After the Ashes

by Ginny Shearin

A “What-if” story

Suppose Catherine’s father had lived.

An impeccably dressed Dr. Peter Alcott stood, looking rather out of place, in an alley near his office. He was watching Catherine Chandler drive off with the medicines he had managed to gather for the tunnels. He didn’t dare go himself. There were too many patients depending on him Above, and this disease was not something to take chances with.

He was shocked. His goddaughter, Cathy, debutante daughter of one of his two best friends, had somehow become a helper. As he started to walk back to his office he thought about the last few minutes. No wonder she had been so secretive lately. He knew it had worried Charles Chandler that Cathy had withdrawn from so much in the past year or so, but he had joined Charles in being extremely proud of what she had accomplished with her life during that time. She seemed to have recovered well from that traumatic attack a couple of years ago and had thrown herself enthusiastically and successfully into her new job. Now, Peter realized, there were things he and Cathy couldn’t share with Charles.

Pulling his collar up against the sudden gust of cold, early December wind, he turned and looked back to where she had just been, remembering the look on her face as she left. That brought up more questions than answers. He had seen genuine concern…maybe more concern than he felt he should have expected. There was also the determination to help, to actually be there to help. She wasn’t just concerned. She seemed afraid for these people. On the walk back to his office he mulled that over. How in the world could she have become involved with the tunnels in the first place, let alone in such a personal way?

Had he ever heard her name mentioned while he was there? No. He decided he hadn’t. Of course, he hadn’t been in the tunnels too often in the past year, but when he had been there, there had been no mention of a Cathy. Jacob, Peter’s other close friend since medical school, had mentioned a woman named Catherine. It seemed that Vincent was in love. Jacob was about to say more, but their conversation had been cut short by a minor medical emergency. After the two doctors had worked together to set the little boy’s broken arm, Peter had to return home, and the conversation had been left unfinished.

This Catherine was someone Jacob was convinced would break Vincent’s heart, in one way or another, and then carelessly return to her old life. Jacob seemed to believe that she loved Vincent, but he thought there were simply too many problems to overcome. “Vincent’s Catherine” Mouse had called her, as he typically appeared and disappeared on a quick errand in the midst of the conversation.

Smiling at the thought of Vincent in love, Peter hoped Jacob was wrong. Vincent deserved someone to love him. He had been a precious and precocious little boy, and despite the difficulties life had dealt him, he had grown into a fine man – though he knew some would dispute the term “man”.

Mouse didn’t seem to harbor any doubts about Vincent’s Catherine. Mouse was an odd sort, but he often had good instincts about who could be trusted – instincts probably developed in his early days of fending entirely for himself.

Catherine? No. Cathy very rarely called herself Catherine. When she did, it was usually for business purposes or in situations where she was uncomfortable with sounding too casual. It couldn’t be the same person. Still, after this medical emergency was over, he would have to ask some questions of Cathy and his old friend, Jacob.

All those thoughts raced through his mind in a matter of seconds before another gust of cold wind helped him shake off the surprise of seeing Cathy there…and turn his thoughts back to the serious medical problem in the tunnels. Turning to resume the walk back to his office, he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets for warmth. Plague. How? He hoped the supplies he had sent would arrive in time to stave off the worst possibilities. Jacob would certainly tell him later how this awful disease had reached the tunnels, but when Peter got the message, there was no time for anything but action. Jacob was not a man given to wholesale panic in a medical emergency. He would have been quite sure of his facts before sending such a message. Peter knew Jacob would handle the situation as efficiently as anyone could, but people were in such close contact in the tunnels that it would be hard to keep this from becoming a devastating disaster.

***

After days of worrying about his friends in the tunnels and calling Cathy in vain both at work and at home, Peter knew she had ignored his concerns and gone Below to help. What could he possibly tell Charles if she didn’t return? Communications from a couple of helpers with pipe access gave basic details that included several deaths, but mentioned that Jacob was still treating others who were in serious condition. At least he knew that at the time of the message Jacob had survived and a doctor was still available.

***

In the tunnels, after the crisis was over, there was a pervading sadness for those lost, accompanied by a lot of activity. There were still people caring for those who were recovering, while others were cleaning up the hospital area and anywhere else exposed to the infection. Things were scrubbed, disinfected, boiled...and an exhausted and emotionally drained Father insisted on directing the clean-up activities.

