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On Her Side Of The River
By Sue Glasgow “On Her Side of the River" was a commissioned piece which was
to have appeared in a special zine seven years ago. An editor had the
lovely idea of building a zine on the theme of Catherine and the men in
her life. The stories were to be written in first person from
Catherine’s point of view, and the volume would have included a separate
story for each man... Vincent, Charles Chandler, Joe Maxwell, Peter
Alcott, Jacob Wells, etc. I was asked to write the Jacob story because
the editor liked the way I dealt with Father in my story, “Run to the
Sea”. Unfortunately, the zine was never finished. My story was returned
to me unpublished and it’s been in the bottom of my file cabinet ever
since. I shared it with a few friends, and the ladies of CABB asked to
print it
I’d like to comment on three features of the story. First, the use of
first person is rare in fan writing. The above editor asked for this
style, and I found it an interesting challenge. Secondly, most of the
story takes place Above, with distance separating Catherine and Father
from Vincent. The structure of the requested story made this mandatory.
I like it best when our lovers are together. Finally, in this story
Father requires hospitalization Above. Medical procedures have improved
enormously since 1989. Kidney stones are now reduced to dust with sonic
impulses, making the surgery minor. Ten years ago, the operation was a
major invasive event. I thank CABB for giving “On Her Side of the River”
a home. Sue G
The following story takes place a few months after Song of Orpheus,
preceding Shades of Grey.
Prologue
“Vincent?” Father did not look up from the medicinal powder he was
measuring into small capsules. Behind the elderly man, Mary entered the
hospital chamber and glanced around the room finding the physician
alone.” No, Father. It’s me.” In her arms she carried a box of freshly
sterilized medicine bottles.
Casting her an irritated glance Father turned back to his work. “Where
is Vincent? I specifically told him to meet me here after the noon
meal.” Mary came to his side and gently set the glass containers on the
table.
Father continued, “He’s with her, isn’t he? And he knows I need him
here.”
“Father, you’re not being fair. He has worked hard all week, and if he
wants to be with her that is his privilege.” Mary emptied the box and
set it on the floor. “However you are wrong this time. You told him to
meet you here tomorrow. He promised Rose Fu he would help her move some
large crates to the basement under her store today.”
The old man frowned. “Well, he should be back by now.”
“He’ll stay to listen to Rose’s children’s recitations after school.
Ever since Rose’s oldest boy left with Peter Alcott for that seminar in
Father muttered, “Still, I need Vincent here.”
Mary watched as her friend bent over his work. There was something about
the stiffness in his actions which concerned her. At last she asked
softly, “Father, are you feeling well?”
He did not acknowledge her question. After another long silence she
asked again, “Father? Are you...?”
He snapped, “Yes, Mary. I’m fine.” He poured a handful of capsules into
the bottle.
She continued, “Peter said you never gave him that specimen he wanted
from you before he left.”
“Peter is overly solicitous.”
“But he was concerned. He told me you deliberately avoided arranging a
time for your physical examination.” With a frown, Mary handed Father a
pad of gummed labels.
“There will be time enough for that when he returns.”
She persisted. “But that will be three weeks from now.”
Tearing afresh label from the pad, Father sighed heavily, “Mary, what
can possibly happen in three weeks?”
“Just the same, I wish you would ask Dr. Evans to see you.”
“Ben Evans is in semi-retirement teaching at the university, and he
certainly has no time for routine examinations.” Father pushed away from
the table. “Now, if you would please let me change the subject...hand me
that marker before I forget what I just put in here.”
The woman was about to answer when two tiny heads peeked around the
entrance to the chamber. A very young voice asked, “Mary, Toby says we
don’t have to take a nap.”
Mary turned to the two little girls. “Whatever are you children doing
here? I told Helen to put you to bed.”
“Helen’s asleep. Toby said we could get up.”
Shaking her head, the woman replied, “You both know better. Now get
yourselves right back to the nursery.” They stood staring at her in
silence until she added, “Scoot!” As they vanished down the tunnel. Mary
sighed. “I’m sorry, Father. If Helen truly is asleep, I should go back
with them.”
Wordlessly Father motioned her away and returned to his work
After she was gone he stopped to wipe a thin film of perspiration from
his face. He reflected gratefully that Mary had not noticed he had left
his lunch untouched. Shaking his head silently he considered how that
woman always over-reacted to the slightest provocation. Still, perhaps
it would be a good idea to let Peter examine him when he returned.
A short time later there was no one in the hospital chamber to watch as
Father grimaced and painfully doubled over in his chair.
********
I kicked the apartment door closed behind me, dropped my briefcase into
a nearby chair, and locked the door. Slipping out of my shoes, I glanced
through my mail and found that the only item of interest was a postcard
from Dad and Kay, postmarked in
Throwing the letters onto the dining table I moved to the terrace. The
night air had been cool and inviting and I had no desire to spend the
evening inside. I hoped I might not have to spend the hours alone, but
as I opened the doors I knew without a doubt that Vincent had already
been there and had gone. Then I realized it was not the night air I
craved. Closing the doors behind me, I slipped back into my shoes and
left my apartment.
In the subbasement below my building I pushed a stack of boxes aside and
descended the set of iron rungs into the darkness. I heard my name from
the darkness as my foot touched the floor at the bottom of the ladder.
“Catherine.”
He was there in the shadows, beautiful and silent, waiting as I had
known he would be. I smiled and leaned into his welcoming arms.
Tilting my head up, I sighed, feeling completely at home in his embrace.
“I was afraid I had missed you,” I whispered.
He shook his head in amusement. “No, you weren’t.”
I laughed. “What do you mean?”
His quiet voice responded. “You knew I would be here.”
Pushing my hands against his chest I feigned a frown. “I’m not really
that vain, you know. I do realize you have other things to do besides
loitering beneath my apartment building.”
His brows raised. “Loitering?”
I laughed aloud as his question brought mental images of Vincent leaning
against a city lamp post idly watching the crowds pass by. “Well,
possibly that was a poor choice of words.”
Large furred fingers surrounded my hand as a smile came to Vincent’s
eyes. His golden lashes created sparkles in the shadows of his face, the
effect was overwhelming and for a moment I found it hard to breathe. I
barely heard as he asked, “Have you eaten yet?”
After a moment, I realized he expected an answer. I shook my head. “No,
not yet.”
“Neither have I. The evening meal Below is over but
I’m certain we can find something in William’s kitchen. Will
you come with me?” He cocked his head in the way I have always found
irresistible, And without waiting for my answer he led me into the
darkness of the Tunnels.
As we passed Fathers study, Vincent stopped and asked me to wait a
moment. I knew he had been concerned about Father’s health ever since he
had suffered an episode of severe cramping and back pain two days ago.
Mary had grown suspicious of Fathers behavior while they had been
packaging medicines, and she had returned later to find Father in pain.
Later, the older man had scoffed at the concern Mary and Vincent had
expressed, but Vincent obviously had not forgotten the incident.
I waited outside the chambers, and in moments Vincent returned assuring
me that Father was reading and did not want to be disturbed.
A few minutes later, we were in the deserted dining chamber, eating
sandwiches made of cold chicken and homemade bread. I sensed Vincent’s
quiet concern, then I looked into his eyes and caught the anxiety in
them.
“What is it?” I asked.
He shook his head and poured two glasses of milk. “It happened again
this morning, but he still insists it is nothing.”
“Vincent,” I asked. “If it’s going to bother you this much, why don’t
you get him to see a doctor?”
His mane stirred the air as he shook his head. “His doctor is in
“I know you told me that yesterday. But there are other doctors.”
Vincent didn’t answer.
“I could make him an appointment with my own doctor. She is busy, but I
think she could work a friend of mine into her schedule.”
His blue eyes looked up at me quickly, and I could see the denial in
them even before he spoke.
“Catherine, you don’t understand. Father won’t go Above.”
“I do understand. but in the case of an emergency.”
He shook his head again. “Father says this is not an emergency.”
I sighed. “I hope it doesn’t come to that But, Vincent,” I put my hand
on his arm. “You may need to be prepared to make some difficult
decisions just in case.”
He looked at me silently as he bit into his sandwich, and I knew the
subject was closed.
********
I didn’t see Vincent again for three days. I felt certain he was
purposefully staying close to home because he was afraid for Father. On
the fourth day I came home from work early and was surprised to find a
note on the floor inside my door. Not even taking the time to change
clothes I hurried Below.
