Chapter 4

Vincent paced the tunnels. Remember, Elizabeth named her quilt Remember. What did she want to remember? How could a woman he'd never met until now put so much of himself in her work. Those were his eyes staring back at him from the lion's face.

He pounded the wall with his fist, snarled at shadows. He'd tried for ten years to ease his heart from the loss of Catherine. Their son, Jacob, had brought him a reason to live, to fight the pain but Catherine's voice, her scent, her very essence lived always at the back of his mind and in his heart. Now fresh memories ripped open the old love he thought buried.

He paused, raising his head, he listened. How could this be? Elizabeth.....She was awake...in turmoil, her thoughts racing like his. She thought he had the answers...to what. He lost the connection. Did she need him? Was another bond forming?.....No! Only Catherine shared that kind of bond with him. Even Jacob's bond was different. He always knew where his son was, if he was in danger, like any father watching and aware of his son. He didn't know Jacob’s every thought.

This was like fragile strands of silk reaching out to him. Some finding an anchor some still searching for a foothold. When he first met Elizabeth he had felt some kind of connection. It was getting stronger.

He found himself at his chamber and threw himself on the bed and let himself remember when he lost Catherine.

He had been very ill, causing their bond to end. He could no longer sense her every thought or know when she was in danger, know when she was happy or sad unless they were together. Their love was still strong, he could feel it in her presence, in her actions. She told him she was sure the bond would return, that it was a gift. If the gift did not return she told him there were many more gifts waiting for him. Told him to open his arms. When he did, she walked into them.

When he had been told she had been kidnapped he looked for her for months, had almost rescued her once. He'd heard, felt a heart beating. He thought the connection to Catherine was back, followed it in his heart to a tall building in the city. He left death and destruction in his wake searching for her. When he reached the roof of the building he felt sure he would find her. A helicopter was just taking off and a man stared at him from the window. He would never forget the face. He thought he had lost her again. His heart was broken.

She called out behind him, "Vincent," he turned just in time to catch her in his arms as she collapsed. Her hair was damp, she was exhausted, she was dressed in a hospital gown. She struggled to speak. Fought out each word. "We loved...........there is a child.........."

He was confused..."A child?"

"He's beautiful," she whispered

"Catherine.....Catherine."

The last words she'd said to him were so soft he could just hear her, "Though lovers be lost........"

"Love shall not......" he replied hoarsely............ "And death shall have no dominion."

She fell back in his arms. He cradled her body against his chest, not willing to believe she was gone, forever. He stayed on the roof holding her for he didn't know how long. He lifted her and carried her tenderly through the city night and up to her balcony. He opened her French doors and gently laid her on her bed. He kissed her one last time, tears running down his face. "While I live, you live with me...........in me...........always.............always."

The sun was rising, he knew he had to leave. He returned to the tunnels, his roars echoed off the walls in agony. He told Father but he felt so alone. He kept hearing Catherine's voice, seeing her wherever he turned.

He returned to her apartment, her body had been removed, there was a chalk outline of her body on the bed. Their favorite book, Great Expectations lay on her night table. He picked it up. Someone was coming into the apartment so he left.

He went to the area in the tunnels where Catherine had saved him from the dark demon that had taken him over. Where their bond had broken. The demon tried to take over again. They fought. The pendant Vincent had given Catherine shone lightly in the dirt. How did it get here? He picked it up, heard her voice, "Vincent, we loved.......there is a child." He remembered......she had told him they had a beautiful son. The demon was gone, forever, he hoped. He had to find his son.

He couldn't go to Catherine's funeral. Father and all their friends had gone to honor her memory. That night he'd stood by her grave in grief beyond tears. "Love does not die. It lives forever. Sleep my love."

Vincent let the pain wash over him, let the thoughts render him raw. He had been so blinded in agony. He tried to go back now with a more settled, calmer mind. After he left Catherine in her apartment he never saw her again. As far as he knew no one saw her after her body was taken from the apartment to the coroner.

