Unbreakable by Barbara Handshy Anderson (Section 3)

Jake was very nervous. In less than 24 hours he would be a married man. It was a huge step in any life, but for Jake it brought with it extra challenges. By going to medical school, he had chosen to make his life in the world above, outside of the tunnels. But strictly by virtue of who he was, his connection with the tunnels would never be severed. Not that he even wanted to sever those ties. Jake loved the tunnels. He loved the life he had lived there. He cherished every memory of his childhood there. He especially cherished his relationship with his father. Sometimes he wondered if any child was ever more loved by a father than he had been. But a part of him had always felt the pull of the world above. He had worked hard to get into medical school. He had earned scholarships that had paid for most of it.

Falling in love with Becka had not actually been part of his plan. He had been aware of the challenges that he might encounter if he ever fell in love, especially if he fell in love with a “top-sider”. How would he ever explain who he was? How could he introduce a girl to his father? Not that he was ashamed of any of it, but the tunnels and Vincent must be carefully protected. He had often wondered if he could he ever trust anyone enough to share his deepest most sacred secrets?

Somehow Becka had managed to conquer all of Jake’s defenses. At first they had just been good friends. Slowly over the last few years they had grown to love each other almost without knowing it was happening.

Becka knew that Jake had secrets and she didn’t care. He was so comfortable to be with. They talked easily. They laughed even easier. She could be herself with him, whatever that even meant. Jake had always accepted her just as she was and he never demanded anything in return. She had never known anyone like Jacob Chandler Vincent.

After Jake had shared his deepest secrets with her, Becka had been thrown for a loop. Seeing the tunnels for the first time and meeting Jake’s father had been so overwhelming that she wasn’t sure how to move forward. She wasn’t sure if she could live with keeping such a secret from her parents and others in her life. But her love for Jake had been stronger than any of her misgivings and so their relationship had only become stronger.

Less than an hour to go before the wedding Jake had a quiet moment as he waited in the Groom’s dressing room at the church. His groomsmen were already in the chapel. He could see through the window that guests were beginning to arrive. Looking in the mirror at his tuxedo-clad self he took a deep breath to calm himself.

Turning toward the voice he saw Becka’s father approaching. “No Sir. I’m just saying a silent prayer that she doesn’t come to her senses in the next 45 minutes and change her mind.”

Mr. Maxwell laughed. “From the look of her the last time I saw her, I don’t think there is much chance of that, my man.”

Jake took another deep breath. “I love your daughter, Mr. Maxwell, more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. I feel like the luckiest man on earth. I hope I can make her happy.”

Mr. Maxwell put his hands on Jake’s shoulders and said, “You have already done that, Jake. And if you always treat her like you feel like the luckiest man on earth, you won’t go wrong. But you are going to have to stop calling me Mr. Maxwell. You can call me Joe, or you can call me Dad. You choose.”

Jake nodded his head and said, “Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir…. Uuhh… Joe, Sir.”

Joe tried to suppress a laugh. “Are you sure you’re from New York, Jake? Your parents did a wonderful job teaching you manners. I’m sorry they aren’t here to celebrate this day with you.”

Jake looked down slightly and said, “Thank you, S… Joe. I appreciate that. I can feel them here in spirit.”

Jake hated to tell Becka’s parents half truths about who he was and who his parents were. But he couldn’t risk betraying his secrets and where he came from. Jake and Becka had decided to tell her parents that his parents were dead. It was easier that way.

Joe slapped Jake on the back and asked, “Ok, are you ready to get this show on the road?”

Jake nodded his head as they headed for the door and said, “Yes Sir … Sorry, uh, Joe.”

In the bride’s dressing room, Becka took one last look in the mirror. Her mother straightened her veil even though it was already straight. She was trying to keep busy so she wouldn’t cry. She looked at her baby girl in the mirror and couldn’t believe the years had flown by so fast.

Kissing Becka on the cheek she said, “I can hardly believe you are old enough for this. You look so beautiful, Honey.”

Jen Maxwell nodded and said, “Only if you want to, Honey. Are you having any second thoughts?”

Becka shook her head and smiled with tears in her eyes. “I love him so much, Mom. I can’t even imagine my life without him in it. Was it like that for you and Dad?” she asked.

Jen nodded her head and smiled. “Yes. We became so much a part of each other’s lives that we realized we belonged together.”

Becka asked, “But, Mom, how can you know that it will last, that it’s the real thing?”

Jen thought for a moment and said, “I guess you know it’s the real thing when the only time you feel like you are really home is when you’re together.”

Becka nodded and smiled. She hugged her mother tightly and said, “Thanks, Mom, I love you.”

Jen laughed and said through tears, “Stop it now, you are going to make me ruin my make up.”

They both laughed and turned toward the door. As they reached the bottom of the stairs she took her father’s arm. The usher escorted her mother to her seat and the wedding march began.

The wedding was beautiful, followed by a celebration fit for a princess. The pride and love that Joe and Jen Maxwell had for their daughter was evident to everyone who saw them.

After a lovely dinner, the obligatory toasts and the cutting of the cake, the dancing was about to begin when Jake and Becka took center stage with a guitar in hand. Becka leaned against a stool as Jake addressed the guests.

He said, “We’d like to thank all of you for being here and sharing this day with us. And we would also like to thank those who couldn’t be here today, but are here in spirit. This is our song, but we would like to dedicate it to each of you tonight because each of you in your own unique way have shined your light into our lives and made this day possible.”

Becka approached the microphone and addressed the guests. “This is for all of you.” Then turning to Jake, she said, “But mostly it’s for you, Jake, my husband, my best friend, my heart.”

Jen Maxwell’s eyes were glistening. Her heart was overflowing for her daughter. She had never seen Becka so happy.

As the audience became quiet Becka began to strum the guitar as she sang their song; Jake joined in about halfway through and then they sang it a second time with everyone in the room joining in.

Finally after a day filled with joy and laughter, the festivities of the day began to wind down and Jake and Becka were given a sendoff to their honeymoon.

Joe and Jen Maxwell were the only ones left on the dance floor as the hotel staff began to clean up. They leaned close together as they danced.

“Wow,” Joe said. “Did this really just happen? Did our baby girl just get married?”

Joe looked lovingly at his bride and said, “Of course she was. She’s her mother’s daughter. You looked beautiful too, Honey.”

Cici began to realize something was wrong shortly after Candy’s surgery. She was experiencing severe migraines. Sometimes she would spend days sick in bed because of them. At first it was easy to ignore. As it persisted she knew she should get it checked out. Cici had a deep distrust of doctors. Not surprising considering some of her life experiences. But she was slowly becoming frightened by her painful symptoms. The local doctor had suggested she go see a specialist in Bangkok. That meant taking an overnight train. Staying in a hotel and being away from the children she loved. The staff at the orphanage made her go. They were worried about her and they knew she wouldn’t go unless they insisted. Noi would go with her as a companion in case she needed anything.

After days of tests, the news was stunning. The doctor said, “Madam Cici, I am sorry to tell you that you have an aneurysm in your brain.”

Shaking her head a little, she asked, “What does that mean? Do I need surgery?”

“No, Madam, it’s inoperable, and probably fatal. I’m sorry, Madam,” the doctor answered.

There are times in life when the foundation of your world gives way under your feet and everything goes spinning out of control. Cici knew this feeling. It had happened before. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t prepared for it.

The doctor said a lot of other things, but Cici felt like she was listening to him talk underwater.

“It’s probably something you were born with …You should put your affairs in order, Madam… There are some medications… Unable to tell how much time … If it ruptures it will probably be fatal … perhaps there were other treatment options in the United States…”

Cici was very quiet on the train trip back up country. She was contemplating what her next steps should be. I can’t let the children know I’m ill, she thought. But I can’t stay at the orphanage either. I can’t risk the children seeing me die. What would that do to them? She wondered.

Cici kept thinking about her parents. She hadn’t thought about them much for a long time. Now she couldn’t help but think how comforting it would be to have her father’s big arms around her. She continued asking herself searching questions. Should I stay here and die? What does that really mean? Haven’t I been dead for the last 25 years anyway? How different could it be? Who would they bury? And where? They cremate people here. When I am burned to ashes, it will be as if I never even existed. I’ve been a ghost all of these years. Have I ever really existed at all? Her thoughts made her head ache. She could feel the panic rising. Deep breaths, Catherine. Deep breaths. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the train window and closed her eyes. In the center of her inner darkness she could see a small flame flickering in the wind. Although her face showed little expression, if anyone had been paying attention they would have seen an occasional tear escape the corner of her eye and slowly roll down her cheek.

Noi could remember when she was a small child and Cici had brought her and her brother to the orphanage. Cici was different from the other American volunteers that had come and gone over the years. Cici had come and never left. She had been the closest thing to a mother Noi and many other children had ever known. Cici had always been quiet. She never spoke about her life before and she never showed much affection or emotion. When she was with the children though she had always been gentle and kind. The children loved her beyond measure and she always had time for them.

Cici taught them to speak English. She also taught them to read and write in English. Before Cici had come there, the orphans had little in life to look forward to. When they reached adulthood they would be turned out into the streets. Most of the girls as well as some of the boys would become prostitutes or factory slaves, barely ever making enough money to live. They were caught in a terrible cycle of poverty and hardship. Cici had changed things. She made sure they were prepared for good jobs as housemaids or sewing ladies or taxi drivers. She made sure they could make their way in the world. Cici cared more than anyone else ever had.

