After the Ashes by Ginny Shearin

Chapter 3

Vincent could visualize Catherine pacing, checking the balcony every few minutes to see if he was there. He went straight to her apartment, and as he had expected, was accosted almost as soon as he dropped to the balcony.

“Well…. What happened?” she asked nervously.

“Your father and I had a pleasant conversation, just as Peter planned. He mentioned you several times. It seems you and Susan and I all begged for stories from the same book of fairy tales when we were small.”

“How can you be so calm?” Catherine asked vehemently, playfully grabbing his vest with both hands. “Wait a minute. Susan knew you when you were a boy? She was my best friend when we were children. How could she keep a secret like you from her best friend?”

“Would you have believed her?” Vincent asked with one of his small smiles.

Catherine had often wondered if he realized how flirtatious those little smiles seemed, and whether he knew how they affected her. Well, of course he knew. She didn’t hide her delight in them very well. Come to think of it, she was seeing them more often lately. She took a deep breath and slipped her arms around Vincent’s waist.

“Do you think we did the right thing…agreeing to what Peter wanted?” Catherine asked, resting her head against his chest. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head as he held her.

“I don’t know. We have to hope so.”

***

A few days later Catherine had just finished a light dinner when she heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole, she found it was her father.

“Dad? This is a nice surprise,” she said as she opened the door and gave him a hug.

“I can’t stay long. I need to pick Kay up for a concert in about an hour. This afternoon I found gloves you left at my apartment last week. It’s February…still pretty chilly, and I thought you might miss them.”

“I have other gloves,” she answered, closing the door behind him. “You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”

“But I noticed that these matched your coat, and I know how you are.” Her father smiled as he took the gloves from his pocket and gently bopped her on the nose with them before he dropped them on a table. “And besides, it isn’t that much trouble to see my best girl for a few minutes.”

“I was just making some tea. It should be ready. Would you like some?”

Charles looked at his watch, gauged his schedule, and answered, “I think I have time.” He deposited his coat and hat on the back of a sofa while his daughter went to check on the tea.

Catherine brought the teapot and a couple of mugs to the dining table, and they sipped tea and talked about work. When Charles finished his tea, he sat, appearing to contemplate the mug he was holding.

“What?” Catherine chuckled. “I never thought these mugs were all that interesting.”

“They drink a lot of tea down there, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Father’s British roots, maybe…and it isn’t too expensive.”

“Considering how you discovered the tunnels, you must know Vincent.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know him well?”

“Yes.” Catherine stood and busied herself clearing the table, avoiding looking at her father. She returned the dishes to the nearby kitchen, carrying on the conversation from there.

“He said his appearance can be…disconcerting, I think, is how he phrased it. Is he badly deformed?”

“No. I don’t see him as deformed. He’s beautiful in his own way, Dad, but he’s different. He’s very different. You’ll understand when you see him...and it won’t take long to get used to his appearance and just see Vincent. It changes nothing about who he is.”

“I did a pretty good job with you, didn’t I?” Charles smiled, joining Catherine in the tiny kitchen. He put one arm around his daughter’s shoulders and squeezed playfully.

“Yes,” she answered, turning to face him and returning his playful mood. “I believe you did.”

“It sounds like you and Vincent might be good friends,” Charles observed, walking back into the living room and putting on his coat.

“We are…and I want the two of you to become good friends,” she answered, handing him his hat.

“If our meeting at Peter’s place is any indication, I’d like that, too. Vincent was very pleasant company. I look forward to meeting him again – and I have to admit to a lot of curiosity about seeing him face to face.”

“He enjoyed meeting you, too.” Feeling the urge to tell him much more, she changed the subject abruptly. “You look great tonight, Dad. Kay’s going to be proud to be your date.”

“Well! Tea…conversation…compliments…and knowing my little girl’s hands will be warm – a trip well worth taking.” Charles smiled as he gave Catherine another hug. “Goodnight, Cathy.”

After he left, Catherine closed the door and locked it, leaning her forehead against it and sighing. Good friends… She hadn’t really lied. Vincent was the best friend she could ask for, but she had wanted so badly to tell her father that Vincent was much more to her than a good friend. She wanted to tell him everything. Soon, she promised herself. Maybe Peter was right. Let him get to know Vincent a little better first. Then she would tell her dad all the things she had wanted to tell him tonight.

***

In the next three months, Charles was invited to visit the tunnels twice and found reasons to visit another time or two. He, like his daughter, quickly learned to listen for hints of what might be needed there, and he arranged to provide it. He rarely came empty-handed – bringing new books, new toys for the nursery, school supplies, a small gift for one or another of the community members – something that reminded him of someone in particular.… On one trip he went to take toys to the nursery and encountered the charming picture of his daughter enthusiastically reading a bedtime story to a group of children. He stood at the door watching her finish the story and seeing her beset by a group of young children hugging her and kissing her goodnight. She helped Sarah get them all tucked in before she turned and saw him at the door. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen, and he couldn’t resist smiling and thinking of grandchildren.

