreading his hands at his sides in a supplicant manner, Devin glanced first at Father, then Vincent, before redirecting his gaze back to the young woman addressing him. "Why? What’d I do now?"

Vincent was aware that Father had, at last, risen from his chair. All three men stood captivated by the force of nature winding her way around the landing and down the stairs into the room.

Dressed in jeans, a black cowl necked blouse, and a wool cardigan, her bare feet would later stand out in Vincent’s memory as somehow quite natural.

Ilia pulled up beside the desk and, without releasing Devin from her glare, she greeted Father with a dignified air of respect. "Excuse me, sir. I hope you’ll forgive me for interrupting."

"Of course, child. Is there something… wrong?"

She withdrew something from the pocket of her sweater and placed it pointedly on Father’s desk. Both Vincent and Father looked at Devin, who stared at the bottle of dark liquid as though she had just placed a cobra before them. Her voice was velvet, smooth and soft. "I went into your bag to steal a pair of socks, Devin. The label says bourbon. Devin. I am reading that right? Is this a bottle of bourbon?"

Devin swore under his breath as he reached for her. "Now… wait. Wait a minute, Baby-girl."

"Don’t touch me." Her expression did not change. Not one muscle moved. With a look of panic, Devin dropped his arms to his sides. Immediately, Vincent read the truth on his face. Devin was in love, and terrified. Vincent wanted to do something to rescue his brother. But to his amazement, he found that he was nearly frozen in awe by the character of this tiny woman, barely five feet tall.

As Vincent watched the scene unfold, something suddenly changed in Devin’s face. A dark mask of defiance appeared as his tone became belligerent.

"Now, you just listen to me. Yeah, I bought a fifth last week. So what? I told you how bad things get when I come home. Don’t start with me about this, all right? Not now. Hell, I haven’t even opened the damn thing yet."

Velvet turned to steel. "Open it now, Devin. Please."

"Did you not hear me say don’t start?"

"Did you hear me say I am not going through that again?"

"I know. I know. Look, it’s not a big deal, Ilia, all right? It’s not a big deal if you just… leave me alone!!" Devin seemed to regret his outburst and literally, childishly, clamped a hand over his mouth. Ilia seemed to grow taller somehow. As she took a step forward Devin took two steps back.

"Okay. I can do that. I can leave you alone. If that’s what you really want, just say it again, Devin. Please."

Instantly, Vincent stepped protectively between them, though he was not certain precisely whom he was protecting.

Just as quickly, Father took charge. Rounding the table, his afflicted hip and cane forgotten, he picked up the bourbon and pushed it into Vincent’s hand.

"Get rid of this, Vincent. Take him with you."

Vincent grabbed Devin by the arm and forcefully shoved him up the steps and down the corridor toward the nearest latrine. Only Vincent’s sensitive ears heard Ilia break down the moment they left the library.

Once the liquor had been properly dispatched, Vincent led a shaken Devin into the chamber they had shared as boys. Devin immediately collapsed on the bed and hid his face in his hands. To give him a few private moments, Vincent busied himself moving quietly about the chamber, lighting a few candles and touching off a fire under a small brass brazier in the corner of room.

Finally Devin sat up on the bed, sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. Without a word, Vincent filled a glass with cold water from the cooler and passed it to his brother who drained it in one gulp. Vincent refilled his glass and then turned to make himself a mug of tea. An unidentified angel, probably Lena, had left a covered plate of pastries on his desk. Pulling a chair nearer the bed, Vincent handed Devin the plate, retrieved his tea, sat down, and waited.

A mouthful of raspberry Danish was not nearly sufficient to hide the remaining distress in Devin’s voice.

"It’s good. You find a helper that’s a pastry chef?"

"No. William offers cooking lessons to anyone interested. I am honored with their successes."

"Who gets the failures?"

"Father."

Vincent could not resist a self-satisfied smile. Being a favorite has its perks.

"That’s perfect, little brother. You’ve got it made."

Vincent’s smile faded quickly. After what he’d just witnessed, he was in no mood for levity. "Devin…"

"So where’s Cathy? I understand she lives down here now."

"Yes. She’s in Chicago on business for her father’s estate. She returns next week."

Vincent put his mug on the bedside table and took the pastries platter from Devin, placing it beside his mug. He leaned forward, his arms braced on his knees, and pinned Devin with an expression allowing no escape. "Devin."

