Unbreakable by Barbara Handshy Anderson (Section 4)

Catherine was restless from the time she woke up. She had tossed and turned most of the night. Waiting for the results of her MRA, waiting to find out if Joe could help her, worrying about the people she cared about were all taking their toll on her. She felt like she was in a whirlpool and she was having trouble keeping her head above water. She had learned from years of experience that the best way to overcome such feelings was to stay busy.

She took a refreshing cool shower and headed for the shelter. She was quiet in the kitchen as she chopped, and sliced, and diced. She liked listening to the banter of the young people who lived there. They were older than most the children she had worked with in the orphanage, but she noted how similar they were. When they were in a place where they felt comfortable and safe, they let their guard down. Despite whatever struggles they had in their lives, they would laugh in unguarded moments. It gave Catherine strength to hear them laughing and joking with one another.

There were times when she fought the desire to feel sorry for herself, to mourn her unfulfilled dreams. But spending time here at the shelter helped her put things in perspective. She could see these young people defying the odds and overcoming their own personal tragedies and it humbled her. It made her reflect on the incredible blessings she had been given instead of dwelling on the sorrows.

As the lunch rush came to an end and Catherine prepared to leave, she noticed someone watching her from the corner of her eye. As she faced the direction of the person who was watching her, she smiled when she realized it was just the custodian. He cocked his head and smiled back as if he was smiling at an old friend. It took Catherine off guard. Something about him seemed familiar.

She poked her head into Becka’s office. “Hey, Becka, is there anything you need before I take off?”

Becka looked up from her desk and smiled. “Thanks, Cici. How long have you been here?”

Becka smiled and said, “Then I guess you’re done for the day. Doctor’s orders.”

The taxi turned into the cemetery and Catherine could see vehicles everywhere: a back hoe, a coroner’s van, and a couple of local news vans with camera men and reporters. Several onlookers were looking curiously over the scene. Frightened by the crowd, she had the taxi driver take her back to Peter’s apartment.

When she entered Peter’s apartment Joe was standing there with Peter. They didn’t have to say anything. She knew. She sat down in the nearest chair as if all of the wind had just been knocked out of her and said, “I guess it’s all hit the fan.”

Joe looked terrible and said, “I am really sorry, Cathy. I tried, but it just took on a life of its own. I couldn’t control it.”

With her head resting in her hands, Catherine said, “I believe you, Joe. Thank you for trying.”

It was clear how upset she was even though she was making an effort to remain calm. Catherine thought for a minute and said, “It’s only a matter of time before a reporter tracks Peter down here. I can’t be here when that happens. I need to get out of here. I need to think.”

Late in the afternoon Jake was just signing in to his email account when a thumbnail picture and headline on the internet caught his eye. He thought he recognized the woman in the picture. He clicked on it to make the photo larger when he realized that he was looking at a photograph of his mother. The headline took his breath away.

Jake was completely flabbergasted. He felt as if the floor was giving way beneath him. How could this be possible? If his mother was alive all of these years, where has she been? Everything he knew about his mother told him that she never would have turned her back on his father or her own child. He quickly printed the article and headed for the tunnels. He needed to talk to his father before the news reached him some other way. As he rushed to meet with his father his mind was swirling with questions.

Vincent was well on his way to the Central Park entrance when he met up with Jake. He could sense something was wrong well before they crossed paths. When he saw the look on Jake’s face, his concerns only increased.

“What is it, Jacob? What’s happened? Is Rebecka all right?” Vincent peppered him with questions.

Jake was so distraught that he was unsure how to begin. He was pacing back and forth and trying to catch his breath.

Vincent put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and said, “Jacob? Take a deep breath.”

Jake took a deep breath and leaned up against the tunnel wall. Finally, he just held out the article he had printed off to Vincent.

Vincent slowly reached out for it. He drew in his breath sharply when he saw Catherine’s photograph. As he read the article he became very still.

Vincent began to slowly walk back toward his chambers, holding the article in his hands. When they arrived at his chamber he sat down in his favorite old chair. He just sat there staring at Catherine’s picture.

Vincent finally spoke, “Sometimes I … forget … how truly beautiful she was. I try not to think about that night. It’s too painful.”

Jake then asked, “So do you think this … this woman … could really be her?”

Vincent answered, “I just don’t see how it could be, Jacob. I was with her. I stayed with her until ... and yet …”

Vincent then spoke, “Lately… I’ve had dreams … impressions … old feelings. Several days ago I saw a woman in the cemetery at Catherine’s grave.”

“I’m saying I don’t know what to think, Jacob.” Vincent was very troubled.

Jake suddenly had a thought, “Dad, that article says that she left her fortune to Peter Alcott. He’s a helper. Do you think he knows anything about this woman who is claiming to be her?”

Vincent thought for a moment and said, “It would probably be a good idea to find out. I can go to him and ask him if he knows anything about this woman.”

Vincent was concerned about Jake. He asked, “Jacob, are you all right? What are you thinking?”

Jake answered, “I honestly don’t know. I never knew her, Dad. You did. I remember an angel singing to me in my dreams. Fleeting glimpses of a ghost that I assumed was her. Was she the kind of person that would have just turned her back on you, on us? Would she have abandoned her own child?”

Vincent shook his head, “No, Jacob. Catherine was the most giving, loving person I have ever known. She would never have left us. The last thing she did before she died was tell me how beautiful you were. The love in her voice …” Vincent closed his eyes and could see her face. He could almost feel the touch of her hand on his cheek. “… it broke my heart.”

The memory of that moment was so real, so painful that Vincent felt physical pain.

Jake could see what the conversation was doing to his father. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to cause you pain. But I didn’t want you to hear about this from someone else.”

Vincent said, “This isn’t your fault. I don’t understand what is happening, but whatever it is, we need to find it out. I’ll go tonight and speak with Peter.”

Peter wasn’t surprised when he found Vincent standing on his balcony. Peter invited him in. They stood at opposite sides of the room looking at each other.

Even though Peter was pretty sure he knew why Vincent was there he asked, “Vincent, what can I do for you?”

Vincent placed the article that Jake had brought to him on the table. Peter looked at it and nodded. “It didn’t take long for you to get this news.”

Vincent said, “Jacob brought it to me as soon as he saw it. He didn’t want me to hear it from someone else. Do you know anything about this, Peter? Who is this woman that’s claiming to be Catherine?”

Peter was wondering how much he could tell Vincent without breaking his promise to Catherine. Finally he decided that he would answer whatever questions Vincent had.

Vincent was shocked into silence for a moment and then began to shake his head. “That is not possible, Peter. I was with her when she died. What makes you believe that this woman is her?”

Peter quietly said, “Because I’ve been helping her hide for the last 25 years. There is no doubt that it is her.”

Vincent just looked at Peter in disbelief. He felt like the room was beginning to spin. Slowly he said, “No … it is not possible, Peter. I was there when she died. How can this be?”

Peter tried to explain. “I’m not really sure, Vincent. I don’t think Cathy even knows for sure. All I know is that around the same time you brought Jacob home to the tunnels … there she was … one night … standing there at my door… in the middle of the night. She collapsed in my arms. You should have seen her, Vincent. She was wearing a filthy white hospital gown and slippers. She was just a shadow of herself. She couldn’t have weighed more than 95 pounds. She could barely speak. When I told her that I was going to contact Father, she became hysterical. She insisted that I couldn’t tell anyone. That if anyone knew she was alive, you would all be in danger. She was very ill. She was incoherent and barely conscious for several days. I wasn’t sure if she was even going to live. When she came to herself again she was resolved to get as far away from New York as she possibly could. She said it was the only way to protect you and your baby.”

Vincent’s head was swimming with questions. He began by asking Peter, “Where had she been for all of that time?”

Peter looked at Vincent as if he was surprised and said, “She told me that you showed her the way out.”

Vincent looked very confused so Peter continued, “She said that she saw you disappear into a pipe in the basement with the baby in your arms. She followed you into the pipe and found her way out through the tunnels. Somehow she found her way to me. I don’t know what would have happened to her if she hadn’t come to me.”

Vincent was silent for a long time. He was struggling to make sense of it all. “Why is she here now? How long has she been back? Where is she?”

Peter put his hands up, “Whoa, slow down, I can only answer one question at a time. She’s been back in New York for about a week. She’s staying here, with me.”

Vincent stood up straight and leaned toward Peter and asked, “She’s here? Peter, I must speak with her.”

Peter shook his head. “She was very upset when she realized this was all going public. She left here several hours ago. I’ve been waiting up hoping she would come back. I’m very worried. Vincent, she isn’t the Catherine you remember.”