Kipper answered my tapping on the pipes, and as we hurried to Father’s
chamber the boy told me Father had collapsed in severe pain while he and
Vincent had been working on plans for a new project. It had happened
several hours ago and Father was still very ill. Kipper had heard
snatches of the conversation between Father and Vincent. Evidently they
had argued violently about notifying me, and finally Vincent had sent
Kipper to deliver a note to me against his father’s objections.
As we entered the study, Kipper and I heard voices from Father’s bed
chamber. I called Vincent’s name, and his great form emerged from
Father’s private quarters. I was shocked by the raw fear in his eyes.
His voice was husky with measured control. “Catherine, thank you for
coming.”
Crossing the chamber quickly, I reached for his hand. “How serious is
it?”
He looked down at the young boy who had followed me across the room.
With great care, Vincent said, “Kipper, thank you. If you hurry, you
still have time to attend your final class of the day.”
“Aw, Vincent.” The boy started to protest, but a second look at
Vincent’s expression silenced him. “All right.” He paused, “Is Father
going to be all right?”
“He’ll be fine. Don’t dawdle in the Tunnels or you’ll be late.”
“I won’t be late.” The boy left us alone.
Turning back to Vincent, I asked again, “Tell me.”
“He’s bleeding, Catherine. Mary is with him. he won’t let me tell
anyone.”
Vincent’s previous concern for Father had now crystallized into anguish,
darkening his eyes and causing his hand to tremble in mine. I felt my
own fear blend with Vincent’s. “Does he know what it is?”
“He says the symptoms suggest a kidney stone.”
“A kidney stone.” I remembered a friend’s experience with a kidney stone
several years ago. “That can be serious, but there are things that can
be done. The hospital treatment is fairly routine.”
Shaking his head, Vincent turned his back to me and moved to the table
in the middle of the study.
Softly he spoke, “Father says that is out of the question.”
Following him, I put my hand on his shoulder. “What does Father want to
do?”
“He still wants to wait for his doctor to come home.” Vincent leaned
against the table and lowered his chin.
His shoulders shuddered with tension as I shook my head. “Vincent, he
belongs in a hospital.”
As I moved to his side, he lifted his eyes to mine. “You know how he
feels about Above.”
“Yes, I know. I have been with him Above. I remember his face when I
found him in that jail cell. But his feelings do not alter the fact that
he needs professional medical care. And that care is not available here
Below.”
Vincent shook his head. “I just don’t believe he will go.”
A harsh pain-filled moan followed by the sounds of labored breathing
came from Father’s bed chamber. Almost immediately Mary appeared in the
entrance. “Vincent, we have to do something. He is so sick.”
The great maned head turned away, dropping the protective shield of his
hair between his face and us. I watched him for a moment, and then I
realized Vincent had already made his decision when he had sent for me.
With a boldness I did not feel, I said to Mary. “I am taking Father
Above.”
The woman gasped. “Above?” She put her hand to her throat. “But it is so
dangerous for him Above. So many things can happen.”
I continued, “I’ll take him to a hospital. I’ll find someone to...”
Vincent’s voice interrupted me as he lifted his gaze to meet my eyes.
“Catherine, he has no identification. No money, no insurance. There will
be questions...”
“Money is not a problem.” I said. “I can pay any expenses.”
“And identification? They will want a name...a social security number.”
Anxiety emphasized Vincent’s lisp.
’I’m a lawyer. I can arrange all that.”
Vincent looked at me evenly. “Legally?”
I returned his stare meaningfully and said nothing.
When he was certain I had no reply, he continued, “You could not handle
it alone. You would need help.”
“You told me you have helpers.”
Mary stepped forward. “I believe she’s right, Vincent. Lou would help
us.”
I put a hand on Vincent’s arm. ’I’ll bring a van to the park as soon as
it’s dark. Bring Father to the entrance, and I will meet you there.”
He looked down at my touch upon his sleeve. “Where would you take him?”
Mary’s voice answered him. “Lang General.” She paused a moment. “Father
and I were talking about Benjamin Evans a few days ago. Dr. Evans used
to be on the staff at Lang before his retirement.”
Vincent frowned. “He gave up his practice two years ago.”
“Not completely. He would do this for Father. You know he would.”
“Benjamin Evans.” I committed the name to memory. I didn’t recognize the
name, although I, myself, had been a patient at Lang not long ago. “He
knows Father? Would he help me admit Father to Lang?”
Mary looked up into Vincent’s face. “Vincent, what do you think?”
After a long moment of silence, the gentle voice conceded. “It’ll be
dark by eight o’clock, Catherine. Can you have a van at the park
entrance by eight-thirty?”
In relief I nodded. “You contact Lou and Dr. Evans. Ask them to call me
if they need a ride. I will be there.”
Vincent returned
my nod. “There seems to be no other way. I will tell Father.” He
hesitated, placing his hand on my arm. “I will need to guide you home.”
His lingering look toward Father’s doorway did not escape my notice. I
touched Vincent’s shoulder gently. “He needs you here. I’ll get one of
the children to guide me out.”
Vincent nodded again. “I will locate one of them for you.” He turned.
“Mary, I’ll be right back.”
A low sound came from Fathers inner chamber, and Mary stepped to the
chamber entrance. Just before she slipped from the study she looked at
me. “Thank you, Catherine. Thank you.”
I gave her a gentle smile, then I followed Vincent up the steps.
By eight-thirty Father was too ill to challenge his son’s decision. I
watched in the silent darkness as Vincent and a large balding helper
lifted Father’s stretcher into the van.
Dr. Evans stood at my side in the evening mists of the park. I found
myself liking the tall aging Black doctor immediately. He exuded a
soothing reassurance which had had a calming influence upon Vincent’s
anxiety.
As the shadowy figures inside the van worked to make Father comfortable,
I handed an extra blanket to Vincent and stepped back. I whispered to
Dr. Evans. “Father told Vincent he thinks it’s a kidney stone.”
Evans nodded. “He could be right. We won’t know for sure untill we have
the results of the lab work and the x-rays.”
“Will he need surgery?” I asked.
The doctor watched as Vincent climbed out of the van and Lou seated
himself at Father’s side. “It’s too soon to say. Certainly he is a very
sick man. I don’t think the hospital will do anything Until they get him
stabilized.”
Vincent closed and secured the van’s rear doors. Then he stood for a
moment pressing his hand against the cool metal in silence. I went to
him. His expression was hidden in the deep shadows of his hood, but I
did not have to see his face to feel his tension. Taking his hand, I
held it between my own fingers. “I’ll send word to you as soon as they
have answers.”
He nodded silently. I lifted my hand to his dark cheek. “He will be all
right.” Again he nodded. “Try not to worry.”
I saw a tear glisten in the depths of the hood as he said, “Catherine,
he is my father.”
The passenger door of the truck closed with a muffled thud as Evans took
his seat. Vincent stepped to the open door on the driver’s side and
waited for me to climb in. As he closed the door behind me, he spoke.
“Take care, Catherine.”
I leaned through the open window and touched his face one last time. “I
will stay with him every minute, and I promise you I will bring him back
safely.” I felt him nod as my thumb encountered the tear on his cheek. I
withdrew my touch and turned the key in the ignition. The motor
responded, and I let the truck roll forward slowly with the headlights
still darkened. In the rearview mirror I could barely discern Vincent’s
great, silent form as he stood in the opening of the tunnel. He was
still there when I turned the vehicle onto the street, switched on the
headlights, and drove away.
********
Forging Fathers legal papers was easier than I had expected. My legal
experience made the job relatively simple. Father was admitted to
While the emergency staff was examining Father, Benjamin Evans called in
several personal favors, carefully choosing the location of Fathers room
and insuring that I would have unrestricted visitation privileges.
Three hours after we arrived at the hospital, I sat at Father’s side,
watching a solution of antibiotics and analgesics drip into an
intravenous tube which vanished beneath a piece of tape on his left
forearm. Father’s discomfort had abated, and he was drifting in and out
of consciousness.
After several minutes, I saw his eyes flutter. I whispered, “Father? Are
you awake?”
Opening his eyes, he looked at me a moment with very little interest,
but then awareness crept into his gaze. Through dry lips he murmured,
“Catherine.” His eyes darted about the room. He asked weakly,
“What...what is...this place?”
“It’s a hospital room. You’re in
Alarm flashed across his face. “Lang?” He lifted his head, only to have
its weight drag him back down onto the pillow. “Above? No...I...”
“It’s all right, Father. Everything is taken care of. Dr. Evans is
talking with your doctors right now”
“Evans...where...?” He shook his head. “No, I must go home.”