“I’m impressed, honey. Your patience…”

“I love them, Dad. They’re great kids. Each one is different. There’s something special to love about each one.”

Looking down into the sparkling green eyes he had loved since the day she was born, Charles said, “Hmph! I really did do a good job with you, didn’t I?”

From there, Catherine and Charles went to visit Father for a few minutes before returning home, comparing notes on the way about what they had heard that translated to needs in the tunnels. Catherine told him that Father seemed reluctant to accept too much from her, and they laughed about some of the methods she had found to avoid having Father know she was behind the help. When they reached the lobby of her apartment building, Charles shook his head.

“I wonder if all this will ever cease to amaze me,” he said to no one in particular. Looking at Catherine, he added, “And I wonder if I’m not getting too old for all the hiking and climbing.”

“But think what good shape you’ll be in if you keep visiting,” Catherine teased.

Charles laughed, kissed his daughter on the cheek and went outside to hail a cab.

***

Charles’ next foray into the tunnels finally garnered a face-to-face meeting with Jacob’s elusive son. He had brought two of the books he had mentioned to Vincent at their first meeting, and Father had sent Charles to Vincent’s chamber to deliver them.

Knowing that Charles would be in the tunnels that night, Vincent had resigned himself to the idea that Catherine’s father would see him...in all his beastly glory, so he wasn’t particularly surprised when he heard Charles Chandler’s voice calling at the door of his chamber.

Vincent’s distinctive voice invited him in, but his back was turned when Charles entered. There was no cloak this time, just Vincent. His clothes looked very much like those of the others, but a little more…what?...romantic?...swashbuckling? Charles couldn’t think of a word that described it accurately. It didn’t matter anyway. His curiosity wasn’t about the clothes.

He was again struck by the man’s size, and he could sense the aura of strength and command that became more pronounced as Vincent turned slowly toward him. The mass of golden hair he had glimpsed at their first meeting hid Vincent’s face at first, then as Vincent lifted his head to look at his visitor directly, Charles encountered the most unusual face he had ever seen in the real world.

Where had Vincent come from? This was the stuff of fairy tales. He seemed to belong to the realm of the book he and Cathy had loved as children – with the knights and dragons, castles and spells and magic. He couldn’t stop looking. Cathy was right. He did possess his own kind of beauty. It was both frightening and fascinating to see, but the very human look in the blue eyes watching him drew him back to find his manners. His bearing told Charles that Vincent would survive a rejection, but those eyes told him it would hurt.

Using all his attorney’s presentation skills, he found his voice and asked politely, “You’re Vincent?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles apologized, looking down briefly. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It isn’t an uncommon response,” Vincent answered kindly.

“Still…it was rude.” Deciding that Vincent seemed inclined to tackle an issue honestly, Charles said sympathetically, “You must dread meeting new people.”

“On the contrary, I enjoy meeting new people. Having them meet me…is more difficult,” Vincent answered. He offered Charles a slight smile that was intended to make him more comfortable and motioned to a chair near the writing desk, inviting him to sit.

“I brought you something,” Charles said, moving away from the subject of Vincent’s disconcerting appearance and placing two books on the desk. “Those two books we talked about…. I thought you might like to read them. Keep them as long as you’d like.”

Vincent sat down in his chair and picked up the books briefly to glance at the titles. “I know several others here who would enjoy reading them as well.”

“Then feel free to pass them around.” Looking around the chamber at the eclectic mix of objects, Charles wondered if a story lurked within each of them. He enjoyed imagining that such an interesting and unusual person as Vincent would have some interesting and unusual tales and perspectives connected to each of those things.

“This place amazes me, Vincent. Each time I’ve been here I’ve left more interested than when I arrived. Tell me what you do here. I’ve been told that you’re a teacher…and a member of the council…sometimes a medic…and several other things. Quite a resume,” Charles smiled, settling himself in the chair – and trying as hard as he could not to stare at Vincent’s face and hands.

“Everyone here has multiple skills,” Vincent answered. “Our circumstances demand it.”

“I suppose so. What do you teach? What ages?”

Charles was paying attention to Vincent’s answers, but as he listened, his thoughts wandered. When Vincent had reached for the books, it had given Charles an excellent view of the reason for the gloves at their original meeting. The fur-like hair and the lethal-looking nails became evident. There were obviously animal traits about him, but having spoken to Vincent once before, and seeing him now…. In spite of the evidence clearly before him, he had trouble not thinking of him as a man. He decided it didn’t matter. He liked Vincent, and attributed the fact that he still had a daughter to Vincent’s compassion and concern for a stranger – very human responses. The rest he would work out eventually.

Suddenly Charles realized that Vincent had asked him a question, and he turned his thoughts to making himself a better participant in the conversation.

***

A few weeks later, on a rare day off, Charles had an opportunity to visit in some classes – one taught by Father, and one taught by Vincent - and to meet some of the younger children. He had by then adopted the habit of using only a first name, as the others in the tunnels did, and was introduced to the children only as Charles.