Peter was careful with his answer. “Sometimes she seems so … fragile, like she could shatter at any moment. And then she reaches somewhere deep inside of herself and she seems … like steel, like she could withstand anything that comes her way. It’s astounding to see. I don’t know how she’s doing it, Vincent. I don’t know how long she can keep doing it. I’m very worried about her.”

“She’s very quiet. She rarely speaks unless she’s spoken to and there are things she refuses to talk about. And she doesn’t like to be touched. I’ve noticed that even when she seems … fine … she goes out of her way to avoid being touched by anyone. It’s as if touching another person causes her physical pain,” Peter explained.

Peter was hesitant to answer. “She hasn’t asked anything about anyone … ever. She didn’t even know Jacob’s name until very recently. She thought it would be harder to stay away if she knew anything about you. She didn’t want you to know she was here, because she felt it would only cause you more pain.”

Vincent was more confused by the answers than he was before he asked the questions. “I need to see her, Peter, to believe it’s true. I don’t understand how it’s even possible. She died in my arms. Are you sure? … Are you sure it’s really her? The Catherine I knew … she … would never have left her own child behind.”

Peter wasn’t sure what to say, “I have no doubt that it is her, Vincent. She was adamant that you would both be better off, safer, without her. I tried to reason with her, but whatever happened to her, it convinced her that you would always be in danger if she were here. She blames herself for everything, Vincent … everything that happened.”

Peter felt that he had said enough, so he said, “That is something that you will have to ask her yourself. You used to have a connection with her. Don’t you have any sense of her at all?”

Vincent thought for a moment. “I have had some feelings lately that reminded me of her. They were fleeting. I’ve had some dreams about her too. I couldn’t make sense of them. I might have an idea where she might be. Thank you, Peter.”

As Vincent left Peter’s house he felt more confused than he had before he had arrived. He tried to calm his mind and heart as he headed for the last place he thought he had seen her. He was sure now that the woman he had seen at the cemetery several days before must have been her.

As he approached Catherine’s grave he could see that the open pit was surrounded by yellow tape. She was there with her back to him, sitting at the edge of the hole in the ground. He watched her for several minutes without knowing what to say.

Catherine had wandered the streets of the city for several hours. Her heart was troubled. Her mind was in turmoil. Vincent was sure to know soon, if he didn’t already know. How much pain would this cause him? She had only wanted to die quietly without causing more pain. Now she wasn’t sure why she had ever thought that it would be possible. Eventually she found herself at the cemetery. She found some comfort being near her parents.

As she sat there at the edge of her own open grave, wondering how soon she would be its occupant, she was unaware of someone coming up behind her. She jumped a little when she heard a familiar voice begin to softly recite a poem she was familiar with….

As Vincent spoke, he could feel an overwhelming sadness coming from her and washing over him.

“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry ….”

His voice stopped at the last line, so Catherine finished with, “I am not here; I did not die.”

Vincent spoke first. “But you did die. I was there. I held you in my arms. I remember every excruciating moment. Your spirit has wandered our tunnels for years. I don’t understand how this … how this can be … possible.”

Catherine was reluctant to breathe. She didn’t want to turn around and look at Vincent. What if she was only dreaming and if she turned around he was gone? What if it wasn’t a dream? Would she see the years of pain in his face that she had caused? She didn’t know how to explain to him why she had done all that she had done or the choices she had made.

Standing this close to her, Vincent could now feel her inner turmoil. There was no denying that it was Catherine. He had never had a connection like that with anyone else. Even so, he didn’t know what to say. And yet, he had so many questions.

Vincent finally broke the silence. “Are you planning to move in there anytime soon?”

Catherine jumped a little at this question. What did he know? she asked herself. She finally replied, “What makes you ask that?”

Vincent replied, “I can see from here that you already have one foot in the grave.”

Catherine looked down and realized that she did indeed have one leg dangling into the edge of the open grave. She smiled wryly and flippantly said, “hmm … I suppose I do. I have been looking for new ‘digs’. There appears to be a vacancy.”

Then she answered more seriously, “I was just trying to imagine … what it will be like … when …”

“I meant here in New York. Why now? After all this time?” Vincent interrupted to clarify.

Catherine tried to explain. “I’ve been a ghost for a long time. I was able to live without my identity, without my name. But I recently realized that I can’t bring myself to die without it. I want to be buried here, next to my parents. They know who I am and they loved me to their very last breath. I want there to be something left behind that proves that I … existed … that I did live … even if it is only a headstone.”

Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drinking in the sound of his voice as he spoke her name. There was no more reason to hide the truth, any of the truth. “I have … an aneurysm in my brain. It’s a ticking time bomb. I just don’t know what time it’s set to.”

“So you didn’t come back for … me? For us?” Vincent asked, trying to hide his pain.

At the question Catherine felt a wave of sadness wash over her. He felt it too. She answered almost in a whisper, “No, Vincent, I didn’t come back for you or for Jake. I think it’s too late for that. Don’t you?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to steady herself and then she continued. “I was hoping to die quietly without causing you any more pain. I guess I was foolish to think that was even possible.”

Vincent had come around to the front of her because he wanted to see her face. He wanted to see if she was the woman he had seen in his recent dreams. He could see that she was. He could see that she was wearing the crystal he had given her so long ago.

“I can feel your sadness, Catherine, but I don’t feel any fear in you. Aren’t you afraid?” Vincent asked.

Catherine was very still. Her face showed little emotion. She said, “Fear is a useless emotion, Vincent. It has never served me well. Anyway … I … am … acquainted with death. I’ve been dead for a very long time.”

“At what cost, Vincent? At what cost? It may have saved me, but I nearly destroyed you…. I have no use for it.”

Not fully understanding what she meant, he asked, “Then you never feel fear at all?”

Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head, “Most of the time I try not to let myself feel anything,” she admitted.

“Catherine, I know you ... I … knew you. That isn’t how your heart was made. How can you do that?” Vincent asked.

Catherine’s laugh was tinged with a little bitterness as she answered, “Lately not very well. I can’t seem to keep a handle on it these days.” As she spoke she rubbed her forehead in an effort to push her feelings back. “I’m sorry … about that.”

She stood up and, changing the subject, she said, “Vincent, you shouldn’t be here. You should stay far away from me. It isn’t safe. I’m not safe. It’s you that should be afraid. It’s better if you just go home and tell yourself that I’m still dead.”

Catherine instantly pulled away and said with panic in her voice, “Don’t … touch me!”

Seeing the surprise and pain in his face she quickly explained, “If you touch me, Vincent … I’ll wake up … and you’ll be gone.”

Vincent was very confused. “Catherine? … Do you think I’m a …that this is a … dream?”

Catherine looked intently at him and slowly shaking her head said, “I’m not really sure.” She looked at him for a few moments. She smiled slightly, her eyes filling with tears and then said, “If you are a dream … you’re a beautiful dream.” She closed her eyes and with her voice trailing off said, “After all … ‘All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream’ …”

As she spoke those last words Vincent could see tears begin to escape through her closed eyes. She quickly wiped them away. She looked at him with the pain clearly visible on her face. She knew she was losing control and she knew that her pain caused him pain. She put both hands to her head and said, “You have to stay away from me. I’m sorry, Vincent, I’m sorry.” He had seen her do this before, when he saw her spirit in his chamber. She started to walk away backwards, as if she didn’t want to take her eyes off of him. Then she turned around abruptly and walked quickly away.

As he sat there, Vincent could feel her pain washing over him. There was now no doubt in his mind that this woman was definitely Catherine. Their encounter had opened the floodgates, and she had lost control of her emotions. Now the flood was washing over them both.

After several minutes Vincent could feel it subsiding and soon he couldn’t feel any trace of her at all. He marveled at the strength it must be taking for her to control her emotions like that.

Returning to the tunnels, Vincent pondered all of the words he and Catherine had exchanged. Her words and the sound of her voice continued to echo in his mind “… an aneurysm in my brain … It’s you that should be afraid … I nearly destroyed you … I try not to feel anything … If you are a dream …you’re a beautiful dream … All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream … You have to stay away from me.”

As he entered his chamber, he could see Jacob sitting there waiting for him. He jumped up when he saw his father.

“Were you able to speak with Peter? What did he say? Who is this woman?” He bombarded his father with questions.

Vincent held up his hand as if to stop the onslaught. Jake stopped and waited for his father to speak.

At length Vincent nodded his head and said, “It is Catherine. It’s true. She is alive.”

Jake was taken aback. He couldn’t believe it. “How can you know that, Dad? What makes you so sure? Only a few hours ago you were sure that it couldn’t be her.”

Vincent looked directly at Jake as he answered. “I’ve seen her. I’ve spoken with her. There is no doubt that it is her.”