“Father.” I leaned closer to him. “It really will be all right. Dr.
Evans and Vincent both agreed...”
“Vincent?” His eyes stared into mine. “Not here...”
“No.” I shook my head. “He is waiting Below. I promised him I would stay
with you.” I drew even closer. “Father, can you understand me? I need
your cooperation.”
He nodded with some difficulty.
I continued. “Your name is Lloyd Cramer, and you are my uncle. I need
you to remember that.”
I hunted for assurance that he had understood, but he did not respond.
Silently he drifted into a painless sleep.
Several minutes later the door to the hall opened. Benjamin Evans
entered and glanced at me. “Everything okay in here?” He went straight
to Father and performed a quick examination.
I nodded. “As far as I can tell. He woke up for just a minute and talked
to me.”
“Good. He should be a little more comfortable now.” Evans walked around
the bed and stood across from me. Pulling a second chair closer, he
lowered himself into it as he spoke quietly. “It’s a kidney stone. In
the ureter...creating backup pressure. Without attention, he would have
risked uremia...possible kidney damage.”
I winced, then asked, “What will you do?”
“We have him scheduled for surgery at six-thirty tomorrow morning.”
“But you said he might have to be stabilized first. Could surgery so
soon be dangerous?”
Shaking his head Evans said, “We weighed the risks. Jacob is tough, and
all his tests indicate he can handle the procedure. Two other doctors
and I agree we need to get that stone out of there.” The physician
removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Jacob knows better than to let
something like this go this long.”
“He was afraid to come Above,” I explained.
“Yes, I know.” He shook his head. “Damn fool. Been like that for
thirty-five years.”
I looked up. “Have you known him that long?”
Evans grunted and nodded. “Longer. We interned together.”
I said in surprise, “I had no idea that anyone Above knew him back
then.”
He leaned far back in his chair and sighed. “Those were hard times
immediately after the war. We were all dirt poor...over-worked.”
“Were you friends then?” I asked. I wanted to know more about this man.
The doctor shook his head. “We worked twenty hours a day. There wasn’t
any time for friendship. But we studied together sometimes...,” he
paused, “...and he’d bring me burgers from the “whites only” cafe across
the street from the hospital.” He ignored the look in my eyes as I
reacted to old injustices. Evans smiled grimly. “It wasn’t long Until
they found out what he was doing with the extra burgers...then it was
peanut butter and jelly for both of us.”
I looked into Father’s face. “He was your friend.”
Hooking his glasses back over his ears Evans softened his smile. “Yes,
maybe. Jacob always did have a soft spot for somebody who was
different.”
“Where were you when he went to the Tunnels?”
“
“But you are here in
Evans frowned and studied my face. After a pause he asked, “You really
want to hear all this?” I nodded, resting one hand on the arm of the man
who lay between us.
He asked cautiously, “How long have you been a Helper?”
I returned his look. I had never considered myself a Helper. In surprise
I realized I now qualified for the title. “Not long.”
Evans dropped his gaze to appraise my clothing and he noted my expensive
handbag which sat in the windowsill behind me. “You look uptown...
His full rich laughter filled the room. “Touche.” He grinned showing a
row of large, very white teeth. “I like you, Catherine Chandler. What is
Jacob Wells doing with a woman like you watching over him?”
I turned my gaze toward Father. ’I’m doing someone a favor.”
“Someone?” He narrowed his eyes and paused for a moment. I was certain
he was remembering our final moments in the park. “Vincent? You and
Vincent?”
I felt a slow blush crawl up my neck, and I turned my head letting my
hair shield me from his stare.
“Well...,” he paused as he considered the thought. “Good. The boy
deserves someone special.” After another pause he added, “But frankly I
am surprised that Jacob likes the idea”
I let out a short breath. “He doesn’t. He has made it very clear to both
of us that he highly disapproves.”
The doctor nodded silently. “Don’t be too hard on the old man. He has
had his problems.”
I was about to ask Evans why he had returned to
A young man in a khaki uniform leaned in. “I have an order for a
reclining chair for this room?”
Evans turned. “Bring it on in.” He explained to me, “If you are sleeping
in here, you’ll need one of these contraptions.”
I decided the term “reclining chair” was a euphemism. The chair was made
up of three large black vinyl cushions mounted on a rack of aluminum
rods and poles.
The young man pushed and pulled at the arms and legs of the thing Until
it fell into a horizontal position. He moved back to the hallway and
returned with a stack of sheets, blankets, and a pillow which he threw
down on the cot. Just as he turned to leave, a graying nurse appeared in
the doorway.
She edged past the aide and came to Father. Glancing at Evans she said,
“Doctor. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
As the woman checked Father’s pulse, Evans’s face settled into a soft
grin and he asked, “Perkins, how much longer are they going to let you
hang around here?”
She answered him with a smile. “A good RN. is hard to find.”
Evans sat back appreciatively. “I assume you are here to do the preop?”
The nurse nodded and continued taking Father’s vital signs.
Evans stood up. “Catherine Chandler, this is Irma Perkins.” He paused,
speaking to the nurse. “Treat Miss Chandler good Perkins. She’s a friend
of mine.” And then he leaned closer to me speaking softly. ’I’m sending
word to Vincent before I go home. Any messages?”
“Tell him about the surgery. Tell him to try not to worry...and promise
him that I won’t leave Fa....” I glanced at the nurse, “...Uncle Lloyd.”
I paused. “Can you get a note to him for me?”
He nodded, “Walk me down to the elevator while Perkins does her job.” He
took my arm.
Evans stood over me as I wrote a message to Vincent. Minutes later I
watched the elevator doors close behind the doctor, and I tried to
imagine Father smuggling hamburgers to his young Black friend. Then I
realized I could not even imagine Father eating a hamburger.
*********
I slept fitfully on the vinyl cot. The room had grown cold after
midnight, and I debated whether to hunt for another blanket. I had
spread my extra covers over Father’s sleeping form when the temperature
had dropped.
Late in the night his breathing created the only sound in the semi-dark
room. Still unable to sleep, I got up to go to the adjoining bathroom
and when I returned I could no longer hear Fathers quiet snoring. As I
came closer his head turned toward me.
“Who’s there?” His voice was laced with drugs.
I leaned nearer so he could see my face. “It’s Catherine, Father.”
“Catherine?” He frowned severely and asked, “What has...happened?”
“How much do you remember? Do you know where you are?”
Shaking his head he whispered, “No.” Then he amended, “Yes.” A shudder
passed across his shoulders. “Lang General. Somebody...said I was in
Lang General.”
“That’s right.” I sat in the chair at his side.
His watery eyes peered into my face. “You don’t belong...here. Where’s
Mary?”
His words hurt. A defensive response colored my answer. “She stayed with
the children..and I do belong here. I made a promise to Vincent.”
The weakened voice cracked, “I told him...I would not come... Above.” He
caught his breath. “He had no right.”
I answered firmly, “He had every right. He loves you, and he was afraid
for your life.” I paused and continued more gently. “Don’t blame
Vincent, Father. I took full responsibility for bringing you here. It
was my decision.”
He frowned again and silently turned his face from me.
Finally in an attempt to soothe the tensions between us, I asked, “How
do you feel?”
He seemed to spend a moment appraising himself. After a breath he
whispered, “The pain is easier.”
“That’s the effect of your medication.”
“Medication.” He was silent for another long moment.
I watched him. “Are you warm enough? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m thirsty.”
I’m sorry. I can’t give you anything to drink. You are scheduled for
surgery in just a few hours.”
“Surgery?” His breath caught in his chest. “What...” The fragile voice
failed.
“You have a kidney stone, Father.” I continued quietly, “Benjamin Evans
and two other doctors have decided you must have it removed as soon as
possible.”
He held his breath.
I continued. “You knew, didn’t you?”
With a slight nod he whispered, “I knew. I hoped...it would pass.”
“Dr. Evans said if you had waited much longer you could have had serious
complications.” I paused, “He isn’t very happy with you.”
“No...I don’t suppose he is.” He caught a ragged breath and asked, “Is
there...damage?”
“He didn’t say. I don’t think they know yet.”
The pale eyes closed, then after a few moments he seemed to regain
strength. “Surgery,” he whispered. “Does Vincent know?”
“Dr. Evans said he would tell him.”
“It will be difficult...for Vincent.”
I nodded, “He loves you very much.”
