Chapter Five
As Mary and Catherine oohed and aahed over David’s pictures, a very irate Father barreled his way through the crowd that had assembled in the Great Hall for Sarah and William’s wake. Upon reaching his intended target, he grabbed Peter and roughly pulled him aside.
"Jacob!? What on earth?" An astonished Peter demanded as he jerked his arm loose from Father’s iron grip.
Father turned on him, breathing fire. "That . . . that woman!" he sputtered.
"What woman?"
"Catherine!" he fairly spat the name out.
"What about Cathy?" Peter feigned innocence, but he had an idea about what was bothering Jacob, and he wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
"That . . ." He drew a deep breath to calm himself. "That woman had the effrontery to come here and try to palm off another man’s child as Vincent’s." He waited for Peter’s indignant reply. When none came, he asked in added exasperation, "Well?"
Peter was enjoying this immensely and took some time before formulating an answer. It was time his old friend was taken down a peg or two, always so sure that he and he alone knew what was best for Vincent. "What do you want me to say, Jacob? The child is Vincent’s."
Father’s mouth dropped open and he reeled back a step or two. Closing his mouth with a snap, he asked, "How?"
With a raised eyebrow, Peter answered, snorting a chuckle, "Oh, come now, Jacob, we all know where babies come from."
"I didn’t mean that," Father snapped. "It’s not possible. This is Vincent." He felt as if his legs were being pulled out from under him, all his certainties about his strange son being put to the question.
"Exactly. Sometimes, old friend, I think you forget just how human he really is. In stressing his differences to protect him, you’ve lost sight of the man. A mistake, by the way, that Cathy never made. She saw the man and loved him, warts and all."
"Have I really done that, Peter?" he asked, his eyes begging that his old friend answer in the negative.
Peter nodded, "I’m afraid so. You have been his greatest stumbling block in his search for his humanity."
"But all I did was try to protect him, and when Catherine entered his life, she was an added danger."
"I know, but he is a man--grown. He must live his own life and if it includes Catherine . . ." He spread his hands open.
"But a child?" Father whispered.
"I’m afraid, my dear Jacob, that we grossly underestimated both Catherine and Vincent. Not only is it possible, but it has happened. The child’s blood has elements of both parents’ blood."
"Oh, my god. How I have wronged her. How can I get her to forgive me?" Jacob’s distress was palpable.
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Eat humble pie, my friend. Ask her forgiveness then realize that you are dealing with something that is beyond your knowledge and is stronger than anything you have ever known. And hope she is more forgiving than you deserve."
"I wonder if she is still in Mary’s chamber?" Without another word or thought for his old friend, he turned and hurried away hoping to make right what he had so disastrously made wrong.
Jacob, Jacob. When will you stop beating your head against a stone wall? Peter thought as he wandered back into the crowd of mourners.
*
Without announcing himself, Father burst into Mary’s chamber. Shocked, she could say nothing as he asked in an agitated voice, "Where’s Catherine?"
Mary drew herself up and fixed him with a cold eye. "She’s gone back Above to David. She doesn’t feel welcome here."
He sagged into the nearest chair, "My god, Mary, how I have wronged her."
Mary rounded on him, "How could you, Father? She loves Vincent. She will never love anyone else. You can’t judge everyone by what happened to you."
"I’m learning that, Mary. But it is so hard to change. I’ll just have to try harder. I must see her to apologize and ask her forgiveness." He passed a trembling hand over his forehead.
He looked so desolate and heartbroken that she took pity on him and told him that she was meeting Catherine at her apartment tomorrow afternoon at three.
"Could I come along?" he asked hopefully.
She thought for a moment. A little humility didn’t hurt anyone. "Yes, Vincent will need both of you when he comes back to himself."
"Thank you, Mary," he replied, taking her hand in his. "Tell no one, please," he pleaded.
"I won’t, not until Catherine tells me I can."
"Mary?" Vincent’s uncertain voice intruded. Grateful for the interruption, she bade him to enter. An involuntary shudder coursed through Father as he watched his son enter. Had he done this to Vincent? This was not the confident and secure man that had once paced through the tunnels. This was not Catherine’s Vincent. This was a man unsure of himself, hesitant and indecisive. The bitter realization swept through him that, indeed, this was his son. "Are you all right, Father? You seemed so upset," he asked in a worried voice.
"No, no, I’m fine. Just a misunderstanding. Shall we get back to the wake? Mary?" He rose and took Vincent’s arm to lead him out of the chamber.
"Yes, go along. I’ll be right there." Catherine had left a few photographs with her, and she had been about to show them to Father when Vincent interrupted them. She needed to find a hiding place for them. Placing them under her pillow for the time being, she hurried after father and son.