When Catherine finally returned to her apartment, she called Peter and gave him enough details to relieve his mind about the state of the tunnel community in general. Before he could question her further, though, she claimed a great need for sleep and left him with his other questions still unanswered.

***

Knowing Jacob as he did, Peter went Below the following weekend to examine him and take over long enough to give his friend time for some much-needed rest. As he expected, Jacob was not the model patient.

“I’m fine!” Father had blustered as Peter insisted on an exam. “If I needed a doctor, I would have let you know.”

“Jacob, you know a physician with himself for a patient is as big a fool as a lawyer who represents himself in court. This has taken a serious toll on the entire community, and they depend on you. Now cooperate.”

Vincent stood near Peter, looking amused at the end of the heated exchange that had been bandied back and forth between the two old friends, one just as stubborn as the other.

“Peter is right, Father.” Turning to Peter, he asked with a small, teasing smile, “Do I need to hold him down for you?”

“Hold me down?” Fathered sputtered. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“You can pick him up and strap him to the examining table as far as I’m concerned, but I’m not leaving until I know your father is healthy,” Peter answered, as if Father weren’t even in the room.

“Have it your way!” Father consented testily. “If the two of you are that determined to confiscate my dignity…. But I’m sitting right here. I’m not going to the hospital chamber.”

“We can grant you that,” Peter conceded, opening his bag with an air of victory and leaving Vincent stifling a smile. “But don’t go too far, Vincent...in case he decides to be uncooperative again.”

Father grudgingly submitted to being the patient long enough to satisfy Peter’s concerns and couldn’t resist an “I told you so” after his blood showed no sign of a problem. By that time Vincent had left to take care of his own duties.

“Better safe than sorry,” Peter answered. “Now...we’re going to have some of that tea Mary brought, and you’re going to get some sleep. If anyone needs a doctor, I’ll be here for the rest of the day. It’s time for you to slow down.”

Peter poured the tea, and finally his patient didn’t argue. He knew Jacob was exhausted, and in spite of the grumpy response to the examination, he knew that both his presence and his concern were appreciated.

“Thank you, Peter. You’ve always been a good friend to us. If it hadn’t been for you, the entire community could have been gone. Even with the medicine you sent, it was bad enough.”

“How did it happen? How did this disease get here?”

“A young Russian sailor, merchant marine…seemed to be a fine young man. He had spent some time in the river before Vincent rescued him. I thought he was suffering from the effects of exposure. When he died unexpectedly, I did more checking and....”

The faraway look in Father’s eyes and the way his voice trailed away told Peter that it would take a long time for his friend to recover from these recent losses. Jacob would blame himself for not being able to do enough to save them. Vincent would blame himself for having brought the young man to the tunnels. The truth was, even if they had gone through an emergency approval process, it was likely that there would have been nothing obvious to indicate such an unusual problem, and the community might have accepted him anyway.

“Finish the tea and get some rest, Jacob. We can talk later. I’ll see Pascal and have him put out a message that I’m on call until further notice...and that you aren’t to be disturbed.”

Father took another sip of his tea and stood, unfolding his stiff joints slowly. The last two weeks had taken their toll, and it appeared that the thought of uninterrupted sleep was gaining more appeal by the minute.

“Thank you, Peter,” Father chortled.  “I don’t always make it easy to notice, but I deeply value your friendship and concern. I believe I shall go now and reap some of its rewards.” Clapping his old friend on the shoulder, he turned and hobbled toward his bedchamber.

“Sleep well, Jacob,” Peter chuckled behind him and went to find Pascal.

As luck had it, Pascal was about to take a short break and was just turning his duties over to someone else, so he and Peter were able to leave the pipe chamber and talk in quieter tones after Peter’s message had been relayed on the pipes.

“I hear there’s a woman in Vincent’s life now. Catherine, I believe? Tell me about her. I need to catch up on the good news as well as the bad.”

“Catch up on the gossip, you mean?” Pascal teased. “She’s a good woman…warm and thoughtful. You should have seen how she worked when there were so many sick people to care for. She’s smart…gorgeous...rich.... You’d think she’d run from a place like this, but she seems happy when she visits, and she fits right in when she’s here.”