It was all over now. It was finally time for Cici to go home. Cici was vague about why she was leaving, but Noi knew it had something to do with their recent trip to the big hospital in Bangkok. Cici had been more quiet lately than usual. Noi tried not to cry as she helped Cici prepare to leave. Cici was turning over all of her responsibilities to her. Noi could not stop the fear that was rising within her.

“Noi, I want you to promise me that you will take special care of Candy,” Cici instructed. “She has to have someone who will love for her no matter what. She still needs more surgeries. You will have to take her to Chiang Mai next year when Operation Smile comes back. Can you do that for me?” Cici pressed Noi on this point. She was worried about Candy’s welfare.

“Yes, Khun Cici, I can do that. You will be gone a long time, Madam? When will you come back?” Noi was confused and worried.

Cici didn’t want to say the words out loud. And she didn’t want people get emotional. She was afraid of losing control of herself. So she didn’t tell the whole truth.

“Noi, I’m sick. I have to go to a doctor in the United States. I don’t know how long I will be gone. I know you can do this. You have been here as long as I have. You can make better lives for all of these children. Okay?”

Noi was fighting back tears. She had a feeling that Cici wasn’t being completely honest. “You are going to die, Khun Cici?” she asked.

Cici looked away and started putting things in her dufflebag. She finally answered, “Everybody is going to die sometime, Noi.” Then she put her hands on Noi’s shoulders and said, “You can’t tell ANYONE. Do you understand? I don’t want them to know. At least not for a while. Okay?”

Cici continued packing, fighting to hold back the tears she finally answered, “Fear is a useless emotion, Noi. I don’t have the time or the strength to waste being afraid. I have too many things left to do.”

Those last few days Cici was especially attentive to the children. She read them the stories that they loved. She watched them playing in the yard. Everything seemed in sharp focus as she tried to memorize each of their smiles and the sound of their laughter. This orphanage had been her only home, her only family for almost half of her life. She had tried not to feel anything at first. Then she had tried not to love them too much. But that was not the way Cici’s heart was made. Slowly she had begun to love them as much as her broken heart was able to love. And then when Candy had come, the little girl had conquered the rest of Cici’s broken heart. Now Cici was paying the price that she had paid before. Her heart was breaking at the thought of saying goodbye. The children had no idea that Cici was leaving for good. Noi was to go on as before. The children would think that Cici had gone on a vacation the way she did from time to time. After a while they would forget her and their lives would go on without her. Only Noi knew the truth, Cici was not coming back.

Cici combed and braided Candy’s hair with special care that morning. Despite Cici’s efforts, Candy sensed something was wrong. She climbed into Cici’s arms and asked, “เป็นกรุ๊ปเศร้า” “Is Cici sad?”

Cici smiled and answered, “ลูกอมไม่มีผมเป็นอย่างดี. มจะคิดถึงคุณในขณะที่ผมไปแล้ว” “No Candy, I’m fine. I will miss you while I’m gone,” she said as she hugged her a little tighter than usual.

Candy hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek, “ผมจะคิดถึงคุณเพื่อคุณนายกรุ๊ป ต้องรีบกลับมา” “I will miss you too, Madam Cici. Hurry back.” And then she whispered a secret in Cici’s ear. “ฉันรักคุณ” “I love you.”

“ฉันรักคุณมากจนเกินไป มีผู้หญิงที่ดีในขณะที่ผมไปแล้ว I love you too. Be a good girl while I'm gone,” Cici whispered. As Cici hugged Candy one last time, she said a little prayer for the child. She was worried about what would happen to her.

As the tuk tuk pulled away from the orphanage Noi and Candy stood hand in hand waving to Cici until she was completely out of sight. Cici was taking the overnight train to Bangkok and then she would go straight to the airport. As the train pulled away from the station Cici began to relax and realized how exhausted she was. She hadn’t realized how much energy it had taken to control her emotions for the last two weeks. She curled up into the train seat and leaned against the window. The cool glass soothed the ache in her head as she fell into a dreamless sleep. All she could see was the light of a small flame flickering in the wind and she thought she heard the distant sound of Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony.

Vincent had not slept well through the night. Shortly before morning he began to dream that he was sitting alone in the dark. He saw a small flame bravely flickering against the wind. He could feel the vibrating movement beneath him as if he was riding in a train. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he could see the figure of a pale, slight woman curled up asleep with her head leaning against a glass window. Hanging around her neck, he could see the crystal. It was the same woman he had seen in another dream months before, only she was alone and she looked very fragile and tired. Was it Catherine? He thought he could hear the distant strains of Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. … As the symphony played he found himself standing on the train tracks. He could see the dim lights of the train slowly coming toward him. As the lights came closer and closer he tried to move off the tracks, but his feet were stuck fast. And then just as the train was bearing down on him he woke up.

New York City! Cici breathed it in as deeply as she could. There was something about just being back in New York City that filled an emptiness in her. Perhaps it was because so many of her precious memories were interwoven through these streets, the parks and the lights of the city. She savored the smell of the hot dog vendor’s cart on the street corner. The sounds of the city, the car horns and busy people hailing taxis sounded like a long forgotten tune. The New York City skyline on a clear night had always looked as if the stars had been specially lit just to make it even more beautiful. It was hard to tell where the city lights ended and the stars began.

Something was different though. This time Cici was coming home for good. She had come back to reclaim the last thing of value she had in the world. She had come back to reclaim her identity. For 25 years she had lived without it. Giving it up had been the only way she believed she could protect the people she loved. But she had recently come to realize that even though she was willing and able to live without her name, she couldn’t bring herself to die without it. She needed to know that she had left at least one thing behind in the world that would bear witness that she had lived, even if it was only a headstone. She found it comforting somehow to think of being laid to rest next to the two people who had brought her into the world, who had ever loved her without reservation to their very last breath. Over the years she had slowly accepted the death of all her dreams. She just had this last one left, to be buried next to her parents under a stone that bore her true name; Catherine Chandler.

After settling herself in a cheap hotel and taking a much needed shower, Catherine found herself walking the streets of Manhattan even though the hour was very late. Taking in all the sounds and the smells and the lights of the city, it seemed the same in some ways. And in some ways it was very different. Eventually she found herself standing at the graveside of her parents. Even though she knew that they were gone, a blanket of peace settled over her as she stood there before their graves. For so long she had been a ghost in a world where no one knew who she really was. It was a little ironic that it was in a cemetery that she began to reclaim her old life.

“Hi Mom. Hi Dad,” she said as she kissed her hand and reached out and stroked the headstones. “I know that you know who I am.”

As she turned to the headstone that bore the name of Catherine Chandler she shuddered a little. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m Catherine Chandler. I am Catherine Chandler. I am Catherine Chandler.” She repeated it over and over.

Maybe if I say it enough times I will start feeling like it’s true, she thought. She came close to the stone and pulled out a permanent marker and wrote something under the inscription. Then pulling a small birthday candle out of her pocket, she lit it and stood it in a little puddle of wax on the top of the headstone. She watched it for a moment and then she walked away.

As Catherine walked away, a cloaked shadowy figure appeared from behind a nearby tree.

Vincent had felt drawn to Catherine’s grave that night. He seldom went there anymore. He couldn’t feel her presence there. But as he approached her grave, he saw that someone, a woman, was already there. It surprised him to see anyone there at such an early morning hour. He usually had the city pretty much to himself in the darkest hours of the night.

Hiding in the shadows, he was close enough to hear her speaking to the headstones. He drew in his breath sharply as he heard her say, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m Catherine Chandler. I am Catherine Chandler. I am Catherine Chandler.” He recalled his recent dreams and tried to get a better look at this woman. Could it be the woman from his dreams?

It isn’t possible, he thought. I was with her. I held her. I stayed with her. She was … gone., he thought.

He couldn’t see her clearly enough to see her face. As she walked away, Vincent drew closer to the grave of the only woman he had ever loved and saw a tiny candle perched on top of the stone.

He recalled something Catherine had said to him once, “Remember how I told you when I was little I was afraid of the dark? Well my mother gave me a candle to light at my bedside before I went to sleep. It was just a tiny little thing, a birthday candle. Somehow it made it all right. I’ve loved candles ever since.”[1]

Vincent watched the tiny flame until it went out. Then in the dim light of the cemetery he could barely make out something written on the stone that he had never seen there before. Written in marker were the words: Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not here; I did not die.

…but he was unable to accept the possibility of what the words really meant because Vincent knew that it wasn’t possible! But regardless of what he knew, it weighed on his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He could feel the shadow of something looming, but he wasn’t sure what it was or how to feel about it.

The next morning Catherine called Peter. Although she had exchanged letters with him over the years, she hadn’t actually spoken to him since she left the United States in 1990. She had made it clear to him that she didn’t want to know anything about Vincent or their son unless it was vitally important. She felt it would be too dangerous for them and too difficult for her to stay away if she knew about their lives. Peter had to be around 90 years old by now. She had written him as soon as she had decided to come back to New York and explained to him what her diagnosis was. She wasn’t sure if he had even received the letter. The mail from Thailand wasn’t always reliable.