"Yeah, I know, Vinnie. I’m sorry. I always seem to blow in on a hurricane, don’t I?"

"We heard nothing for months after Charles passed. Now, you have come home. We are glad you’re here. Truly, Devin. We are all glad you have come home again. Ilia seems to be a very… strong woman, who obviously cares a great deal for you."

"Too much. Sometimes she cares so much she actually scares the hell out of me. Don’t you think for a minute that was an idle threat back there."

"Nevertheless, Devin, what just happened was about something other than the liquor."

"Yeah, you’re right. Truth is I screwed up, Vinnie. Again. The last time I made her that mad, she disappeared for six weeks. I still don’t know why she came back."

"You said Ilia was Charles’ nurse."

"A nursing student. The last year of training was to take of him. But she did a helluva lot more than that. For both of us."

Vincent retrieved his mug of tea and sat back in his chair, certain Devin was ready to share the heavy weight he carried on his shoulders. "Tell me."

Devin rose from the bed to pace the small room. He began slowly at first but as he circled, his words came faster, wholly unedited.

"She started out as his nurse. I’d be out on a crabber for weeks at a time and Charlie hated hospitals. So she moved in to take care of him. Vinnie, she was great. She knew how to handle him. She reminded me of Mary so much. Just the way she talked to him, you know? She used to tell him that he belonged to her and she never wasted her valuable time on worthless people.

"Charlie was crazy about her. I mean he loved her because she didn’t take any of his crap. And he loved her because she made him feel special, you know? Not deformed or ugly. She’d make him take his meds. She’d cook for him. When the chemo made him sick, he’d refuse to eat. But she’d cook something special. Just for him. And I’d have to eat a burger or something." Devin sat down on the bed, took another pastry, but replaced it uneaten.

He fell silent for some minutes while Vincent simply watched and waited. Devin stared down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap but Vincent knew he saw Charles instead. When he spoke again his voice carried a distant, faraway quality. Knowing he returned to the Alaskan shore, Vincent went with him, willingly.

"See, that night…Charlie had been really sick all day. He was in a lot of pain. The drugs didn’t do a damn thing for him any more and he was really bad. He was throwing up and crying. I got scared. But not Ilia. She knew just what to do, just like always. She was always calm and sort of peaceful with him. She has the patience of a saint, Vinnie, I swear. She worked all day to get his fever down. She never left him. Never.

"Anyway, late that night we finally got him to bed. She curled up beside him. And she held him. And she started singing to him. See, as big as he was, Charlie loved to curl up like a big bear, with his head in her lap. There was this… one song she always sang and he always fell asleep. So… she was singing and rubbing his back and I thought he went to sleep. Vinnie, I thought he just conked out. That he’d be okay by morning. Just like always. I swear, I thought he just went to sleep.

"So, what’d I do? I left, Vinnie! Yeah. I left them alone! I went down the hill to get a beer. I was… going to have just one beer and then go right back. He was a pain in the ass all day and I needed a drink! But I got into this… pool game. And one led to two and… so, that’s it, Vinnie. I ended up getting drunk. I got plastered while Charlie was dying in her arms!"

Vincent was unaware of the tears streaming down his own face as he moved to sit beside Devin. He laid an arm around his shoulders but Devin would not allow himself to be comforted. Rising to pace the room again, his tone was now filled with bitterness and self-loathing.

"When I finally stumbled back home the next morning, half the damn village was in my house. They helped her. They were taking care of his body. So, wonderful friend and brother that I am, I ran. Only this time I did not bother going back home again. This time I stayed drunk for a whole bloody month. I don’t know where the hell I slept. But I did not go home. I couldn’t face her, Vinnie. I just couldn’t stand to see that look in her eyes. You know the look. You saw it tonight. That I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. God, she reminds me of Pop with that look! It makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again. Sometimes I could just… uhhh!!"

Exhausted, Devin threw himself into Vincent huge throne-like chair, utterly depleted. "I don’t know what I’m doing, Vinnie. I don’t even know why the hell I came back here."

Vincent crossed the floor in a single stride, coming down on one knee beside his brother, not knowing how to erase years of torment and self-recrimination.

"This is your home, Devin. It will always be your home. We are always here for you. "You must forgive yourself. You must not think you have failed Charles. You gave him a nearly two years of devotion and love, unlike anything he’d ever known."