“How did they meet?”

“I don’t know if you could really say they met. Vincent found her in the park one night a couple of years ago. She was nearly dead. Somebody had beaten her and slashed her face, and she’d lost a lot of blood. He brought her here, and he and Mary and Father took care of her until she could go back.” Pascal grinned, looking up at Peter. “You can imagine, Father wasn’t too happy about it - couldn’t get her out of here fast enough. When she left, we thought it was forever, but she did come back…and…when she and Vincent are together.... No. There’s no way to describe it. You’d have to see them together to understand. It’s like nothing could have kept them apart. Gives you a warm feeling to watch it. Gotta go, Peter. I don’t have much time before I have to get back to the pipes. Good to see you.”

Peter stood there stunned. Catherine was apparently his Cathy. So that’s why she “couldn’t remember anything” about that ten days when she was missing. She was protecting the tunnels…and Vincent.

***

It was Saturday, and by all rights it should have been a day off for Catherine. The medicine had been delivered to the tunnels on an evening before she was taking a long weekend, but she had still missed a couple of days of work that week and was determined to catch up. Doing her best to achieve that goal, she had spent her entire Saturday with an unfriendly stack of folders piled on her dining table. However, folders or no folders, she fully intended to be Below by nightfall...with Vincent. There was always tomorrow. That stack of folders would undoubtedly sit right there and wait for her.

After showering and changing clothes, she grabbed her jacket and keys and made her way to the basement. As she hoped, Vincent was waiting at the threshold to walk her to the main hub. That walk was often their only completely uninterrupted time alone, so they strolled slowly, savoring the time to hold hands and talk quietly.

Sure enough, as soon as they reached the hub, they met Geoffrey and Eric, excitedly lying in wait for them near Vincent’s chamber. Some of the boys had found a book of science projects and had insisted on building the standard erupting volcano. They had gathered their audience in the dining hall where it had been built, and they were finally ready for the grand unveiling...or grand erupting...or whatever it should be called - and a little earlier than Vincent had expected. The only thing holding up the big event was Vincent and Catherine’s arrival, so the boys practically dragged the couple along the passageway.

When she and Vincent reached the dining hall, Catherine saw that Peter was there. He was sitting among several of the children and telling Kipper about building one of those volcanoes with his daughter when she was about Kipper’s age. Someone shouted, “There they are. Let’s get started,” and she and Vincent entered the room, smiling good-naturedly as the boys hurried them in.

Attention turned to the volcano, which spewed “lava” exactly as planned. A congratulatory cheer went up around the room and the boys began to consult on the possibility of making it do it again, boys of all ages contributing to the discussion.

During the ensuing commotion and conversation, Peter lurked in the background and managed to watch as Vincent and Catherine talked to the children and other members of the community. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look happier. Something about Vincent was different, too - a different kind of confidence, maybe, and a sense of joy?...contentment? Whatever the difference was, it was good. As he watched, he realized that even as they spoke to others, there seemed to be an almost visible connection between them. It didn’t exclude anyone around them, it just…. Hmmm...Pascal was right. There was no way to describe it, but it was a warm, wonderful thing to see.

How would Charles Chandler feel about this? Peter loved Vincent every bit as much as he loved Cathy, but he had known him since he was an infant. Charles certainly wouldn’t be able to take one initial look at Vincent, especially in this stark environment, and come to the immediate conclusion that this could be good for his daughter. The beginnings of a plan were forming in Peter’s mind. He just had to figure out how to present it to Jacob…and Vincent and Catherine.

When the great volcano experiment had concluded, Peter went back to check on Father, who had been awake for only a few minutes. As Peter entered the room, Father was walking past his desk in a slightly disheveled state, running his fingers through his hair to put it back in reasonable order.

“I hope you feel better than you look,” Peter joked as he came down the steps toward Father.

“I hope so, too,” Father answered with a wry smile.

“Are you well rested?”

“I suppose. I haven’t had enough rest lately to recognize the feeling.”

“You missed the volcano.”

“The what?” Father’s hand went to his forehead. “The volcano.... How could I have forgotten? And the boys were so excited.”

“They had plenty of company...and it was a roaring success. I’m sure all of them would be glad to relive it for you at a moment’s notice.”