*
Promptly at three, there was a light tapping on the door. Rising from the floor where she had been playing with David, Catherine went to the door and opened it. Mary’s smiling face greeted her when she swung it open. She returned the smile, "Come on in." Then she saw Father and the smile froze. "Father," she acknowledged coolly.
"May I come in too, Catherine? I have much to say," he pleaded.
"Not if what you have to say is a repeat of yesterday," she answered coldly.
"No, I have learned my lesson." He heard baby noises that drew his immediate attention. When he looked at the child, he met an intense gaze such as he had not seen since Vincent was a baby. Slowly, he closed his eyes in regret, thinking, Dear god, have I been wrong about everything? Opening his eyes, he took Catherine’s hand and said, "I have grossly underestimated your love for my son."
"Yes, . . . you have," she agreed quietly.
Glancing down at their entwined hands, he continued, "I’m sorry for what I said and thought. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" He raised his eyes to hers, steeling himself for her answer.
Sighing deeply, she answered, "Some wounds go too deeply Father, but yes, I can forgive you. You are Vincent’s father, and I want us to be friends, if nothing else . . . But forgetting is another matter."
Nodding his head vigorously, he took a deep breath. "Oh, don’t forget. Remember what a blind and stubborn old fool I can be and remind me when I go to far."
"All right, it’s a deal," she laughed with relief. "Let me have your coats and I’ll introduce you to your grandson." She hurried into the bedroom.
Mary, immediately, walked over to David and lowered herself to the floor beside him. "Do you like your truck, David?" she asked, pushing it back to him. Instantly, he pushed it back to her. "Look at that, Father," she exclaimed.
With an amused look, he nodded, "Quite remarkable."
Returning from the bedroom, Catherine helped Father lower himself painfully to sit on the floor beside his first grandchild. "Hello, David, I’m your grandfather." He gazed up at her, a sad and wistful smile on his face.
"You’re in for a special treat, Father," she said as she settled David into his lap.
"Oh?"
David proceeded to scan Father’s face then lock eyes with his grandfather. After a few seconds he yawned, and looked away. Then Father’s beard caught his attention, and he began to pull and play with it.
In explanation, Catherine said, "He does that with every man he meets. He has since the day he was born. I think . . . he’s looking for his father."
"No doubt. He’s Vincent’s son for sure," Mary offered.
David completely captivated Mary and enshrined himself in his grandfather’s heart, as Catherine had known he would if given half a chance. They spent the afternoon enjoying David and his antics and, when he was down for a nap, talked of everything that had happened since she had left. Father learned to his chagrin just what this separation was costing Catherine. The evidence was before his eyes. And Father expanded on Vincent’s condition. There seemed to be nothing that they could do right now, but leave things as they were and hope that he would remember soon.
Below, Vincent was looking for Father. No one knew where he had gone, only that he and Mary had gone Above for an unspecified reason. Why would Father go Above without telling him?
Dinner time was fast approaching and Catherine offered to fix something for the three of them.
"You have enough to do without making dinner for us. Besides, Rupert is expecting us, and we must be there for moral support. He’s still not sure he can do it by himself." Mary commented as she put on her coat.
"Yes, and I’m sure Vincent is wondering where we have gone off to," Father agreed, "but come Below as often as you can and bring David."
"But what about Vincent? Won’t that just upset him?" she asked, settling David on her hip.
"Maybe, but I think I was wrong. I should have tried to heal his amnesia aggressively," Father countered.
"I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t stay. I can’t bear to be this close to him without being with him. I leave for California tomorrow."
"Oh . . . I understand," he replied sadly, "But you will send us pictures, won’t you?"
"Of course I will, but I will send them to Mary, and she can give them to you."
"Still protecting Vincent, eh?"
"I guess it’s become a habit." She kissed him on the cheek and opened the door for them. With one arm she hugged Mary, who bent down and, smiling into David’s bright, blue eyes, said, "Take good care of your Mommy." Before closing her door, Catherine leaned against the jamb and watched them walk to the elevator, happier than she had been in a long time. Father was finally on her side. They had found common ground: their love for Vincent. Bless Mary; she had been a great ally. Satisfied, she closed the door and, settling onto one of the love seats, began to nurse David.
*
When Father reached his chamber, he found a very upset Vincent who hesitantly asked to know where he had been.
"Mary and I went Above for an afternoon outing," he answered. "What is the problem?"
"There is no problem. It’s just that you haven’t done anything like this before," Vincent offered timidly.
Father’s reply totally confused his already bewildered son. "Well, accept it, my son, I am human and I have my odd little quirks. One being that I don’t have to tell you everything." He patted him on the arm and went into his bedroom to change into his tunnel clothes, leaving an astounded Vincent in his wake. Shrugging his shoulders at his parent’s strange behavior, he turned his steps toward the dining chamber.