Brief Encounter
He had not planned on going Above this evening but something made him pull his cloak over his shoulders and walk into the cool autumn night air. A gibbous moon, perched atop the half- darkened skyscrapers, dominated the night sky; the trees traced their barren, gnarled limbs against the dark night sky. In the distance he heard the squealing tires of a vehicle speeding away. Heading in that direction, he stumbled over a dark shape laying in the grass. He knelt beside the still body and turned her over--it was a woman. He gasped as he saw the wreckage of a once beautiful face. Open, bleeding knife wounds disfigured her pale, soft skin. She had been brutally attacked. Her face and hair were covered in blood and the elegant dress was in tatters; her coat splattered with blood. Pain filled, green eyes fluttered open and their eyes locked; for a moment he felt as if he knew her. The fleeting recognition vanished when she closed her eyes and whimpered, “Please, don’t hurt me.”
“You’re safe now. No one will hurt you,” he murmured, his gravel and silk voice soothing her as she drifted back into unconsciousness. Reaching to lift her into his arms, he was suddenly caught in the headlights of two approaching motorcycles. He had been so engrossed in the young woman lying at his feet that he had been unaware of the arrival of the motorcycle policemen. “Hey,” one of them shouted. “What are you doing? Come back here.”
Startled, he jerked back. There wasn’t time for him to pick her up. He turned away, hoping they had not gotten a good look at his face, and ran into the protection of the dark. Quickly he climbed a tree to be able to see what they would do with the young woman. They must have stumbled over her body as one of them was kneeling beside her shouting instructions to the other who was speaking into a microphone. They made her comfortable, and from a first aid kit they carried, they took a silver paper thin blanket then placed it over her. He remembered Father saying something about a space age blanket of incredible thinness that, nevertheless, kept the injured person very warm.
One of the policemen stayed with her while the other began a search for him. There were many places to hide and the policeman haphazardly cast the beam of a flashlight into the bushes and trees. Vincent had pressed himself tightly against the tree trunk and was almost invisible. Convinced that the perp. was gone, the policeman turned off his flashlight and returned to his partner and the wounded woman. They settled back to wait patiently for the EMTs to arrive.
After what seemed like hours, an ambulance finally came, and the paramedics quickly and efficiently tended to the young woman then loaded her into the rear of the vehicle. Vincent had moved dangerously close and heard them say that they would take her to St. Clare’s Hospital. His eyes followed the retreating ambulance as it sped into the night. Soon after, the policemen followed and he was left alone in the night to wonder about what had just happened.
Returning immediately to his chamber, he attempted to read then to write in his journal, all to no avail. There was a restlessness in him that he could not quell, and he paced the floor examining the sensations coursing through him. As he looked into his heart, he found another heart beating beside his own. Whose? Could it be the woman in the park? Who was she? Why did he feel as if he had been waiting for her all his life? He had to find out who she was.
****************
Charles Chandler had rushed to the hospital as soon as he was informed of his daughter’s attack. On the way there he called Peter Alcott, his friend and family physician, and asked him to meet him at the hospital. By the time he had arrived, Cathy had been moved to a single room and given the best of care. Everyone was aware that she was the daughter of Charles Chandler, one of the city’s most prominent and wealthy attorneys. She had been assigned a private nurse, and the chief of staff, Dr. George Hampton, was personally in charge of her case. As a close friend of Dr. Alcott, he met Charles and Peter in Cathy’s room and privately filled them in on her condition. Charles had called his partner, Jay Coolidge, and asked him to come and handle the police inquiry. He didn’t want his daughter annoyed by constant and disturbing questions. At least, not until she was stronger and in control. The attack was sensational enough without having it made into a media circus. He would protect his daughter at all costs.
Catherine awoke to total darkness and pain. “Don’t hurt me?” she moaned.
“No one will hurt you.” Why did the words seem so familiar? “You’re in the hospital. You’re going to be all right.” The familiar voice filtered through the fog of pain and disorientation that encompassed her. Suddenly frightened, she called out for the most important person in her life.
“Daddy? Daddy?!” Her voice rising in panic, she reached out blindly for the comfort that only her father could provide.
“I’m here, honey.” With tears streaming down his face, Charles captured her wildly flailing hands in his. “I’m here, Cathy,” he said comfortingly.
His soothing words calmed her agitated movements until she remembered what had happened to her. “What did they do to me?” Her words ended in an anguished wail. “I can’t see!” Panic overwhelmed her. Wrenching her hands free from her father’s tender clasp, she clawed at the bandages that covered her head.