Vincent was relieved that the children didn’t know Charles was Catherine’s father. The last thing he wanted was to have one of them blurt out something about his relationship with Catherine before he and Catherine had talked to her father themselves.

The thin ice he felt he was treading during this visit pushed Vincent’s guilt to its limits. He would talk to Catherine that night, and together they would decide how to present things to her father. It was past time to be honest with him.

***

Vincent arrived on the balcony about the same time Catherine came out to enjoy the pleasant spring evening.

“Catherine.”

“Vincent, I was just thinking about you,” she answered, turning toward him and slipping her arms around his waist. He gladly returned her embrace. “I wasn’t expecting you until the weekend. Is anything wrong?”

“Not at the moment, but we do need to set something right.”

“What?” She sounded concerned.

“Your father…we need to speak to him honestly…and it should be soon.”

“I agree.”

“Would you like me to be with you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, stepping back to look at him. “Do you have a time in mind?”

“Before his next visit.”

“Has something happened? You seem.…”

“We were pushed to do this. It feels wrong, and… No nothing has happened,” he reassured her as he walked to the balcony wall. He took a deep breath and looked back at her. “But it could. He is your father. He loves you. He should know.”

“Dad leaves tomorrow on a business trip. He’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.” Catherine touched Vincent’s arm. “When he gets home, I’ll invite him to dinner and we can meet you Below afterward. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll speak to him as soon as he’s back.”

Vincent nodded slightly in agreement, but Catherine caught a look in his eyes that concerned her.

“Something else is on your mind. Talk to me, Vincent.”

He took a step back from Catherine and looked directly into her eyes to make his point clear. Holding his hands in front of him, he swept them briefly in front of his chest. “Look at me, Catherine. Really look at me. See me as your father sees me. How could any father accept this for his child?”

“He’s already accepted you as his friend. Wasn’t that how Peter talked us into this – taking it one step at a time?”

Turning toward the balcony wall to face away from her, he asked softly, “Does it shame you…to tell your father that you love such a creature?”

“No! Don’t ever think that.” She went to him, turned him back to face her and reached to touch his cheek tenderly. “You are the most important part of my life, and I want my father to know that. I’m anxious for him to know.”

“Anxious?” he repeated doubtfully.

“Yes. I want him to know that I’m happy…that I’m not alone…that I love someone as wonderful as you.”

“Sooner or later he needs to know everything, Catherine. He has met only one side of me. I hope he never sees the other, but he deserves the truth – all of it. There is a side of me that he may never be able to accept.”

“And there is a side of me that has allowed me to call on it. He may never be able to accept that, either. We both have things to answer for, Vincent. Telling him about that.… I’m not anxious for that conversation. Very little about us has been easy, but we’ve managed this far, and I know we can have a life together – somehow…on our own terms…whatever that turns out to be.”

“You have such faith in us.”

“Enough for both of us…if that’s what you need right now.”

Vincent pulled her close to him, overwhelmed by the depth of her love and her determination that their lives could be bound.

***

Catherine was handling a case involving two wealthy young men who were killing for the sheer sport of it. Convinced that Catherine was behind Vincent’s vigilant presence, they arranged a trap and intended to kill her. Vincent, of course, managed to save her, killing both young men in the process – neither of them quite as old as Michael, he realized. These killings seemed to affect him much more than the earlier ones.

Looking back later, Catherine realized that was the first sign she had seen of his impending illness, breakdown, whatever it was. Right then all she knew was that he was in agony…and that he needed her.

Vincent’s mental state gradually deteriorated through the next month, Paracelsus and his manipulations playing no small part.

As Vincent’s illness and disorientation progressed, Catherine began to realize the probability of her part in it. Thoughts of what her father knew and whether he would ever approve were suspended in favor of how to help Vincent.

***

Peter answered the phone in his office, having been told it was a personal call from Charles Chandler.  “Hello, Charles. What can I do for you?”

“Can you help me stop worrying about my daughter? She left me a note over a week ago saying that she was fine but would be away a little while. I called her office and Joe said she’d had a relapse of the flu. I didn’t know she’d had the flu at all, much less a relapse. I’ve called her apartment several times, even used the key she gave me for emergencies to go in and check on her, but it didn’t look like she’d been there. Did you treat her for the flu? Is she staying with someone?”

Peter knew exactly where he had left Catherine…right beside Vincent’s bed. They could hardly pry her away, even after Vincent regained consciousness and seemed to be recovering. “She is staying somewhere else. She’s Below…and she’s fine. Vincent has been extremely ill. We were all afraid for a while. She’s helping.”

“Well, at least I know she’s safe. What’s wrong with Vincent? Is it still serious? How is he? Why is she helping?”

“Neither Jacob nor I could be entirely certain about what was wrong; but he seems to be recovering well. I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“I’m glad to hear it. If you’re going to see him any time soon, I’d like to visit. I like Vincent. I’ve developed a great respect for him. Too bad Cathy can’t find someone like him up here.”

Peter smiled a slow, self-satisfied smile. “Yes, it is,” he agreed.

Chapter Four