Father opened his eyes slowly and looked into my face. “I didn’t get
to...to tell him good-by.” He struggled with the words. “There are
things.. needed...to tell him.”
“You can tell him later. You need to rest now.”
He shook his head. “No...I...” With another shudder he whispered,
“Catherine...he still needs...me.”
I frowned. Something in Father’s tone frightened me. “Of course, he
does. You will be with him in just a few days.”
“You don’t...understand. Catherine...” He forced the words. “My father
died...on the operating table..”
My suspicion of his fears had been confirmed. “Father, you are not going
to die.”
“Prostate surgery...He died in prostate surgery...cardiac arrest.”
I felt a tension swelling in my chest. Something in his fear was
releasing carefully suppressed fears of my own. I murmured stiffly,
“Surgery is much safer now. Nothing is going to happen.”
“He was twenty years...younger than I am now.” His eyes focused upon
mine. “If I die...”
I pulled my hand away and came to my feet. “Don’t say that!” I was
surprised by the anger I felt toward him. My voice rose. “It was my idea
to bring you Above. I promised Vincent I would watch over you. and that
I would bring you home to him. I am not going to go back to Vincent and
tell him I let you die!” Tears formed against my will and my voice
trembled. I could barely see his startled look. “I know you don’t
approve of me...but right now I am the only person who can do this for
Vincent. And you and I are going to do this together...for him.”
Silence fell between us like a heavy curtain. Father lay with his eyes
closed, and I paced to the window. The Venetian blinds traced patterns
of light upon the floor. Across the street several windows glowed
brightly and I wondered why all those people were awake. Parting the
slats and looking down from our fourth story window I watched an
ambulance come around the corner and disappear under a carport below me.
It moved without sirens and I wondered if it was empty or if speed could
no longer help the person inside.
I saw the outline of a black grate in the middle of the street. The roof
of Vincent’s world. Aware of my racing heart, I tried to calm myself,
knowing Vincent would react to my heightened emotions. I wiped a trace
of moisture from my cheek and came back to the bed.
I whispered, ’I’m sorry. I should not have raised my voice.” Father did
not move. I couldn’t let him go to surgery with this tension unresolved.
“Father,” I spoke softly. “We both love him. He needs us...both.” I
paused. “I believe you are going home to him. I need you to believe
that, too.”
His eyes slowly opened, and for long moments he looked into my face.
With difficulty he murmured, “I wasn’t going to pass this stone...I knew
that.” He hesitated and dropped his gaze. “Uremic poisoning...renal
failure. I would have died Below, Catherine.”
I leaned over him. “Then why did you refuse to come Above?”
His answer was so softly spoken it was difficult to hear. “I thought
dying Below...with friends...was preferable to dying Above...alone.”
My tears spilled over. “Father. You’re not alone. Dr. Evans will be here
for you. And I will be here...all the time.” I wiped my fingertips
across my cheek again. “Dr. Evans says you are strong. He believes you
can handle this.”
Father let out a short breath. “Ben Evans is an idealistic optimist.” He
coughed softly. “He had a dream… that a Black man could study medicine
in 1947.”
I smiled. “He made his dream come true.” Then I added, “Besides that, I
hear he owes you.”
His aging eyes met mine. “Owes me?”
I nodded. “Hamburgers.”
Father snorted softly. “Hamburgers.” He shook his head on the pillow.
After a long pause he licked his tongue over his lips and sighed. “You
tell Ben Evans that if he gets me...through this surgery.. will buy him
a whole sack...of hamburgers.” My chin trembled as I smiled. “And,
Catherine...” His words were growing indistinct. “Tell Vincent...”
I interrupted him. “You tell him, Father. Tell him yourself.” I sat back
down in the chair and watched as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
********
Sometime during the very early morning hours an anesthetist came in to
speak with me, and I was asked to sign more papers. A young girl came by
to offer me coffee.
As I sat sipping from a steaming styrofoam cup I listened to Father’s
labored breathing. He had awakened briefly, but he had not spoken. A
nurse had given him a sedative and I had been relieved to see the look
of pain and anxiety fade from his eyes. Benjamin Evans came to assure me
he would be closely monitoring all the activity as he observed in the
operating room, and that he would report any news to me.
I tried to analyze my own feelings as I waited for the gurney which
would take Father to surgery. I was surprised by the amount of concern I
was feeling for him. Of course I would have been concerned for the
health of anyone whom Vincent cared for, but I found a more personal
anxiety rising inside myself.
A short time later I watched the doors of the surgical area swing shut,
separating me from Jacob Wells, and I experienced a feeling of fear and
loss which surpassed any obligation I had assumed in my promise to
Vincent.
********
The waiting room was cold. I pulled my light jacket more firmly about me
and watched the young couple who sat at the far end of the room. I had
over-heard enough conversation to know they had brought their daughter
into the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. Finally a doctor came
to talk with them, and I smiled to myself as they relaxed in relief and
hugged each other. The mother began to cry happy tears and her husband
led her out the door with his arm wrapped tightly about her shoulders.
My own shoulders shivered in the chill, and I yearned for the warmth of
leather and wool and a furred touch upon my skin. Reminding myself that
Vincent was enduring this wait also, I tried to send him reassurance
through our bond. My emotions were his only connection with this
hospital room, and I vowed to guard those emotions carefully. I would
not send him unnecessary anxiety.
Sometime later Evans came to me briefly and assured me that the surgery
was proceeding satisfactorily. Jacob’s blood pressure had fallen, but he
had stabilized and there had been no further complications. Evans left
me alone again. As time passed, my fatigue from the sleepless night
overtook me, and I dozed in my chair.
“Catherine.”
I was dreaming that my father was leaning over me as I slept in the
enclosed porch at my parents’ summer home. I reached for something...but
I couldn’t remember what.
“Catherine.”
My eyes opened to the sight of a strong black hand on my shoulder.
Startled I sat up fully awake. “Father...?”
“He’s fine. They successfully removed a large kidney stone. He’s been
taken to recovery.”
“Everything went all right?”
“Text book.” Evans handed me my purse. “It’ll be a while before he’s
ready to go back to his room. Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Shaking my head I said, “We need to tell Vincent.”
“Kipper is waiting at Lou’s barber shop.” The doctor helped me to my
feet. Reaching into his pocket he gave me a quarter and the telephone
number.
Moments later, I hung up after cautioning Kipper for the third time to
rush the news to Vincent. I stood for a moment staring sightlessly at
the phone. I felt an illogical resentment that Kipper was on his way to
the Tunnels, while I was obligated to stay here, separated from Vincent
when he needed me. As if reading my mind, Evans answered from behind me.
“He told me he wanted you to stay here.”
I nodded. “I know. He told me that too. But still...”
“He needs the assurance that you are here for Jacob.”
I turned and looked up into Benjamin Evans’s eyes. “You understand them,
don’t you? Both of them.”
Evans shrugged. “I suppose.” He paused. “It’s not hard. Jacob functions
by a pretty simple set of rules...and he raised Vincent the same way.”
I nodded. “Love.”
The doctor agreed. “And helping other people. Keeping your priorities
straight.” I dropped my eyes and bit my lip gently. With a slight frown,
Evans watched me, and I knew he was also understanding me. Quietly he
said, “Unless I’m wrong Vincent’s life has gotten a lot more complicated
lately.”
Wondering why it was so easy to talk with this total stranger, I nodded.
“You’re not wrong.” Together we fell into step and walked to the
elevator door in the hall.
After he pushed the button, Evans spoke again. “Are you in love with
Vincent?”
I winced at the bluntness of his words. Vincent was everything to me,
but so far he and I had carefully avoided the phrase, ’in love’. I said
softly, “You don’t believe in wasting words, do you, doctor?”
He shrugged. “If I did, I’d probably still be in
“Vincent and I share something very special. Neither of us has given it
a name. Whatever it is, Father is very much opposed to it. And, yes. All
of the simple rules have suddenly gotten very complicated.”
Evans smiled, showing his white teeth. ’I’ll bet poor old Jake is fit to
be tied.”
I smiled at his response. “You don’t agree with his concern?” We entered
the cafeteria and Evans filled two styrofoam cups with coffee from a
large pot. He paid the cashier and guided me toward a table.
“Should I agree with him? Are you going to do something that will hurt
Vincent?”
I pulled back. “Of course not.”
“Then maybe Jacob ought to get back to his simple set of rules.”
I ignored the chair he offered me. “Love.”
With a nod, Evans smiled again. “That’s the way I understand it.”