Charles gathered his distraught daughter in his arms, holding her hands away from the bandages. She winced in pain as her broken ribs moved. “Shhh. Be still. You’ll be all right.” Gently, he pushed her back on her pillow. “Lie still. You have two broken ribs.”
“But what did they do to me? Why can’t I see?” She sobbed, more frightened than she had ever been in her life.
“Honey, they tell me that someone has slashed your face and beaten you . . .”
“Oh god, no.”
“ . . . but your eyes are ok,” he continued.
The relief she felt that her eyes were all right was not enough to still the horror of what had happened to her. Something like this did not happen to someone like her. It was unthinkable.
“Can you tell us who did this?” he asked.
“No,” she whimpered. “I never saw them before. Why would they do this to me?”
“We don’t know, honey.” Her private nurse entered and whispered to her father. “Your nurse is here with something that will make you sleep. I’m right here if you need me. Peter is here and has called a plastic surgeon. We need to discuss what we’re going to do. Ok, baby?”
“Ok, Daddy. You won’t leave, will you?” She needed the assurance that he would stay with her and reached blindly for his hand.
“No, baby, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Capturing her trembling hand, he raised it to his lips, then gently lowered it to the bed. He moved to the door to beckon Peter into the room. They huddled in the corner as the nurse gently turned her on her side and administered the shot. Like a little girl, she placed all her faith in her father--he would make everything all right. She drifted off to sleep with that comforting thought.
Throughout the evening and on into the night Vincent was bombarded with emotions and feelings that were not his own. As the hours rolled by, they slowly grew stronger and more intense. At last they tapered off--she must be asleep--and gratefully he fell into bed into a deep, dream- haunted sleep.
**************************
The next morning when she awoke to darkness there was a momentary rush of panic. Then she remembered where she was and all that had happened. The sound of her Father’s quiet, deep breathing, punctuated by a soft, fluttery snore, reassured her that she was not alone. “Daddy?” She hated to wake him, but she needed the comfort of her hand in his. There was no movement so she called again, “Daddy?” This time a little louder.
She heard the rustle of his clothing as he sat up and hurried over to her. “How are you feeling, honey?” Taking the hand, she held out to him, he bent and kissed her tenderly. “Oh, Cathy, if I had lost you . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The pain was too great at the thought of never seeing her smiling face again, the face that reminded him so much of his beloved wife.
“I’m here, Daddy. Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.” It was her turn to comfort her father. Since her mother had died, it had been just the two of them. He had transferred all his love for his wife to his daughter, but even though there had been many women friends, none of them could replace the two women he held in his heart.
“Peter will be here soon with Dr. Ralph Sanderle. I’ve been told that he is the best plastic surgeon in the city. You just leave everything to Peter and me, and we’ll get you fixed up in no time.” He was willing to use his entire fortune to have his daughter as she was before this terrible incident.
“All right, I’ll let you handle everything.” The smile in her voice warmed his heart, and he thought that she would be all right in time.
“Is the patient awake?” Peter asked as he leaned around the doorway.
“Yes, I’m awake,” she answered, warmed by his presence. “Come in.” Turning her head toward the sound of his voice, she listened to him entering her room.
“How do you feel, Cathy?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her bandaged cheek.
“I hurt and I can’t see,” she responded.
“Well, Charles and I are meeting with Sanderle at nine. Then he’ll come in and take a look at you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
Peter looked across her body at his old friend and smiled. “That’s our girl,” he said approvingly.
******************
Vincent was awakened out of a sound sleep by a feeling of panic and disorientation. Momentarily at a loss, he wondered where it came from. Then he remembered, it was the woman he had found in the park. She must have just awakened and been momentarily frightened by her condition. His ability to sense the intensity of her emotions had grown to a point where he could almost pinpoint her exact position, and he knew that someone very close to her (her father?) was comforting her at this time.
When Father entered the dining chamber for breakfast, he found Vincent already sitting in his favorite place near the kitchen. He appeared to be deep in thought and heaved a heavy sigh.
After preparing his plate at the breakfast buffet that William made every morning, Father sat down beside his troubled son. “What bothers you so, son?”
“It is nothing, Father. Do not concern yourself about it.” Vincent looked up, smiling softly at his loving parent.
“It is obvious to anyone that something is bothering you,” Father said, as he took a bite of eggs. It was so good of Long to have sent the eggs to them. He must send him a note of thanks when he returned to his chamber.
