Unbreakable by Barbara Handshy Anderson (Section 7)

As Catherine slept, Vincent was restless. Having her so near brought back memories of another time so long ago, when she had come to the tunnels to be healed by his love.[1] Memories and emotions that had long slept were washing over him. When he couldn’t sleep he usually walked the tunnels, seeking the quiet secluded places that brought him peace. But tonight he wanted to stay close to Catherine as she slept in case she woke up and needed him. Looking around for something to occupy himself, he noticed the box of books that Jake had returned to him a few weeks before. With everything else that had happened in the interim, the box had sat forgotten where Jake had placed it on that morning. Vincent began going through the box and placing his old friends reverently on a bookshelf.

What sweet memories he had of reading these treasured tales and poetry with his brother Devin, with Father, with Catherine, and with Jake. The old friends in these books were as tangible to him as the real people who had blessed his life. They had been his faithful companions through good times and bad.

After placing a few books on the shelf, Vincent turned and accidently knocked the box onto the floor, strewing the contents onto the floor. Kneeling to pick them up, he noticed that some photographs had also fallen onto the floor. Reaching to pick one up, he realized that it wasn’t a photograph at all, but a postcard of … the Great Wall of China.

Smiling, he closed his eyes as he instantly recalled a half forgotten dream from a long time ago ...

He found himself walking on the Great Wall of China when he had seen Catherine there. He could feel the stones beneath his feet and the warmth of the sun on his face in the afternoon breeze … He began to walk and he thought he could see Catherine a little ahead of him. She stopped and turned.

As he came close, she smiled and said, “Come walk with me in my dreams, Vincent.”

At first, he reached for her hand, but she carefully avoided his touch, so he was content to just walk by her side. It seemed to him that they walked for miles in silence side by side. Finally she turned toward him. He could feel the warmth of her love as she said, “If all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream … then I choose to dream of you.”

Vincent had treasured the memory of that dream as much as if it had really happened. As he turned the postcard over to see who it belonged to he froze … written on the back in a hand he recognized as Catherine’s was;

If all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream, then I choose to dream of you.

How is this possible? Where did this come from? he asked himself. He looked back at the floor and reached for another postcard that had fallen there among the books….

Vincent found himself wandering in his dreams in a strange and magical place. The sky was clear and blue. He was surrounded by ancient ruins of … was it a palace? He wasn’t sure. Everywhere he looked there were ruined towers that still bore witness to their former grandeur. Here and there he could see saffron draped statues of Buddha. Most of the statues were broken. Then from behind one of the statues appeared … Catherine? She looked sad as she walked among the ruins. Vincent tried to catch up to her, to speak to her. She seemed oblivious to anyone around her. He followed her, intrigued. She walked around a large tree and stopped. She turned to Vincent and motioned for him to come closer. She pointed at the tree trunk and then he saw it. Over the centuries this tree had grown up through and around a part of the ruins and enveloped a beautiful head of one of the broken statues. It was breathtaking how nature had embraced the ruins and made something that was broken into something strikingly beautiful. And then he heard her speak.

Smiling, Catherine turned to Vincent and said, “Vincent, what a surprising reminder that there can still be beauty among the ruins.”

As Vincent turned this postcard over he read with shock again the words written by her hand …

Vincent was so astounded and confused. How can these even exist? He wondered. He had never spoken of these dreams to anyone. He had tucked them away like sacred treasures in his heart. It wasn’t possible for anyone to know about them. … And yet … here they were … his private, treasured memories strewn across the floor of his chamber.

He reached to gather them up. Looking at them one by one, he was dumbfounded that each one evoked the memory of a dream he had had of Catherine. Some of them had nothing written on the back. The ones that did, had exactly the words she had spoken in his dreams.

There are so many amazing and beautiful places in the world. How I wish I could share them with you. ----Forever, Catherine

If I close my eyes I can almost imagine another waterfall in another world, in another life. I go there sometimes in my dreams.

As Vincent gathered up the postcards he felt as if someone had reached inside of his heart and revealed his most private and treasured memories. Looking toward her room he asked, “Catherine, how did you do this?” One by one he picked up the books from the floor. He held up each one at eye level with the spine toward the ceiling. He thought if these postcards had come from one of the books, it was possible there were more. Perhaps by holding the books in such a way, they might fall out and he could discover where they had all fallen from. “Ivanhoe” revealed nothing. “Dorian Gray”… nothing. Surely “Great Expectations”… but no …. He then picked up what looked like one of his old journals. Holding it high and shaking it, his efforts were rewarded as two more postcards slipped effortlessly from its pages and fell to the floor. He stood looking at them in wonder. Bending to retrieve them, he could see that they too were pictures that had been plucked from his dreams.

He held each postcard gently and reverently in his hands, as if at any moment they would vanish into thin air and go back to wherever they had come from.