“Doctor,” I came to a quick decision. “I think I would rather drink this
coffee in Fathers room. Would that be all right?”
He produced two plastic lids from his pocket. I wondered how he had
known we would need them as he snapped them onto the styrofoam. Handing
me one of the cups he said, “Don’t look so surprised,
********
A flurry of activity accompanied Fathers return to his room. I waited in
the hall Until the patient was settled safely in his bed and all the
equipment and tubes were in place. A self-administering morphine unit
called a PCA pump had been ordered, and Evans showed me how it worked.
He explained that the doses were carefully controlled making an overdose
impossible, and that the machine would give Jacob a sense of control. He
tested it by pushing the button that was pinned to Fathers bed rail, and
a soft chime came from the machine as a measured dose of morphine was
released into Father’s I.V.
Evans turned to me as we stood together. “Jacob’s doctor will stop by
later on. If you have any questions, he will be glad to answer them.”
“Aren’t you going to be his doctor?”
Shaking his head, Evans replied. ’I’m just window dressing around here.
Lots of advice and no authority.” He looked around the room. “I hate to
sound callous, but I’m teaching a class this afternoon, and I really
need to do some preparation.”
I nodded. “I understand. You go on. we’ll be fine.”
“Can I get you anything? Magazines? Newspaper?”
“I do need some things from my apartment.”
He nodded and had me make a quick list. I handed it to him with my key,
and he promised to have the things delivered to me. Tucking the key in
his breast pocket, he asked “Anything else?”
“No.” An unexpected tension developed in my chest as I realized I was
about to be alone in my responsibility for Father. “You have done so
much already.”
He pressed a business card into my hand. “Keep my phone number handy.
Let me know if they give you any trouble.” He grinned. “Believe it or
not there is still a person or two around here who is afraid of me.”
I smiled. “Is that so? Should that include me?”
He looked down at me and a strange expression came into his eyes. After
a silence he said softly, “Something tells me you don’t scare easily,
Catherine Chandler.” After another silence he looked at Father and then
back at me. “If his woman had been more like you, things might have been
different now.” As I tried to understand the implications of his
statement, he moved to the doorway. ’I’ll come by this evening.” One
last time he looked back at me. “You and Vincent, huh?” He shrugged.
“You could do worse.” And he was gone.
The hours moved slowly as the day dragged into late afternoon. A bag of
my personal things arrived, and I gratefully brushed my teeth and
changed my clothes. Occasionally a nurse came in to check Father’s vital
signs. He awoke once or twice as they spoke to him, but for the most
part Father slept soundly, and I had my first taste of hospital boredom.
Id forgotten how awful daytime television could be, and the lounge’s
magazines were all at least two months old. Father’s doctor came briefly
and assured me that Mr. Cramer was doing well. All indications were that
my uncle could expect a full recovery, but with a scowl the doctor
cautioned me never to let Cramer ignore his health so seriously again. I
assured him I would watch Uncle Lloyd carefully from now on.
Dr. Evans came during the late evening while Father was sleeping. The
doctor had been Below, and he brought me a written message from Vincent.
I was certain Vincent had meant the note to be encouraging, but not even
his carefully restrained words could conceal the terrible fears which
were haunting him. The letter made me want to cry. Finally bedtime came,
and I was relieved to have this day come to an end. I fell asleep
sending reassuring mental images to Vincent... and trying to imagine the
comfort of his embrace and the fragrance of leather and wool.
*******
The moon was shining in the window when I woke in the middle of the
night. My pillow had fallen to the floor and my sheet had slipped,
exposing my cheek to the bare vinyl. I could feel the imprint of the
plastic on my face. Fumbling for the pillow in the semi-darkness, I
became aware of a change in Father’s breathing. His gentle snoring had
been replaced by silences, soft gasps and grunts. Immediately I moved
from my cot to his side. Small grimaces passed across his face, and the
space between his eyes wrinkled.
“Father?” I
touched his left hand. He didn’t respond but he obviously was no longer
in deep sleep. I pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat wearily.
Leaning my head back I closed my eyes. I hated hospitals. I hated the
sounds, the smells, the boredom...the fear. Ever since Mother died,
hospitals had held a special repugnance for me.
In many ways being the care-giver was worse than being the patient. Time
froze, muffling the differences between day and night, creating a sense
of isolation and separation from everything beyond the white walls. My
world was narrowing to this room...and to a small chamber deep below the
city.
Vincent was awake. I was certain of it, although I couldn’t feel him as
he could feel me. He would be awake, worrying about his father and
thinking of me. If only I could be with him for just a few hours... But
I couldn’t violate my promise to him, no matter how much I needed to be
in Vincent’s arms. I belonged here at his father’s side, Until Father
and I could return to the Tunnels, together.
A low sigh broke the silence of my thoughts, and I straightened in my
chair. Father was breathing more rapidly. I leaned toward him, watching
his face. His mouth opened slightly. Putting a hand on his forehead, I
asked, “Father? Can you hear me?”
He shuddered beneath my touch, then his voice gasped, “Sick.” Grasping
his meaning I rapidly searched the bedside stand in the dim light.
Finding the emesis basin, I held it below his chin as he heaved. His
empty stomach had nothing to give up, but he spat into the bowl as a
fresh wave of nausea convulsed him. I could only imagine the pain the
spasms must be causing. “Breathe deep.” I spoke softly, trying to give
him reassurance. “Just try to relax. It will pass.” He coughed, then at
last his head fell back on the pillow. I took the basin into the
bathroom and left it there in case die nurse would want to make note of
its contents. Dampening two washcloths, I returned to the bed. Gently I
ran a cloth across Father’s forehead and then wiped his lips and chin,
carefully cleaning his beard. I asked, “They said you can have some ice.
Do you want a piece?”
He nodded, and I took a chip from the water pitcher. Slipping the ice
between his lips, I folded the second damp cloth and laid it across his
brow. As I sank back into the chair, I rested my arm on the bed near
Fathers hand. For several moments he let the ice melt between his teeth
as his breathing calmed and slowed. I asked softly, “Are you in very
much pain?”
His ragged breath was my only answer. I checked my watch. The nurse had
said not to let the pain mount, and it had been a while since the last
morphine had dripped into Fathers IV. I reached across him and pushed
the button. The soft chime answered my action. “You should be more
comfortable in just a little bit.”
Fathers eyes opened slowly and tears escaped to slip down his temples. I
lifted the cloth from his forehead and wiped it gently across his eyes.
To my surprise, his hand lifted from the sheet, and he grasped my wrist.
His weakened voice refused to form words for a moment, but then he
murmured softly, “You are so very beautiful.”
I pulled back with a start. Perhaps I had misunderstood him. In
confusion I pulled my hand from his fingers. The watery eyes sought me
in the darkness. “Stay...” He gasped “Please...stay.”
“Father...” My thoughts tangled in confusion as I straightened.
“It’s...going to be…all right.” His breathing accelerated again.
“I...promise you. Your father will...understand.” He paused and
whispered, “Margaret, don’t go.”
Margaret. I shook my head. Margaret. The anesthetic and the morphine had
led Father to another place and time...and another young woman. Father’s
hand reached outward, his fingers openly seeking the touch of those long
ago times. I sorted through all I knew of his history. Margaret had been
Father’s wife for a short time decades ago. Vincent and I had read the
letter telling of the annulment, and we had watched Father and Margaret
together for those last few days after their reunion. Father had held
the failing woman in his arms as she had died. But it was not those
final days which Father was reliving in his delirium. The hallucinations
he was experiencing now were taken from his youth.
“Father...” No,
not Father. “Jacob, listen to me. It’s Catherine.” In an attempt to
bring him to reality, I took the extended hand. His fingers enclosed
mine, and to my dismay he pulled my hand to his lips and I felt the
whisper of a kiss upon my palm.
With difficulty he rasped, “Promise me...you...will stay.”
I resisted the warmth of his breath against my hand and wondered
frantically what I should do. I was totally unprepared for his next
words. ’I’ll make him...understand. We’ll keep the...” his voice
faltered, “the baby. I promise I will take care of you...both.” As he
slipped again into unconsciousness, he whispered, “Stay.”