Vincent squared around to face his father. “Last night as I walked through the park I found the body of a young woman. I thought she was dead until I turned her over and could see she was still breathing. As I bent to pick her up, two motorcycle policemen came on the scene.”
Alarmed, his father demanded, “Did they see you?”
“Yes, but I hid in the darkness then climbed a tree. They did not find me as you can see.” Vincent spread his hands, palms up.
“When are you ever going to learn that you are not safe up there? Not only do you endanger yourself but you endanger the whole community,” Father began his usual tirade--once again.
“Father, I must go Above. I cannot hide Below all the time. It is too much like a prison if I cannot feel the freedom of Above. Besides, that is not what is troubling me,” he said, as he ducked his head, pushing his food around the plate that sat in front of him.
“Well, what is?”
“When I touched her, I had the strangest feeling that my life was about to change. I felt as if I had been waiting for her to come but how can that be? I have never seen her before. She is beautiful, Father, but her beauty had been viciously marred by several deep cuts on her face. I think she had been beaten, also. Since that moment, I have been connected to her. I feel what she is feeling.”
“How can you be sure it is she?”
“I know of no one else it could be. She is the only new person in my life, and she is in such fear and panic. I wish I could go to her and take it all away from her.” He gripped his fork so tightly that he bent it.
Instantly, Father was on the offensive. “You must not . . . you cannot even think of contacting her. It is too dangerous. You know absolutely nothing about this woman. Think, Vincent, think.”
“I know.”
“Promise me that you will do nothing about this.”
“I don’t know if I can,” an unsettled Vincent replied distantly.
*********************
Throughout the day Vincent felt the ebb and flow of her emotions. On the whole it was not unpleasant; in fact, it came to be a most pleasurable feeling. Only when he felt her depression and fear did it trouble him, and there was one time when he felt a great sadness and then an equal anger.
****************
Late that morning, Tom Gunther, Cathy’s fiancé, strode importantly down the corridor on his way to visit her. He was appalled at what he had heard. He certainly hoped she wasn’t disfigured beyond repair. A disfigured woman on his arm was not what he planned when he had asked Cathy to marry him. He hoped he could pull it off. Sick and hurt people had always alienated him; only perfect people were allowed in his life. “How’s my sweetheart?” he asked as he entered Cathy’s room.
“Oh, Tom, I’m so glad you’re here,” she cried, turning her bandaged face to him.
He cringed as he looked at her never noticing the sharp look that he received from her overly protective father who then left the room to give them some privacy. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl here without coming to see her,” he replied with false heartiness. Flinching, he gingerly took her hand.
“What’s wrong?” There was something about the way he touched her that sent warning signals through her.
“N . . . nothing,” he stammered, pulling his hand back from hers.
“Yes, there is. What is it?”
“You’re so beautiful. What if they can’t fix your face?”
Stunned into silence, Cathy finally asked, “Is that all I am to you, a beautiful face?”
“No, of course not,” he quickly countered. “I’m just worried how everyone will react, that’s all.”
“Kiss me, Tom. I need you to kiss me, please?” All at once, it was very important to her that he prove his love. He failed.
Hesitantly, he leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “I really have to go, Cathy. I have an important meeting in half an hour.”
With a negligent flip of her hand, she dismissed him, and he practically ran from the room. She was hurt and she was angry. More angry than anything else. “Daddy?” She needed her father.
“Yes, what is it?” Charles returned to her bedside.
“I don’t want Tom in my room again.”
“But he’s your fiancé.”
“Not anymore,” she said, taking off her engagement ring and throwing it across the room. “He only wants my face and fortune. I can do better than that.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want? At one time, you thought he was quite a catch.”
“Well, that was then but now that’s exactly what I want,” she answered, crossing her arms emphatically in front of her.
****************
The operation was scheduled for that afternoon. Charles insisted that it be done as soon as possible and with Cathy’s approval signed the necessary papers. At two o’clock, after a tearful hug from her father and a squeezed hand from Peter, she was wheeled into the OR. After what seemed like a few minutes of sleep but was actually several hours of surgery, she awoke in her room, groggy and confused. During those few minutes she had the strangest dream of her life. She was walking through Central Park in the darkest and most dangerous time of the night but there was no fear. There was someone dark and powerful watching over her, protecting her. She had felt completely safe. As she came awake, she cried, “Where are you?”
“I’m right here, honey,” her father’s voice answered.
“Daddy?” she asked in confusion. The feeling of safety and protection receded into a faintly felt warmth surrounding her heart. “Oh, I guess it was a dream.”