Jake was silent. There were so many thoughts and emotions swirling in his head that he didn’t know what to do with them. He began pacing. The look on his face concerned Vincent. Every emotion he was feeling was clearly discernable, confusion, disbelief, betrayal, anger, pain.

Finally he stopped pacing and turned to his father and asked, “So everything? … everything I have ever known or believed about my mother was a lie?”

Vincent replied, “No, Jacob.” Vincent stopped. He didn’t know how to reply. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how it’s even possible….” His voice trailed off.

Jake interjected, “What did she say? Where has she been? How could she do that? She just turned her back on you? … on us? What kind of a person does that?”

Vincent was quiet. He just shook his head and said, “I don’t know, Jacob. I could see that she is in a lot of pain. She’s ill. She said I should stay away. That I should be afraid of her.”

Jake asked, “Did she even ask about me? Did she even care what has happened to the child she just walked away from?”

Vincent was silent so Jake continued, “So, why is she back now? Is she back here for us? Does she want to be back in our lives?”

Vincent shook his head and said, “No. She said that I should come back here and pretend she was still dead. She said she didn’t want cause me any more pain.”

Jake sat down. He suddenly felt very tired. After a time he said, “I’ve spent my whole life loving the ghost of my mother and it was all a lie? All a figment of my imagination? Just a child’s fairy tale. You’ve spent the last 25 years loving a memory of someone that didn’t even exist? Who was that ghost, Dad? Who have we seen wandering these tunnels?”

Vincent answered, “I don’t know, Jacob. I still believe it was her. But nothing makes sense to me right now. None of the pieces fit.”

Vincent shook his head again and answered, “She asked me to stay away, but I don’t think I can. Not until I understand. She was in such pain. I could feel it washing over her like a flood.”

Jake was surprised. “How can you say that? How can you still be concerned about her? She turned her back on us and never looked back. And now you’re worried about her?”

Vincent said, “We don’t know that Jacob. There has to be a reason. The Catherine I know … the Catherine I knew … would never have just walked away. We went through too much. We endured too much for her to just throw it away. There has to be an explanation.”

Jake was too upset to listen to any more. He rose to leave. “You do what you want to, Dad. I can’t deal with this. I’m so angry right now to even think straight.” He put his arm on his father’s shoulder and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

After leaving Vincent, Catherine had found a quiet place to catch her breath. The wave of emotions that was washing over her was difficult to get back under control. She wasn’t used to feeling anything as intensely as she had just experienced. Once she felt more in control of herself, she found her way back to Peter’s house.

Luckily Peter had fallen asleep in his chair while waiting up for her. At least she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else tonight. She found a blanket to cover him up, turned out the lights, and went to her room. She just wanted to sleep, to leave all of her cares behind…

Catherine found herself standing alone in the dark. She could see a small light in the distance like a flame flickering in the wind. As she approached it she saw the face of evil from years ago saying, “You do know you’re dead don’t you?” Then he laughed and said, “At least to anyone who ever cared.” “You do know you’re dead ….?” Then she could see the doctor in Thailand as he said, “It’s inoperable, probably fatal” she could hear a child crying. As she approached the sound of the child she could see Candy as she cried out, “Cici อยู่ที่ไหน Cici ของฉัน” “Cici, Where is my Cici?” in the midst of children taunting her. She could see Jake. On his face was an expression of confusion, anger and pain. She heard the pain in Vincent’s voice as he asked, “So you didn’t come back for … me? for us?” Then she heard his voice again as he said, “… but you did die, you did die, you did die…”

Catherine woke up before the dawn. She had found no rest, no refuge, and no strength in her dreams. Sitting on the roof, she watched the day break through heavy grey clouds. The air in the garden was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle, wet earth, and rain. Catherine found it soothing as she drank it in. She wasn’t sure how long she had been up there when Peter joined her.

Peter was shocked by Catherine’s appearance. She looked like she was at her breaking point. His concern was evident on his face. They sat in silence for some time as Catherine stared out at the city skyline.

She nodded again. It was taking every ounce of energy that she had to keep the storm within her under control.

She still didn’t speak. She just continued to stare straight ahead as she shook her head.

“We need to leave for your appointment with Dr. Michaels in an hour,” he said.

While Catherine showered, Peter called Jen Maxwell. “Jenny, I need your help. Cathy isn’t doing very well. I’m really worried. She looks exhausted. She hasn’t said a word since yesterday afternoon. She has a doctor appointment this morning but there are reporters waiting out on the street.”

Peter had a plan. “Can you come over here, Jenny, and try to get her to eat something before her appointment? I can try to distract the reporters out front while you two leave by the back entrance.”

By the time Catherine came into the living room Jen was sitting there. Catherine smiled a little. “Peter called you?” she asked.

Jenny nodded and said, “He’s going to run interference for us with the reporters out front so I can get you to your appointment.”

Jenny smiled and said, “No. He’s worried about you. So am I, Cathy. Do you think you can eat something?”

Catherine nodded in resignation and said, “If it makes you feel better, I can try.”

They both went into the kitchen. Jen chatted cheerily as Catherine picked at a piece of toast and some peppermint tea. Halfway through her toast she looked at her watch and said, “We’d better get going.”

In the taxi they were both silent. Catherine found solace in the pouring rain. She leaned her head back, and closed her eyes, and let herself get lost in the sound of the rain and the rhythm of the windshield wipers and the honking horns of the other cars. There was a certain music to it that had a calming effect on Catherine.

Jen was reluctant to break the silence between them, so she reached out to hold Catherine’s hand. Catherine was surprised by the touch and quickly pulled her hand away as if it had been slapped. It drew her out of her private reverie and she opened her eyes and looked at Jen as if she just realized she was there. Jen looked hurt and worried about her friend.

“I don’t know what to do, Cath. What can I do?” Jen asked almost in tears.

Catherine was quick to answer. “You’re here, Jen. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Jen was near tears as she spoke. “What happened to you, Cathy? You hardly speak. You don’t like to be touched. When I reach out to you it’s as if I’m hurting you.”

Catherine tried to explain, “Jen, you are the closest thing I have ever had to a sister. I love you. I have missed you so much over the years. It’s just that I’m not used to letting people close enough to touch me. I've kept my distance from almost everyone for 25 years.”

It was quiet for a minute and Catherine reached for Jen’s hand. As she squeezed Jen’s hand she said, “I am so grateful you’re here, Jen.”

Standing at the elevator, Catherine gave herself the same pep talk that she had at her other appointments. As the elevator doors began to close someone stuck their arm in the door. The doors reopened and two men in business suits got on. Catherine could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She suddenly had a flashback to the day she was kidnapped.[1] She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She stuck her arm in the elevator doors just before they closed and jumped out, dragging Jenny with her.

She leaned up against the wall for support. She was holding her chest trying to catch her breath.

Jen was alarmed as she tried to approach Catherine. She put her hand on Catherine’s shoulder and said, “Cathy?”

Catherine jerked quickly away from her and dashed out the door into the fresh air.

Not knowing what else to do, Jen stayed with her until her breathing became steady. When Catherine finally looked up she could see how afraid Jen was. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m really sorry, Jen.”

“Oh, Cathy.” Jen shook her head, “I’m so sorry… I don’t know how to help you.”

Catherine approached Jen and hugged her friend. “You are helping me, Jen, more than you’ll ever know…. I think I’m ready to try again. How about you?”

Deep in the tunnels Vincent was describing to Father his encounter with Catherine in the cemetery, when he was so overpowered by Catherine’s panic attack that he was momentarily paralyzed. He grabbed his chest and couldn’t breathe. By the time he got a hold of himself, he was going to run to save her, when he felt her fear subsiding until he couldn’t feel her at all.

Father was clearly frightened by what he had witnessed. “What is happening, Vincent? Do you know? Can you tell me?”

Vincent tried to explain as much as he knew. “I’m not sure how she is doing it, but somehow she is controlling her emotions. She told me she tries not to feel anything at all. But sometimes she can’t do it. It’s getting harder for her. I’m not sure what happened just now. The fear … I’ve never felt anything like that from her before. It was so intense … and now I don’t feel anything at all.”

Vincent shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. I don’t have any sense of her now or even where she is.”

Father couldn’t hide his concern as he asked, “Are you going to see her again?”

Vincent responded, “She asked me to stay away. She said I should be afraid. I don’t think I can … stay away. At least not until I understand.”

Father pleaded with him, “But Vincent, if she told you to stay away … perhaps she is trying to protect you.”

Vincent was quick to answer. “She’s ill, Father. She may be dying. How can I leave her alone with that? If it were Margaret[2] could you?”

Joe arrived at the NYC Office of Chief Medical Examiner at 8 am sharp. He insisted that he be in attendance when the seal was broken on the exhumed casket from Catherine Chandler’s grave.

Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. Looking more closely, he realized it was an old colleague. “Diana Bennett? Is that really you?”

Turning back at the sound of her name, she answered, “Joe? Joe Maxwell? It’s been a long time, Joe,” she said smiling and extending her hand to him.

“You’re right, I retired a few years back. I’m still a consultant for the NYPD from time to time. Greg Hughs called me in to consult on an old case of mine that’s been reopened.” She cocked her head a little as if she had just realized something. Continuing, she said, “Actually, it’s the Catherine Chandler case. Is that what brings you in here too?”

Joe nodded, “Yes. I guess we better get up there then. It’s really good to see you, Diana.”

Dr. Becker, the Medical Examiner, came down the hall right on time. He looked around and asked, “Is everyone here?”

Joe looked around. The Chief of Police, check. The District Attorney, check. Police Department videographer, check. Court Recorder, check. Just as he was about to reply the Police Chief said, “All present and accounted for. Now let’s get started.”

They followed Dr. Becker and his assistant into the examination room. The air was charged with anticipation.

Dr. Becker handed everyone a surgical mask and said, “If any of you are squeamish you may want to put some of this under your noses. This will not smell like a bouquet of roses.” As he held out a jar of Vicks VapoRub.

Joe was quick to accept the offer. He could feel his heart rate increasing and his blood pressure rising. He thought he had put one of the worst experiences of his life behind him a long time ago. But memories of Catherine’s disappearance and death were as fresh to him now as if it had happened yesterday. Even though he knew that Catherine Chandler wasn’t in the casket, he couldn’t get the memory of her death and funeral and all the pain associated with it out of his head.

Everyone moved closer as the casket lid was lifted. The expression on every face as they realized what they were looking at was one of disbelief.

When Dr. Michaels took Catherine and Jen into his office he expressed his surprise that Peter was not present for the meeting.

He dove right into it. “Cici, I’m going to give you the worst news first and then I will give you the good news. Okay?”

Dr. Michaels smiled and said, “There is definitely good news. I need you to hold onto that while we go over this MRA. Okay? Because this can be a little frightening.”

As he continued he noticed that Jen and Cici/Catherine were holding hands. “Do you have a good support system of family and friends, Cici?”

“Good, because she is going to need them in the coming weeks and months,” he replied.

“Okay then ...” he said. He then went on to describe the test results. “What I see on this MRA is that you do have three distinct and separate saccular berry aneurysms. Two of them are medium sized. They are here and here. This one here is about 6 centimeters. And this one is borderline, 15 centimeters. If it was just a little larger it would be a considered large. Now this large one is the one that is causing the most concern. This is probably the one that is causing your headaches. This one is 18 centimeters and it’s in a tricky spot. You have probably had these for many years and they have slowly gotten bigger.”

Dr. Michaels was patient. He was used to working with people who were scared. He nodded, “The good news is that I believe they are treatable. There is a good chance that we can get to these before they rupture.”

Dr. Michaels explained, “You have two options for treatment. The first is called coiling. We would insert a catheter into a major blood vessel in your hip. We would thread a catheter through your blood vessels up to your brain. We would then thread platinum coils up to the aneurysm and coil the wire into the aneurysm until it’s full. The blood in the sac or “berry” will then form a clot and effectively remove the danger of a rupture. This method is very effective with most aneurysms. But the larger the aneurysm is, the less successful this method is.”

Cici/Catherine was trying to understand everything he was saying. She nodded and asked, “What is my second option?”

He continued, “The next option is called clipping. We would perform a craniotomy. It would involve removing a piece of your skull and very carefully going into your brain to insert a clip at the neck of the aneurysms and basically cut off the blood supply. The aneurysm will just shrivel up. The risk with this procedure is there could be some brain injury during the surgery and the recovery time is longer. The up side is that for the large aneurysm here it has the best possibility of success.”

Dr. Michaels was silent for a few minutes to give Cici/Catherine a chance to absorb all of the information. Then he asked, “Do you have any questions, Cici?”

“What are my chances of surviving the surgery and the prognosis down the line?” Cici/Catherine asked. Her voice was subdued, almost a whisper. The doctor was offering her a lifeline, but she was afraid to reach for it. She was afraid to hope.

Dr. Michaels measured his words carefully. “If you receive treatment before there is a rupture your chances are very good with coiling for the two smaller ones. However with this large aneurysm the long term outcome with coiling is not as good. There is a good chance you will still have a bleed in the future. If you don’t take care of this big one your long term chances for survival are … poor.”

He paused for a moment to let the words settle in the room and then he continued, “You need to know that if a bleed occurs before you have surgery, your prognosis would be very grave. The degree of brain injury will be significantly worse. If this big one ruptures, your chances of survival will be drastically reduced. In all honesty, you probably wouldn’t even make it to surgery.”

His answer was serious, “If a bleed occurs, you would probably have what we commonly call ‘a thunderclap headache’. It is a sudden severe headache, pain beyond anything you have ever felt in your life.” Turning to Jen, he said, “If this happens, she needs to get to the hospital as fast as possible. The more time that passes, the more brain damage will occur.”

Dr. Michaels was glad to give her his opinion. “I personally think that you should have surgery as soon as possible. I also think that for your particular situation, clipping is your best option.”

Cici/Catherine turned to Peter and asked, “Peter, I value your opinion. What do you think?”

Peter was careful with his answer, “I trust Dr. Michaels' opinion and I trust his skill. If you have any chance of surviving this, Cathy, I think it’s with Mack.”

Cici/Catherine nodded and looked straight ahead without really seeing anything as she thought. She was nodding periodically as she weighed her options. Finally she nodded emphatically and said, “Okay then, let’s do this.”

An hour later all the papers were signed and the arrangements were made. As Jen and Catherine stepped out of the building the heavy clouds that had been hanging over the city all morning began to break and a sunbeam broke through the clouds.

Jen exclaimed, “Cathy, look! It’s a sign. You’re going to be okay, Cathy.”

“No Peter, I think I want to avoid the reporters as long as I can. If that’s all right with you?” she replied.

Peter agreed and even though he knew she wouldn’t like it, he hugged her and whispered in her ear, “It’s all going to be all right, Cathy. You need to believe that.”

She smiled weakly and returned his hug. “Thank you, Peter, for being here for me … for always being here.”

Climbing into the taxi Jen tried to cheer Catherine up. She asked, “So what are our plans for the rest of the day, Cathy? What should we do next?”

Jen looked doubtful. Her cell phone started to ring. Answering it, she said, “Hi, Honey. Yes … yeah, she’s still with me. Sure. Hold on.” She handed the phone to Catherine and said, “It’s for you.”

“Cathy, can you come down to my office? I’m still at the Medical Examiner’s office, but I’ll be leaving soon.”

Cathy was immediately concerned. “What is it, Joe? Who was it? Who was buried in my grave?”

Joe just said, “Cathy, I want to talk to you face to face. Can you just meet me at my office?”

“We just got in a taxi, we’ll come straight there,” she replied and handed the phone back to Jen.

Twenty minutes later Catherine and Jen were sitting in Joe’s office. Looking around, she could hardly believe it had only been a few days since the last time she was here. It felt more like a month, so much had happened since that night. She was suddenly very tired. She leaned her head back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

Without opening her eyes Catherine answered, “Do you remember that summer we went to the Florida Keys and we ended up in the middle of a hurricane?”

Jen laughed, “Oh my gosh, Cathy! I haven’t thought about that in years. You were so scared.”

Catherine smiled and said, “You never let go of me. You just kept cracking jokes the whole time to make me laugh.” Then her smile faded, “Here we are again … in the middle of a hurricane … it’s so quiet in here. It feels like we’re sitting in the eye of the storm.”

Jen reached out to squeeze her hand and said, “Maybe the worst is over, Cath.”

Catherine didn’t pull it away this time. She just squeezed Jen’s hand. They sat there like that for several minutes. Then Catherine asked, “Have you been happy, Jen?”

Jen said, “We named her Rebecka Catherine. You should meet her, Cathy. Sometimes she reminds me so much of you. She’s going to save the world. She just got married in April. Do you want to see a picture?”

Catherine smiled and nodded. As Jen pulled out her phone Joe entered the office.

When Joe walked into the room the feeling in the air changed. It was clear that Joe was upset. Catherine could feel the panic rising even though she was doing her best to keep it under control. He threw his jacket over his chair. He walked over to the window. He couldn’t look Catherine in the eye, but it was clear that he was upset.

After a few uncomfortable minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Joe, tell me. Who was it? Who was buried in my grave?”

Catherine couldn’t believe what he was saying. She shook her head. “No, NO, Joe … It’s not true! I’m …”

Joe interrupted her. “Cathy, what did he do to you? What did Gabriel do to you?”