Baby. I caught my breath. A baby? Neither Father nor Margaret had ever
indicated there had been a pregnancy. I supped my hand from his and sat
back in astonishment. Suddenly a pattern emerged. Margaret’s father had
taken her to
Pulling the sheet up around Fathers shoulders, I allowed my thoughts to
move forward in time. The tragic loss of a child gave new meaning to
Father’s response to the tiny abandoned baby which had been brought to
him over thirty years ago. Fate had given him a son who desperately
needed the love he had never been able to give to Margaret’s child. I
remembered Margaret as I had last seen her, dying in the final haven of
her loved one’s arms. The years had given Jacob a child, but what had
there been for Margaret? She had tasted life and all its possibilities,
only to have everything snatched from her by an overbearing and powerful
man.
Before I had met Vincent, I had been content to live in my father’s
shadow and to accept his plans for my life. Feeling my deep kinship with
Margaret and my regret at her loss, I whispered silently, “Oh, Margaret.
I’m so sorry.” Now I was seeking my own happy life, and I was frightened
by the specter of her loss. She and I had dared to seek love outside of
the world we had known, but Margaret had lacked the strength to fight
for her happiness. I silently promised myself that I would have the
fulfillment she had been denied. Learning from her failure, I vowed that
I would use her weakness to reinforce my strength. I had no idea what
the future would offer Vincent and me...but I knew I could never allow
Father or anyone else to rob that future from us.
********
When he awoke the next morning, Father was more alert; however he made
no mention of the conversation we had shared during the night. I tried
to help him eat the broth and gelatin on his breakfast tray, but he
complained of nausea and we sent the tray back to the kitchen untouched.
A doctor visited us briefly to examine Father and to answer his
questions. He explained the function of the PCA pump to Father and
taught him how to operate it.
After a dose of morphine, Father slept much of the morning. He woke up
twice and pushed the button each time. Then he dozed in and out of
sleep, and it wasn’t Until Benjamin Evans came into the room just before
lunch that Father responded with interest. Father had been asleep during
all of Evans’s previous visits, and the Black man smiled wickedly when
he finally found Father awake. “Well, Jacob. I still like my burgers
thick and the buns lightly toasted. Baby green onions and a whole dill
pickle on the side.”
Father muttered in painful disgust. “What...in the devil’s name...are
you talking about?”
Evans winked at me. “
Father narrowed his eyes at his visitor and replied quietly with a very
British obscenity which I never would have expected from his lips.
Evans responded with a full-throated laugh, and he dropped his large
frame into the chair beside the bed. “Jacob. You haven’t used that
phrase since Vincent was born.”
Then the Black man softened his expression and said more seriously. “I
talked with your doctor. He’s satisfied with your condition.” I sensed
relief in Father’s sigh. “You were in bad shape when we brought you
here.” Evans motioned toward me. “Do you realize this young lady
probably saved your life?” Father glanced at me and then closed his
eyes.
After a pause, Evans added, “She has been very good to you, Jacob.”
Weakly Father responded, “I know that. And I am...grateful.”
“Having her here has made this so much easier for Vincent.”
The gray eyes opened. “Vincent...is he all right?”
“He’s fine. He’s worried about you of course. Concerned that we did the
right thing.”
Father was silent for a moment, then he whispered, “When can I go home?”
Evans held up his hand and waved Father off. “We’ll talk to your doctor
about that in a day or two. Right now you just concentrate on getting
well.” He looked toward me, not seeing Father’s grimace of pain. “And,
Silently Father reached over to the button on the bed rail and punched
it emitting the soft chime. Evans leaned over and read the dial on the
machine. “You’re hitting it a little often, aren’t you?”
Father frowned. “I was told it is self-monitoring.”
“That’s right.”
“Then I fail to see why you should be concerned.”
The doctor shrugged. “It’s your button.” Evans had brought a brown
package into the room with him. Now he pushed it toward Father. It was
bulky and soft. “Here.. thought you could use this.”
Father rasped weakly. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
With a shake of his head Father declined, “Possibly later.”
Evans shrugged again, “Suit yourself. But don’t put it off too long.
You’re going to need it this afternoon.”
The gray eyes looked up. “What will happen this afternoon?”
“You walk.”
I was not surprised, but Father obviously was. “Walk?” He paused and
shifted painfully. “You can’t be serious...I was in surgery twenty-four
hours ago.”
Evans gave his slow smile. “Welcome to the eighties, Jacob. We walk
surgical patients almost immediately now.”
Father must have been stronger than I had realized, because I could see
him rallying for a confrontation. “That’s barbaric.”
The Black doctor shrugged. “That’s progress. If you’d come up out of
those Tunnels once in a while, you’d...”
Fathers face was beginning to redden, and I interrupted. “Doctor Evans.”
These two men reminded me of two old rams about to butt horns. I changed
the subject. “Have you seen Vincent since yesterday?”
Evans threw me a look that assured me he was in total control as he slid
back in his chair. “No, but I’ll be seeing a helper in a couple of
hours.”
“Could you have another message delivered to him for me?”
“You write it,
“Father?” I sought his consent. His hand waved me away. I asked “Can I
bring you anything?” He shook his head, and I left the two men alone.
Evans’s gift had been a woolen robe. When I returned, Father was wrapped
in it as he sat in the chair at the bedside. The PCA unit had been
converted to battery power, and the two men were waiting for me to
assist in the walk Father was about to take.
********
We made an interesting parade. Father leaned on Dr. Evans’s arm as Evans
pushed the I.V. standard, and I brought up the rear with the pump. Two
other similar groups were walking the halls, and we nodded to each other
as we passed. One man was walking alone, pushing his own IV. and I
wondered why he was here as he rapidly went around us on his laps of the
floor. I discovered later that he was trying to pass a kidney stone of
his own before his surgery which was scheduled for the next morning.
The walk to the nurses’ station seemed interminable, and at last Father
painfully settled into a chair in the hall. He pushed the button on the
pump and sighed as the drug dripped into the I.V. line. I was certain
only his lack of breath prevented him from telling Evans his opinion of
modern medical techniques. Finally he gathered the strength to negotiate
the return trip.
With relief I assisted Evans as he helped Father back into the bed. With
a sigh Father reached for the button at the bedside, but Evans shook his
head, “You can push it if you want to, Jacob, but nothing will happen.
It’s too soon.”
Father winced and lay back. “Modern conveniences.”
Evans put his hand on Father’s shoulder. “We can take the edge off the
pain, Jacob. We can’t eliminate it completely.”
“I know that.” Father took a deep breath and shuddered. “I think I’d
like to sleep now.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Evans nodded. I’ll stop by tomorrow.
Catherine knows where I am if you want me.” Father closed his eyes.
As we moved away from the bed, I gave Evans the letter I had written to
Vincent. “Are you sure Father is all right?”
He nodded. “Give him a chance to rest. The first time up is usually the
hardest. He will walk twice tomorrow, and it will get easier every
time.”
********
After the doctor left Father slept again. In the mid-afternoon he awoke
thirsty, and for the first time he was able to drink apple juice without
becoming nauseated. As I placed the glass back on his tray he reached
for the button on his rail, but it had supped and was out of reach.
Quietly I reached across him, leaning over his bed retrieving the cord
without looking down at him. As I handed him the control, he looked at
me very strangely. He ignored the button, and after a moment I pushed it
for him. I sat back down, wondering what had just passed through his
mind.
His next words surprised me. “Last night...in the dark...” He paused.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Me?”
“I thought I had dreamed it...but just now... when you leaned over
me...” His eyes did not leave my face as I straightened. “What did I say
to you last night?” he whispered.
I pushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “What do you remember?”
After a moment of silent concentration, he said hesitantly, “I was sick,
and somebody washed my face.” He paused. “I thought it was...” His voice
faltered as his memory returned. He whispered “I behaved
improperly...I...I apologize.”
“You have no
reason to apologize, Father.” The fingers of my right hand folded in on
themselves and rubbed involuntarily across my palm, denying the kiss
that had been placed there.
Father whispered, “I embarrassed us both... and I am sorry.” Unsure how
I should respond, I looked up as an aide came to take away the remains
of Father’s lunch. I felt Father watching me anxiously as I gathered the
soiled napkins and several empty coffee cups and put them on the tray.
After the aide left, Father said softly, “Catherine... about Margaret...
If I told you...if I said anything that...” His voice fell away.
I interrupted him gently. “Vincent doesn’t know what she did, does he?”
Fear flashed through his eyes and after a long pause he slowly shook his
head. In a voice so quiet it was almost inaudible he whispered,
“Catherine, she had...no choice. You didn’t know her father. He...
controlled her.” He paused weakly. “I wouldn’t want you to...think less
of her.”