“Your surgery went wonderfully,” her father assured her. “There was only one cut that Dr. Sanderle had trouble with, the one in front of your left ear. But you will look just as you did before. He assured me of that.” He ached for this beloved daughter who had suffered so at the hands of those awful thugs.
“That’s good,” she mumbled as she drifted back to sleep.
Charles Chandler had everything in the world he could want with the exception of losing his wife, but he knew that if he had lost Cathy his life would have become worthless. He would see to it that the criminals that did this to her were caught and put away for a long, long time. He had friends in law enforcement that could do just that very thing.
****************
Vincent was becoming accustomed to the beat of another
heart next to his, and he was basking in the flow of her emotions when
suddenly they were cut off. It was so sudden that he staggered,
almost falling. Frantically, he searched for her but she was gone.
His aloneness returned: crushing and shattering. No! Not now, not
when he had finally found someone. Someone that touched the innermost
part of him and then to lose her without knowing whom she was. No,
it definitely wasn’t fair. Oh, he would never dare to contact or
to even talk with her but to be able to feel her had been heaven, and he
mourned the loss of the connection as he would mourn the loss of a dear
friend. He suffered his new found aloneness for what seemed an eternity.
Then, just as suddenly as it had gone, it returned. His joy was boundless;
his relief, staggering. He felt whole again and he reasoned that
this was something that he needed to discuss with Narcissa. When
he had a free moment, he would visit her. It had been quite awhile
since the last time he had sought her advice.
********************
Catherine’s room filled rapidly with flowers of all kinds. The largest and splashiest were from her former fiancé. She adamantly refused to see him and had his flowers sent to those who were alone and needed a ray of sunshine in their lives.
From the day that she was officially allowed to have visitors, her room was filled with noisy, boisterous acquaintances and playmates. Many times during the following days, the nurse was forced to tell them to quiet down, that this was a hospital not a night club. Her father was delighted to see that she was so well thought of. What he didn’t seem to realize was that this was just another diversion for a group of dissatisfied, bored dilettantes. If it hadn’t been she, it would have been someone else. It was just one big party to them. Only Jenny Aronson, Cathy’s Radcliffe roommate, was truly concerned about her. Jenny came every day and sat for hours, holding Cathy’s hand, chatting about her days and boyfriends, reading to her, or just lending her friend the comfort of her presence. Cathy never knew until then just how much she loved and treasured her wise friend. While all the others were attempting to lighten her spirits, Jenny lent her her own strength, and Cathy recognized that she would always be there when she needed her.
****************
At the end of the work day, Vincent was striding through the tunnels in a state of high anticipation. Narcissa was waiting. She always knew when he was coming to visit her. He wasn’t disappointed as she greeted him, “Vincent, come in, child. It’s been a long time since you have come to see this crazy old woman.” Her cloudy, white eyes pierced through him to the depths of his soul. She asked bluntly, “The woman sits in your heart, no?”
Only she would know this, and he slowly shook his head in wonder. “Narcissa, what do you know about this?”
“Only what the spirits tell me,” she cackled. “You have found your destiny, Vincent. Only you hold the power to bring it to fruition. You must decide which path you are to follow . . . with the woman or without.”
Dazed, he stepped back as if he had been struck in the chest. “How can this be? She is of the world Above. A world I can never live in, a world that would kill me if it knew of me. I have never even met her. It is impossible.”
Narcissa shrugged her shoulders, “If you think it is impossible then it will be. It is your decision.”
“But I have seen her only once.”
“True.”
“It is my choice? Truly?” Hopelessly, he stared at her. This could never be. He had never doubted Narcissa before but he was beginning to this time.
“You doubt me, Vincent?” She always knew what he was thinking.
“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know,” he replied, hopelessly.
“I only tell you what the spirits reveal to me. It is for you to decide which path you travel: one of love or one of aching loneliness.” She turned her back on him and busied herself with the herbs on her table.
Vincent stood there undecided for several minutes then reluctantly turned to go. He was stopped by her voice, “Do not let the father influence your choice or the path you choose, Vincent.”
“Then you know which path I will choose?”
“I know.”
“But you won’t tell me?”
She didn’t answer him. He knew she wouldn’t, and he left more confused than when he had entered her chamber. Softly, she smiled. This one had much yet to learn about fate and the spirits, but he was a fast learner and he never forgot.