Catherine was confused. She tried to answer, “Joe, I already told you. I already answered your questions.”

Joe was clearly agitated. “You answered my questions Cathy, but that isn’t everything … is it? I need you to tell me WHAT … HE … DID … TO … YOU!”

In her head she was wondering frantically what he knew. She met Joe’s eyes, but she didn’t respond to his question.

Joe’s voice became softer. “Cathy, I need you to take off that bracelet and show me your wrist?”

Catherine’s eyes got big, she shrank back in her seat and said, “No.” Then shaking her head she emphatically said, “No Joe!”

Frustrated, Joe pulled a chair up close to Catherine. He sat facing her and spoke softly. “Listen Cathy, what happened to you … it happened because I gave you that book. I feel responsible. I feel like I ruined your life.”

Catherine started shaking her head and said, “You couldn’t possibly have known what would happen, Joe. It’s not your fault.”

Joe continued, “The other day you said you were choosing to trust me. I need you to choose to trust me now, Cathy. I need you to show me your wrist.”

Catherine took a deep breath and let go of Jen’s hand. She nodded slightly and began to undo the snaps on the wide leather bracelet that she never took off. She slowly held out her hand to Joe. He took it gently in his hand and slowly turned it over to reveal a burn scar in the shape of a circle with a “G” in the middle.

When he saw it, he felt sick to his stomach. He groaned, “Oh, Cathy. Oh, Cathy.”

Catherine sat expressionless like a stone, but tears were running down her face. She slowly pulled back her hand and put the bracelet back on and wiped her tears. She then calmly asked, “What was in the casket, Joe? How did you know about that?”

Joe answered, “Cathy, I need you to come with me to the Medical Examiner’s office to answer some questions on the record and to see for yourself.”

She was candid when she said, “Joe, I don’t think I can. I don’t know if I can walk in there. I don’t feel safe.”

Still sitting close, Joe still spoke softly. “Listen, Cathy, Gabriel didn’t kill you, but he did take your life.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “He stole your life, Cathy.” Then holding his thumb and index finger close together he said, “You are this close to taking it back. I promise you … I swear on my father’s grave, Cathy … I will not let anything happen to you. Jen and I will be there with you every second.”

“What do you say, Radcliffe?” Joe asked. “Are you ready to go take back your life?”

Still expressionless she looked Joe into the eyes and nodded “Okay.” she said with a shaky voice, as she nodded she reached for Jen’s hand.

In the interview room Catherine sat between Joe and Jen. She was amazed at how calm she felt in the moment. But she had learned that these moments of calm could pass quickly. So she tried, in the few minutes she had, to find strength in the calm.

She looked around the room at the faces of everyone there. Joe and Jen were the only ones she knew. Except for a redheaded woman in the far corner who looked vaguely familiar. But she couldn’t place her. She leaned over to ask Joe who she was just as the police chief entered the room, Catherine was shocked to see a familiar face. She stood up and asked in disbelief, “Greg? Greg Hughs? Is that really you?”

He smiled and stuck out his hand and greeted her. “Hey, Cathy. I thought it would be more comfortable for you to see a familiar face.”

Catherine smiled and asked with a little bit of cynicism, “Did you want to make me comfortable, Greg? Or did you want to see if this person claiming to be Catherine Chandler was really me?”

Greg smiled. “Maybe a little of both. But seriously, Cathy, it is so good to see you. Now should we get to it?”

Catherine nodded as Greg introduced her to everyone in the room. She saw his lips moving but couldn’t concentrate enough to really hear and register any of the names. All she could think about was trying to get through the next thirty minutes and hope that it would all be over soon.

Greg: Miss Chandler, are you aware that the grave of Catherine Chandler was exhumed yesterday?

Greg: Miss Chandler, If Catherine Chandler is not the occupant of that grave, do you have any idea who is?

Greg: I know that it’s been a long time, but can you recall what you were wearing on the day that you were abducted?

Catherine (taken off guard by the question she answered slowly with her eyes closed as if she was playing the day in her head.): Uhm … I was wearing a white chiffon blouse that tied at the neck …. a grey skirt … and a grey paisley vest with matching grey pumps.

Greg: Can you tell me if during your captivity you were harmed in any way that would leave a scar?”

Catherine slowly pulled her hands from under the table and removed the bracelet again. She reached across the table towards Greg and showed him her wrist.

Greg: Cathy, would you like to see what is in the casket that was exhumed from your grave at St. Cleo’s cemetery?

The videographer followed the group into the examining room. Everyone stood back to let Catherine approach the casket.

As she approached she was shocked by what she saw inside. It wasn’t a person at all. Inside she saw sandbags. Her clothes were carefully laid out over the sand bags. On the pillow where a person’s head would lay was a photograph of her face. To one side of the sandbags lay her purse. Catherine wondered what was inside. To the other side was … a branding iron. Other photographs and newspaper clippings about her disappearance were scattered in the lower part of the coffin including a photograph of her wrist with a fresh brand on it.

Catherine: I’m glad that there isn’t anyone in it. I’m relieved that no one else died in my place.

Catherine’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to control her fear as she wondered what was on it.

Joe approached her and reminded her, “You chose to trust me, Cathy. This is the last thing. Okay? And then Jen will take you home.”

Catherine remembered the situation at Peter’s apartment. “Joe, I don’t think I can go back to Peter’s. There were reporters all over the place this morning.”

Joe reassured her. “It’s okay, Cathy. As soon as you are ready to leave here we are going to call a press conference. That should draw the reporters here. That way you can get into the house without being noticed.”

Cathy nodded. “Okay, I’m ready to watch it.” But she wasn’t. Nothing could have prepared her.

As they went back to where the meeting had begun, the lights were turned down. A large screen showed the room where Catherine had been kept during her pregnancy on a black and white video feed. It showed her standing at the window. Then it showed her in labor.

Catherine closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She put her hands to her ears as she heard her own screams as she gave birth to her son. She opened her eyes as the screaming was replaced by the cries of her newborn son. She was hoping to catch a glimpse of him on the video while desperately hoping that there was no video of Vincent. The picture changed to the room that she once thought of as her tomb. Catherine saw herself strapped to a bed in a small sparsely furnished room. The nurse and the doctor came in with some instruments. She could see her struggle to free herself. She stiffened as they branded her wrist. It was obvious that she was in incredible pain, but she barely made a sound. The doctor commented, “Her tolerance for pain is incredible.” The nurse never spoke or showed any emotion of any kind.

Catherine closed her eyes again. She grabbed her wrist, she could feel again the pain and smell her burning flesh. Gabriel’s voice was clear on the video, “You are dead Miss Chandler, at least to everyone who knew you. I own you now. Whenever you look at that you will remember that I OWN YOU. I own you. I own your child. And I will own him. No one is unbreakable. I’ve broken many men and I WILL BREAK YOU.” The Catherine in the video stared straight ahead, expressionless.

Those in the room who looked at Catherine in that moment could see that she was also staring straight ahead, expressionless. No one could know the terror the sound of that voice struck in the deepest parts of her. She was reliving those unspeakable moments with all of her senses. At the same time she was using all of her energy to not lose control, not to feel too deeply.

As the video continued Catherine could be seen standing in the dim light staring straight into the camera. Her face showed no expression. The sound of a baby crying could be heard alternating with the sound of Vincent’s roars.

The cries of a baby faded and were replaced by the sound of Gabriel laughing. Catherine continued to stare, stoic and expressionless into the camera. Then Gabriel appeared with a vicious smirk on his face saying, “I own you, Miss Chandler. I own your son. And I will own him.” Then the video went dark.

The lights came on and Greg said, “Cathy, considering all of this evidence, I don’t think you will have a problem getting your identity back. Would you be willing to give us your fingerprints to compare to those that may be on the purse? If you give us a DNA sample we might be able to match it to any we may find on the branding iron.”

When Catherine didn’t answer everyone looked her way. She was sitting very still. Her eyes were closed and she was visibly shaken. She was taking deep cleansing breaths. Jen reached for her hand. At Jen’s touch Catherine jumped up and moved away from the table. She dashed out the door and ran to the ladies room. When Jen caught up with her she could hear her vomiting in the bathroom stall.

When she came out, Catherine washed her hands, rinsed her mouth and then splashed her face with cold water. She was shaking and her face was pale. Jen was nearby, shaking and weeping. Catherine wanted to comfort her, but she knew that if she spoke or touched anyone that she might lose control. It was taking every ounce of energy that she had to hold back the flood that was threatening to destroy her.

She gave Greg her fingerprints and her DNA in complete silence. Hardly anyone spoke. They were all watching Catherine with concern and awe at her strength. Joe and Jen, who were aware of her medical condition were deeply concerned about her.