I sat down near him. “Father.” His hand was lying at his side, and I was
tempted to touch it, but I did not. “Remember that I met her. She was a
lovely and gracious lady who loved you very much. I know she would never
have chosen to hurt you.” I paused. “It must have broken her heart.” I
thought again of the young girl, in love, pregnant, cruelly separated
from the man she loved, and forced to deny both her husband and her
child. I continued. “Father, everything you said to me last night was
confidential. Even from Vincent, if you want it that way. I agree with
you that telling Vincent about the abortion would only cause him pain,
and there would be no reason why he should know.” I paused. “You were
dreaming and hallucinating. I would never repeat anything I heard under
those conditions.”
He sighed deeply with relief. “Thank you, Catherine.”
Suddenly I felt very hurt by his distrust...by his concern that I would
divulge his most personal secrets. I had done nothing that could justify
his lack of faith in me. Yet, he seemed to believe I was using him and
his son in some terrible scheme. I finally asked, “Father, I want only
what is best for you and Vincent…and all your people. How can I convince
you that you can trust me?”
His face was pale as he closed his eyes. After a long pause he spoke.
“Catherine, I have told you before...my feelings about you are not
personal.”
“But they affect me personally. They form an obstacle between Vincent
and me and the joy we take in each other.”
He was obviously tiring. As important as this conversation had become, I
knew it could not go on much longer. “I promise you I will never leave
him...or cause him pain.” Remembering the greatest pain in Fathers life,
I finally touched his hand. “Father, don’t expect me to repeat
Margaret’s mistakes.”
His gray eyes looked into my face, and I watched a tear trail down his
temple. For a long moment he lay very still, then his lips trembled as
he said in a half-sob, “She was beautiful, Catherine.”
I squeezed the weathered fingers beneath my touch and I whispered, “I
know.” And I held his hand until he fell asleep.
********
That night I was so tired that I expected to sleep more soundly. The
vinyl cushions had actually begun to feel comfortable, and I had
acquired two extra pillows. Hospital life was beginning to assume a
routine, and I no longer had to ask my way around..or wait for
permission to do the things which I knew would make Father and me more
comfortable.
All the lights had been dimmed and the halls had become hushed and
still. I was grateful for the room Evans had chosen for us. Located at
the far end of the hall, it was the quietest and most isolated room on
the floor. Father had slept through the evening meal, and he showed
every indication of sleeping all night. After watching the news on
Fathers television, I gathered my blankets and pillows about me on the
cot. This was the hour when I missed Vincent the most. The late evening
was our time together, when darkness gave us safety and security.
Warming my heart with the memory of Vincent’s eyes, I lay in the silence
and finally went to sleep myself.
********
My dreams were laced with images of Tunnel people dressed in white
uniforms. Two worlds merged into one as I entered Father’s study and
found it had become an operating room. The pipes no longer vibrated with
tapping sounds; they chimed softly sounding exactly like Fathers PCA
pump. The only person in my dream who was not dressed in white was
Benjamin Evans. He was fully outfitted in Tunnel garb, except for
outrageously large diamond rings on both hands. Conspicuously absent
from my dream was Vincent. Slowly the whole dream evolved into a search
for him, with Father’s hands holding me back.
Suddenly Vincent’s shadow brought me back from my search, and I teetered
between sleep and reality. Opening my eyes, I thought I must still be
dreaming as I saw the huge dark figure bending over Father. I must have
gasped, because the figure turned toward me and I was startled into full
wakefulness by the concerned blue eyes. Vincent put his finger to his
lips and cautioned me to be silent.
Without hesitation I threw off the blankets and ran into his arms. As
his caress closed around me, nothing was as important as the feel and
the fragrance of him. I buried my face against his chest, but then I
remembered where we were, and I pulled back in fear. I whispered,
“Vincent, you shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous. What if somebody
sees you?”
“I had to come, Catherine. The last two days have been unbearable. Not
knowing...”
Taking his hand, I murmured, “I wanted to come to you so badly, but all
I could do was send notes.” I hugged him again. “I tried to tell you
everything was all right.”
He nodded. “I know.” Almost apologetically, he explained “But I had to
see for myself.” He turned his gaze back to Father. “He’s so still.”
Vincent’s eyes traced the path of the IV tube, and then his look settled
on his father’s white face.
“He’s fine. He has had some discomfort, but they are controlling it with
morphine. He walked yesterday.”
“Walked?” He indicated the tubes and the I.V. standard.
I smiled. “I told Father he had an entourage. Dr. Evans steered Father
while I pushed the machine.”
For the first time Vincent smiled. “Doctor Evans has been a good
friend.” He paused. “Catherine, how can I thank you? I had no right to
ask so much of you.”
“I wanted to be here.” I hugged him tighter. My memories went back to
the time I had been a patient in this same hospital. I murmured, “You
were here for me.”
His hand supped to the place on my back where the bullet had left a
scar. “I almost lost you that night. When I think...”
I put my finger to his lips and shook my head. After a silent moment
with an old memory, I whispered, “The morning after you came, I wasn’t
certain you had really been here. I could remember dreaming...about ice
cream...but then I found the rose.” I brought my hand to his face and
traced the lines of fatigue and worry around his eyes. “Are you all
right?” I paused thinking how difficult it must be to wait alone Below.
“I should have come to you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “If Father were to wake up afraid and
alone...or if something happened.” His big hand gently pressed my head
close to his breast. “The last time he came Above...if it had not been
for you...” He was silent a moment, then he said very softly,
“Catherine, you have saved his life again. I am certain he did not
expect to survive this operation.”
Now I understood why it had been so difficult for Vincent to let Father
come Above. “You knew about his own father...how he died?”
Vincent nodded
once. “I discovered his fear of surgery when he broke his hip. He told
me then that his father had died on the operating table. Father’s
recovery after his fall would have been so much easier if he would have
consented to surgery, but he would not even consider it.” He paused. “He
would not come Above then...and he was furious with me when I suggested
it this time.”
“Vincent, he had no choice.”
I could hardly hear his response. “I know that.”
I pulled back from him and looked into his eyes, but before I could
answer, our attention was abruptly directed to Father. Perhaps he had
heard our voices, or maybe he had been dreaming, but something had torn
him from his peaceful sleep. “Vincent,” he lifted his head, “Vin...”
Suddenly his left arm jerked to his chest pulling the intravenous tube
with it. Instandy his breathing became a frightening wheeze as his head
came up off the pillow. Straining in a series of ineffectual pants, his
body tightened in a shuddering spasm. The alarm on the standard
activated, and the whole room filled with a high-pitched squeal. Vincent
recoiled in my arms and gasped Fathers name. I could feel fear wash
across him, paralyzing him in helpless panic. “Vincent,” I grasped his
shoulders. “The nurses will be coming. You’ve got to hide.”
“Father!” He cried again, and his hand reached out to take the man’s
arm.
I pulled at Vincent, terrified for both of them. “He’ll be all right.”
But Father was fighting for breath, and the alarm pierced the silence of
the night so sharply that I shared Vincent’s panic. Glancing at the
closed door of the room I knew it would swing open within seconds.
“Vincent, you have to hide!” My eyes searched the room. “How did you get
in here?” Vincent was riveted in his place. “Vincent!” I grasped his
sleeve, trying to get him to look at me. “Listen to me. You can’t stay
here.” At last he looked at me. I asked again, “How did you get in
here?”
“The window.” He released Father’s arm. “There is a ledge and a fire
escape.”
Pulling him from the bedside I pleaded, “Wait for me on the fire escape.
I will come to you as soon as I can.”
“But Father...”
“There is nothing you can do. The nurses will take care of him.” I held
the blinds back as he seated himself on the windowsill and swung his
legs outside. At that instant the door opened, flooding the room with
the light from the hall. I dropped the Venetian blinds back into place
and spun around to greet the nurse. Vincent’s breathing could still be
heard on the other side of the shades. In an attempt to cover the sound
I said too loudly, “Thank goodness you came.” The nurse was already
bending over Father as her free hand switched off the alarm. I continued
“He was just fine, but then he suddenly started thrashing around in his
bed.” I knew I had given no explanation for my presence at the window,
but her full attention was on Father.
She spoke into the intercom as she put a stethoscope to Father’s chest.
“Room 457. Patient is in respiratory distress. I need a doctor, stat.”
She took Father’s blood pressure and did not even look up as another
nurse and an aide rushed into the room.
By this time Father’s face was colorless and his eyes were staring
sightlessly at the ceiling as he struggled for air. I heard the nurse
say something about morphine. She was on the intercom again telling the
nurses’ station that the doctor would probably be ordering a Narcon
injection. The second nurse was working with Fathers IV. when she
realized I was still in the room.