“I’m sure they will. I was drifting in and out of sleep for a while. Did I hear on the pipes that Vincent was bringing Catherine here? She enjoys the children. I doubt she would have missed anything they had worked so hard to produce. Did you meet her?”

“She was there with Vincent. The boys refused to start until she and Vincent arrived. And yes, I have met Catherine.”

“Well?” Father asked pointedly.

“She’s a fine young woman. Why do you worry so much about her?”

“Because sooner or later she’s going to tire of all this, of all the problems she and Vincent have to overcome. Where will Vincent be then?”

“Jacob, I watched Cathy and Vincent tonight before they noticed me. I’ve never seen her look so happy. For that matter, I’ve never seen your son look so happy.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen her look so happy? You’ve met her before?”

“I’ve known her since the day she was born. That’s Cathy, my godchild.”

“So your friend Charles...is Charles Chandler?”

Peter nodded and sat down in the closest chair.

“Dear God...and you didn’t know....” Father answered in shock and sat down in the chair next to Peter.

“I had no idea.”

“Then you can see the problem.”

“Not yet.”

“Surely you can’t mean that. You know what she comes from... Wealth, luxury…high society, travel....”

“And I’ve seen her enjoy all of those things; but I’m telling you, Jacob, I’ve never seen her look as happy as she did tonight. Have you actually watched them together?”

“Of course I have,” Father blustered. “I’ve even come to believe that she loves him, but do you really think she could endure a life like this for very long? Half her life has to be lived in secret. The only place they can move freely is here. We have no luxuries here, and it certainly isn’t an easy journey from her world to ours. What happens to Vincent when she can’t take it anymore?”

“Has she done anything to indicate that all this is wearing thin?”

“No, but....”

“So you just assume she can’t be trusted?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

“Peter, I’m not the enemy.”

“Well, apparently you’ve decided Cathy is.”

“I didn’t say that either,” Father protested. “I have great respect for her. I’ve learned to care about her…even to love her…but Vincent is my son. I have to keep his best interests at heart.”

“And it’s in his best interest to have him avoid love at all costs rather than experience it as long as possible? Would you give up the time you had with Margaret, even knowing the pain it cost you later?”

Father slumped in his chair and lifted one hand to his forehead, his elbow resting on the chair arm.

“No,” he admitted grudgingly. “I would live through it all again to have that time back.”

“And don’t you imagine Vincent would feel the same way?”

“I just don’t want him to have to experience it.”

“You can’t protect him forever…and I doubt that your worrying over it will make any difference, anyway. You might as well be easier on yourself and accept it. For God’s sake, Jacob, just let them be happy while they can. Either they will make it work or they won’t. It’s their business and their responsibility. There isn’t a thing either of us can do except support them.”

“Sometimes...after our conversations...I feel as if I’ve been beaten about the head and shoulders with a large truth stick. I thought this visit was supposed to help me relax.” Father looked toward Peter accusingly from beneath the hand at his forehead, and Peter laughed.

“I’m going home, my friend,” he said as he stood up. “But I’ll come back to haunt you. I haven’t been here nearly often enough lately.”

“No, you haven’t,” Father agreed. “Goodnight, then. Thank you for your help...and your perspective.”

“I’ll be back for Winterfest…that is, if you’re still having it. You’ve had a lot going on here in the last few weeks. No one would be surprised if it were cancelled.”

“If we ever needed Winterfest, we need it this year. We’ve put a few of the older children in charge of organizing some of the plans. It’s given them something useful and entertaining to occupy their minds and left the adults free for other necessary duties. Rebecca has started working on the candles, and now that the clean-up is complete, she should have plenty of help.”

“Then I’ll see you at Winterfest.”

As Peter walked back to the threshold at his brownstone, his plan was slowly taking shape. It would take some thought, but he was Cathy’s link between her two worlds. In talking to her that evening and watching Vincent with her, he could see something in each of them that he had never seen in either of them before.

Two weeks later at Winterfest, in spite of the tragic loss and injury caused by Paracelsus, Peter had another chance to observe Vincent and Catherine together, and he left with an even stronger sense that they were deeply in love. Nobody could miss it.

They were both important to him. He was one of the few people in their lives who could help them bring their worlds together, and he intended to do just that.

Chapter Two