The phone rang a couple of times. It was finally answered by a woman on the other end, “Hello?”

“It’s Catherine. I wrote him that I would be coming. I hope he is expecting me.” Catherine explained.

Making a valiant effort to control her emotions, Catherine answered, “Yes, Peter, it’s me.”

“Cathy, I only got your letter two days ago. When are you coming over here?” Peter’s concern was evident in his voice.

Within the hour Catherine was standing in Peter’s apartment being embraced by the only person on earth that knew she was even alive. She rarely let anyone get close enough to embrace her. She was surprised by her inability to control her emotions. She hated the feeling. It was like being plunged into ice water. Despite the warmth of the July day, Peter could feel her stiffen and then begin shaking from head to toe as he hugged her.

Peter guided her into his study and said, “Sit down Cathy. You look exhausted.”

Catherine sat down obediently and found herself sitting in the farthest corner of a large overstuffed couch. She was overwhelmed by a wave of feelings and memories that were rushing over her. She pulled a large pillow from the couch and held it like it was a life preserver as she covered her face with her hands. She sat silently like that for several minutes taking deep cleansing breaths in an effort to regain her composure.

As Peter sat across the room and patiently waited for Catherine to pull herself together, he was able to make some observations. She naturally looked older than the last time he had seen her. In spite of that, she was clearly still Catherine. She had a classic beauty that had not faded. She looked very pale and thin and tired, and her hands looked like the hands of someone who had known a life of hard work. Her clothes looked like they had seen better days. Peter had a thousand questions, but he could see that Cathy needed space and patience. He noticed that from time to time she nervously rubbed her right wrist on which she wore a wide leather wrist band.

After several minutes Catherine broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Peter.” She took another deep breath. “I don’t mean to waste your time, but I …”

“It’s fine, Cathy,” Peter interrupted. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

Not expecting that question, she had to think for a minute. “Uhm … yesterday, I guess. I had something on the plane.” Every word came with great effort.

Peter left the room for a moment and spoke to someone. When he returned he asked, “Do you think you can eat something?”

Without speaking Catherine reached into her backpack and pulled out a large rumpled envelope and handed it to Peter.

Peter reached for the packet and said, “I’ll just take a look at these. That will give you a little while to try and relax. Okay Cathy?”

Catherine nodded almost imperceptibly and then reclined on the couch and closed her eyes. She continued to breathe deeply in an attempt to overcome the feeling of intense panic that was enveloping her. After a few minutes her breathing became more even and Peter realized she had fallen asleep. He also noted that as she lay there sleeping an occasional tear would squeeze through her closed eyelids and roll down her cheeks.

Vincent had not slept well until just before dawn. When he did wake up late in the morning he still couldn’t make sense of his thoughts. He had barely begun his day when an overwhelming feeling of panic overcame him. He began to shake and his head began to throb. Father witnessed this episode as Vincent was unable to hide it. He sat in Father’s chamber trying to calm himself. Father was very concerned by these symptoms. They were reminiscent of a terrible time in Vincent’s life many years ago. Father sat silently with Vincent until the episode passed.

Vincent finally spoke, “I know what you’re thinking, Father. I can see the fear in your eyes.”

Father then asked the question that had been hanging in the air, “It’s been years since I saw you do that, Vincent. Are you all right? Do you think it’s happening again?”

Vincent knew the answer. “No.” He shook his head and continued, “It isn’t anything like that. I’m not sure what it is, Father. But I know it’s not that. I am in control … of myself.”

Vincent tried to explain, “I don’t’ know. I’m trying to understand. Sometimes … lately … I can’t focus. I’ve been dreaming of … of Catherine. Last night I went to her grave. I felt drawn to it. There was someone there, a woman … standing at her graveside.”

Father was trying to understand. He asked, “Good Heavens, Vincent. Did she see you? Could you see who it was? Why would anyone be there? … in the middle of the night …?”

Vincent shook his head. “She didn’t see me, Father. I was in the shadows. But I heard her say, ‘I don’t know who you are, but I am Catherine Chandler’. At first I thought she was talking to me and then I realized that she was speaking to the headstone.” He thought for a moment and added, “When she left, I went closer to the grave. She had left a small candle burning on top of the headstone and she had written something under the inscription.” He became thoughtful as he recalled the words.

Vincent answered slowly. “It said, ‘Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not here. I did not die.’”

Father was astounded. “But that isn’t possible. You were with her. There was a funeral. Could it be possible, Vincent?”

Vincent stood and began to pace. “It is NOT POSSIBLE, Father! How I wish it was … possible! If she was alive, she would have been here, with us all this time. NO, IT IS NOT POSSIBLE!” Vincent said forcefully. Then in a more somber tone he spoke as he remembered those excruciatingly painful moments. “She died in my arms, Father. I carried her home. I stayed with her for hours.[2] She was … gone … She was … dead.”

And then he added, “Her spirit has walked these tunnels. I have seen her myself. I don’t know who this woman is. But it is not Catherine.”

While Catherine slept, Peter called an old friend at the Neurological Institute. “Hello Mack. This is Peter Alcott….”

Hours later Catherine could feel two little arms wrap around her neck and a soft little kiss on her cheek. Then she heard a little girl’s voice whisper, “ฉันรักคุณ Cici” “I love you Cici.”

Catherine woke up confused and disoriented. It was late in the afternoon. It took a moment for her to remember where she was.

Peter cut her off, “Don’t apologize, Cathy. You needed to rest. Right now being well rested is the best thing for you. Dinner is almost ready. You have got to eat something.”

They talked as they headed for the dining room. Catherine wasn’t very hungry, but Peter insisted that she eat.

Catherine didn’t argue. She wasn’t sure where to start. “Peter, did you look at my medical records?”

Peter was honest. “Cathy, I haven’t practiced medicine for a long time. You need to see a neurologist. The sooner the better.”

Cathy put her hand to her forehead. “I need to get my identity back first. I can’t … die, Peter, not until …. not until I’m not dead anymore.”

Peter was frustrated at what he was hearing. “Cathy, you cannot put this off. There could be a surgery or a treatment…”

“And what name should I put on the paperwork?” she asked. “My fake identity? I can’t do that. What if there is a surgery and I die during the operation? What would it say on my headstone? Here lies nobody? I’ve been a nameless ghost for 25 years Peter. I need my name if I’m going to die.”

Cathy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I need a lawyer, if I have any chance of straightening this out before I ... There is only one person that I trust. I hope I can trust. I need your help to contact him. Do you remember Joe Maxwell?”

Peter agreed to contact him for her. Then he approached the subject he had been afraid to bring up. He finally asked, “What about Vincent? And …”

Peter was shocked. He had no way of knowing that Catherine knew anything about her son. The expression on his face said it all.

Catherine answered his unspoken question. “He was one of the doctors with Operation Smile in Thailand back in April. I was there with a little girl from the orphanage. I think we both felt a connection. After talking for quite some time, I realized who he was. It was quite a shock.”

“NO,” she answered emphatically. And then more softly, “No…. At least I don’t think so…. I hope not.” Oh how she hoped not.

“Are you going to contact them? Are you going to let them know …?” Peter asked.

“Let them know what?” Catherine was becoming agitated. “That I was just pretending to be dead for the last 25 years? But now I really am dying? Haven’t they suffered enough pain because of me?” She became more subdued and said, shaking her head, “No, Peter, It’s better for them to just keep thinking that I am dead. It’ll be true soon enough anyway.”

There was an awkward silence and then Peter asked, “How do you think you can keep it quiet? Your death was in all the papers.”

Catherine closed her eyes and breathed deeply before she answered, “I don’t know. I’m hoping Joe can help me.”

Then realizing the time, she rose and said, “I need to go. I’m sorry I took up so much of your time. Thank you, Peter, for everything.”

Peter seemed surprised. “You aren’t staying here? Cathy, you really should stay here. There is plenty of room.”

Catherine protested, “No, Peter. I really don’t want anyone to know where I am staying. I don’t want to put you in any danger … if there is still any danger.”

Peter still insisted, “If there is any danger, Cathy, and I’m not sure there is after all this time, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone might kill me? Look at me, Cathy. I’m going to die soon one way or the other. You need a safe place. This is a safe place. And you need someone to make sure you eat and get the rest you need. I may not be much use as a doctor anymore, but I can manage that.”

Catherine was hesitant. Then Peter added, “Come on, Cathy, let this old man do one useful thing before I die.”

“No one, absolutely NO ONE, can know I’m here. Okay?” Cathy gave in reluctantly.

Peter agreed immediately and asked, “Do you need to go back to your hotel and get your things?”

Catherine took a taxi to her hotel. It took her less than 10 minutes to gather her meager belongings and get back into the waiting taxi. Within the hour she was back at Peter’s home.

As she came in with a duffle bag, Peter looked confused. “That’s it? Where’s the rest?” He asked.

Catherine gave him a wry smile and answered flippantly, “I’m a ghost Peter. I travel light.”

Catherine slept until late the next morning. She had not realized how tired she really was. After a good night’s sleep Catherine felt much better. It was the first day in a long time that she had woken up without a headache. But she felt like the slightest thing could shatter her into a million pieces. She realized that there were few safe places for her in the world. Peter had made her feel safe here. She took a long hot shower and made her way to the kitchen in search of food.