Looking closer at the book he held, he stood in wonder that they could have fallen from one of his own journals. But upon opening the book he realized that the journal did not belong to him. Yes, his name was clearly written on the inside cover, but it was in a hand that he instantly recognized as Catherine’s. In the middle of the inside cover, where one might find a book plate, were some words written in a spiral design. Where had he seen this design before? he wondered. Then remembering he began searching for the rose pendant that Jake had once shown him. Holding it up, he silently read, “Though lovers be lost love shall not; and death shall have no dominion … As long as I live … you … live … with me … in me … Always.” He wondered again, How could she have known those words? and What unseen hand has delivered this book into my hands? He couldn’t help but think that he must be dreaming. Turning his attention to the fly leaf he saw a poem, also written in Catherine’s hand. He could hear her voice as he silently read …

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)[3]

As Vincent read the poem an involuntary sob escaped his lips. The sound startled him. He went to Catherine’s room and stood watching her in amazement. She stirred a little, but she didn’t wake up. Still holding the book, he exited the chamber. He reached out to the tunnel wall to steady himself as he wept there, with her sleeping nearby. His mind was reeling. He could not understand how this book had come to be here. He remembered the last night on Peter’s roof when she had said, “… 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.”

Could this be the journal that she was referring to? thought Vincent. But if it is … how did it come to be in this box of books? How did Jake come to have it?

Vincent stared at the book for a long time trying to decide if he should read it. After all it was her journal. It most likely contained her most private and personal thoughts. But then again, it did appear to be addressed to him. Then he asked himself, If providence has put this book into my hands, then was I meant to read it?

Making his decision, he settled in his old chair in his chamber and he began to read.

“Where can I begin?” she had written. “I suppose I should begin in the cave where you came a breath away from dying in my arms. You knew that the connection we had with each other was broken that terrible night when you nearly lost your life. You assumed afterward that something must be broken in you. Not for one moment did you suspect any other possibility. I was waiting for you to regain your strength before explaining it to you. I thought there would be time for that. I was wrong. You see … the connection was broken by me…”

He could feel his heart breaking as he read of her regret at never having touched or held their child. He groaned as she recounted her fear and guilt over his illness and near death. His fought back a surge of emotion as he read, “…In those dark hours in that cave I made a bargain, a solemn promise with God, with the universe and with myself, that if by some miracle you lived through that awful night, I would do everything in my power to make sure you would never again feel my fear or be tortured by my emotions.”

As he read of her “death” and how she was awake and aware of every terrible moment, he felt as if he was reliving that excruciatingly painful night again. Only this time he was experiencing it through her …

“As I slipped into darkness, I felt so overwhelmed by the sweetness of you. You held me in your arms so gently and whispered my name. You smelled so wonderful. I could feel your tears on my face. It was as if I had been in the desert, dying of thirst, and your tears were the sweetest water I had ever tasted. I felt so safe in your embrace. I was finally home, in your arms. I could feel you carrying me. I was comforted by the thought that you were taking me home, to the tunnels, with you. I thought that even though I couldn’t live in your world in life, at least I could be there with you in death. I was finally going home to stay.

After my father died, you became my only home Vincent. Some people dream of a home as a beautiful house filled with beautiful things. But Vincent, there was never a home more beautiful to me than the home you made for me in your arms. It was a wonderful place to die…if one must die… But then I didn’t die, did I?”

As Vincent’s tears dripped onto the journal pages he realized that Catherine had already stained the pages with her own. He lay the book down. The pain was too much. He didn’t think he could read any farther.

Just then Father appeared at the door of his chamber. “Vincent, you are still awake. May I speak with you? I have some concerns about …” As he approached Vincent he could see that he was very upset. “Vincent, are you all right? Is it Catherine? Is something wrong?”

Vincent said, “Father.” He was barely able to speak. Continuing he said, “… I failed her, Father. Catherine’s life was ruined … because I … I didn’t save her.”

Father said, “I don’t understand, Vincent. Why do you say that? Did she say that? Does she blame you?”

Shaking his head, Vincent replied, “No, No, she doesn’t blame me. She would never blame me. I just know.”

Vincent handed the book to Father. Father looked at it curiously. It just looked like one of Vincent’s many journals. “It’s her journal, Father. It’s Catherine’s.”

Father was understandably confused. “I don’t understand. Her journal? Where did you get it?”

Vincent replied, “A few weeks ago, Jacob returned this box of books to me. Tonight, as I was putting them away, I found this journal among them.”

Vincent tried to explain, “The last time I saw her she said that she couldn’t explain what had happened to her. That she had written it in a journal once, but that she had lost it. She said she didn’t have the strength to do it again.”

“No, Father,” Vincent said. “It was in this box of books that Jacob returned to me weeks ago. I don’t understand it either. I don’t think Jacob even knew he had it.” He paused for a moment and then said, “I’ve read the first few entries, Father … I don’t know if I have the strength to read the rest. It’s too painful. But if I am ever to understand why she left … why she didn’t come home with us … if the answers are anywhere, Father … I think they will be there ... in the pages of that book.”

“Then you have no choice, Vincent,” Father said. “You must read it.” He reached out to Vincent and spoke softly. “If it helps, why don’t we read it together?”

Vincent took Father’s extended hand and nodded. Vincent began again at the beginning. When the reading became too difficult for him, Father would read for a while. Together they marveled at her strength through what Gabriel had done to her. They read of her love for Vincent and Jacob as she witnessed their first meeting. Then they read of her reaction to seeing Vincent tortured …

“Gabriel said ‘No one is unbreakable.’ He was right. I felt something shatter inside of me that day to see you suffer so. There are no words to tell you how sorry I am for what you went through because of me.