****************
Being unable to see gave her the opportunity to hear how her friends sounded. She didn’t like what she heard. Did she sound like that: strident, whiny, self-absorbed, unhappy, looking for god knows what? She certainly hoped not. Surely she had more character than that. Looking inside, into her heart, she wasn’t too sure that she did. She spent many hours late at night searching deep in her soul and what she found there had her crying, for she realized just how shallow and wasted her life had been. Jenny was the only one she could tell about the emotional crisis she having. She was the only one who could truly understand. Cathy loved and admired her father, but she also knew that he would not understand. He had always known who he was and where he was going. His certainty had made it easy for her to lean on him. She had never learned how to develop her own strengths. That was about to change. The brutal attack on her had been horrendous, but it had started her down a path she would never have taken if it had not happened. While not thankful, she could appreciate it for the opportunity that it was.
Slowly, the exuberant visits tapered off. In a few days, the bored and dissatisfied shadow people were off to another diversion and only Jenny and her father remained with her. Cathy was afraid that Jenny would lose her job, because of all the time that she had spent at her bedside, and remonstrated with her stubborn friend. “A job, I can always find,” was the answer. “Friends are hard to come by.” Charles looked at the small, dark-haired woman with renewed respect. She was truly a wonderful person, and he was ashamed that he had judged her by her lack of wealth.
****************
The police had come and gone with their endless questions and mug shots. Cathy had been unable to identify any of her assailants, and truth be told, she didn’t want to think about what had happened. She was endeavoring to put it all behind her and didn’t want to be reminded of it; she just wanted to forget. Peter was of the opinion that she was unconsciously blocking the faces of those men so she wouldn’t have to confront them. Her father, on the other hand, constantly pestered the police until they were at their wit’s end. They kept telling him that until the victim could identify someone--anyone--their hands were tied. Charles went to the District Attorney, whom he knew slightly, and was compassionately told the same thing. There was nothing anyone could do. It was up to Cathy and her memory, and her memory of that night was very vague. Needless to say, Charles Chandler was frustrated.
****************
It was an early Sunday ritual that had been established many years ago when Vincent first expressed an interest in the current affairs of the world above. Lounging in well-worn, softly padded antique chairs--one, a rocker--Father and Vincent were reading the Sunday edition of the New York Post. A cup of freshly brewed tea sat near each of them. Lou, the barber, had sent the newspaper early this morning as he did every Sunday.
Vincent was about to put the society section aside--it held little interest for him--when a double picture of a young woman caught his attention. The caption above the pictures read ‘Wealthy Socialite Brutally Attacked’. The left-hand picture showed the bruised and slashed face of the woman he had found in the park next to a picture of her as she had looked before the attack. She was beautiful. Abruptly, he sat up with a gasp of surprise. Glancing over his glasses which were perched precariously on the end of his nose, Father queried, “What is it, Vincent?”
Staring at the sheet of newspaper in his hand, Vincent exalted, “It's her!”
“Who?”
“The woman in the park.”
“Really? Let me see.” Vincent handed the society section to Father who quickly scanned the article beneath the pictures. “It says here that her name is Catherine Chandler, and she’s the daughter of Charles Chandler, a wealthy and influential lawyer.” He continued to read. “My god, Vincent, they describe someone like you. Did she see you?”
“I am not sure.”
“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”
“She opened her eyes once, but I do not think she really saw me. It must have been the policemen.”
Vincent held out his hand for the return of the paper. Carefully, he read the article, then tore it and the picture out, and folding it, placed it in a vest pocket. “Catherine.” Her name echoed and reechoed in his mind. He would never hear that name again without seeing her beautiful face in his mind’s eye.
“Vincent.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I hope you realize that you can have no dealings with this woman. She is from Above and cannot be trusted. You must never see her again.” Father’s insecurities about and distaste for the world above asserted themselves once again.
“I know.”
“And I believe it might be safer for you to remain Below for the next few weeks.”
“I believe you might be right.” He had lost all interest in the Sunday news. Privacy was what he most wanted at this time. “If you will excuse me, Father, I will return to my chamber.” Lithely, he rose and was gone before Father could disagree.
In his chamber, Vincent carefully removed the piece of newspaper and reverently smoothed it flat. He sat staring at the photo for several minutes and it seemed to him as if her heartbeat within him grew so strong as to drown out the sound of his own. He became lightheaded just thinking of what Narcissa had said. Even though he had not known it, this was the woman he had waited for all his life and feared that he would never find. But how could it happen? How could they meet? He would only frighten her. It was impossible. Narcissa must be wrong this time. Her words sounded in his mind, “Do you doubt me, child? It is your choice. Let the spirits work their magic. Trust, child, trust.” Heaving a great sigh, he laid his head back against the chair, closing his eyes in surrender.