Peter greeted her as soon as she came through the roof door. “Good morning, Cathy! Or should I say good afternoon?”

Catherine looked a little shocked when she heard her name. She replied, “Good morning, Peter.” She smiled at him and then said, “I’m not used to hearing my name. It jars me a little.”

She looked around the roof. Peter had turned it into a beautiful rooftop garden. She closed her eyes and drank in the scent of honeysuckle that pervaded the roof. “OH, Peter, this is wonderful.”

Peter smiled, “It’s my own private oasis. It gives an old man a reason to climb those stairs.”

Peter was clearly impressed with the change he saw in Catherine. “You look much better this morning. How are you feeling?”

Cathy smiled a little and then replied softly, “Peter, can you ask me something else? I don’t want to talk about how I feel, but I don’t want to lie to you either. I’m sorry.”

Peter understood so he asked something else. “All right then, how did you sleep?”

“You’ve already got an appointment?” Catherine was impressed, and surprisingly a little apprehensive, that he had managed to get an appointment so soon. She had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep her heart from racing. Then nodding she said, more to herself than to Peter, “Yes, yes … I can do this.”

“I just told him I needed to see him and it was extremely urgent and confidential. He was very accommodating. We are his last appointment today,” Peter answered. Then he added, “That gives us a few hours to talk, Cathy. Do you feel like filling me in on what you have been doing for the last 25 years?”

Peter quickly replied, “You don’t owe me anything, Cathy… if you’re not up to it …”

Catherine interrupted, “Yes Peter, I do … owe you … more than I can ever repay.” Catherine spent the afternoon filling Peter in on the major details of the life she had led. She carefully avoided anything that would provoke her emotions. Over the years she had become good at that. She felt that she, as well as everyone she cared about, was safer if she felt as little emotion as possible. It was like walking a tight rope all of the time trying to find the balance that would still allow her to function in her life. What was disturbing to her was that it was getting harder and harder for her to maintain that balance. Catherine wasn’t sure how much longer she could do it.

Peter eventually steered the conversation around to topics he knew were sensitive. “Cathy, we need to discuss your estate and your foundation.”

Catherine’s expression immediately changed. She looked sideways at Peter, but remained silent.

Peter continued, “Your father made some very good investments before he died. You’re a very wealthy woman, Cathy.”

Catherine finally responded, shaking her head. “I left that all to you when I died Peter. I don’t have anything.”

“But you aren’t really dead, Cathy. It still belongs to you. Even this apartment belongs to your estate,” Peter replied.

Catherine smiled softly and quietly said, “I won’t have any use for it where I’m going.”

“The Catherine Chandler Foundation has helped a lot of people over the years. You have helped a lot of people. Jacob and the other children in the tunnels could never have …”

Catherine stopped him, holding up her hand she said, “Peter, I don’t want to know details. It’s too hard. If it’s helped, that’s all I need to know.”

Peter tried to continue without agitating her. “Sooner or later you need to hear it Cathy. I am old. I’m not going to live much longer. Someone will have to take over.”

Catherine thought for a moment and said, “You should leave it to Jake. It will be rightfully his. He’s a good man. He has a good heart. I trust him to use it wisely.”

Peter tried to reply but Catherine interjected, “Peter, can we … please … stop now?”

Peter relented and he left Catherine sitting alone in the healing fragrance of the garden.

Joe’s office was pretty impressive. He had made quite a successful career for himself over the years. He had a law firm in Midtown Manhattan. Catherine hardly noticed the décor. She was incredibly nervous. Peter could see how pale she was. Her hands were shaking a little. Catherine was becoming painfully aware of how out of place she looked. Her clothes were all wrong and too worn for this part of town. She looked down at her hands and was suddenly embarrassed at how rough they looked. Her mind began to spin with questions like; What if I can’t get my name back? What if no one believes me? What if I can’t trust Joe?

“Calm down Cathy. You have to trust someone,” she whispered to herself as she could feel her heart beating in her throat. “You have to do this. It’s going to be all right,” she continued to encourage herself as she took deep breaths. Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths, she kept repeating in her head.

Luckily they didn’t have to wait long. The phone rang and they could hear the receptionist say, “Yes, Mr. Maxwell, Dr. Alcott is here. Yes, Mr. Maxwell. Thank you. Yes Sir.”

Then she turned to Peter and Catherine and said, “Mr. Maxwell is on his way up. If you would follow me please?”

She showed them into a large office and said, “Mr. Maxwell will be right with you.”

“Thank you,” Peter replied. Catherine was too busy trying to control her emotions to hear the exchange. She went to the window to try and distract herself.

It was only a few minutes before Joe entered the office. He greeted Peter warmly, “Hello, Peter! How are you?”

Peter responded, eager to get past the small talk. “I’m fine, Mr. Maxwell. At least as fine as someone my age can be.”

“Please, call me Joe, Peter. We’ve known each other too long for formalities.” Then looking curiously to the woman standing at the window, he asked, “What can I do for you today, Peter?”

Joe reached out to shake her hand. Then squinting, Joe looked at Catherine and cocked his head a little to the side. Then he said, “No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

Joe pulled his hand back as if it was burned. He backed up a little and looked angrily at Peter. “Cathy Chandler has been dead for years. What kind of a sick joke is this?”

Catherine answered, “It really is me, Joe. I am Cathy Chandler…” Then she recalled what he used to call her, “… Radcliffe?”

Joe backed up a little and laughed skeptically. “That IS NOT possible. Cathy Chandler is DEAD! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but I saw her body myself. I WATCHED THEM CARRY HER OUT IN A BODY BAG!” Nevertheless, he was looking at her closely and had to admit that he was beginning to see that there was a resemblance.

“I know that, Joe.” Then she had a spark of memory and said softly, almost to herself, “Someone said ‘… bag her hands, I don’t want to lose anything on the way in’.[3]”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Joe was visibly agitated. He remembered that morning like it was yesterday and those words were engraved in his memory.

Catherine’s voice remained soft. “That’s the last thing I … remember hearing before I … before I … woke up.”

“Before you woke up?” Joe shook his head, trying to understand what she was saying. “Before you woke up where?”

She spoke haltingly, “I … I don’t know where… a house … a white room …” She was trying now to remember things she had tried hard to forget. “A white room with no windows…”

Joe was silent. The memories were painful for him as well. He was having great difficulty believing what was happening, even though the more he looked at Catherine and watched her mannerisms, the more confused he was about the “truth”.

Joe wanted to end this awkward and disturbing conversation as soon as possible. “Let’s say I were to believe you. Which, by the way, I am not saying that I do, what do you want from me?”

Catherine was trying to suppress her rising desperation. “Joe, I haven’t trusted anyone from my past, except for Peter, for the last 25 years. I’m not even sure if I can trust you. But if I am going to get my identity back …. I have to trust someone.”

Joe was a little taken aback by this strategy. “What does that mean? You don’t know if you can trust me?”

“Joe …!” She was trying to organize her thoughts, when so many memories were rushing to the surface. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” She paused for several seconds and then in desperation she continued, “It was John Moreno that betrayed me … turned me over … to them … to … him … Gabriel. Did you know that?” A couple of tears escaped her eyes despite her best efforts.

“Up until that moment I trusted him completely. I thought I knew the difference between the ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’.”

By this point Catherine was shaking visibly, she began rubbing her wrist as if it was causing her pain and the tears were shimmering in her eyes. She took several deep breaths and continued speaking as if she was living the memories in real time. “I remember what you looked like Joe, lying in that hospital bed. You were so … broken … and burned.” She wiped her cheeks, and took another deep breath. “… and Elliot Burch? … He’s only dead because he knew me … because he was stupid enough to love me. How many people died because of me, Joe? Because of that investigation? And that stupid book?” A tear rolled down her cheek in the thick silence of the room.

Then she spoke calmly almost without any emotion, “I knew, when by some miracle I lived through it and found my way out, that to protect anyone who ever cared about me, I needed to stay dead.” She stood to leave. She felt very tired. The resignation in her voice was clear as she said, “Maybe that’s what I should just do now. It will be true soon enough anyway. I’m sorry I bothered you, Joe.” Then turning to Peter she said, “I’m ready to go now, Peter.” And with that she quietly walked out the door.

Peter silently followed her to the elevator. They were silent all the way back to his place. Peter was very worried about her, but he was afraid to break the silence. She looked so fragile. When they finally got to his apartment he asked, “Do you need anything, Cathy?”

She shook her head and said, “Good night Peter, and thank you ...” She kissed his cheek and added, “… for everything.” She was too tired to fight the waves of sadness that were washing over her. She barely got her shoes off before she lay down on her bed and fell asleep. She didn’t want to think any more today. She just wanted sleep. As she closed her eyes, Catherine watched the tiny flickering flame in the darkness in her head until she drifted away.

In the early evening Vincent was enjoying a visit from Jacob and Rebecka. Their visits were always so welcome and full of joy. Parents love to see that their children are happy. Vincent was no different. Seeing his son so in love was like balm to his heart. He was beginning to see so many of his own unfulfilled dreams coming true in Jacob’s life.

As they laughed and poured over wedding pictures and honeymoon pictures they told Vincent about everything they had seen. As he was drinking it all in he began to feel a vague feeling of dread rising in him and he noticed his hands were shaking. Just as it seemed to reach a climax, it stopped and he was overcome by a wave of extreme sadness and fatigue.