I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for what you have suffered because you chose to love me, Vincent. I vowed then that if by some miracle we lived through it all, that I would go as far away from you as I possibly could to protect you from me. Knowing that I only have the power to cause you pain, Vincent….breaks my heart. Please believe that all I ever wanted to do was love you. I never wanted to hurt you … I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….

Vincent could feel himself losing control. He stood up and began pacing back and forth trying to get a grip on his emotions.

When Vincent spoke his voice was filled with emotion. “How could she think that, Father? How could she …. ?” He couldn’t finish his thought. He was too choked up by emotion. Then he continued, “Peter told me that she blamed herself for everything … everything that happened. I didn’t understand what he meant.” He groaned and said, “Oh, Catherine!”

“Vincent,” Father began, “she loved you. She felt responsible for your suffering. The same way you blame yourself for not saving her. When the truth is … that neither of you were responsible for what happened. Paracelsus and Gabriel were evil men and you were caught up in that evil. There is nothing that you did or didn’t do that caused it. It’s a miracle that you survived at all.”

“But Father,” Vincent protested. “If I would have just brought her home to the tunnels with me that night, instead of taking her to her apartment … things might have been different.”

“You don’t know that, Vincent!” Father tried to make him understand. “If you had brought her here, she most likely would have died. There was no way of knowing what drug she had been given to mimic death. Or if she needed an antidote. And even if what you say is true, there is no way of changing it now. All you can do is be here for her now. She needs you now, Vincent. You can help her now.”

Vincent nodded. Father was always able to help him put things in perspective. He nodded and said, “Yes. Yes, I suppose you are right.” He felt calmer as he said, “Should we continue reading, Father?”

As they continued they learned of her eventual escape. “So it’s true,” Vincent said. “She did follow us into the tunnel.”

They read of her new identity and her aching loneliness as she wandered the world. Her journal entries were few after August of 1992. She often commemorated the day they had met, April 12^th with a small entry or a heartbreaking poem. She remembered Jake’s birthdays with sadness that she was not there to see him grow up. From time to time she recorded her dreams. Vincent read with deep interest …

In my dreams last night I found myself in the tunnels under the Bandshell in Central Park. I could see you there with our son. In my dream they were playing Schubert and it started to rain. He began to laugh and dance in the rain and it made me smile as I remembered what we shared there. Sometimes I remember such moments of joy that we shared and I feel so blessed. As I watched you both, I began to laugh and suddenly you both stopped and looked at me. And then I woke up.

The passage moved Vincent to silence. Father and Vincent were both dumbfounded by the revelation.

When he read of her dream in the Great Hall, he remembered vividly how beautiful her spirit had looked as she danced around the chamber. The pain became almost unbearable as he read,

“You once told me, that one day I would live another life, and dream another dream …. You were only half right, Vincent. I am living another life. But there will never be another dream. My only dream is of the life I should have had with you.”

Vincent spoke in a reverent tone. “All those times over the years when we saw her ‘spirit’ in the tunnels. When she sang to Jacob as a child. She was actually coming here in her dreams. We saw her in her dreams.”

Father was thoughtful. “I always thought that your connection, your ability to sense her emotions was because of your gift, Vincent. But it never occurred to me that it was a gift that both of you shared. I believe your bond truly is unbreakable. I wonder if she knows that she was actually here?” he asked.

27 years ago today. Twenty seven years since you came into my life and changed me forever. How oddly appropriate that on this day, of all days, I would meet our son, Jacob Chandler Vincent. He is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. What a wonderful job you have done, Vincent, in raising him. He has your amazing, gentle eyes and he has your heart. He is a good man, so much like you.

I was shaken and afraid when I realized just who he was. How I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how much I love him, have always loved him, and how proud I am of the man he has become. But as always, I know that he can never, never know who I am. I can’t imagine the pain it would cause him to know that I deserted him. Could he ever understand? Could he ever forgive?

After this morning, the danger will pass and we will both go back to our separate “worlds”. But I will be forever grateful for the gift I have been given today. I never imagined that in a world of 7 billion people that I would meet our son by chance in this far flung corner of the world. Albert Schweitzer once said that “Coincidence is the pseudonym dear God chooses when he wants to remain incognito.” If that is true, then I have God to thank for giving me such a wonderful, if bittersweet, gift today. I feel like my heart is full and breaking at the same time.

To both of you all a can say is… I love you, I love you, I love you and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

As Vincent slowly closed the book, he and Father sat in silence letting it all sink in. When Father finally spoke, he said, “Well, now you know. Does it help at all?”

“I’m not sure yet, Father,” Vincent answered. “I don’t understand how she could blame herself for everything that happened. Doesn’t she realize that it was her love that saved me? I only lived because of her. Even after it was all over …” He shook his head and said, “I think if I hadn’t had Jacob, I never would have survived the pain …. She sacrificed everything … everything for me … for us.” For a while the only sound in the room was the sound of Vincent softly crying.

“Vincent, you should get some sleep. She is going to need you when she wakes up.” Father suggested.

Vincent nodded. “Yes.” Then, turning to Father he said, “Thank you, Father, for being here for me tonight … and my entire life.”

Father’s eyes shimmered with tears as he smiled at Vincent. He reached out and squeezed Vincent’s hand.

Vincent struggled to fall asleep. His mind kept going over everything he had read. When he finally fell asleep he dreamed that he and Catherine were in a boat drifting in a lazy river deep beneath the city.

