Part Four
David was a healthy, happy child with one strange habit. Whenever he met a man, any man, he would search that man’s face, finally lock his eyes with theirs, then lose interest and look away. Peter was the first, followed by Joe and the men of the D.A.’s office. David was searching for his father.
His mother, on the other hand, had to force herself to eat, and her sleep was filled with a constant flow of disappointing dreams. And his father went about his life as if he was a wooden dummy. The only time he really felt any emotion was in his dreams, and they were painful and frustrating.
Sitting in Peter’s office after David’s three month examination, she told him that she had decided to move to California. "Everything is too close, Peter. Maybe having a continent between us will help me endure this separation." You only had to look in Catherine’s eyes, hear her speak to know that she was miserably unhappy.
"Do you really think that will help? I can’t see distance as being any help at all. Maybe it would be best for you to stay here and see what happens." With all his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he also knew just how stubborn she could be. The more he pushed, the more adamant she would become.
"I can’t bear the thought of being so near him and not being able to be with him. He doesn’t remember me, Peter, and it’s killing me. I’ve got to get away." The words tumbled out of her, almost faster than she could say them. "Besides, I don’t want any of the Tunnel members to see me with a child."
"You still haven’t told Jacob?" Peter asked, chiding her gently.
"No, and I don’t intend to. He has Vincent; I have David." Her voice carried a level of bitterness that shocked him.
"You sound bitter, Cathy. Jacob is not all that wrong."
"I know." She released a deep sigh, "but he has always wanted me out of Vincent’s life." David began to fuss, and she looked up at Peter with wonder in her eyes. "I think David and I have a bond. I wonder about his father." David quieted as she soothed him.
Peter shook his head unable to answer. "Well I, for one, will miss you."
"It’s not as if I’m dropping off the face of the earth, you know," she said, with a small smile. "But I’ll miss you, too."
"When are you leaving?" He leaned back in his chair, stretching his tired back. He’s been up almost all night and Cathy was his last appointment. Soon, he could go home and relax. That is, if no other woman decided to have her baby today.
"In two weeks. Agatha is going with us. She is such a dear and David loves her. He is so good for her and hardly fusses at all. Can you give me the name of a doctor I can trust around Walnut Grove?"
With wrinkled brow, he tried to think of someone he knew in that area. "No, I can’t, but I know someone in Sacramento, though."
"David is seldom sick. We probably won’t need a doctor." She stood as Peter came around his desk. Taking an envelope out of the diaper bag and handing it to him, she asked, "Will you give this letter to Father? He’ll understand why I couldn’t come in person to say goodbye. He more than understands; he’ll be glad that I’m so far away from Vincent."
Peter just shook his head at her and pocketed the envelope. "I’ll make sure he gets it and not when Vincent’s around to ask questions."
"Good bye, Peter." The defeat in her voice broke his heart. "Come and see us sometime. I’ll call you when I get there," she added matter-of-factly.
He hugged and kissed her then kissed David on the cheek. "You better. Take care of him, Cathy. I think he is more special than either one of us knows."
"Don’t worry, I will." She smiled with a hollow brightness and was gone leaving him to wonder if the two most special people he knew would ever have a happy life. God, he hoped so.
*
The estate that the Realtor found for her was more of a ranch than an estate. It was far enough from the nearest town to seem to be on the edge of nowhere. David thrived in the sunlight, and it tugged at Catherine’s heart to think that Vincent couldn’t live in the sunlight with his son.
Agatha fussed and fumed over the strange west coast attitudes and food, but eventually adapted even to the point of liking guacamole.
The bond between mother and son deepened as he grew older. It made her long for the connection that she and Vincent had lost. She had noticed that whenever she was sad David tried to cheer her by laughing and making baby talk. Remembering what Peter had said about him, she knew that her son was extraordinary, and she poured all her abundance of love into him.
A steady stream of letters poured from her fingers, and she avidly awaited all the letters that Father and Mary sent in return. While the letters from Mary were filled with gossipy news about the community and their helpers, the letters from Father were more reserved and factual. In answer to her questions about Vincent, he sent glowing reports about his son’s improved health, how contented he seemed to be, and how stable he had become since his illness. Stable? It was just Father’s little reminder that Vincent was safer and happier without her. Catherine wondered if he even thought about the pain he caused her--probably not.