Devin shook his head back and forth against the high-backed chair squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His voice was now only a frail whisper. "Vincent, I left him. When he needed me I was not there. Charlie was my chance… to make up for… well, for a lot of things."

Vincent understood immediately. He’d suspected the truth when Devin first brought Charles to the tunnels. Though he’d never discussed it with Father or Catherine, there was a glaring irony in Devin rescuing Charles from a carnival sideshow and the cage his brother had forced upon him.

"Devin, please look at me."

Wearily, Devin turned toward him. A violent shudder raced down Vincent’s spine at the sheer weight of his older brother’s heartbreaking countenance. Desperately, he forced his voice to remain calm and steady.

"You did not abandon me."

For emphasis, Vincent intentionally let the statement float between them a moment longer than necessary.

"I know you think that, but I don’t. I never have. You had to find your life, your own path. That path led you away from us. From me. I could not go with you. I could not travel your path any more than you could travel mine."

Devin looked away again but Vincent would not allow it. The time had come for them to face difficult truths about their relationship. Vincent was determined that they would face them together. His command fell just short of a snarl.

"Look at me!"

Shocked, Devin obeyed. Vincent did not leave him an opportunity to retreat again.

"I was young, Devin. But even I could see how you yearned for the sunlight. I felt the tension between you and Father although, as it turns out, I could not have imagined its root. I knew part of your restlessness stemmed from that. For some time after you left, I blamed him. I thought he drove you away. With time and age, I was able to release that blame. I had to release it before it destroyed my respect for him. I needed him too much to allow that.

Now, I watch children grow up around me everyday. I see the same restless spirit in them that I remember dwelt within you. I can tell, reliably well, which child will leave the tunnels to make their way in the world Above. Devin, I understand why some must go just as I understand why some must stay. I know these youngsters are moving toward something, and not away from us. Not away from me. I know, now, you were no different."

When he spoke, Devin’s voice sounded strange to his own ears. At this point nothing mattered but to make Vincent understand how ridiculously wrong his tidy logic really was.

"Vincent, you just don’t get it. I was not just some average dirty-faced kid running around in the shadows down here."

"Why, Devin? Why should you have been held to a standard different from anyone else?"

"We were brothers, Vinnie. And brothers are supposed to stick together. I had a responsibility to stay here, to stay with you."

"Devin. I have always loved you with a brother’s heart. And I will love you all the days of my life. Please, know that. Always. But, Devin, we are not brothers. Not in the way Father tried to pretend. Not in the way he tried to force upon us. He was wrong about your obligation to me.

"When we were boys, I did look up to you. In many ways I still do. But at seventeen years old, your only obligation was to be true to yourself. At forty, your responsibility is still to be true to yourself. You did that with Charles, with the life you gave to him. At thirty-six, my responsibility is to get off this knee before it becomes as angry with me as Father’s hip is with him."

Their laughter seemed to clear the air within the small chamber. Even the candlelight seemed to glow brighter, somehow. Vincent was not completely exaggerating as he stiffly pulled himself to his feet, distributing his weight between the arm of Devin’s chair and the table. Devin rose with him and they shared a much-needed embrace.

"I love you too, Vincent. I don’t believe you. But I love you, Fuzzy."

Vincent growled in his ear. "I hated that ridiculous nickname when I was five and I still hate it." Their laughter rang out again.

"Sorry. It just kind of slipped out. Accidentally on purpose."

"May we join you? A bit of humor would do us all some good."

Their arms still about each other, Vincent and Devin turned toward Father’s voice. He stood in the entranceway with Ilia at his side, each somewhat supporting the other. She kept her eyes averted but there was no mistaking their swollen redness.

"I’m sorry, Devin. I overreacted. I don’t want to beat you up anymore."

Devin held open his arms and she slid into them easily.

"Never mind, Baby-girl. I’m the one who should apologize. Even if I didn’t drink it, I should never have bought that bottle. I came too close to breaking my promise and I’m sorry. I’m an idiot and I deserve to be beaten with a big stick."

Father leaned heavily on his cane in the absence of her shoulder.

"Please, let’s not start that again. Is everything… all right, Devin? Is there… anything I can do?"

Devin glanced down at Ilia who stood slightly wedged between him and Vincent. He noticed furred fingers gently holding her hand and smiled.

That’s the effect she has on anyone she meets. Although there’s no doubt she can hold her own against just about anybody, you still just want to take care of her.

"Yeah, Pop. I think everything’s okay now. The storm’s passed over, at least for tonight. Right, Vinnie?"