As she looked up at Vincent with love in her eyes he said, “Catherine … on the journey I felt for the first time as if somehow you were lost to me. I knew you were in danger and yet I could sense no fear.

Catherine answered, “I was afraid, Vincent, but I couldn’t allow myself to feel the fear.”

She smiled, ever so slightly and said, “I would sacrifice everything for you.”[4]

Vincent woke up suddenly and sat up. He shook his head as he heard her voice echo over and over, “I would sacrifice everything for you … I would sacrifice everything for you … I would sacrifice everything for you …”

“Catherine,” he whispered as he realized that his dream was actually a memory of something she had said to him years before. He rose and walked the short distance to the chamber where she slept. There was one lone candle flickering in the room. Watching her in the dim light he spoke softly. “You once told me you would sacrifice everything for me, Catherine. I didn’t know then what that really meant. But that’s what you did, isn’t it? You sacrificed everything ... everything for me.”

He pulled a chair up close to the side of her bed and fell asleep there watching her breathe.

A few hours later Catherine opened her eyes to see Vincent sitting beside her with his head resting on the side of the bed. He was sound asleep. Looking around, she could see that she was somewhere in the tunnels. She was disoriented and confused. I must be dreaming, she thought. It was the only explanation for how she could be here. She was content to watch Vincent’s deep. even breathing. She had had similar dreams many times over the years and she knew that as long as she was careful not to touch him, the dream would continue and she might be able to stay for a while. For her, these were always the sweetest dreams. The memories would often linger long after she had awakened. They gave her strength.

Presently Vincent began to stir. He opened his eyes to see that she was awake and watching him. She had a smile in her eyes but it didn’t quite reach her mouth. He smiled at her and reached for her hand. Immediately her expression changed to one of fear and as she breathed in sharply she snatched her hand away before he could touch her. Misinterpreting her action, he rose to leave. He didn’t want her to see how much it hurt him to see the fear of him in her eyes or for her to recoil at his touch in such a way.

“I’m sorry Catherine. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ll leave,” he said. But as he looked at her he could see her expression change. She looked confused and in her eyes … was she pleading?

He could see that she was trying to speak. Finally she closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply as if trying to calm herself. She looked away, trying to hide her frustration.

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch her and spoke softly. “Catherine, would you like me to read to you?”

“I’ll be right back. I’ll go get a book.” Vincent went quickly to his room and searched for something he could read to her.

What’s happening? she asked herself. How am I here?… Why aren’t I waking up? Vincent can’t find me. He can’t know that I’m alive. I need to get out of here. But however she tried she couldn’t get out of the dream. She couldn’t wake up.

She pulled back the covers and tried to stand up. If she could get out of her dream before he returned, maybe …. As she stood, her legs gave way under her and she fell to the floor.

Vincent chose a few books and returned to find Catherine in a heap on the floor. Dropping the books, he rushed to her side. “Catherine, are you all right?”

As he ran to her, she sat up with difficulty. As he reached to help her she slapped his hand away and tried unsuccessfully to get up on her own. After struggling for a few minutes she gave up. Leaning against the bed she closed her eyes in resignation. She held her hands to her head as if she was in pain and then covered her face with her hands and leaned her head back against side of the bed, exhausted.

What’s happening? she asked herself. How am I here?… Why aren’t I waking up? Watching her struggle was difficult for Vincent to witness. He stood silently watching her. When she had worn herself out, he bent toward her and lifted her onto the bed.

As she looked up at him he could see the anguish and confusion on her face. Then she turned her back to him and closed her eyes.

Vincent had no way of knowing what she was thinking and he couldn’t feel their old connection. He was fighting his own feelings of the pain from her rejection of him. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. He retrieved the books he had dropped and placed them quietly on her nightstand and left the room. He stood for a few minutes just outside Catherine’s chamber trying to calm himself.

Catherine lay in the silence with her face in her hands. She was trying to control her emotions, but she was disoriented and confused. Her head ached and she was exhausted even though she had only woken up a few minutes before. She was soon asleep and found herself wandering the tunnels in her dreams…. Or was she awake? …she wasn’t sure anymore... She headed for the waterfalls where she could find a place to think.

Vincent wanted to help Catherine, to protect her, to nurse her back to health. He was filled with feelings of desperation, because he didn’t know what to do for her. He was beginning to wonder if bringing her here was the right thing to do after all. But what were his options? He couldn’t leave her where she was. Where she was, she was frightened and confused and alone. They had no idea what she has already been through. Here he could keep her safe. The thought of losing her again was more than he could bear. It was unthinkable. He didn’t care if she was ill …

Vincent sought out Father for his advice. He heard someone talking with Father as he approached his chamber. Entering, he immediately saw an old friend. “Samantha? Is that really you? How long has it been?” he exclaimed.

Samantha rushed to embrace her old teacher. Her eyes shone with love for her old friend. “Yes it is really me, Vincent,” she said. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Oh, how I have missed this place. I’ve missed you too. Just the smell of the tunnels brings back such wonderful memories. I have stayed away from here far too long. I’m sorry, Vincent.”

Vincent just smiled down at her. “Why are you here now, Samantha?” he asked.