*
One sunshiny June day, as she was entering the house, the phone rang. When she picked up the handset, she heard Peter’s welcome voice.
"Peter! It’s so good to hear your voice," she cried, making her way to the couch.
"You may not think so when I tell you what has happened," his somber voice replied.
A bolt of fear shot through her. "It’s not Vincent, is it?"
"No, honey, he’s all right," he assured her. "It’s Sarah and William."
"Sarah and William?" What could possibly have happened to them? "What happened?"
"William was baking cookies this morning, and Sarah had just walked in to ask a question when the gas stove blew up, killing both of them instantly." His sad voice related the incident.
"Oh my god," she fell onto the couch and began to cry.
"Everyone here is in a state of shock. I’ve done what I can, but Jacob is devastated. And you can imagine how it’s affected Mary. I had to sedate her."
"What of Vincent?" Her first thoughts were always of him.
"You know how he is when he loses one of his loved ones. He’s retreated into himself. He’s not as strong as he used to be, and Jacob is no help right now. He’s too immersed in his own grief. Cathy, we need you."
"When is the memorial service?"
"Day after tomorrow."
"We’ll be there. We’ll take the earliest flight possible. I’ll call you when I know the details."
"Ok, honey. See you then."
"Tell Mary I love her and Father, too. This will be so hard on both of them. Bye."
Slowly, she put the phone in its cradle and buried her face in her hands. She thought of gentle Sarah, hidden behind a stern exterior, who acted the role of the elder aunt to perfection. She was always available to any who needed her. Mary had found her on the Queensboro Bridge, ready to jump, and had commented that it was a long way down and that nothing was so bad that it warranted a human life. Sarah was soon in tears, and Mary talked her into having a cup of coffee with her. It was the usual story of a rejected lover, thrown over for someone with more money and better connections; only this lover possessed a sensitive heart. Mary brought her Below, and she settled into a rewarding and fruitful life. She was never able to overcome her distrust of men and never formed more than a close friendship with the men in her world.
Rough, gruff William was another story. The first time Catherine met him, he was shouting at the top of his lungs at Mouse. She never really found out what it was all about, but Mouse bolted out of the kitchen and didn’t come up for air for two days. Above, William had been fired because of his weight and temper. They blackballed him on restaurant row, and he soon ended up on the streets. Sebastian had found him and brought him Below. When Father discovered that William was a cook, he immediately appointed him head cook for the community. Dining became a distinct pleasure after that. Catherine wondered who would be the cook now, probably Rupert. William had been training him to take over when he retired, if he ever did. But it just wouldn’t be the same. She shook her head, wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and tried to calm her emotions. She heard David fussing before Agatha entered and was rising to take him. Soothing the agitated child, she told Agatha what had happened.
"Oh, Cathy," the miss had long been dropped, "I’m so sorry."
"Thanks. They were wonderful people." She settled into the rocking chair and began to rock David, his favorite occupation. "I’ve got to go back to New York. Why don’t you visit Edith while I’m there? I’ll be there for about four days."
"I’d love to," Agatha replied, suddenly missing the daughter she hadn’t seen in months.
*
She had kept her old apartment for times such as these, and it seemed small and cramped compared to the wide-open spaces of her ranch. Jenny had met them at JFK and, after saying goodbye to Agatha and Edith, they took a cab to her apartment. Everything was clean and dusted, the refrigerator was stocked, and baby furniture was installed in the bedroom. Even the bed was made; Jenny had out done herself. Most important of all, she was duly impressed with David and his accomplishments. Catherine whipped up a quick dinner then she and Jenny settled into finding out what the other had been doing.
"No new man, Cathy?" Jenny teased. They were sitting on the floor in front of a blazing fire, sipping hot, spiced cider. The October day was too chilly to sit on the terrace.
Catherine shook her head. "The only man I’m interested in right now is David."
"What about Vincent?" Jenny leaned back against the love seat.
A look of pain swept over Catherine’s face. "Still the same. I’m beginning to think things will never change." Tears sparkled brightly in her eyes as she looked at Jenny. "I miss him so much." She struggled to maintain her calm as she didn’t want to upset David.
"Oh, Cathy, how I wish I could make things right for you." Jenny quickly embraced her friend, hurting deeply for her as only a true friend can.
"I’ll be all right; Vincent taught me well." She patted Jenny’s hand gently and continued, "I will survive. I have to, I have a son to raise. I just wish they knew each other." Catherine had no way of knowing that a little child would put in effect events that would bring about that very thing.