Vincent hesitated as if there were something he wanted to say but lacked the words. He felt the need to reassure everyone within reach, but he just did not know how.

"Yes. But it’s late, Father. And you look tired. Perhaps you should go to bed."

"I just feel that we haven’t properly welcomed Devin and Ilia home yet."

Devin approached his father, a bit wearily at first, then relaxed and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Don’t worry about it, Pop. Vinnie’s right. You do look a bit done in, as the Brits say."

"I’m certain Mary is still up. Some of the others may still be milling about somewhere. Perhaps, if we make an announcement over the pipes…"

Vincent was watching the tremor of Father’s hand. He had seen it briefly a week before, then again this afternoon, before Devin’s arrival. Alarmed by its return, he vowed to speak to Peter again at the earliest opportunity.

"Father, please. You know you haven’t felt very well the past few days."

"Nonsense, Vincent. You and Peter worry too much. I told you both I’m perfectly fine."

Devin saw the concern in Vincent’s eyes. Until there was time to ask about it, he decided to follow his brother’s lead.

With a nod in Vincent’s direction, he reached down to take control of the cane, neatly arranging the need for Father to lean on his arm. Devin did not miss the slight relaxation of Vincent’s brow line. Yep, he thought, something is definitely going on.

"Come on, Pop. We’ll walk back to your chamber and have a little visit all our own. Vinnie, you’ll take care of my girl, won’t you?"

"Of course. I can make another pot of tea."

"Great. Duchess, I’ll be back in a little while."

"Take your time, Hon. I’m in good hands. Good night, Sir. I’m sorry for all the uproar tonight."

"Don’t concern yourself, dear. We can always count on our Devin for a bit of… excitement. Good night Ilia, Vincent."

"Good night, Father. Sleep well."

Although feeling somewhat off-balance by the events of the evening, Vincent politely offered Ilia his chair in the center of the room then turned to the brazier to prepare a fresh kettle of tea. He reached for a clean ceramic mug on the shelf above, thought better of it, and chose a delicate china cup with its matching saucer; one of the few treasures Catherine brought with her when she moved Below.

Setting the cup and saucer on the table before Ilia, he turned to reclaim his own mug from the nightstand, pulled up the chair he’d occupied during his talk with Devin, and settled into it. All this was done deliberately to gain time to gather his thoughts. Within a moment her hesitant voice broke the silence.

"If you want to turn in, Vincent, I can wait for Devin in my room. It’s been a long day for you too."

"No, please. Stay. I would like us to become friends, Ilia. You’re very important to Devin. More so than he realizes, I think."

"Is he really okay?"

"He’s… struggling. With many things. Chief among them are his actions the night Charles died."

"He told you about that? I’m surprised."

"I don’t think he meant to tell me, originally. He was… frightened. Afraid of losing you again."

He looked up to find himself, once again, stunned by her soft brown eyes. In them, he found the same depth he’d become accustomed to seeing only in Catherine’s emerald eyes. "He loves you."

Something flashed in that dark gaze but faded too quickly for him to understand its origin. Long lashes hid what remained.

"I know. I know he does. And, contrary to earlier evidence, Vincent, I love him too. Not the same way, of course. But I do love him. I have to. He and Charlie belong to me. The universe gave me both those boys, to watch over. I don’t have a choice."

"You speak of Charles as if he were still here."

Her expression changed to one of incredulity. Her left hand reached up to stroke her right shoulder.

"Well, of course, he is. Charlie’s always right here. Can I show you something?"

With a nod of his head, she swivelled in her seat and, with her back to him, she pulled at the collar of her sweater to reveal a small tattoo high up on her shoulder blade. He had to lean forward to discern the shape.

"An angel?"

Shaking her head she straightened in her chair rearranging the elaborate collar, a clear bright smile on her face.

"Nope. That’s Charlie. I got this the day we spread his ashes in Prince William Sound. He just sits there, whispering in my ear. Just like he always did."

Amazed at the vivid light shining from within her, Vincent felt as though he were in the presence of something quite mystical. It was the same serene feeling he found sitting on his favorite perch near the Thundering Falls. Her giggle and a high-pitched whistle brought him out of himself.

"Your teapot’s calling you."

They sat in comfortable companionship for over an hour talking about all the people they loved. By the time Devin returned from Father’s chamber, Vincent and Ilia had become fast friends. Even sooner than he had hoped.