“Geoffrey brought me word early this morning that you needed a doctor … for Catherine Chandler. Is it true, Vincent? Is it really her?” she asked.

‘Yes, it is really her, Samantha?” Vincent answered. “But she has been very ill. I’ll tell you about her illness while I take you to her.”

As they reached Catherine’s chamber, Samantha said, “It’s best if I examine her alone, if you don’t mind. People just coming out of a coma often feel overwhelmed by too many people. From what you’ve told me she is already feeling that way. I will come and find you as soon as I’m finished.”

Vincent nodded. “Thank you, Samantha, for coming,” he said as he turned to leave. Vincent returned to his chamber deep in thought. He was surprised to practically run into Jake as he was rushing from the room. Both surprised they stared at each other momentarily.

Jake stared at his father. How could he tell him what had happened? Finally he blurted it out. “She’s gone, Dad. She’s disappeared from the hospital. No one has any idea what has happened to her.”

Jake tried to explain, “Yes. Yes I mean, Catherine. Dad … the police have said that there is nothing on the surveillance cameras. They have no idea how anyone could have gotten her out of there. They know she couldn’t have done it on her own, she’s too weak.”

Vincent put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and interrupted him. “Jacob. Jacob. It’s all right. She’s here. She’s safe.”

Jake stopped short. He looked confused. “She’s here?” he asked. “How did she get here? It’s my understanding she can barely stand … let alone, walk? For Heaven sake, she was …”

Vincent interrupted him again. “I brought her here. I carried her here. She didn’t feel safe where she was … Jacob, she was in restraints, and she was sedated. I couldn’t leave her there.”

Jake was clearly agitated as he replied, “Dad, you don’t understand. That is common for patients like her. It was for her own protection … so she couldn’t hurt herself.”

Vincent shook his head. “Not for her, Jacob. Not for Catherine. They are the ones who don’t understand! She can’t be restrained like that! You know what she’s been through, Jacob. You saw that video tape of what happened to her. When she woke up like that, she was terrified. She is better off here at home, surrounded by people who love her.”

Jake continued to argue. “Dad, this isn’t her home! She doesn’t belong here! She belongs in a hospital. She needs specialized care. What were you thinking? She should be in a hospital or a rehab facility. She needs to be monitored. She needs physical therapy. She needs speech therapy. She may need meds.”

Vincent was firm, “She is frightened up there, Jacob. I can protect her here. We will give her whatever help she needs here. Tell me what I need to do for her and I’ll do it.”

Jake was silent for a moment and said, “Dad, I can’t condone this … or be a part of it. It isn’t … ethical. I can’t even legally practice medicine yet. I can’t help you.”

Vincent asked, “Are you sure that’s the problem, Jacob? Or is it because it’s Catherine?”

Jake was shocked at the question. His father’s accusation hurt him deeply. If he was completely honest, it was, at least in part, because Vincent’s question hit very near the mark. “Dad,” he said impatiently, “I don’t want to argue with you.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You know how I feel about her! If she is here in the tunnels … I can’t be!”

Vincent was clearly frustrated as he spoke. “Jacob … she’s your mother. She needs your …”

“SHE IS NOT MY MOTHER!” Jake interjected. Then he spoke more deliberately. “Dad, she has never … been … my mother! I don’t know her! I don’t want to know her! She walked away and left us behind! If you choose HER … If she stays here … I don’t see how I can be in your life!”

Vincent was silent. He felt like his heart was being ripped in two. As Jake turned to leave, Vincent remembered Catherine’s journal. He called out, “Jacob.” Jake stopped and turned back toward his father. Vincent continued, “Please come back, I need to show you something.” Vincent moved toward the bookshelf and pulled out a book and handed it to Jake.

“Last night I was putting away the books that you returned to me. This was in the box. … It’s Catherine’s journal. Do you have any idea how you came to have it?” Vincent asked.

Jake was even more confused. “Dad … I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Vincent explained, “She told me that she wrote about what had happened to her in a journal. But that she had lost it… Somehow it ended up in the box of books that you returned to me. I want you to take it with you.”

“I want you to read it, Jacob,” Vincent answered. “You said you wanted the truth. You said you wanted to understand. If you read her journal, I believe it will help you to understand some things.”

Jake was clearly angry. “Dad, she has been lying for 25 years. Why should I believe anything she has to say?”

Vincent answered, “Jacob, this is her private journal. Her most personal thoughts. Her deepest heartaches. She never meant for anyone else to read this. It’s her truth. I’m asking you, as your father, to please read it.”

Jake’s face was set. Vincent could see the pain and anger in Jake’s eyes. He could feel his pain. Jake finally spoke. “So you are choosing her?”

“I love you both, Jacob. I want you both in my life. She needs me. I can’t choose between you.” Vincent tried to make him understand.

Jake nodded. His voice was tinged with bitterness as he said, “You just did, Dad. You just did.”

As Jake turned to leave, Vincent reached out for his arm and said, “Please take the journal, Jacob. I’m asking you to at least read it.”

Jake picked up the book and left the chamber. As he left the tunnels it was warm outside, but Jake’s chest felt like a block of ice. He didn’t look back as he left the tunnels and walked the lonely path back to his apartment.