As Joe saw Jen and Catherine safely into a taxi. He also saw the first of the news vans pulling into the parking lot.

Catherine leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She stayed that way most of the way to Peter’s house. She only flinched a little bit when Jen took hold of her hand. She gave Jen’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you, Jen,” she said.

But that was all Catherine had the strength to say. With her eyes still closed she managed a weak smile and squeezed Jen’s hand again.

They were able to slip into the apartment building unnoticed. It felt like days since they had walked out the door that morning. Catherine went to her room and without even undressing, she stepped into the shower. She sat on the floor of the shower and let the hot water wash away the trauma of the day. Every muscle in her body ached. As she sat there listening to the water run, she closed her eyes and in her mind she went to the waterfalls that always gave her strength. Even though it was early in the evening, she dressed for bed.

Stepping into the living room, she found Peter and Jen quietly talking. Instead of taking her usual defensive seat at the furthest end of the room she quietly walked over to Peter and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Thank you, Peter, for always being here for me. I couldn’t love you more if you were my own father.”

Peter blushed and replied, “Thank you, Cathy. I’ve always thought of you as one of my own children.”

She then sat next to Jen and hugged her. She looked at Jen and said, “You are the most wonderful friend. I don’t know if I could have gotten through this day without you and Joe.”

Jen was surprised to hear how steady and clear her voice sounded. She marveled as she looked at Catherine.

Jen answered with awe in her voice, “You are so amazing, Cathy. You have got to be the strongest person I have ever known.”

Catherine replied with a wry smile, “I don’t know about that. Right now I’m just tired to my bones.”

“You never are, Cathy. Nevertheless, you need to eat something. Jen made you some chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese. Can you at least try to eat that?” he asked.

Cathy smiled at them both. “You two aren’t going to leave me alone until I do, are you?”

Catherine obediently ate the food even though she couldn’t taste it. She felt like she was walking in a fog.

Joe called and told Jen to turn on the news. The news conference was about to start.

Catherine rose from her seat. “Jen, Peter, I hope you don’t mind, but I just don’t have the energy to deal with any more of this tonight. I just need to sleep for a while. If they say anything you think I should know, you can tell me tomorrow.” She hugged them both again and said goodnight. Catherine was asleep almost before she hit the pillow. For a few hours she slept a dreamless sleep.

“Hey, Jake. My dad is on the news,” Becka exclaimed as she turned up the sound.

Jake came closer to see as the police chief who introduced himself as Greg Hughs, came to the podium. His father–in-law, Joe Maxwell, was standing behind him.

“Yesterday the grave of Catherine Chandler, a former assistant district attorney for the city of New York was exhumed. Miss Chandler disappeared in 1989. Several months later her body was found deceased, under extremely suspicious circumstances, in her Manhattan apartment. Recently a woman came forward claiming to be Catherine Chandler. This woman presented compelling evidence that prompted us to exhume Catherine Chandler’s grave. This morning the seal on the coffin was broken at the NYC office of Chief Medical Examiner. In attendance were Dr. Becker, the NYC Chief Medical Examiner, The Chief of Police Greg Hughs, Joe Maxwell, the attorney representing the claimant, The District Attorney, The Police Department videographer, Consulting Detective Diana Bennett, and a court Recorder.

Upon opening the casket the following items were found inside; approximately 100 lbs. of sand in sand bags, the clothing that Catherine Chandler was wearing on the day of her abduction, Miss Chandler’s purse containing identifying documents, photographs of Miss Chandler, and sundry items related to the case.

Fingerprints and DNA samples have been taken from the woman claiming to be Miss Chandler to compare to any evidence that may be present in the coffin. However there is little doubt that the claimant is indeed Catherine Chandler. People who were close to Catherine Chandler prior to her disappearance have positively identified the claimant as said Catherine Chandler.

Miss Chandler is unavailable for questions at this time. She has asked that the press respect her privacy.

A photograph of Catherine Chandler from the late 1980’s came up on the screen. Jake grabbed the remote and turned off the television.

Becka turned to see that Jake’s face was pale. He was clenching his jaw. “Jake? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His voice was quiet, but filled with pain. “That’s my mother, Becka. Catherine Chandler is my mother.”

The anger was evident in Jake’s voice as he answered, “No, Becka, apparently my mother was not murdered. She has been alive all this time. She just pretended she was murdered.”

Becka slipped her arms around Jake’s waist. She didn’t know what to say. Jake found some comfort in her arms. Then he said, “I need to get some air. I need to clear my head.”

Jake replied quickly, “No. I need to be alone.” He grabbed a sweatshirt and quickly went out the door.

Jen waited for Joe to get home from the press conference. When he walked through the door she ran into his arms. They embraced each other. Jen couldn’t stop crying. Joe was very emotional as well.

After a while they just sat embracing each other in silence. Joe kissed Jen on the top of her head and stroked her shoulder. Jen finally spoke. “Joe, do you remember when Cathy died?”

Joe shook his head. “There is no way that we could ever have imagined … anything like that.”

Jenny answered, “She was exhausted. Peter and I got her to eat a little before she went to bed…. How did she do it, Joe? How did she survive that?”

“I don’t know, Honey,” Joe answered. “There are some rare people in this world who have the strength to endure horrible things. They refuse to be broken. Cathy has that kind of strength.”

Vincent was just on his way topside, when a messenger brought him word that someone named Diana Bennett was near the Central Park tunnel entrance asking for him. He instantly recognized the name and immediately went to meet her.

As he headed to meet her he couldn’t help but remember all that she had done for him and for Jake. He also recalled how their friendship had ended almost twenty years ago.

Vincent backed away from her. He hated it when she brought up this subject. In frustration he spoke with a raised voice. “Diana, we have spoken of this before. I have tried to make it clear to you that I can never offer you more than my friendship.”

“But, Vincent … you know how I feel about you. You’ve known for a long time. How can you choose her over me when I am standing right here? SHE'S DEAD, VINCENT! You are in love with a ghost. How can you choose her when you have someone real right in front of you?”

Vincent’s voice had changed then. He spoke in a hushed and reverent tone. “Catherine is alive. She lives, Diana. She lives here,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “She lives in my dreams, She lives in my son … Sometimes I even see her spirit wandering these tunnels. She watches over us. How could I possibly love anyone else, when she is still here with me?”

“You know how I feel about you. Why can’t you see me?” she pleaded. “I’m the one who has been here for you for all these years. I’ve been like a mother to Jacob …”

Vincent interrupted her then, “NO. No, Diana. You have been a wonderful and treasured friend. But you aren’t his mother. Jacob has a mother.”

He had regretted those words immediately. He could see the words hurt her deeply. She looked as if he had struck her. “Diana, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you do, Vincent. Every time I come here. I can feel that she is always here, between us,” she said.

“Diana,” Vincent said, “I have tried. I have tried very hard … to be careful … to never say or do anything to make you hope for anything more than the friendship I have offered. If it causes you so much pain, why do you keep coming back?”

“I think that might be for the best,” Vincent replied as gently as he could. …

Diana was pacing back and forth as he approached. Her heart began pounding when she saw him come around the corner. They looked at each other for a few uncomfortable moments.

She didn’t seem eager to speak, so Vincent said, “I received word that you wished to speak with me. Is everything all right?”

“I got a call from the Chief of Police yesterday. I’ve been asked to consult on one of my old cases.” She paused to see if he reacted. When he didn’t, she continued, “It’s the Catherine Chandler case.” When he still didn’t seem to react she said, “There’s a woman. She’s claiming to be Catherine Chandler. They have exhumed her grave.”

Diana continued, “She came to the precinct this afternoon and gave a formal statement. Those who knew her back then seem convinced that it’s really her. Have you seen her? Do you believe it’s her?” she asked.

“Yes. I have seen her. And yes, it is her. It is Catherine,” Vincent replied. He was cautious with his answers.

Diana was confused by his reaction. “How long have you known that she was still alive?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he said softly. It wasn’t something he wished to speak about with Diana. His love for Catherine had become a wedge that had eventually ended their friendship. He had conflicting feelings where Diana was concerned. He felt guilty for having caused her pain. And yet if he was able to go back in time, he didn’t know what else he could have done to avoid what had happened between them.

“Did she tell you why she’s come back? After all this time? She didn’t look well. Is there something wrong with her?” Diana asked.

Vincent wasn’t comfortable lying, but he didn’t want to discuss Catherine with Diana, so he said, “I have more questions than answers myself, Diana. She has asked me to stay away from her. She wants me to pretend that she’s still dead.”

Diana accepted his answer. “I’m sorry, Vincent. This must be very painful for you and for Jacob,” she said.

Vincent only nodded. They were both very uncomfortable. At length Vincent said, “I’m sorry, Diana. I don’t know what else to say.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “If I learn anything else, would you like me to let you know?” she asked.