He felt a whisper of doubt grow in his brain. No, he would have known, would have felt her in his heart. But it wasn't their bond that had drawn him that night. It was Jacob's heartbeat. Could Elizabeth be Catherine.... with no memory of what had been done to her?

No...Elizabeth had much different talents... Talents can be learned. Elizabeth said she learned how to quilt nine years ago.

She collected lions.

His eyes stared out of her quilt.

Gabriel was dead. There was no one to ask.

Chapter 5

 

Elizabeth was too busy in the shop to dwell on Vincent today or think about a sleepless night. The class schedules were full and customers had started a list of class requests. Four women from the Open House had begged her to start the Saturday Open Quilting class a week early. They had been sewing and chatting happily with Helen all morning.

She had not seen JV. Like other boys he was probably spending the sunny day playing baseball in the park.

Ruth Ann stopped in, looking for thread to match a swatch of soft ivory cotton. "I need to repair one of Vincent’s shirts," she said.

"Vincent?" Elizabeth said in surprise. "Not JV."

"Yes. I know you’ve met him. JV needs repairs all the time, especially his buttons. When he comes back from playing baseball I’ll need to patch the rips in his knees I’m sure," she chuckled. "Vincent only needs his shirts repaired occasionally unless he is exploring. This is to sew a patch to one of his favorite shirts that has a small tear."

"Did JV tell you I’ll save fabric scraps for you?"

"Yes. Thank you. I have many uses for scraps."

They were interrupted by an elegantly dressed older woman wearing a black suit and a string of pearls. She gazed at Ruth Ann with distaste before turning to Elizabeth. "Are you the owner of this shop?" She asked.

"Yes, I’m Elizabeth Collins. How may I help you?"

"I want to buy that quilt." She pointed to Winter in the Woods. "How much?"

Elizabeth didn’t like the woman’s attitude but she was in business and everyone was not polite or pleasant. "I’m sorry Ms..."

"Mrs. Otis Northrup.....Amanda Northrup." She said as if she felt Elizabeth should have heard of her.

"I’m sorry Mrs Northrup. Many of my quilts are for sale but Winter in the Woods is from my private collection. It is not for sale."

"Well if it is not for sale it should not be on display. I want that quilt and it will be mine." She marched out of the shop angrily slamming the door behind her.

"What was that all about?" Ruth Ann asked.

"Mrs. Northrup wanted to buy Winter in the Woods. I told her it was not for sale."

"Her husband is a well known Park Avenue attorney," Louise said. "She can buy anything she wants."

"It is not for sale."

"Don’t let anyone pressure you." Ruth Ann patted her arm.

The afternoon continued to be busy up until closing. Elizabeth was tired and ready to relax. She dragged herself up to her apartment. Four thirty, most New Yorkers would be going out for a fun night in the city. All she had energy for was to go to bed. Dreams or no dreams she needed sleep.

She didn't want to upset JV but Winter in the Woods would have to be moved to her apartment tomorrow. She'd let him visit it there.

The roar never woke her, she could feel her heart pounding when she saw the blood everywhere and fingers of fear choked her. The shadow came closer, strong arms gathered her in. "I'm here Catherine." She relaxed in the warm embrace. A heart beat. Her eyes flew open. The dream didn't end. "Vincent?"

He released her immediately and stepped back. "Elizabeth, I felt your fear," he whispered. "I wanted to help." His eyes held hers a moment then he was gone.

She felt cold, numb. What was happening to her life? Was his the face of her shadows or was it her mind putting his face where none had been before.

She went to the roll top trunk in her closet. With trembling fingers she lifted the top and drew out the quilt folded inside. She unfolded it on the bed; closed her eyes for a moment before turning on the lamp. The quilt was like none of her others. She rarely did figures and this one occupied most of the quilt. The background was sunset red, wild ocean waves crashed on a deserted beach. The black cloaked figure appeared to be turning from looking out to sea to looking out of the quilt. The black fabric swirled out away from him. She always thought of the figure as male. A black hood covered long tawny gold hair that framed a faceless mask. All that looked out of that blackness were piercing blue eyes.... Vincent's eyes.