Vincent leaned back in his chair and rested his head in his hands. “I was … frightened … only for a few moments … and now I just feel incredibly … sad,” he said in a confused tone.

Vincent was talking mostly to himself when he answered, “I don’t know. I just felt this wave of intense emotion.”

“I don’t really know myself, Jacob,” Vincent said. “I have been having some strange feelings lately. I’m trying to make sense of it all.”

“Well, when you do, could you let me in on it? Maybe you should lie down for a little while, Dad.” Jake helped him over to his bed. “I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t worried about you.”

“I appreciate your concern, Jacob. I just don’t know what good it does for you to worry,” Vincent replied.

“I love you, Dad. What kind of a son would I be if I didn’t worry about my aged father? I want you to rest now, so maybe I can feel better. How’s that?” Jake said, only half joking, to try and lighten the mood.

Vincent smiled a little and said, “Fine, I guess I can do that. I’ll take a nap. I hope it makes you feel better, Jake.”

With that they hugged and Vincent lay down, rolled over and went to sleep watching a tiny, flame bravely flickering in the wind.

After a while he found himself dreaming of the waterfalls listening to the soothing sounds of the rushing water. His dreams took him back to a time when Catherine was there with him.

When he woke up the next morning he felt like a piece of himself that had been long lost was somehow restored.

Catherine found herself wandering deep into the tunnels that night in her dreams. She sat quietly listening to the rushing waters of the underground waterfall. She remembered sitting there years ago with Vincent and listening to him read. It felt like she sat there for hours in solitude as the sound of the water soothed and refreshed her aching spirit. She could hear Vincent as they shared treasured childhood memories and future hopes and dreams. His voice was soft and reassuring, encouraging her;

“Catherine …every moment that we share is a triumph and a gift. And every one of those moments is a lifetime, complete. There is no failure. It doesn’t mean our dream can never be. It just means that now is not the right time. You came here to heal, but now your destiny is to be in both worlds. You are a woman of both worlds. That is who you are.”

Catherine asked, “Do you think that someday … will we ever be together? Truly together?”

Vincent answered her gently, “Only if and when we understand how great the sacrifice and how large the fears and are able to move through them…. Catherine we are something that has never been, and our journey is one that none have ever taken….We must go with courage, and we must go with care….”[4]

After Peter and Catherine had left Joe’s office, Joe felt like he had been struck by lightning. He sat silently at his desk for quite some time replaying the encounter over and over in his head. He was sure that Catherine Chandler was dead. He had seen her himself. He had watched them carry her out of her apartment in a body bag. He had been at the medical examiner’s office on the day of her autopsy. He had planned her funeral with Jenny Aronson. He had watched as her casket was lowered into the grave. The memories were extremely painful. And yet …

… as he recalled this woman, he couldn’t deny the incredible resemblance. And some of the things she said could only have been known by Catherine. She even had a scar that resembled the scar that Catherine had after she was attacked.

Joe’s mind was still reeling when he walked into his apartment. Jen could tell something was wrong, but she knew not to ask him about his work. So she just hugged him and asked, “Hi, Honey, would you like some dinner? You look like you had a hard day.”

Joe returned her hug and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Honey that would be great,” he replied.

As they ate dinner together it was very quiet. Joe was still going over the encounter with “Catherine” in his mind. He was wondering if he should share it with Jen. After all she had been Cathy’s best friend. In a way this concerned her as well. But he also knew that as this woman was seeking his professional help, that he should keep it confidential.

Jen looked at him at first with terror in her eyes and then with confusion. He tried speaking to her again, “Are you all right? Jeez, you just about gave me a heart attack.”

Jen put her hand over her chest and took a few deep breaths as she tried to explain. “We were walking in a cemetery, Joe. We were walking and then we were standing at a grave. When I looked at the headstone I saw that it was Cathy’s grave.”

Jen continued, “We were standing there and suddenly it just opened up and we looked in and …”

“It was empty, Joe,” Jen said. “And then a hand touched my shoulder. When I turned to look she was standing there smiling, just the way she used to. And she said, ‘Jen, I am not here, I did not die.’”

Jen’s heart was beginning to slow down to normal again. “Joe, it’s been years since I dreamed about her. What do you think it means?”

Joe just put his arms around her. His mind was racing, but he didn’t know what to say. Anything he could say right now would only upset her more. “I don’t know, Jen. Maybe you ate a bad canolli or something. Do you think you can go back to sleep? Or could you go for some hot cocoa?”

“Hot cocoa sounds pretty good.” She answered smiling a little. “I’m sorry I scared you, Joe.” She got out of bed and reached for her bathrobe.

Joe laughed a little and said, “That’s okay, Honey. You sure got my heart racing. Come to think of it, I could use a little more excitement.” He playfully swatted her on the bottom as they headed for the kitchen.

When Catherine woke up the next morning, she felt ready to face whatever the day had in store for her. She was always amazed at the strength she was still able to find in her memories and dreams of Vincent.

When she appeared in the dining room, Peter was surprised at what he saw. The change in her was amazing.

Catherine noted the surprise on his face. “Are you all right, Peter? You look surprised to see me.”

Peter finally replied, “You look wonderful, Cathy! I must say, I was very worried about you last night when you went to bed.”

Catherine nodded. “Well, I think I have wallowed long enough, don’t you? It isn’t very productive anyway. So, it looks like I may not be able to get my identity back. I guess my next move is to take your advice and go see a doctor to see if this thing in my head is really going to kill me. After that maybe I can make a plan. And maybe you can have your privacy back.”

Peter was encouraged by Catherine’s change in attitude. “Privacy is over rated Cathy. The silence around here can be deafening sometimes. You are welcome to stay here as long as you want. I have already spoken to a colleague of mine, a neurologist, at Columbia about your condition. He is anxious to see you. Can I call him and see when he can fit you in?”

Catherine took a deep breath and said, “Yes, Peter, that would be great. Thank you.” Then changing the subject abruptly she said, “I need something to do Peter. I’m used to being busy. Do you have any suggestions?”

Peter was surprised again. “Cathy? Are you sure you are up to it? You should probably rest.”

Showing a little impatience Catherine replied, “I’m not going to work construction, Peter. I just need to keep busy. It helps me to …” She was going to say “control my emotions” but she didn’t want to talk about that, so instead she said, “… keep my mind occupied. I can’t just sit around and think about dying.”

Peter said, “The Catherine Chandler Foundation supports a women’s shelter and also a shelter for homeless youth. I think both of them are always in need of help in their kitchens. I could give one of them a call and tell them you are coming. Who should I say wants to work there?”

Catherine hesitated for a moment and reluctantly said, “I guess for now I will have to stay Cici Chamberlain.” Seeing the worried look on his face, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to compromise. “How about this, Peter, I will only spend a couple of hours there until I prove to you that I am able to do it, okay?”

Peter was willing to accept this compromise and he went to make a few phone calls.

A couple of hours later Cici/Catherine was standing at the entrance of the homeless shelter. She was surprised that she was a little nervous. But that was short lived as a friendly young woman greeted her.

Cici/Catherine was instantly at ease. “Yes, I’m Cici. I believe my friend Peter Alcott called you?”

“Yes, yes he did. Come into the office so we can chat for a few minutes,” Becka said.

As the office door closed the shelter’s custodian approached the office door. He had a curious look on his face. He had seen the strange woman enter the shelter. He had witnessed the exchange between the two women. Being the custodian made him virtually invisible. He was a part of the building much like the furniture. People rarely even noticed he was there even when he was clearly visible. But he saw and heard almost everything. The expression on his face was one of confusion and disbelief. As he went on with his work he was clearly pondering what he had just seen.

As they sat down Becka got right down to business. “Peter didn’t give me a lot of information. So Cici, can you tell me what brings you to us?”

Cici/Catherine was as open as she felt she could be. “I’m here in New York visiting Peter. He is a dear old friend. I am having some medical issues and Peter just wants me to rest. I can’t do that. I have time on my hands and I want to keep busy. Peter suggested that you might need some extra hands in the kitchen for a couple hours a day. So here I am.”

Becka was thrilled to get any help, but she didn’t want to appear too desperate. “Can you cook?”

Cici/Catherine laughed, “Well, I can chop vegetables. I can wash dishes. I can cook on a very basic level. I can sweep and take out garbage. But if you want an actual cook … you might be disappointed.”

Becka was smiling. “Hey, whatever you can offer, we’ll take it. I didn’t want to seem too desperate. But let’s face it…beggars can’t be choosers.”

Cici/Catherine decided to be a little more forthcoming. “I need to let you know right up front that I might not be very predictable with my availability. Is it all right if I just come here whenever I’m available? Peter is strictly forbidding me from working more than 2 hours a day.”

Becka was very accommodating. “Whatever you can offer is great Cici. We appreciate your help. Why don’t I just give you a tour today and introduce you to a couple of people. Next time you come back you can just get right into the thick of it.”

By the end of the tour Cici/Catherine and Becka were talking like they had been friends for years. Catherine was glad she had come. It was nice to have a break from everything that was happening in her life. She was grateful for the respite. Neither of them had any idea that their worlds would soon collide in a way they could never imagine.