The rest of the night was spent in catching up on old friends and taking care of David. Jenny was completely enthralled with him and willingly offered to watch him while Catherine was at the memorial service.
*****************
Friends, family, and Helpers filled the Mirror Pool chamber. Catherine had been quietly, but happily, besieged by her friends when she arrived and even now was surrounded by the older children who couldn’t seem to get close enough to her.
Father cleared his throat, and there was immediate silence. Mary stood on one side of him, Rupert on the other. Each carried an urn containing their friend’s ashes.
Softly, Father spoke in a voice that carried to every part of the chamber. He spoke of the love and devotion Sarah and William had given to the tunnel community and how much they would be missed.
He paused to take a deep breath then continued, "Sarah and William. There were never two more dissimilar persons yet each gave of their love and talents unstintingly. Gentle Sarah, always ready with the comforting caress of a helping hand. And gruff, loud William, the best cook in the city. Always seeing that none went hungry, with a cookie for any child or the occasional adult that asked for one. I shall miss the many discussions I’ve had with him."
There was a small ripple of laughter, then Father began again, "We will always remember how much we loved them, and let us never forget how much they loved us."
The ashes slowly drifted into the water as Mary and Rupert emptied the urns. "Let the waters carry them to every part of our tunnels and to every corner of our world. Sarah and William will always be part of us," Father said, choking on the words.
Catherine was holding a sobbing Samantha in her arms, keeping back her own tears, when she felt someone looking at her. She looked up into Vincent’s sad eyes. He nodded to her. For some strange reason his heart was lightened by her presence. With a small sigh, she inclined her head then turned back to comforting the distraught child beside her. She led Samantha from the chamber and asked Mary to console her. "Mary, can we meet in your chamber in a little while?"
During the flight from California, she had decided that it was time Father knew about his grandson. And, as Mary was like a mother to Vincent, Catherine wanted her to know, too.
"Certainly, dear. Just let me get Samantha settled down," she answered, leading the child over to a corner.
While Mary was soothing Samantha, Catherine waded through the crowd around Father and asked him to meet her in Mary’s chamber. After Samantha had been calmed and her peace of mind restored, the two women sat in Mary’s chamber speaking of Sarah and William while awaiting Father. He entered, took the chair indicated by Mary, and looked at Catherine with an apprehensive look on his face.
My god, he’s still afraid of me, she thought. Suddenly, she was not at all sure this was a good idea, but she had asked them for one specific purpose, so she took a deep breath and began, "There’s no easy way to say this but to just say it. Vincent is a father; we have a . . ."
Father exploded and leaped from his chair, "How dare you presume to palm off another man’s child as Vinc . . . ?"
Angrier than she had ever been, but more angry at herself than at him--she should have realized that this would happen--she was up and out of her chair shouting back, "How dare you presume that I would have a child by another man? How dare you?!" Infuriated and shaking, she pointed at him, "Get out. Get out! Out!! Get out of my sight!!"
He stared at her in amazement--no one had ever talked to him like that--and snarled, "Gladly!" Stomping from the chamber, he left an open-mouthed Mary staring at first one then the other. As he disappeared through the entrance, Catherine burst into tears. She didn’t know if it was from anger or sorrow. Mary moved to comfort her. Realizing what she had done, Catherine apologized. "I’m so sorry, Mary. I had no right to order him out of your chamber."
"If you hadn’t, I would have," Mary stated firmly. "The old fool."
"You don’t believe what he said, do you?" Timidly, Catherine looked back at her.
"No, of course not, child. I have no preconceived notions."
"Oh Mary, he’s so beautiful. He has Vincent’s blue eyes and blond hair. I named him David Vincent," Catherine said through her sniffles. "Would you like to see pictures of him?"
Mary nodded as Catherine pulled out a packet of photos then proudly handed them to her. "My friend, Jenny, is watching him. You can come and see him any time you want."
"Would tomorrow afternoon at three be all right?"
"More that all right," Catherine said as she hugged this wonderful woman.
"Oh Catherine," Mary breathed. "He is beautiful and no one could dispute the fact that he has Vincent’s eyes. Is he a happy child?" Mary asked, looking closely at each picture. "Vincent always was."
"Oh yes, he brightens my saddest day. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past months without him. I just wish . . ."
"I know, child."