She saw the face could be none other but Vincent's. She ran down to the shop dragging the quilt behind her. Her hands flew to the fabric she needed. She spread everything out on the table in the sewing room. She worked feverishly the rest of the night.

The sun was up when she finished. Her faceless quilt was finished. Looking back at her, surrounded by the colors of her dreams, was Vincent, his hood thrown back, holding back the nightmares. She wrapped the quilt around her and fell asleep comforted by his strength.

She had to be Catherine. No matter that it was impossible. No matter that for almost ten years he'd felt no sense of her, no awareness, nothing. The feelings, the need, the overwhelming love flooded his whole being. There was only one Catherine and she was Elizabeth.

Prove it...convince her...how?

He opened the small leather pouch he always wore around his neck. He withdrew the small white rose Catherine had given him on the first anniversary of when he found her. He also carried the crystal pendant he had given her as a keepsake of his world. Maybe, if he showed them to her, she would remember. What if he brought her below, reacquainted her with his world, with Father, the others. Would it be too overwhelming for her? And Jacob, her son, their son?

If she could never remember could he win her love again...as Elizabeth? He had to speak to Father.

Vincent found Father just finishing a game of chess with Jacob. "Who won?" he asked.

" Me, father," Jacob said.

"I teach you children how to play and then all of you beat me," Father said.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Vincent scolded his son.

"Yes father." He kissed Vincent goodnight. "Goodnight grandfather." He hugged the older man. "I'll let you win next time." He called over his shoulder as he ran from the room.

Vincent laughed. "You don't play badly Father, you are just too good a teacher." He sat at the table a worried look on his face.

"What's the matter, Vincent?'

"Father, I don't know where to begin." He said deeply troubled. "Jacob wanted me to meet Elizabeth Collins, she made his Sunshine Found quilt. She took over Nancy's quilt shop. He wants to spend time there and look at her marvelous quilts. Father I met her......She is Catherine."

"Catherine? You mean she looks like Catherine?"

"No Father. She is Catherine, only she doesn't remember."

"Vincent, Catherine is dead. I'm sorry, but we all know that."

"Father, I know it in my mind but my heart tells me she is Catherine. I don't know how she survived, where she has been or how to make her remember. Our connection strengthens hourly. I can almost see her dreams. I need your help."

"Vincent, there is no way this woman can be Catherine," he shouted. He gripped Vincent's shoulder. "Look at me Vincent."

Vincent pulled away. "I know it's impossible but she is Catherine. I want you to help me help her remember."

"How?"

"I want to bring her here."

"No way, Vincent."

"I want to bring her here," Vincent continued. "To meet some of us. Maybe she'll remember something."

"You risk our life, our secret, just to prove this woman is your dead love?"

"Father, as soon as you meet her you'll know she is Catherine."

"And if she is not?"

"I still would trust her with our secret."

"What about Jacob? What will you tell the boy?"

"Nothing yet, until she remembers. I don't want to upset him. She insists she is Elizabeth. I don't want her to think we are forcing her to be Catherine."

"Isn't that just what you are doing Vincent?"

"You'll meet her and treat her as Elizabeth. Tell the others to call her Elizabeth. Treat her as Elizabeth and maybe someday she'll come back to me as Catherine."

"Vincent, this is not going to work. You're the one who will be hurt. Nine and a half years ago I almost lost you in you're grief. Only Jacob brought you back."

"Then I'll be hurt Father. It's worth everything to me to try to make her remember."

"All right Vincent,'' Father said in resignation. "Let me know when you want to do this."

"Tomorrow," Vincent said.