As Catherine left the shelter no one noticed the custodian keenly watching her as she made her way down the street. Catherine stopped by a flower shop and bought two bouquets. She had one stop to make before she headed back to Peter’s place.

Jen answered, “I can’t get that crazy dream out of my head, Joe. I think I am going to go over to the cemetery on my lunch hour. Other than that, just a regular day.”

Jen answered, “No, that’s okay.” Then she smiled a little and said, “But if a grave opens up in front of me, I will definitely be giving you a call!”

“Okay, you gotta deal,” said Joe laughing as they gave each other a kiss and each went their own way for the day.

Early in the afternoon Jen stopped at a flower shop near her office as she headed for the cemetery. It had been many years since she had been to Cathy’s grave. She was pretty sure she could still find it. It’s hard to forget the death of your best friend. Jen had always felt like Catherine was more like a sister than a friend. She and Joe had even named their daughter after her. Rebecka Catherine Maxwell.

She found the grave easily. As she bent down to place the flowers in front of the headstone she was annoyed that someone had left graffiti on it. When she looked closer she saw the words. “Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not here. I did not die.” She stood up as if she had been given an electric shock. She could hear Cathy’s voice as she had said in her dream, “Jen, I am not here, I did not die.”

She stood there overcome for a few moments. She felt a little faint so she went to sit on a bench that was nearby and then she called Joe.

Joe answered with a good natured tone, “Hi, Jen, don’t tell me. The grave opened up?”

“There is something written on her headstone, Joe. Someone has written, “Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not here, I did not die. Joe, that’s what she said in my dream.” Jen was clearly shaken.

As she sat there talking to Joe, she observed from a distance a woman approaching the area of the cemetery where she had just been. She was carrying two bouquets. She stopped at the graves just next to Cathy’s.

“Hey, Joe, can I call you back in a minute?” She didn’t wait for his reply, she just hung up. Jen had risen from the bench and was slowly walking toward the woman. She saw the woman place the bouquets and when she was about 10 feet away she heard the woman say, “Hi Mom. Hi Dad.” as she kissed her fingers and then touched the headstones. Jen was frozen to the spot on the grass. She watched the woman stand there for a few minutes and then as the woman turned to leave, she froze when she saw Jen standing there staring at her.

They stood there frozen in their tracks staring at each other for a moment before Catherine finally spoke, “Jenny? Is that you?”

Jen tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her phone started to ring. She slowly answered it and Joe immediately said, “Jen, are you there? Is everything okay?”

Catherine realized that Jenny was telling someone about her and she sprang into action. She ran up to Jen and grabbed her phone and ended the call. And said, “JEN! No one can know I’m here!” She put her hands on top of her head, clearly panicked. She was trying to figure out what to do. She asked, “Jen, who was that? Who were you talking to?”

“Joe. You know … JOE? Joe Maxwell … my husband,” Jen said, “Cathy? Oh my GOSH! Is that really you? I can’t believe this is happening. You’re DEAD! What is happening?”

Jenny’s phone began to ring again. When Jen answered Joe was yelling, “DON’T HANG UP THE PHONE, JEN! What is going on?”

Jen spoke very calmly, “Joe, I am standing here at the cemetery and I am looking right at Cathy Chandler. She looks pretty good for someone who has been dead for 25 years.”

Joe was very upset by this point. “Stay right there, Jen, I am coming down there right now! Don’t go ANYWHERE!” At this he hung up and raced out of the office.

Jen looked over at Cathy to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. “Is that really you, Cathy? Joe is on his way over here. Can you wait here with me?”

Catherine nodded and she linked her arm with Jen’s and they walked over to the bench and sat down. They were both so shell shocked by the experience that they just sat there in silence for most of the time they waited for Joe.

Just before Joe arrived Catherine asked, “Wait … did you say Joe Maxwell is your husband?”

Presently a taxi came into the cemetery and Joe jumped out and then he turned back to the taxi driver and said, “Wait right here, I will be right back.” He then came running over to where they were sitting. He could see that they were both just sitting there in silence. He leaned over to Jen and asked, “Are you okay, Jen?”

Catherine got up to leave. She said, “I’m really sorry, Jenny, I didn’t think anyone would be here. I didn’t mean to … I’m sorry, Joe. I won’t bother you again.” She began to walk away.

Catherine stopped and turned back as Jenny ran up to her and threw her arms around her. Catherine wasn’t used to being touched let alone being hugged. She was a little overwhelmed by it for a second and then she put her arms around Jenny and hugged her like her life depended on it. As she pulled away she kissed Jenny on the cheek and turned without a word.

Catherine heard him but she just walked faster. She needed to get away from there as fast as she could. As she walked away she exclaimed under her breath, “CRAP!” As she made her way back to Peter’s house she kept muttering to herself, “Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! CRAP!!”

“Cathy, I’m so glad you’re back. Dr. Michaels said he can see you at 4 o’clock. If we go right now we can make it.

Peter was adamant. “Cathy, this can’t wait one more minute. I’m sorry, but I must insist.” He took her by the elbow and guided her right back out the door.

Catherine was too tired to argue. As the car pulled out of the parking garage, she just leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. She was lightly dozing when they finally arrived at the Neurological Institute of New York. As they approached the elevators Catherine took a deep breath.

Thinking out loud she said, “Okay Catherine, you can do this.” She nodded and said it again, “You can do this.” Then she shook herself all over as if to shake off all of her fears, much like a swimmer or a runner does just before a race. She took another deep breath and then marched herself through the elevator doors.

Peter quietly observed her doing this. He had marveled over the last few days at her ability to cope with the stresses of this whole situation. At times she appeared to be at a breaking point, and then she would gain strength from somewhere deep inside and seem fine. He wondered to himself how long she would be able to keep doing it.

Catherine opted to have Peter accompany her into the office. She needed him for moral support. As they entered the doctor’s office Dr. Michaels came forward to shake Peter’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Mack,” Peter said. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. This is Cici Chamberlain.” He said turning to Cici/Catherine.

Once the formalities were over Dr. Michaels looked quietly at the medical records Cici/Catherine had brought with her from Thailand. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“Before I tell you what I see here, Cici, I have a couple of questions for you,” he said.

Cici/Catherine nodded so he continued, “First, how are you feeling today? How are you doing emotionally?”

Cici/Catherine smiled a little and then shrugged, “I have a constant headache. But it isn’t too bad today. And considering my situation, I suppose I’m all right. Facing death has never really been on my list of favorite things to do, Dr. Michaels, but you know what they say … ‘Life calls the tune, we dance.’ So I guess I’m here to ‘dance’.” She sounded calm but her right leg was constantly pumping up and down.

Then Dr. Michaels asked, “Can you tell me what the neurologist in Bangkok told you? How much of it did you understand?”

“To tell you the truth,” Cici/Catherine replied, “it was all such a shock … I remember words like; aneurysm, inoperable, fatal and get your affairs in order. It’s kind of a blur. All I really understood was that it was really bad.”

Dr. Michaels observed her tone as well as her body language and nodded thoughtfully and said, “Ok then. Let’s get down to business.” He paused for a moment and then said, “I don’t know exactly what the doctor in Thailand explained to you, so let’s start with what I am looking at here. What I see at first glance is what is called a saccular cerebral aneurysm. It’s also called a berry aneurysm. Basically because of its shape and the narrow neck right here at the base where it is attached to the vein. I am also seeing a shadow that could be a second aneurysm on the CT scan. But I want to do an MRA, a Magnetic Resonance Angiogram to go along with this CT scan so I can get a better idea of what we are dealing with. If I can get you in tomorrow would that be all right?”

Cici/Catherine nodded. She was trying her best to stay focused. When the doctor in Thailand initially gave her the news she was unable to make sense of a lot of what he had said. It had taken her a few days to fully absorb the gravity of the situation and begin to make plans.

She responded to Dr. Michaels. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you think needs to be done. Can you tell me what your initial thoughts are on what you see? Is it inoperable?”

He was clearly weighing his words and taking his time to answer. Finally he said, “What I am looking at is definitely serious. The one that is clearly visible here is large and deep. In the past they were considered inoperable. We have some treatment options now that are showing a lot of promise. I know you must be frightened, but this doesn’t have to be a death sentence, Cici. I really don’t want to talk about it in depth before we get a better picture of the situation. The MRA will give us a lot more information. Let me find out if we can get you in tomorrow and then we can move forward from there.” He then left the office for a few minutes and came back with an appointment card. “Okay, we are all set up. Can you be here at 7:30 tomorrow morning? Why don’t you just meet me here at my office and we can go down there together. That will give us some time to talk. Okay?”

Cici/Catherine nodded again. Despite her efforts she was barely in control of her emotions. At times like this she found it best to speak as little as possible. She and Peter returned in silence to his house.

“I’m not really very hungry, Peter. It’s been a long day. I’m really tired,” she replied.

Peter wouldn’t let her off that easy. “You have to eat, Cathy. I have one job right now and that is to make sure you are fed and rested. Now don’t make me get ugly about this.”

Within an hour they were enjoying a wide variety of Chinese specialties. Catherine was laughing as she looked around. “Peter, I can’t believe you ordered this much food. It’s going to take us days to finish this.”