Vincent entered Father’s chamber and could see the members of the “Council” already seated around the table. Peter Alcott had also joined them. Vincent knew that the council was meeting in regards to Catherine and her presence in the tunnels. He could hear them discussing the situation as he approached the room. The conversation ended abruptly as soon as they realized that Vincent had arrived.

Sitting down at the table, Vincent said, “Please continue. Everyone has the right to be heard here.”

After an awkward silence, William spoke up. “We had the right to be heard before you brought her here, Vincent.”

Vincent nodded. “Yes, William, you did. But it was an emergency. Catherine was in immediate need, possibly even in danger. There wasn’t time. And besides … this is Catherine. You all know her. It’s not like I brought a stranger here.”

Cullen spoke next. “That’s just it, Vincent. She is a stranger. We don’t know her. Not anymore. She has been gone for 25 years. You say she was in danger. For all we know you have brought that danger down here and exposed all of us to it.”

Mary spoke next. “She is very ill, Cullen. She needs our help. Isn’t that what we do here? Help people who need us? Besides, she always showed us love and kindness when she was here before.”

“That was a long time ago, Mary,” Jaimie interjected. “Catherine turned her back on us and walked away years ago. For heaven sake, she deserted her own child and Vincent too. She deserted all of us. Why should we help her now?”

Vincent was trying to remain calm. “You don’t know what she did!” Looking around at everyone seated at the table he said, “None of you know what happened to her.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “She didn’t turn her back on us. She left … because it was the only way she knew how to protect us. Even now … if she had been strong enough to fight me, she wouldn’t have allowed me to bring her here. But I won’t let her be hurt anymore. I won’t let her be alone anymore, if I can help it. If you decide not to allow her to stay … then I will take her away from here and I will take care of her myself.”

Everyone at the table was silent. Then Father spoke, “Is there anything else that anyone has to say before we take a vote?”

Peter raised his hand. “I know that I am not officially a member of this council, but I would like to speak.”

William spoke gruffly, “That’s right. You aren’t a member of this council. You don’t even live here.”

Father put up his hand to silence William. “William, Peter and I are the oldest living members of this community. It is true that he doesn’t live here. He has never lived here. However, he is a member of this community, nonetheless. Peter has been a faithful friend and helper to us from the very beginning. In all those years he has never once waivered in his commitment and dedication to us. We should at least hear what he has to say.” He then turned to Peter and said, “You may proceed, Peter.”

Peter spoke. “Before you make your final decision, there are some things you should know.” He paused for a moment to weigh his words. “All those years ago, when Cathy went into hiding, I promised her that I would keep her secret. Whether I was wrong or whether I was right doesn’t really matter now. But she believed that her presence here would only bring more harm to the people that she loved. … all of you … so she chose to remain “dead” and she disappeared.” He paused for a moment. “But you should also know that she never turned her back on any of you. She left her estate to me, with strict instructions to use it for the benefit of the people of the tunnels. She wanted to be sure that this community survived so that Jacob would have a safe place to grow up and that Vincent would be well. She wanted them to always be surrounded by the people she trusted to love them … by all of you. Much of the medical care and supplies you have received over the last 25 years, were paid for by her estate. When times were too difficult for the helpers to provide adequate food and clothing for the tunnels, it was provided by her estate. Many of the children who grew up here were able to go to college because of scholarships provided by the Catherine Chandler Foundation. Catherine has dedicated her life and her fortune to helping people who couldn’t help themselves, not only here, but elsewhere. Now she needs help.”

While Peter spoke the room had become very quiet. Even Vincent was surprised by some of the things he was hearing.

“So when you vote on whether or not you are going to turn your backs on her …” Peter continued, “… don’t justify it by saying that she turned her back on you, because she never did.”

After a brief, uncomfortable silence Father asked, “Does anyone have anything to add before we vote?”

It was silent again. “All right then,” Father said. “All those in favor of allowing Catherine to stay?”

Vincent breathed a sigh of relief as he watched as one by one each hand was raised. “Thank you,” he whispered looking around the table.

Mary spoke up. “Is there anything we can do, Vincent? Does she need anything?”

“I don’t know, Mary,” he replied. “She seems upset and confused. But she hasn’t spoken since she came out of the coma. Samantha is examining her now. Maybe she will be able to tell us what Catherine needs after she’s finished.”

As if on cue Samantha entered the chamber looking for Vincent. Father motioned for her to come in. “Ah, Samantha. Do come in, come in. We were just discussing Catherine and what her needs are. Come sit down and tell us what we can do for her.”

Samantha sat down and Vincent asked, “How is she? Do you think we can help her here?”

Samantha nodded and said, “Catherine is doing very well, Vincent. Much better than I expected.”

Sounding worried, Vincent insisted, “But Samantha, she can’t speak. She can’t even stand up on her own. She’s completely helpless.”

Samantha smiled reassuringly. “I understand you are worried. But Vincent, the fact that she has even survived is a miracle,” she said. “She has only just come out of a coma. And she has been heavily drugged. Yes, she is very weak, and very confused. She is unable to walk and unable to talk. She may even have trouble telling the difference between her dreams and reality. All of these things are normal with this type of brain injury. But with therapy and love and patience, she may be able to overcome many, if not all, of these things.”

“Do you think we can give her the help that she needs here in the tunnels?” Vincent asked.