 

 

Chapter 6

Elizabeth woke up on the floor of the sewing room. She looked around in confusion at the total mess, at the quilt covering her with its warmth. "Vincent," she stammered. She placed the quilt on a worktable. It was finished. The dark robed figure was faceless no more. He was Vincent. He was her lion. His golden features drew her eyes to his. They showed strength, compassion, love. The quilt no longer frightened her. She didn’t know where the thought came from but she had a name for the quilt. Love Remembered.

Elizabeth gathered her quilt close and carried it up to her room. A hot shower cleared the cobwebs from her head. She realized she was very hungry. It was way past noon, she didn't remember when she'd had her last real meal. She had little in the refrigerator except some eggs and cheese, some bread in the freezer. She brewed a pot of tea to go with the cheese omelet she made.

She sipped her tea fingering the quilt. The front doorbell rang. She pressed the intercom. "Yes?"

"Elizabeth, it's JV. Can I come in?"

Why was he here? "I'll release the door, come all the way up." She shoved the quilt back into the trunk in her bedroom. She could hear him race up the stairs.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "My father sent me." He eyed her toast.

Were growing boys always hungry she wondered? She slid the plate over to him. "Help yourself." The toast disappeared in a blink.

"Thanks." JV handed her a folded note.

"Would you like more?" she laughed.

"No. I'm fine."

She opened the note. 'Please come to the tunnels. No mask. JV will lead the way. Vincent.'

"Elizabeth, will you come again with me?"

There was no turning back from this relationship. She was not Vincent's Catherine but she couldn't refuse to acknowledge that he had some connection to her past. She didn't think he had ever been to California and as far as she knew she had never been to New York City. Yet he held the answers to her dreams.

"I'll come, JV." She put on her jacket and followed him.

He hesitated at her front door. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes JV."

"Uh...there is another way to the tunnels. We don't have to go through the park."

"No?"

"Father says there is an entrance in your basement. We risk being seen if we use the park during daylight. You're basement is private."

In for a penny, in for a pound she thought. "Okay JV. Lead the way."

He smiled up at her. He knew right where to go. Behind a shipment of fabric was a closed door she had paid no attention to on all her trips to the basement. She knew the brownstone next door abutted hers on that side and figured the door led nowhere. JV opened it easily and led her into a new world. Narrow stone steps led down into darkness.

"Father?" JV called. "I'm coming. I've brought Elizabeth."

A bright light appeared ahead. Vincent held a lantern high to light the way. "Elizabeth." He nodded and extended his arm toward the passage.

"We're going to show you where we live," JV said. "Father says we don't have to keep it a secret from you anymore." He bubbled with excitement pulling her along.

Elizabeth looked around. The passage was cut through stone barely high enough for Vincent to pass through. The only light was cast by the lantern he held. They came to an iron worked gate, Vincent moved a brick, pressed a lever and the gate swung toward them and a panel slid open. A passage twisted and turned and gradually brightened enough that Vincent could turn off the lantern. She could hear voices echo around her. They were moving deeper under the city. They crossed a few wooden bridges crossing deep crevices; came to a long circular staircase that spiraled deep into another world. She looked around her in awe. She could hear a constant tapping sound.

"The tapping you hear is how we communicate with each other down here." Vincent told her.

"This is all under New York City?"

Vincent watched her hoping to see her show some sign of recognition. He could see everything looked new and wondrous to her. "Yes, people who have nothing above find peace and sanctuary down here; a new life. I'm trusting you not to tell anyone of all you see here. Many lives depend on you keeping our secret Elizabeth."

"Especially father," JV said. "If anyone above ever found him I'd never see him again. They'd kill him or put him in a cage or worse." The boy gripped Vincent's arm tightly. "They would never understand."

"We are here." Vincent said. He tousled his son's hair and kissed the top of his head. "I'm very careful Jacob."