Peter laughed too. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Cathy. Can you blame me for worrying about you? I guess I just I want to make sure you keep up your strength. Anyway I didn’t know what you liked.”

Catherine smiled and said, “I don’t know what I would ever do without you, Peter.”

As they were speaking the doorbell rang. Catherine stiffened immediately. “Are you expecting someone?”

Looking at the clock Peter could see it was almost 8 o’clock. He got up to answer the door. “Certainly not at this hour.”

Catherine could hear a muted conversation. She thought she heard someone say her name. She was immediately nervous. For a moment she thought about making an exit to the roof, but then she was worried that she would leave Peter alone to face whoever it was. So she stood up, and went to see who it was. As she entered the living room she came face to face with Joe and Jenny Maxwell.

Peter had been trying to tell them he didn’t know where Catherine was when she walked in. She said, “It’s okay Peter. You don’t need to lie for me.”

Then turning to Joe and Jenny she said, “You found me. What can I do for you, Joe?”

Joe tried again, “Cathy … I’m really sorry … you know … for the way I reacted to you the other day … at my office.”

Catherine didn’t know what to say. She leaned up against the door jam for support and finally said, “I’m sorry too, Joe. It must have been quite a shock. I just didn’t know who else to go to for help.”

Joe moved toward her as he began to talk, but he could see Catherine backing away so he went back to where he was standing before. There was an awkward silence.

As they sat down Catherine found a seat as far away from everyone as she could and still be in the same room. It was evident to everyone how uncomfortable she was. Joe noted that she was rubbing her wrist with her thumb as if hurt.

After an awkward silence Catherine finally spoke. “I need to get my identity back, Joe. Is there any way I can do that?”

Joe thought before he replied, “People are going to have a lot of questions, Cathy. There might be a lot of publicity. Your murder was in all the papers. Is that going to be a problem?”

Catherine closed her eyes and said, “I was hoping it could be kept quiet. I want as few people to know about me as possible.” Seeing that Jenny caught her meaning she said, “Jenny, I’m sorry, but it isn’t safe for you to know me. If I had known that you and Joe were married I might not have gone to him. It’s just that I needed a lawyer and Joe was the only one I thought I could trust.”

Catherine winced at this. “Joe, … It wasn’t about trust back then. People were dead because they cared about me, because they knew me. I didn’t want anyone else to die if I could help it.”

Catherine breathed in sharply when she heart that name. “Joe, he wasn’t the only one involved in all that. You must know that? He had people in the police department in the DA’s office and who knows where else. John Moreno was the one who betrayed me. And how did they get my body out of the Medical Examiner’s Office? Who did they do an autopsy on? Who is buried in my grave? I had no idea back then. I still have no idea how many people were a part of it. As far as I know there are still people who want me dead.”

Joe was a little agitated when he said, “Then why are you back here now if you still think there is danger?”

Catherine, closed her eyes and spoke softly, “I want to be buried next to my parents, Joe. With a headstone that has my name on it. You might have noticed that my grave appears to be occupied at the moment.”

Catherine clarified, “I might be needing it soon ... and if I am going to die … I want to die with my own name. Is that asking too much?”

“An aneurysm … in my brain. I’m having some more tests tomorrow. I’ll know more after that,” Cathy replied.

Shaking her head, Catherine was quick to reply, “Jenny, NO. I have to do this by myself. I have to face this alone. Anyway, if there is still any danger… I can’t be responsible for anyone else, Jenny. I know you love me, but you have to stay away from me.”

After a few moments of silence Catherine continued, “I know my death must have been very painful for you, for both of you. I wanted to keep this all quiet because I didn’t want the people I love to have to go through it all again. I’ve caused enough pain already. I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m sorry, Joe. You should both just go home and forget you ever saw me.”

“We can’t do that. What will you do, Cathy? How will you get your identity back?” Joe asked.

Catherine answered, “I should never have asked, Joe. It doesn’t really matter anyway. I was stupid to think that it could happen. I don’t want you to risk … Forget I ever asked.

Jenny protested, “Cathy, we can’t just go home and pretend that you’re still dead. And there is no reason why you should do this alone.”

“I can’t be responsible for any more deaths, Jen. If I’m still in danger, I have to stand alone,” Catherine insisted.

At this Joe said, “We are going to help you, Cathy. You don’t have a choice. So you might as well stop arguing. Anyway, I’m the reason you got tangled up in this mess in the first place. I am going to have to ask you a lot of questions. You may have to come down to the District Attorney’s Office for a deposition.”

At this Catherine balked. “NO, JOE! I am not going anywhere near the DA’s office or the Police Department. I don’t trust anyone but you.”

“Are you sure you can trust me?” Joe asked, remembering what she had said the night before in his office.

Catherine was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry I said that, Joe. You were always a good friend. I have to trust someone. I choose to trust you.” The fear in her eyes as she said this betrayed how difficult it was for her to let anyone into her isolated world. Even if it was someone she considered a friend. She had remained in a defensive posture in her chair throughout the entire conversation. She put her head down into her hands in resignation.

Jenny took this opportunity to storm Catherine’s defenses. She rushed forward and put her arms around her long lost friend. “I won’t let you do this alone, Cathy.”

Catherine recoiled at Jenny’s touch at first, almost as if it caused her pain, and then she reached up and returned her friend's hug.

Peter finally entered the conversation, “I hate to break up this party, but Catherine has got to get some rest. She has a big day tomorrow and it’s going to start early.”

Looking at the clock, they were all shocked at how late it was. As Catherine said goodnight to them at the door, Joe asked, “What if I come by here tomorrow night? You can answer some initial questions here, where you’re comfortable, and we can figure out where we will go from there.”

Later as she drifted off to sleep she could hear the opening movement of Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. She found herself walking slowly through the tunnels. After some time she found her way to the waterfall. There was something healing in the sound of the rushing water. In her dream she closed her eyes and listened as the music and the water carried her away. It was the language of her soul. Everything she was unable to adequately put into words, the pain, the longing, the deep aching, the fear, even the joy and the love, was all so accurately expressed by each note, each movement of the music. As she listened she felt as if she was able to breathe. She felt free.

Vincent was restless. He couldn’t sleep. The walls of his chamber felt like they were closing in on him. When he was like this he would wander the tunnels alone. As he wandered the tunnels tonight he found himself nearing the waterfalls he had loved all of his life. He found the water soothing, especially when his mind was troubled. He could hear the distant strains of music coming from somewhere in the tunnels. As he came out of the tunnel that led to the falls he thought he could see someone sitting in his usual spot. When he looked closely he realized it was Catherine. (The Catherine he had been seeing lately in his dreams.) Over the years he had become accustomed to seeing her ghost from time to time. It was always a bit of a shock, but he welcomed it as well. He had learned that if he approached her carefully and silently he might be able to get more than just a glimpse of her. He could see that she had her eyes closed as she too listened to the music. He was close enough to touch her as he stood there mesmerized by her presence. As the last strains of music died away, he could see she had a serene smile on her face and a look of peace. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She froze as Vincent reached out his hand and touched her face. As his hand made contact with her she instantly disappeared and he was standing alone in the dark watching a small flame flickering in the wind. When he woke up in his chamber he realized he had been asleep the whole time … and yet … it had seemed so real that he could still feel the touch of her skin on his hand where he had touched her…

Catherine woke with a start. Her dream had ended suddenly when Vincent found her and reached for her. She put her hand to her cheek where Vincent had touched her. She could still feel his hand on her face. She was wide awake and could see that it was time to get up anyway.

Before stepping into the shower she removed the leather bracelet that she always wore on her wrist, revealing a faded scar on the inside of her wrist. A scar that she never spoke of and never allowed anyone to see. She rubbed it softly as if it still caused her pain.

When she came into the living room, Jenny was sitting there waiting for her. Catherine cocked her head a little and said, “Tell me you didn’t sit there all night, Jen?”

Jen laughed, “No, I didn’t sit here all night. But I was tempted to. I was afraid that if I left that you wouldn’t be here when I came back this morning. I was afraid that you were just another one of my dreams. If this is a dream Cathy, I am going to be really upset!”

Catherine smiled a little and said, “It’s not a dream, Jen. But sometimes it does feel like a nightmare.” She laughed a little and added, “If this is one of your dreams … then your dreams really suck …”

Jen laughed and said, “Hey, no they don’t! My best friend has been dead for 25 years and now she’s alive again. That’s sounds pretty good to me.”

Jen scrunched up her face at that and said, “Oh … yeah … you’ve got a point there, Cathy. We need to work on the ending.”

As they entered the medical building Catherine was overcome again by the panic that had hit her the day before. She stood in the foyer with her eyes closed and taking deep breaths. Again she repeated the words, “You can do this. You can do this.” When she opened her eyes she saw the look of concern on Jen’s face.

Catherine nodded, “What choice do I have, Jen? I’m as okay as I am going to get. Let’s go,” she said as they headed for the elevators. On the way up to Dr. Michael’s office she whispered to Jen, “By the way, you can’t call me Cathy. I’m going by another name until I can get my identity back. So, Hi, I’m Cici Chamberlain.”

Jen smiled and held out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Jen. Nice to meet you.”

Cici/Catherine said, “For being here for me. You always did know how to make me feel better.”