Vincent thought for a moment and said, “Catherine believes that there could still be someone out there who might want to harm her. That she might still be in danger. I don’t know if that’s true, but if you hear anything … I would appreciate it.”

Diana nodded. As she turned to leave Vincent said, “Diana?” When she turned to look at him, he said, “I’m sorry, Diana. I’m sorry that you have been drawn into this again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a wry smile. And then she walked out into the night.

Vincent waited until he was sure Diana had gone and then he walked out into the park as well. The earlier rain of the day had washed the world clean. Vincent loved the smell of the park after a summer rain.

Catherine slept soundly for a few hours before she began to hear the cries of her baby mingled with the sound of Vincent’s roars and Gabriel’s sinister laughter. In her dreams she was running in the dark. She could hear a voice saying, “You’re dead. You’re dead.” And another voice saying, “But you did die. You did die.” She could see in the distance the flickering of a small flame as she ran towards it she could hear the cries of a little girl. “Cici ที่เป็น Cici ของฉัน” or “Cici, where is my Cici?” She desperately began looking for Candy in the dark. She woke up disoriented in the darkness of her room. Then she ran to the bathroom and threw up.

After brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face she made her way to Peter’s rooftop garden. After the storms of the previous day everything smelled fresh and the stars were brilliant. She sat down on the wicker couch, clasped her hands behind her head and gazed up at the sky. She took several deep breaths, drinking in the healing fragrances of the garden and the beauty of the stars.

“At moments like this it’s easy to believe that ‘God is in His heaven and all’s right with the world,’” Catherine said to the night.

Then speaking softly she asked, “What part of ‘You need to stay away’ wasn’t clear? It isn’t safe for you to be here.”

“How can I stay away, Catherine?” Vincent asked from the shadows. “I’m trying to understand, to fit the pieces together.”

“Don’t waste your time, Vincent,” she answered. “The pieces will never fit back together.” Her voice was flat, without emotion.

Changing the subject Vincent said, “Early this morning I … I felt your fear … it was more than fear, Catherine. It was sheer terror. And then it passed. I’ve never felt anything like that from you before.”

Catherine nodded. She knew exactly when that moment had occurred. “I was on my way to the doctor’s office. I thought some men were following me and I remembered the day…” She momentarily closed her eyes and breathed deeply to banish the memory. “I had a panic attack. I’m sorry. I lost control of … myself.”

Catherine answered, “He thinks he can treat the aneurysms if he can get to them before they rupture. I am going to have surgery a week from today.”

Vincent stepped out of the shadows. Slowly approaching Catherine, he observed, “You don’t sound hopeful.”

Catherine looked at Vincent. What a beautiful sight he was to her. Despite efforts to keep her emotions in check, her face felt warm and she could feel her heart beating faster. After all these years, she still felt drawn to him. It took all of her strength not to run into his arms the way she used to in another life, a thousand years ago. Vincent could feel it too. He was sure she still loved him.

She pulled her gaze away from him and stared out into the night. “No, Vincent, I’m not … hopeful.” Catherine said trying to keep her voice from betraying her feelings for him.

Turning to him, she answered, “Hope only leads to disappointment, Vincent. Life has taught me … that if I have no hopes, no expectations, then everything I receive, every moment, no matter how small, is a gift.”

She turned her attention back to the brilliant night sky. “You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe. You will find nothing here but pain. But if you insist on ignoring my warnings, then by all means, come sit down,” she said without looking at him.

After a few minutes Catherine asked, “How can you even look at me? After what I’ve done?”

She turned to face him. “I let you believe that I was dead all these years. I deserted you and our son. I left you to raise him alone. Why aren’t you angry?

Vincent shook his head. “Because I know that you loved me, Catherine. Because I know that you loved him. Because I know that something terrible happened to you… to all of us.”

She looked back to the New York City skyline. “I have no right to ask. I have no right to know.” She paused and then said, “I know his name is Jacob Chandler Vincent and he’s beautiful. He has your eyes and he has your heart. He’s a doctor and he’s kind to old women and frightened little children.”

At first he was surprised by what she knew. Then nodding, he said, “Yes, that’s right. You met him in Thailand,” he recalled.

Catherine looked at him in surprise. “How did you …?” She was caught off guard that he knew that.

Vincent explained, “When Jacob came home from Thailand he told me he had given his crystal to a remarkable woman that reminded him of his mother. He said he felt compelled to give it to her. He felt that you should have it.”

She breathed in sharply and looked away. “He probably doesn’t think that now. Does he realize that it was me?”

Vincent shook his head and answered, “He’s angry and hurt and confused. But I don’t think he has made the connection yet.”

“You were wearing it last night at the cemetery. I knew then that it was you he had described to me,” he said.

Remembering the sweetness of that encounter Catherine said, “Sometimes, out of the blue, life hands you this wonderful unexpected gift. Meeting him was one of those times.”

“NO … I mean, yes I do. You have no idea … but, No. He can’t be in my life. Neither can you, Vincent. It isn’t safe. I’m not safe. And you’re not safe if you’re near me,” she pleaded. “Please, Vincent, I’m asking you to please stay away from me.”

“NO!” Catherine said in a flash of anger. She stood up and moved behind the couch, “No, you can’t protect me Vincent. I won’t let you … do that … ever again.”

“If someone means to harm you, Catherine … I want to protect you,” Vincent insisted.

“I know you do. But I can’t let you. I won’t let you. That can’t be part of … who we are … ever again,” Catherine tried to explain.

Vincent stood and stepped toward her, “But Catherine … if something should happen to you. Why won’t you let me help you?” Vincent didn’t understand why she wouldn’t accept his help.

Then her voice became strangely quiet as she asked, “Vincent … if I asked you something … would you tell me the truth? … No matter what?”

Vincent was taken aback by the question and the seeming turn in the conversation. “Yes … Catherine … of course I would,” he answered.

Catherine turned away for a moment. She was asking herself if she really wanted to know the answers he might give. Finally she turned back to him, looked into his eyes, and asked, “Before you ever knew me … before the night you found me in the park … had you ever killed anyone … before?”

Vincent stepped back, almost as if she had slapped him. How could he answer such a question? What would his answer mean to them? … to their future? But he had already promised to tell her the truth. He had no choice. At length he quietly said, “No.”

Her eyes were locked with his. She nodded almost imperceptibly as she absorbed the answer. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if she were about to plunge into a pool of icy water and asked, “… And since the day you took our child home? … since the day you took Jake home to the tunnels with you? … Have you killed anyone? … since that day?”

Vincent breathed in sharply. “Catherine,” he whispered roughly. The questions were obviously painful to him. In that moment he wanted to turn away … to run away … but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Finally he whispered, “No.”

She nodded and whispered, “Thank you, Vincent … for telling me the truth.” She sighed as she internalized the answers. “I will try to keep you from feeling my fear,” she said. “But if you do … promise me, Vincent, that you won’t come to me. You can’t come to me. I need you to promise.”

Catherine was asking the impossible. Shaking his head, Vincent held up his hands and said, “I can’t… I can’t do that, Catherine.”

Catherine’s voice became very soft as she replied, “Then my only option is to leave, to go as far away as I possibly can and never see you again.”

Catherine was resolved. She was using the couch to put a barrier between them and said, “I almost destroyed you once, Vincent. I won’t … do it … again.”

Vincent was desperate as he said, “I don’t know what you mean. But Catherine, if you were to … die …”

She interrupted his thought, “I am going to die, Vincent!” Her voice was raised in an effort to make him understand. “Everybody dies! Sooner or later everyone … everyone we love is gone … and we are … left … standing naked and alone in the dark.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I’m not afraid to do that. I’ve been doing that for a long time. Death doesn’t frighten me, Vincent. What frightens me is harming the people that I love … destroying the people that I love. No one else can be hurt or die because of me. Especially you and Jake. I would rather die, if it means the people that I love are safe.”

Vincent could clearly see that she was shaken. At the same time, even though he was standing in front of her, he could now feel no sense of her. Vincent stared at her for a few moments and then, very quietly, asked, “Is that what Gabriel did to you? Did he make you stand naked and alone in the dark?”

She was standing very still, meeting his gaze and shaking from head to toe. It was taking all of her strength to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want Vincent to feel the pain she was in, but she couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down her face.

Vincent moved to comfort her, but she backed away and held up her hands as she shook her head. Vincent pleaded, “Catherine, I can see that you are in great pain, but I can’t feel it. How are you doing that? What can I do to help you?”

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. When she gained control of herself she began to speak softly. “I’m sorry you saw that. I don’t want you to worry. I … I can’t explain it, what he did to me. I tried to make sense of it once. I wrote some of it in a journal. But I lost it. I don’t have the strength to explain it all again. It’s too difficult to even think about it. And I certainly don’t want to talk about it.”