“I don’t see any reason why not,” Samantha answered. “She needs occupational and physical therapy. That is nothing more than helping her exercise to build up her strength and teaching her how to do everyday tasks. If everyone works together, with patience, to help her relearn to brush her hair, dress herself and eventually making her feel as much a part of everyday life here as possible, she could do very well. She will tire easily at first. She needs a lot of sleep while her brain repairs itself. But if she is awake, she needs to be stimulated. She needs exercise, she needs someone to talk to her to read to her. She needs all of you to keep her from giving up.”

Around the table everyone agreed that they would do whatever was needed to help. Then from the entrance to the room came, “Mouse will help too.”

“Mouse, you’re supposed to keeping an eye on Catherine,” Samantha scolded.

Mouse rolled his eyes. “Mouse knows that. Mouse wants to hear. Mouse wants to help. Catherine’s asleep. Won’t miss, Mouse.”

“And how do you know this, Mouse?” Father asked, “How can you be sure she is asleep?”

Mouse rolled his eyes again. “Not stupid. Duh. Catherine snores.” Then realizing he might have said something wrong, his eye got very big and he said, “UH … not loud … just soft.” Then nodding he said, “But definitely asleep … definitely.”

Vincent tried to hide a smirk as he got up and offered his seat to Mouse. Patting Mouse on the shoulder, he said, “That’s all right, Mouse. I can go keep an eye on her.” Then turning to Samantha, he said, “Samantha, if you could help the council to make a plan, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for coming to help us, for coming to help Catherine.” He hugged her one more time and turned for the door.

Samantha sought Vincent out before she left. She found him sitting in Catherine’s chamber watching her sleep. They went out into the hallway.

“Father and Mary are organizing everything. You will have all the support you need,” she assured him. Then added, “But I wanted to speak with you alone before I leave.”

Biting her lip, she finally she said, “Catherine’s inability to speak. I’m not sure if it’s completely because of her brain injury. Aphasia is common with this type of brain injury. But she doesn’t exhibit typical symptoms of aphasia[5]. She understands everything I say and she can read. When she’s stronger, you may discover that she can even write. If that’s the case, it’s possible that there is a psychological component to her speech loss. It might not be totally because of the brain injury at all.”

Samantha answered hesitantly, “When Jacob was here earlier …. Your argument … it was … quite loud.”

Samantha nodded, “Yes, some of it … so did she…. It was clear that she … understood everything he said. So I wrote something on a piece of paper to see if she could read it.”

“I wrote ‘Everything is going to be all right’. When she read it she looked me in the eye and shook her head. So to be sure I wrote, ‘Can you raise your right hand and touch your nose?’ and she did it.” Samantha waited a moment and continued, “This is encouraging news, Vincent. It means her brain injury may not be as serious as I thought it would be.”

“I’m sure she will recover to some degree, maybe even fully,” she said, “But each case is unique, Vincent. It’s impossible to tell. But the majority of improvement usually occurs within the first 6 months of the injury. All you can do is encourage her and help her and hope. Love can work miracles, Vincent. I have seen it before. Whatever you do, don’t give up on her.”

Vincent reached for Samantha and hugged her. “Thank you, Samantha, for coming.”

Walking into the apartment after work, Becka was confused by the mess. She could see clothes strewn around and open suitcases on the bed through the open bedroom door.

He emerged from the closet as she reached the bedroom door. She leaned against the door jam and observed the mess on the bed and Jakes passport on the nightstand. “What’s happening, Jake? Are you going somewhere?”

“I need to get away from here, Becks. I can’t be here anymore. I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to get far away from all of “this” for a while,” Jake said.

Becka could tell he was close to tears. He looked like a lost, heartbroken little boy standing there. She felt a sense of panic rising within her. “Do you need to get away from me, Jake?”

Shaking his head, Jake said, “No, not you, Becks, never you. You are the only thing that has been keeping me sane through all of this. But I can’t make you choose between me and your parents. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Becka could see in his eyes that he was pleading for her to choose him. But she knew he would never ask. She didn’t hesitate for one second. Walking up to him she wrapped her arms around him. He dropped his head so that their foreheads touched. She looked directly into his eyes and sternly said, “You listen up, Jake Vincent. You are NOT going anywhere without me.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her hair. How sweet she smelled. How good she felt. How much he loved her.

She reached up, and running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, she began softly singing … “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away. …”

The next morning they were sitting together on the plane watching the New York City skyline getting smaller and smaller. They hadn’t been in the air more than thirty minutes when Becka got up and went to the lavatory. Jake was getting a little worried when she didn’t return for twenty minutes. When Becka finally returned to her seat, Jake could see that her face was very pale. She sat down without saying a word. Jake watched as she settled into her seat, laid her head back and closed her eyes. She took a deep cleansing breath.

Mildly concerned, Jake asked, “You look a little green around the gills, Becks. Are you airsick?”

Without opening her eyes she took another deep breath. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

Becka opened her eyes and looked at him. Something about the look on her face alarmed him.

“You’re scaring me, Becka. What’s wrong?” he asked. The fear was clear in his voice.