They entered a big room. The mummer of voices stopped. It could have been the set for a very old movie. Books were piled all around the room. Antique furniture mixed with just old, beautiful stained glass lamps, many candles were everywhere Elizabeth looked. Beautiful tapestries hung on the walls. A small spiral staircase led up to another level. The quilt Sunshine Found lay over the back of a green brocade chair. She fingered it lightly. At least there was something familiar in the room.

"Elizabeth." Vincent drew her to an elderly man leaning on a cane. He was dressed in many layers of heavy, old clothing. His neat, short gray beard covered his face. "This is Father. He founded the community many years ago."

"Elizabeth, I'm pleased to meet you. Jacob and Vincent have told me much about your shop and your beautiful quilts. We all love Jacob’s Sunshine Found." He touched the quilt lovingly. A ray of sunshine shown through a dark, stormy sky onto the beach just beyond the ocean waterline. One could tell the sky and ocean would turn blue in a moment as soon as the storm was over.

He turned to the woman beside him. "I think you know Ruth Ann."

Ruth Ann hugged her. "Welcome Elizabeth."

Another woman with a gentle face about Father's age, dressed in cotton, wool and homespun like Ruth, a heavy shawl tight around her shoulders, patted a chair beside her. "Come sit here. My name is Mary. I've been here almost from the beginning. I teach the children, I sew with Ruth Ann and our sewing group, and I help Father with the sick."

A slight man older than Elizabeth came to her. "I'm Pascal. I keep watch over the communications on the pipes."

Everything was so strange to Elizabeth; their clothing, the things they spoke of. Vincent could tell she had no memory of any of them or this room. Well it was a beginning. She knew them now.

Mary offered her some hot tea and a blueberry scone. "I have not been to your shop yet. Ruth Ann has told me all about your quilts." She touched Sunshine Found, "You put so much color and beauty into your quilts. I’d love to add more color to our world."

"Come any time Mary, show me what you would like to do and I’ll help you with any colors you want."

"I have to work with the old and odd fabrics donated to us or from clothing thrown away and found."

"I can show you what to put together to brighten a quilt. You’d be surprised what even a touch of color here and there can do. I can give you what you need. I have plenty and would love to contribute to your stash of fabric. Whatever you need, just let me know. Please come to the shop. Ruth Ann can tell you what I carry. If you need something different I can always order it from my suppliers."

Vincent could see she was at ease talking to Mary and Ruth Ann but hesitant to talk to Father.

"She is Catherine, Father," he said softly.

"She does look like Catherine , Vincent, but I’m not convinced."

"I must go back. I have much to do in the shop before I open on Monday. Mary, please feel free to come any time with Ruth Ann or alone. Father, Pascal I hope I see you again."

"Goodbye Elizabeth. Please come back." Father said

JV hugged her, "Bye."

"I'll walk you home," Vincent said. "There is one more place I'd like to show you." He took her deeper into the caverns. There was a dreamlike quality to all she was seeing. She could hear water. Looking up she saw a beautiful waterfall surrounded by a morning like light.

"It is so beautiful," she whispered in awe.

"Sit here a moment," he led her to a low ledge perfect for resting and listening to the falls.

"Vincent, Vincent, I fixed it. I fixed the old clock."

Oh no Mouse. Vincent thought.

Elizabeth turned toward the middle aged man with wild blond hair around a youthful face. He carried an old clock in front of him. He threw up his hands and dropped the clock when he saw Elizabeth. "Catherine! You're alive. Vincent was right." He ran to her and hugged her.

"Mouse, this is Elizabeth," Vincent said.

"No, you said she was Catherine," he insisted.

Elizabeth looked at Vincent incredulously. "All those people think I am Catherine? I am not you're dead girlfriend," she cried out angrily and ran from them.

"Stay here, Mouse." Vincent ran after her, catching her before she lost herself in the tunnels.

She turned her tear streaked face toward him. "How could you be so cruel? How could you convince those people I'm your Catherine? I'm Elizabeth, I'm Elizabeth." She collapsed at his feet.