************

More than anyone could have predicted, Ilia and Catherine developed an instant kinship spending the next two weeks side-by-side. Ilia shared Catherine’s duties in William’s kitchen and even in the laundry room. Because an extra pair of hands is always welcome Below, and because everyone around them knew the two women had a great deal in common, Ilia was quickly accepted nearly everywhere.

For all her training, Father allowed Ilia to trespass into the hospital chamber only once. A helper had unexpectedly arrived with several boxes of much needed supplies. Mary was preoccupied with a crying infant at the time and, caught off guard, Father could not justifiably refuse Ilia’s offer to assist with the inventory.

Devin spent his days supervising Vincent and other workers on three large-scale maintenance projects, partly out of boredom and partly to avoid spending time alone with his father.

Weekends were reserved for tunnel exploration. Much had changed during Devin’s absence and Vincent, with Catherine at his side, offered his services as a volunteer tour guide. During one particular outing to the Thundering Falls, Devin and Vincent were lounging on an outstretched blanket contentedly munching fruit stolen from William’s pantry.

"Hey, Vinnie. What do you suppose they’re talking about now?"

Vincent rose up on an elbow to observe the two women sitting near the edge of the river that flowed beneath the falls. Their voices were too low for even his ears to hear.

"Probably you and I."

"Do you think we’re in trouble?"

Through their bond Vincent knew Catherine was still slightly upset. He had worked hard to control his emotions when she returned from her business trip, limiting himself to a warm, loving but chaste welcome home greeting. Of course they had never discussed it. But he knew his restraint had wounded her badly.

"No. I’m sure they are only talking."

Silently he, once again, thanked the heavens for sending Ilia to them. At least now Catherine had someone Below in whom she could confide.

"You know, Vinnie, you have never really told me what you think of the Duchess."

Considering the question carefully, Vincent reached for another apple then settled back against the rock wall.

"I believe it is remarkable that such an enormous heart could be found in such a small frame."

"Yeah. She is pretty great, isn’t she? I’m still amazed she puts up with me."

With a characteristic tilt of the head, Vincent could not resist a good-natured gibe. "So am I, Devin. So am I."

************

"Cathy, I don’t understand. Devin said you have been together for what, two years? Three? Are telling me you two have never… been together?"

"Believe me, it’s not my idea. Sometimes I feel like there’s a flashing neon sign on my forehead."

"Do you mind if I ask what the problem is?"

"It’s not really a problem. As problems go. Things have just always been rather… complicated in that department."

"I don’t get it. Greek gods would envy that man."

Catherine smiled and stared into the swirling waters then shrugged her shoulders, sadly.

"There are things about who and what he is that Vincent is reluctant to share with me. Things that frighten him into believing that he could injure me, physically. It’s why I have my own chamber. I know he loves me. The passion and desire is there. Sometimes I can feel it so strongly it takes my breath away. But he’s still very afraid. So he’s erected boundaries between us, limiting what we could become. He thinks he has to protect me from himself."

"And you’re happy with that?"

"I have to be, Ilia. It’s either that or live without him. And that’s just unthinkable."

"I don’t know if I could live like that."

Catherine bristled. She saw an inherent hypocrisy in the statement and she allowed herself a sarcastic mocking tone.

"Oh, you don’t? Sure, whatever you say. You know something? You and Vincent are not all that different."

"Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Ilia. Admit it. You’re doing exactly the same thing to Devin!"

"Whoa, wait a minute, Cath. Don’t bring me and Devin into this."

"Why not? Why don’t you admit you as bad as Vincent? Oh no, wait, you’re worse. Your walls are thicker and much higher. At least Vincent is willing to admit that he loves me."

"You know, Cathy. If we were not such good friends we could have a problem right now."

Behind them, against the granite wall, Vincent stiffened as the flash of Catherine’s anger raced through the bond. He felt it dissolve as quickly as it had erupted. Bewildered, he held the bond open wide, carefully tracking Catherine’s emotions. Stretched out on his stomach, Devin noticed the momentary tensing of Vincent’s leg muscles.

"What’s the matter?"

"Catherine was angry. Truly angry."

Devin sat up just in time to see the women pull each other into a sisterly hug.

"Looks like she’s okay, now."

************

"I’m sorry, Ilia. I did not mean to turn on you like that. I guess you just struck a nerve. I apologize."