She slowly answered “There’s something I was going to tell you last night … but you were so upset and …”

Becka leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. Jake’s eyes opened wide. The shock on his face was evident as the Flight Attendant leaned in and cheerfully asked, “Sir? Would you prefer the Cheese Omelet or the Sausage and Fried Potatoes?” …

In the days that followed the council’s vote, Mary took charge of Catherine’s care. The tunnel community rallied around her. Many were eager to take a turn helping Catherine in any way that they could. Especially those who had known her before. During the day Mary was like a drill sergeant. She had strict instructions for Catherine’s exercise, for Catherine’s meals, and for Catherine’s leisure time. Mary made sure that Catherine got enough rest and regulated how many visitors would be permitted.

During the day Vincent would keep his distance from Catherine’s chamber. She seemed frightened and confused whenever he tried to reach out to her. But at night, as soon as Catherine went to sleep, Vincent would come to her chamber so Mary could get some sleep and he would watch over her and doze in a large overstuffed loveseat near her bed until morning.

He was determined to surround her with his love, to make her feel safe and to do whatever he could to help her get well. Even if that meant that she might eventually leave again. One night, as he sat by her bedside quietly reading one of his old journals, he came across something he had written in another lifetime when she had also come here to be healed.

He read: Our world sleeps, and she is near. Strange and wonderful and sad, this feeling rising in me like a tide. To have all I ever dreamed of so close and yet to know that …All I know is that she is here and that I must live for her, surround her easily, guide her out of suffering. While she is here I must live moment by moment for her.[6]

He realized those very same words could have been written today. He fell asleep dreaming of the sweetness and the pain of those long ago days.

Catherine looked around slowly. She kept having the same dream. She was in the tunnels. It didn’t surprise her or frighten her. After all, she had been here many times over the years in her dreams. She was in a familiar chamber. She had stayed here years ago. After her father had died, she had come here to grieve and to heal. The bed was as decadently soft as she remembered. It felt like a cloud embracing her like a warm cocoon. Many of her old tunnel family came and went from her dream. Pascal, William, Jaimie and others. They were all older than she remembered. Father, with his kind eyes, looked very, very old. Mary looked the same except her hair had turned snow white. The children were all grown up, except for one: Geoffrey, sweet Geoffrey was there. He was still 10 years old. He had not changed. Each morning he came and brought her hot water for tea, just as he had all those years ago. Everyone spoke to her and smiled. They would help her out of the bed and help her walk around the room. She didn’t know why she couldn’t do it on her own. They would brush her hair and help her dress. Mary was there the most. She fussed over her like a mother hen. It made Catherine smile. It was sweet to dream of her old friends. In one dream Mouse had come and snuck in his raccoon, Arthur. That is until Mary discovered him and shooed both of them out of the chamber. But not before giving Mouse a piece of her mind.

Sometimes in her dream the candles were dim and she would see only one person in the room, Vincent. It was always the same; He would be sitting near her bed in a large overstuffed chair, sleeping with a book in his hand. She always hoped he would stay asleep. She knew that as long as he didn’t discover her, didn’t touch her she could stay and watch him. After all these years she never tired of watching him. But how she longed to know what book he was holding in his hand. How she longed to hear his beautiful voice read to her as he had so long ago. She moved to the edge of the bed. She thought that perhaps if she could coax the book from his hands without waking him she could at least discover what he was reading. She reached for the volume, careful not to touch him. She had the book just within her grasp when his hand relaxed and it slipped from her reach and fell to the floor.

Vincent had dozed off while he was reading. A sudden noise startled him. He opened his eyes suddenly and was surprised to see her very close. She appeared to be reaching for him. He reached for her hand and she quickly pulled it away. On her face was an expression of fear that cut him deeply. “Catherine?” He whispered in a pleading tone. And then he remembered something Samantha had said, “… She may even have trouble telling the difference between her dreams and reality.” The night they had met in the cemetery, Catherine had said, “If you touch me, Vincent … I’ll wake up … and you’ll be gone.”

He leaned back in the chair and quietly asked, “Catherine? Do you think this is a dream? Is that why you’re afraid to let me touch you?”

Vincent decided not to push her. Then he asked, “If this is a dream, Catherine, would you like me to read to you until you wake up?”

He reached for a volume on the night stand. “Is ‘Great Expectations’ all right with you?” he asked

Opening the volume he began. “My father’s family name being Pirrup, and my christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip….”

As he read, she could feel herself slowly begin to breathe. Listening to the words, his beautiful, soothing voice poured over her like a cool gentle rain on a hot summer day. She could feel it filling the deep aching emptiness that had been her constant companion for so many years. Although she was exhausted, she resisted the urge to close her eyes. If this was a dream she didn’t want to wake up. How she wished she could just keep dreaming this wonderful dream … forever.

As Vincent read, he began to feel a slow warmth that began in his chest and slowly radiated to the rest of his body. He felt as if a part of him that had long slumbered was waking from a long, deep sleep. He was afraid that if he stopped reading this feeling would disappear like vapor and he would lose her again.

Catherine was not sure how much time had passed, but finally her body began to succumb to exhaustion. As she drifted off to sleep she could hear him reading …

“…That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the first link on one memorable day.”

And as Vincent drifted off to sleep he thought he heard her say, “Yes … one memorable day.”

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

[2] Excerpt from poem entitled “To E.” by Sara Teasdale.

[3] i carry your heart with me, by ee cummings

[4] Beauty and the Beast Season 1 Episode 20 “To Reign In Hell”

[5] aphasia : loss of ability to understand or express speech, caused by brain damage.

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