Vincent asked, “Why won’t you let me near you? Why won’t you be touched?”

Catherine thought for a moment and said, “It’s easier … not to feel anything … if no one touches me. If you touch me, Vincent … I’ll start to dream … to hope. … It’s too late for me … to have hopes and dreams …. They hurt too much.”

“I’m standing right here, Catherine. Why can’t I feel you? … Why can’t I feel your pain?” Vincent asked.

Catherine answered, “Don’t you think I’ve caused you enough pain? It wouldn’t be fair to inflict this on you. I’m having trouble controlling it lately. I know you have felt it. I’m sorry about that.”

Vincent replied, “Catherine, don’t be sorry. I love you. I want to help you carry this. It hurts me to see you bearing it alone.”

Catherine tried to explain, “It’s all right, Vincent. I’ve gotten used to being alone. I’ve been controlling my emotions for such a long time. If I stop now … I’m afraid they might crush us both.”

Vincent could see her hands shaking as she spoke. She continued, “It would have been so much better if I could have died before you knew I was still alive. Now you have to go through it all again.” She began to rub her forehead to relieve the pressure.

Vincent was not ready to give up. “Don’t say that, Catherine. It wouldn’t have been better. The surgery might be successful. You might not die.”

Catherine shook her head. “How many times have I cheated death, Vincent? I’m pretty sure I have run out of my fair share of chances. Not even you or your love can save me from this.”

Vincent was thoughtful for a few moments and then he said, “Catherine, you said you have learned to accept each moment you are given, no matter how small, as a gift. We have been given this moment. If you are going to die, then why are we wasting time arguing? It’s seven days[4] until your surgery. If all we have is seven days, then let’s accept that gift. It’s more than I ever dreamed there would be. Let me share this with you, Catherine … for seven days. No hopes, no expectations, just this moment and whatever moments there may be after that.” He held out his hand to her.

Catherine was thoughtful. She felt the resolve within her soften, perhaps because she was so exhausted. She slowly came around the couch and cautiously approached, Vincent.

Vincent obeyed silently. Her approach was encouraging, but he was afraid that she would retreat any second if he even breathed.

She sat down on the couch facing him. Their eyes were locked on each other. After a few minutes she slowly and carefully reached for his hand and turned it palm side up. She silently examined and traced the burn scars on his palm.

She stopped him abruptly. “I KNOW …” then she looked into his eyes and tenderly said, “I know what they’re from, Vincent. If we only have seven days, I don’t want to waste one second of it thinking or talking about that.”

Vincent silently nodded. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. He still could not feel their old connection. She still had a tight reign on her emotions. But he was willing to take whatever she had to offer. He was willing to give her whatever she needed him to give. He held his breath as she lifted his hand and gently kissed the scars. She turned his hand back over and entwined her fingers through his. She wrapped her other hand around their entwined hands and then lay her head gently on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while watching the city lights and the stars. Slowly he could feel her relax as her breathing became more even. Slowly he began to breathe too.

At length Catherine said, “I’m so tired, Vincent, but I don’t want to sleep. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone and I will realize this was just a dream.”

Vincent kissed her softly on the top of her head and said, “Sleep, Catherine. I will stay as long as I can and watch over you. And I’ll come back tomorrow, if you will allow me.”

Catherine lay her head down on his lap and curled up her legs on the couch beside him. As he looked down on her and watched her sleep he noticed that from time to time a single tear would escape and slip slowly down her face. He ached to think that even in her sleep she suffered. He sat like that for hours, gently stroking her hair. From time to time a tear would fall from his face and mingle with hers. As he watched her sleep he recalled a beloved sonnet …

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

… As dawn approached, Vincent carefully stood up, trying not to waken her. He knelt beside her and kissed her softly on the cheek.

Before leaving the garden, Vincent plucked some honeysuckle[5] and left it next to her so that when she woke up she would know that he had not been a dream.

Jake had walked for hours trying to calm down, trying to comprehend what was happening, trying to get control of himself so that Becka wouldn’t see him in such a state. When he returned to the apartment Becka was asleep on the couch. Jake began cleaning the cupboards to expend some of the energy his anger had created. When he finished the cupboards, he dove into the closets, and finally found himself rearranging the bookshelves. As he worked his way through the books, he realized he had several books that belonged to his father. He thought for a moment and decided he needed to see his father and tell him what was happening. He found a box and began filling it. Jake didn’t notice that among the books was the journal that had mistakenly found its way into his backpack when he was in Thailand. Its binding looked very much like all of the others.

Not long after Vincent returned to his chamber, Jake entered carrying the box. They were both surprised to see each other up so early.

Jake knew what he looked like. “I couldn’t sleep. I was trying to clear my head. I spent all night cleaning my closets and reorganizing my bookshelves. These are yours. I borrowed them ages ago. I’m sorry it took me so long to bring them back.”

Vincent knew that Jacob wasn’t there because of books. He said, “Jacob, I don’t care if you have my books. You can keep them as long as you like. What can I do for you? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jake continued, “They opened her casket yesterday. Catherine Chandler’s.”

Jake shook his head and said, “No one. There wasn’t anyone inside. There were sand bags, her clothes, her purse and ‘other items related to the case’. Whatever that means.” Looking at his father, he asked, “Do you think she was part of it, Dad? Do you think she was part of the hoax?”

Vincent was surprised by the question. He quickly answered, “No, Jacob! It wasn’t a hoax.” Almost whispering, he said, “It was a nightmare. She was a victim, Jacob. We were all victims. She was abducted. She was not part of it.”

Jake didn’t understand, “Then why didn’t she come home, Dad? Why did she walk away and leave us behind? Have you seen her? Have you asked her?”

Vincent nodded, “I have seen her, but she won’t talk about it. It’s too difficult for her to speak of.” He paused and then said, “There is something you need to know, Jacob.”

“The woman you met in Thailand. The one you gave the crystal too. That was Catherine. She was your mother,” Vincent said.

Vincent’s reply was, “She has the crystal you gave her. She said you’re beautiful and you have a good heart. She considers meeting you there a gift.”

Jake began pacing. He recalled her reaction when he told her his name. His mind was reeling. “Is that why she’s back? She accidently met me after all these years and suddenly wants to be back in our lives?”

Vincent shook his head. “No, Jacob, she’s ill. She may be dying. She said she was hoping to come back and die before we knew she was still alive. She didn’t want to cause us any more pain.”

Jake laughed bitterly. “Wow, Dad. That sounds like a load. Did she ask for your forgiveness?”

Vincent shook his head. “No. She didn’t ask for anything, except for me to stay away.”

Shaking his head again Vincent said, “No, Jacob. I still love her. I can’t let her go through this alone.”

Jake was getting angrier. “Are you kidding Dad? You believe that load of crap? She deserted us! You don’t owe her anything!”

Vincent was getting agitated too. “JACOB! I do ‘owe’ her! In the worst, most terrifying moments of my life, she stood by me. She saved my life, Jacob. She gave me a son. She gave me you. You have been the most amazing, precious gift in my entire life. I ‘owe’ her everything. If she is going to die, I am going to do what I can for her until that happens.”

Jake couldn’t see past his own anger and pain. “Dad … you’re blind. I can’t just let it go. Not without some kind of reasonable explanation. Normal people don’t just desert their children. Normal people don’t turn their backs on the people they are supposed to love. What kind of a person does that? ‘It’s too difficult to talk about,’ doesn’t cut it, Dad!”

Vincent spoke softly, “Jacob, there was nothing normal about what happened to us. What happened to us was … beyond imagining. Whatever her reasons were, Jacob, I know that she loved me and I know that she loved you … of that I have no doubt … and I know that she needs me now.”

Jake realized that they were not going to see eye to eye on the subject. His pain was too raw for thim to listen to and truly hear his father. He turned to Vincent and said, “What I know, Dad, is that all my life I have loved a lie. I have believed in angels and fairy tales. And now … I have no idea what I’m supposed to believe.” He turned and headed for home.

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

[2] Beauty and the Beast: Season 1 Episode 8 Song of Orpheus

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

[4] Seven days is a parallel reference to the amount of time that Father and his lost love Margaret had together before she died in Beauty and the Beast Season 1 Episode 8 “Song of Orpheus”

[5] The Honeysuckle flower symbolizes the flames of love and tenderness for an old flame, a first love, a love that will never be forgotten. Perhaps this love reappears in our life, for a time or to stay. Like the wings of a butterfly, Honeysuckle sings the song of sweet love and reminds us that if you let love be free it will return to you if it is meant to be. (http://www.universeofsymbolism.com/flower-symbolism-page-two.html)