"Don’t worry about it, Cath. What else are friends for, if you can’t bite each others heads off occasionally?"

The girls settled into a companionable silence, their toes trailing ripples in the chilly water. "I don’t know, Cathy. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have ‘built walls’ as you say. Things got pretty ugly between me and Devin for a while after we lost Charlie. When I went back to Anchorage, I was going to finish school and move on. I fully intended to never see that man again."

"But you went back?"

"I had to. A girlfriend called to tell me he’d been picked up in a drunken bar fight somewhere. Nobody wanted to bail him out. You see, everybody in the village loved Charlie. A lot of them were still upset that Devin stayed so drunk that he couldn’t even attend the funeral. They would have just as soon left him locked up. All I could think was that Charlie would have hated the very idea of his ‘Dev’ behind bars."

Catherine knew how much Charles idolized Devin. All his letters that first year had been filled with gratitude for all Devin was doing for him.

"So, yeah. I went back for him. Cathy, I had to. I got him out of jail, dried him out and I’ve tried to take care of him ever since. I think I’ve been honest with Devin. I think he knows he’s important to me."

"The question is how important? This is more than a friendship on Devin’s side. Anyone with eyes can see that. But with you, who can tell? Surely he can’t. You’ve closed yourself off just as much as Vincent has."

"Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two but I do not want to be in love with Devin Wells!"

"Wanting it or not is beside the point."

"I knew you’d say something like that."

"Ilia, what are you afraid of?"

"Look, Cath, the man is nine years older than I am and he’s… he’s a big kid. He’s Peter Pan. Refusing to grow up and scared of his own shadow."

"Most men are. But if love is strong enough it doesn’t matter."

"Cathy, he’s unpredictable. The boy carries a ton of emotional baggage. And he cheats at cards! I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him."

"Then why are you still here, Ilia? He’s not drinking now. He’s safe, sober and back home with his family. Why are you staying with him?"

Ilia sat very still, her gaze locked on the waterfall. Presently, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes against what she did not want to see. Catherine scooted closer, lovingly stroking her back as she whispered in her ear.

"You’re right about one thing. Devin is a big kid. A big kid who lost his way a long time ago. But don’t you see? If you can help him find himself again, it’s cruel to hold back."

************

Vincent had been concentrating on the bond so intently it took him a while to realize Devin had shifted position. Now as he sat cross-legged in front of him, Devin’s use of his proper name caught him by surprise.

"Vincent. Can I ask you something? I mean would you tell the truth?"

Once Devin had his full attention, Vincent became aware of something indescribable written on his face.

"Of course."

"Listen, um, I was talking to the Duchess last night. And, uh, well, she likes it down here. A lot. She said it reminds her of the village we lived in, with Charlie. You know, everybody knows everybody and everybody pitches in to help everybody else."

Vincent felt Devin’s hesitation but his expression was unreadable. He tried to encourage him to continue.

"Yes. I suppose all communities this small are tightly knit."

"Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, she and Cathy have gotten really close, really fast. They act they’ve known each other for years."

"I am sincerely glad of that, Devin. I know Catherine treasures their friendship. In the four months she’s been Below things have been… difficult. There is much we still must work out between us."

"I thought as much. Seeing as how she has her own chamber, I figured things hadn’t changed all that much for you two."

"No."

Vincent had no desire to discuss the relationship. Conflicted and confused, he was still unable to express his thoughts and fears properly. Not even to Catherine. Incapable of sleeping more than two or three hours, he patrolled the perimeter of their world every night, alone, searching for clarity. For either permission or absolution. But the dark passages held no answers for him. Somehow, he knew something had to be done soon, for her sake as much as his own.

"So, Vincent, let me ask you something. Do you think…, I mean, since the girls get along so well and everybody seems to like the Duchess. I mean, what do you think the council would say if, um. Oh, hell. Forget it."

Vincent was deeply disturbed by the futility in Devin’s voice.

"Devin, what is it?"

"I was just thinking. What do you think would happen if I asked the council if we could stay down here? I mean, maybe for good?"

"Devin, this is your home. I have told you that many times. There is no need for you to go to the council. Everyone wants you to stay."

"Well, at least you do. You and Cathy."

Vincent tossed his half-eaten apple into the trash bin with a bit more force than he’d intended.

"You and Father! Will you ever learn to understand each other? To trust each other?"

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Devin, Father loves you. He’s worried about you. He told me he hoped to use this time to become closer with you. To try to help with whatever has been troubling you."