Dr. Michaels was waiting for them when they arrived. As they all walked to Radiology he described some of what they were going to do. He was surprised at how calm and resilient Cici seemed. He had no idea how much practice Cici/Catherine had had controlling her emotions over the years. He offered to give her a sedative to help her relax during the procedure. But Catherine hated the idea of the vulnerability of being sedated, so she refused.

A couple of hours later Cici/Catherine and Jen were on their way out of the Medical Center.

Joe and Jen were back at Peter’s home that evening. Catherine was not eager to talk about what had happened to her. She had spent 25 years trying to forget it. But she was eager to finish what she had begun. She was having moments of doubt, but she recognized that turning back now was no longer a possibility.

Joe knew Catherine was reluctant to go to law enforcement, so he had come with a camera.

“Cathy, do you mind if we record this interview? We may need it later. This way you might have to talk about it less,” Joe asked.

As Joe started to record he stated, “Just for clarification this is not an official deposition. There is no court reporter present. This video will be for the use of me, Joe Maxwell, your lawyer and my office. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, just let me know and we can take a break. Okay?

Joe: Do you have any other names by which you are known? If so would you please state those names?

Catherine: For the last 25 years I have been hiding and living under an assumed name. I am here to reclaim my identity.

Joe: Are you aware, Miss Chandler, that it has been assumed for the last 25 years that Catherine Chandler is dead?

Joe: Are you aware, Miss Chandler, that a body that was positively identified as Catherine Chandler was found in Catherine Chandler’s apartment on December 13^th 1989.

Joe: If that body was not the body of Catherine Chandler, do you know who it was?

Joe: Are you saying that the deceased body of Catherine Chandler that was found in her apartment was actually you?

Joe: Are you saying that the body of Catherine Chandler that was found in her apartment was you and that you were not actually dead?

Catherine: I was being kept somewhere else… I don’t know where for sure. It was somewhere in the city. It was a high rise with a helipad on the top. I was given and injection. I don’t know what it was. The doctor said I wouldn’t suffer. I thought I was going to die, but then I didn’t. Everything just went dark. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I felt someone carrying me in their arms. Whoever it was brought me to where I was found in my apartment. I was conscious and aware of the police and people around me talking. I remember someone said something like… “Bag her hands. We don’t want to lose anything.” And then I was lifted into a body bag. I tried to cry out, to tell them that I wasn’t dead. But I couldn’t. I can still hear the sound of the zipper…

Joe: Do you know the name of the person or people who kidnapped you and held you captive?

Catherine: I don’t know the names of the men who kidnapped me except for one, John Moreno. He was the District Attorney. He was also my boss. But the name of the man who kept me prisoner and ordered my death was a man named Gabriel.

Catherine: (shudders visibly) He was thin. I don’t know, maybe in his 40’s. He had brown hair, a thin face, hollow cheeks, dead eyes…. (her voice trailed off at the terror the memory invoked.)

Catherine: Gabriel thought I had information about a case I was working on. He wanted to know what I knew.

Catherine: It was the Patrick Hanlan murder. I had a piece of evidence that I was researching. I guess I must have stumbled onto something. I’m not sure what.

Catherine: I was drugged repeatedly. I guess I didn’t tell them what they wanted to know.

Joe: Are you aware that the autopsy report stated that you gave birth to a child shortly before your death?

Joe: Miss Chandler, did you give birth to a child while you were being held captive by the man you knew as Gabriel?

Catherine: He took him. Gabriel … took him. (She had tears in her eyes) As he left the room with my baby he said, “Finish it.” I heard a helicopter on the roof. Then the doctor gave me an injection and said, “You won’t suffer.”

Catherine: (She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she answered.) That I was going to die.

Catherine: No. It didn’t seem the same. It felt like I was underground. It was quiet. I couldn’t hear the city sounds like before.

Catherine: It was a room. It was white. It had no windows. It had one door that was always locked. Cameras in the corners of the ceiling and a television monitor. A bed. A toilet and a sink.

Joe: Miss Chandler, if Catherine Chandler wasn’t murdered, who was? Do you have any idea who is buried in Catherine Chandler’s grave?

Catherine: (Shaking her head) I don’t know. I have no idea who is buried there.

Joe: Did you see or speak to anyone during your captivity after you were murdered?

Catherine: I saw the doctor and the nurse. They never spoke to me and I never spoke to them. Two or three times Gabriel came there. He spoke to me, taunted me. I never spoke to him.

Catherine: He told me about my funeral. He wanted to make sure I knew that I was dead, that the investigation was closed. He told me when he killed Elliot Burch. That Elliot was dead because he loved me, because he was weak. He said he could break me. I …. (she paused to regain her composure)

Catherine: (Looking at Joe in unbelief and answering sarcastically) I don’t know. Let’s see … I was violently kidnapped, drugged repeatedly, held in isolation for months, my baby was stolen from me as soon as I gave birth, and then I was murdered, brought back to life and held captive again. I don’t know, some people might consider that “mistreatment”. What do you think?

Joe: (Clearing his throat and continuing) Cathy, can you tell me how you managed to escape?

Catherine: One day the nurse left the door to my room slightly open. I walked out and I was in a large basement. I saw a woman come out of a hole in the wall. I hid until she passed by me. I could see that she had a gun. I climbed into the hole in the wall and followed the pipe until I came out into some larger tunnels. Eventually I made my way up to the street.

Catherine: Long red hair. It was pulled back into a pony tail I think. She was wearing a trench coat.

Catherine: My son was raised by his father. As far as I know they both believe that I am dead and they are safe.

At this last question Catherine felt a jolt as if she was struck by lightning. She froze momentarily and stared at Joe in disbelief. After what seemed like a long pause she said, “Please turn it off, Joe. I’m finished answering questions.”

Catherine: No one was looking for a dead woman. I left the country. I assumed another identity.

Joe: Miss Chandler, why did you continue to hide when the man who kidnapped you was already dead?

Catherine: What happened to me … was much bigger than one man, Joe. I know that the District Attorney was corrupt. I didn’t know who else was involved. Somehow my body was removed from the Medical Examiner’s office and replaced with someone else. It was much bigger than one man. I had no reason to believe that I was safe after Gabriel was killed. I felt that if I sought help from my friends they would also be in danger. I decided that anyone I cared about would only be safe if I was dead. So I stayed dead.

Joe: Miss Chandler, why are you back now? Why did you choose to reclaim your identity now?

Catherine: Because I am not getting any younger. Someday I will die, and when I do I would like to die with my own name. Whoever is buried in my grave deserves to have their identity back too. If there is still any danger … I suppose that is just a risk I have to take.

When Catherine thought that Joe had turned off the recorder she slumped into her seat and covered her face with her hands. She took several deep breaths but remained silent.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Finally Catherine spoke as if she was thinking out loud. “What am I doing? I’ve spent the last 25 years trying to protect the people I love and now I am putting them all in danger. I don’t think I can do this. They don’t deserve this.”

Turning to Joe she said, “Joe, I’m not sure I want to move forward with this.”

Joe came close and sat facing her. He spoke softly, “Hey, Cathy, I know this is hard, but what the people you love deserve is to have you back. They deserve to know the truth. You deserve to have your identity back. You deserve to have your life back. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. There is no reason to believe there is still any danger.”

Catherine shook her head. Raking her hands through her hair she looked toward the window and asked, “How can they ever want me back, Joe? How can they ever forgive? It’s going to cause so much pain.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “All I wanted to do was to die with my own name. I didn’t want to cause any more pain. There has already been too much pain." She appeared to be talking more to herself than to anyone in the room.

Joe came close to her and said, “Cathy, I promise you, I will try to keep this quiet. But if I can’t, I still believe this is the best thing to do. The truth should come out. It’s time for this all to end.”

Catherine was quiet for a few minutes and then she reluctantly nodded and said, “Okay, Joe … Okay.”

Catherine stood up and Jen came forward to give her a reassuring hug. She embraced Jen tightly for a moment and went up to Peter’s roof top garden. When she left the room Joe quietly turned off the recorder.

Catherine loved this little oasis of green in the middle of the city. She felt like she could breathe up here. After showing Joe and Jen to the door, Peter came up to sit with her. She turned to Peter. His concern was evident on his face.

Peter began, “I am really worried about you, Catherine. I’m afraid all of this is too much for you.”

Catherine nodded and smiled, “I know you are. But I think we have passed the point of no return. At this point I guess it is what it is. I’m sorry, Peter, for asking you to carry this all of these years. I can’t possibly ever repay you for your loyalty and friendship. Do you think I am doing the right thing?”

Peter was forthright when he said, “I think Joe is right, it’s time for all of this to end. You deserve to have your life back.”

Joe said, “Come on, Greg, answer the phone. … Hey, Greg, this is Joe Maxwell. … Yes, I am aware of what time it is. … I’m sorry, Greg, but this is important. … Can you meet me at my house in twenty minutes? ... I can’t explain it over the phone, Greg, but I promise you, this is something that can’t wait until tomorrow…..

[1] Beauty and the Beast Season 2 Episode 4 Dead of Winter

[2] Beauty and the Beast Season 3 Episode 1 “Though Lovers Be Lost” and Episode 2 “Walk Slowly”

[3] Beauty and the Beast Season 3 Episode 3 “Walk Slowly”

[4] Beauty and the Beast Season 2 Episode 12 “Orphans”