He gathered her up in his arms, held her close. He pressed his lips to her brow and carried her back through the passage to his chamber. He lowered her carefully to his bed looking down on her face with unguarded love. "Catherine," he barely breathed her name. "Know that I love you." He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

" Elizabeth, everything will be okay. We have time." He spoke gently.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and saw his face close to hers. His hands held hers, brought them to his lips. He kissed them softly. "I'm sorry Elizabeth. I just want you to remember."

"Where are we?"

"This is my chamber. You fainted at the waterfall."

She looked around the room. What could it tell her about him? Books were everywhere. Bookcases, wardrobes, cabinets along the walls held books and an odd assortment of...things? She couldn’t take them all in. City souvenirs, scrimshaw on a whale’s tooth, a microscope, old electric lamps. Were these all his or JV’s? The was more furniture, large, comfortable, old. Dark leather or tapestry covered chairs had carved wooden arms. A large wooden table was covered with books. Journals? Diaries? were piled on an old desk. Behind the huge bed she was resting on was a stained glass window, back lighted with dim light. There were many lighted candles of different sizes all around. Coals burned in a brazier. Antique and old oriental rugs covered the floor. A boy's baseball mitt sat at the end of the bed. JV's? His bed was covered with a crazy quilt of many old and varied fabrics. She looked back to his face.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Elizabeth? I can feel your unrest."

Tears glistened in her eyes. This man, this big, strong lion of a man who sat beside her, had haunted her dreams. He was a real, living, breathing person. Not some demon from her nightmares. His look of care and concern was her total undoing. She burst into sobs unable to say anything. His arms enfolded her in his strength, he rocked her slowly.

"I won't let you go Catherine."

"I need you Vincent." She clung to him. "I don't know why but I need you."

He held her, stroked her hair, until her weeping subsided. She fell asleep on his chest. Easing her back onto the pillows of his bed, he covered her with his old worn quilt. He moved to a chair, put his head back and closed his eyes. He dare not leave her alone. Her mind seemed so fragile. He could not push her into believing she was Catherine. He would have to tame his urgency.

"Vincent," she said quietly.

His eyes flew open, drinking her in.

"Why do you think I'm Catherine? How are you so sure, in your heart, beyond any doubts, that I am the woman you hold most dear in your heart? The woman you told me yourself is dead."

"Catherine. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. You look like Catherine, your voice is Catherine’s, you smell like her. Catherine and I had a bond, a connection. I was a part of her just as she was a part of me. I felt the things she felt when she did. If she was in danger, I knew, until the end," he whispered sadly. "People and events plotted against us. I became quite ill and our bond was lost. I lost her."

"I'm sorry," she said reaching out to him. He rose and took her hands. His eyes locked on hers. "The connection has returned to me, Elizabeth. You."

"Me?"

"When Jacob first brought you to the tunnels I felt a connection. That connection has gotten stronger and stronger. Last night I dreamed what you dreamed, felt your terror so I came to you. You worked after I left then your mind eased. I've only been connected to Jacob the past nine and a half years. This is different. My heart, my mind, my soul ever felt like this with Catherine. I cannot explain the connection, I don't understand it. It just is. Your very essence is Catherine. I felt hints of it over the years but ignored it because I felt Catherine was dead. Maybe now you can tell me of your life. Maybe we can make some sense out of all that is happening." He kissed her hand lightly and let her go. "Will you tell me Elizabeth?'

He was her answer. Did she trust him with her thoughts, her demons, her dreams? She was a little frightened. She had never spoken to anyone, not even the doctors. Could she be Catherine? That was too wonderful to contemplate. To have the love of this man. To have a son. She gripped his hand tightly wanting to feel his strength pour through her while she spoke.

"Vincent, nine and a half years ago I woke up in a hospital in San Francisco. I have no memory of how I got there." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "I have no memory of anything before that. Nothing. No one ever claimed me. Doctors treated me for a year, no memories ever surfaced. The only thing they could tell me was that I had given birth to a child. No unwanted child was ever found. The doctors thought maybe the child died and that was the cause of my memory loss.