"He said that?"

"Yes. Just two nights ago. He asked if I knew how long you intended to stay Below. He said he was reluctant to ask you himself. He was certain you would misinterpret his meaning. That you would think he wanted you to shorten your visit."

"You know, I probably would have." Devin chuckled derisively. "Poor Vinnie. You always get stuck in the middle playing referee, don’t you?"

"I’ll do whatever I must to help you and Father find each other."

Devin turned to watch the ladies at the rivers edge. By his posture, Vincent knew his mind had traveled elsewhere. When he spoke, Devin’s voice carried a heavy sense of loss.

"I’ve got a lot of fences to mend, little brother."

"Devin. What happened in the past should be left there."

"I know. I wish I could do that. I feel like I need…"

"What? Devin, please tell me."

"I don’t know, Vincent. I just feel the need to be connected to something. To have something to depend on, you know? I’ve spent my life wandering around the world looking for God knows what. Maybe a sense of peace. Or the feeling of belonging to something again. I guess I’d just like to stay put for a while. Fix things with Pop. You know, the old man’s not going to be around forever."

A shiver ran down Vincent’s spine at that. He quickly pushed the thought aside and refocused on his brother who sat fidgeting with a shoelace.

"Hell, Vinnie. I guess I’m just feeling like time’s catching up with me. I never really lost someone important before. I mean, leaving you behind, that hurt. But what I mean is losing someone like…, like the way I lost Charlie, you know? I mean, watching him slowly slip away like that, in so much pain. It kind of… shook me up. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I wanted to come back here. To get back in touch with…, something that… means something. Hell, I’m not making much sense, am I?"

"It’s alright, Devin. I think I understand. You had a safe happy childhood here. Restless but happy. Perhaps what you’re searching for is, is the security and love of family."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe that’s it. So what do you think, little brother? You think it would be okay to hang around here a while? I mean, okay with the old man?"

"Of course, Devin. Of course, it is all right. I will even volunteer to act as referee, interpreter and mediator if need be."

"Well, since you’re volunteering, maybe we ought to get the girls and head back. Maybe we could talk to Pop, tonight."

"Yes. I would like that. We’ll go home, Devin. All of us."

 

Epilog

Noticing a light coming from the guest chamber, Devin called from outside the door; certain he wouldn’t get an answer.

"Duchess?"

"Yeah, come on in, Devin."

Stepping inside, he found her sitting up in bed while a single candle burned low on the bedside table. Ilia patted the bed beside her and Devin bent to place a kiss on her forehead before settling down on the quilt.

"It’s late, Baby girl. I thought you’d be asleep by now."

"Uh uh. Thinking. Have you been with your father all evening?"

"Yep. I just left him."

"And?"

"And it’s good, Duchess. We talked about a lot of things. I think we got rid of stuff we’ve both been carrying way too long. I think it’s going to be okay."

Taking both his hands in hers, she pulled him forward, hugging him tightly around the neck. "Oh, Devin, I am so glad. I know that tension between you and your dad has worried you for a long time."

"Yeah, it feels good, baby girl. Really good. Oh, by the way, we talked about you and me staying here a while. Pop said you brought me home so now this place is your home too."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"I would like to stay, Devin. I have never had a girlfriend as up front, or as pushy as Cathy is. I’d like to get to know her better. And of course, there’s Miss Mary. I swear that woman has adopted me. I think it would be good for you too, being around Vincent and your father for a while. Sort of going back and starting all over again"

"Well, you got it, Duchess. I play it your way. Look, it is late, and I know how you are about your beauty sleep. I just wanted to say goodnight and thank you."

"Vincent’s the one you should thank. He’s the one who got you to talk to each other instead of at each other."

"I will. I’ll do that too. But right now, I’m thanking you, for everything. I just want you to know that your valuable time isn’t wasted on me."

"I love you, Devin."

"I know you do, baby girl."

"No, Devin. You don’t know. That’s why I’m telling you. I love you."

"You do?"

"Yes, Devin. I do."

"Wait, are you sure you’ve got the right guy, here? I mean, this is me, Duchess. Devin, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I know exactly who you are. You are Peter Pan. And I love you."

"Duchess. My God, Ilia. I never thought… I mean, I don’t know what the hell I mean. You never said anything…"

"Devin."

"Yes, Ma’am?"

"Shut up and come here."

"Yes, Ma’am!"

 

Fini