"During therapy I learned how to quilt. There are many beautiful places to quilt in California. I managed to make a living from my quilts. I thought I was from California and didn't feel comfortable the few times when I left so I stayed. I lived in Carmel. Five years ago I met Nancy York. We became good friends. After I met her I started having nightmares. Blood, always blood, danger, gunshots. Sometimes I am drowning. I hear a baby cry. I get a feeling of such loss and desolation. I run nowhere in fear. Many times I'd be in a big city running down crowded streets but no one saw me. Once I thought I was shot. When I looked at my hands they were covered in blood. I've been attacked, my face slashed beyond recognition."

"Catherine," Vincent said. Drawing her close he rested his head on hers.

She relaxed secure in his arms for a moment, drew back. She pushed her hair back exposing her left cheek. Frightened eyes sought his. "Vincent, I have a scar on my face, a bullet hole in my side. I've had a child," she whispered. "I remember nothing that happened before I woke up in that hospital."

"Catherine," he said huskily, lightly touching her scar.

She covered his lips with her fingers. "Shhh. Last year when Nancy York became so ill, asked me to lease her shop, my dreams changed. Whenever I was frightened or afraid I'd hear a lion's roar. Strong arms would hold me close. I'd see a dark cloaked figure that gave me comfort though I'd never see his face. He'd say I'm here Catherine, always. Vincent, take me home. Let me show you my quilt."

They said nothing on the way back through the tunnels to her shop. Night had returned. She led him up the stairs through the chaos of the normally neat sewing room to her bedroom. She opened the roll top trunk, withdrew the quilt and spread it on her bed.

"I started this quilt last summer. It had no face.....until last night." Her photographic eye had captured him completely. In the corner she had stitched the words...Love Remembered. "I didn't know the face would be yours until last night. You always calmed my fears and gave me strength. If you think I'm Catherine help me, Vincent, to find her and find out what happened to her and why. If Jacob is my son, help us know each other as mother and son."

"Catherine, I can call you no other name. I think I can explain some things to you now." He lightly touched the scar in front of her ear.

"Vincent, I want, I need many answers but I don't know if my brain can absorb any more right now. The thought that I could really be Catherine has filled me up. Let me just get used to the idea first. Used to the idea that after all these years I may have found my son."

"You were right Catherine. He is beautiful."

The thought of Jacob, JV being her son brought tears to her eyes. She sat down abruptly on her bed. "Vincent, I'm shaking. If I am Catherine...."

"You are. I know you are.....but Catherine....." She looked up questioningly. He gripped her hands tightly. "You have to be very careful. If whoever did this to you finds out you are close to remembering you may be in danger."

"Even now?"

"Yes. Gabriel is dead but there must be someone else, someone who got you to California. Someone who may not want you to remember. Ever."

She looked so frightened, almost fragile sitting on the bed, her eyes still full of tears.

"Rest, sleep Catherine. Now that we've found each other we can work together looking for all the answers."

"What will we tell JV?"

Vincent looked at her sadly. "Maybe we should say nothing to him right now. I know you want to tell him he is your son, our son, but we have to think about him, what a shock it will be to find out the woman he thought was his mother is you and she is not dead. He already feels a close friendship to you. Let him come here frequently and a closer bond will develop."

She gripped his shoulders firmly. "I need you to tell me everything about him, his first words, when he walked, what he likes, his favorite books,TV shows, movies........."

Vincent laughed. "Hold on Catherine, slowly."

She started to pace. You've had him for over nine years. I've missed so much. How can I catch up?"

"We have no TV or movies below. He loves books, swimming and baseball. Your quilts. He walked before he was one. There are many things you can do with him, places you can take him where I cannot go. For now Catherine, be his friend."

She nodded silently.

"Get some sleep Catherine. There is tomorrow.... Jacob's first word was mama," he whispered.