“Miss Chandler. Would you step outside, please?”
I tried to control my voice. “Will he be all right? What is it?”
“Outside, please.” This time she did not phrase it as a question.
Gathering my purse, I snatched a quick look at the window. Silence
greeted me, but I could almost feel Vincent huddled outside on the fire
escape. Torn between my urgent concern for Father and the need to give
Vincent reassurance, I left the room just as a man in a white coat was
entering.
As I stood in the
hall I could hear some of the conversation inside the room, then another
nurse passed me and she pulled the door shut behind her. The silence was
frightening. Father had been recovering so well. All our fears had
centered around the operation itself, and I had not allowed myself to
consider the possibility of a relapse. For a moment I thought of going
to Vincent, but I knew he needed me here. I could do nothing except wait
for someone to come tell me what was happening.
Several people came and went, but none of them would answer my
questions. I paced the hall outside Father’s door trying to remain calm
and trying not to think of Fathers face as he had strained for breath. I
sensed his son’s helpless terror, and I wondered where Vincent was. In
his fear he could be taking unnecessary risks. If he were to be seen on
the fire escape.. prayed for the cover of darkness for him. And I
watched the door of Father’s room.
At last one of the nurses came out looking relieved, and I no longer
detected a sense of urgency in the room. Much later, the doctor himself
emerged carrying a chart. He wrote on the page briefly, then he looked
up and saw me.
Coming toward me he asked, “Are you a family member?”
“I am his niece.” The lie was becoming easy.
“Good.” He tucked the chart under his arm and removed his stethoscope.
I held my breath. “How is he?”
He nodded. “He’ll be all right.”
“What happened to him?” I tried to control my voice.
His answer came with aggravating slowness. “He had an adverse reaction
to the morphine.”
“The morphine. But the doctor said that that machine...”
“Let me explain, Miss...”
“
“Miss Chandler. The machine had nothing to do with it. This same thing
would have happened if the nurses had been administering the prescribed
dosage.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “Come with me to the nurses’ station.” As I fell into step
with him he continued. “Mr. Cramer’s records are incomplete.”
I nodded. “He is from out of town. I didn’t know where to send for his
records.”
At the station he looked down at me. “How old is he?”
“I don’t know. Is that important?”
He wrote on the chart, then he read for a moment. At last he asked. “And
he has not previously been taking any medication?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
Putting down the pen, he looked at me. “Apparently your uncle’s body has
not been processing the morphine properly.” He paused. “In effect, his
system has been stockpiling the drug...allowing it to accumulate Until
it reached dangerous levels.”
“He overdosed.”
He frowned. “Under normal circumstances...” He interrupted himself and
continued slowly. “Tolerance for narcotics is unpredictable at best.
Without records of your uncle’s medical history we were unfortunately
unable to foresee this complication.”
Fearfully I asked, “And now?”
He laid Fathers chart on the counter. “I have given him an injection
which has reversed the adverse effects of the morphine. I’m sure his
doctor of record will prescribe a different analgesic as soon as we are
satisfied that he has stabilized.”
I glanced back toward Father’s room. “How is he right now?”
“He’s responding well. I’ll have him closely monitored for the next few
hours, but I don’t believe you have to be concerned.”
“May I go back in now?”
He nodded.
“There’ll be a nurse in the room for the rest of the night.” After a
pause he asked, “You’ve been sleeping in his room?”
“Yes.” I bristled, ready to defend my rights, but it was unnecessary.
He continued. “Use this opportunity to get some sleep. You look like you
need it.” After saying something softly to the nurse at the desk he
turned away from me, and I hurried back to Father.
Inside the room I found everything had returned to normal, except that
the pump was gone. Father was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and
falling in a steady reassuring rhythm. A nurse was recording his vital
signs, and she looked up as I entered. A brief conversation with her
restored my confidence. Moments later I excused myself telling her I
would return.
*********
I could not even remember the elevator ride down to the ground floor as
I raced through the main lobby and out the front door. Turning to the
right, I ducked into the shadows of the hedges and trees. Then, running
the full length of the building, I moved around the corner at its far
end. Searching for the fire escape, I clung to the brick wall as I
passed in the nearly total darkness under the heavy shrubbery. Suddenly
I was brought up short by a touch on my shoulder. Wheeling around
blindly, I fell into Vincent’s strong arms and felt the fear surging
through him.
“Vincent.” I gasped for breath. “He’s all right. He’s all right.”
He held me away from him as his eyes searched my face. “Catherine, are
you certain?”
“Yes.” I nodded vigorously. “It was a reaction to the morphine. They
gave him an antidote of some kind and he responded well. He’s out of
danger.”
Releasing his grip on my arms, he turned his face toward the wall and
leaned his great bulk against the building. I went to him wrapping my
arms around him. Pressing my face against his back I gave him time to
recover.
His heart was racing so powerfully that I could detect his pulse even
through all the layers of his clothing. We said nothing, but at last he
turned in my embrace, and his knees bent as he took me to the ground
with him. He rested his back against the wall and pulled me against his
chest.
I asked softly. “Are you all right?”
“Catherine,” he whispered. “I thought it was his heart...I thought he
was dying.”
“I know you did.” I lifted my hand to rest against his cheek. “I had the
same fear.”
“Without him...”
“Shhhh.” My fingers touched his lips. “It’s over now.”
He looked up toward the windows above us. Afraid that he would try to
return to the room, I cautioned him, “A nurse has been assigned to stay
with him all night. You mustn’t try to see him.”
“No.” As he lowered his face, his hair fell about me, separating me from
the rest of the world, enclosing me in his very essence, creating the
only place where my heart was at home.
A great shudder passed through his frame, and I pressed more tightly
against him. “Vincent, he’s going to be all right. I’ll bring him home
to you just as soon as I can.”
His warm breath came more slowly now, calmer. After a long silence, he
whispered, “I have felt many different emotions in you. I felt your
apprehensions...your fears.”
“I tried to control them. I didn’t want to worry you.”
He shook his head. “I have been so open to you...” He began again. “I
need to feel you. My connection with you is the only thing that makes
the waiting endurable.”
After a moment, I
sensed his thoughts focusing on a new concern. As he lifted his eyes
slowly to look at me, his tears glittered in the darkness. “Catherine,
when I told him I was sending him to a hospital Above, he was so
angry...he said terrible things. He accused me of...”
I put my fingers to his lips again. “Don’t say it. He was afraid and in
pain. He didn’t mean the things he said.”
Vincent trembled beneath my touch. “If he had died...with those words
being the last ever spoken between us...Catherine, how could I have
lived with that?” He caught his breath, trying to smother a sob. My
heart went out to him as I took his face in both my hands. Refusing to
meet my eyes, he whispered, “Catherine, is he still angry with me?”
“Oh, Vincent.” I pulled his head down to my shoulder and stroked his
flaxen hair. It seemed impossible that a being of such power and
strength could be so vulnerable and fragile. I wanted to hold him and
take away everything in his life that wasn’t good and beautiful. At this
moment he was a frightened child, suffering in the midst of his parent’s
disapproval.
I rested my lips against the tangled softness of his hair. “Vincent, you
did the right thing.” Holding him tightly, I let my fingers smooth the
golden strands Until finally my touch settled to the back of his neck. I
massaged the tension I found there, feeling him relax in my embrace.
After a long silence, I whispered, “He had to come Above or he would
have died. He knows that. Do you?”
I waited Until he nodded reluctantly, then I continued. “At first he was
very unhappy with us both...but after the surgery....” I smiled. “You
should have seen him and Ben Evans bickering with each other. Vincent, I
never heard anyone talk like that to Father before. And Father let him.”
He sighed and lifted his head. “Father and Ben share a very long and
outspoken friendship.”
“It’s wonderful to see them together. Dr. Evans brings out a part of
Father I have never seen before. Vincent,” I paused. “Father cursed!”
I felt a hint of a chuckle deep in his chest as he replied, “A purely
British profanity.”
My eyebrows rose and “I leaned back to look at him. “Yes, but how did
you know?”
“I have heard him occasionally...when he thought he was alone and the
provocation was sufficient.” He looked at me with his head tilted. “But
I cannot imagine he allowed it to happen in your presence.”
Touching his face again, I smoothed away the last remnants of his tears.
I hesitated, considering other lapses Father had experienced in my
presence. A barrier had stood between himself and me. But now great
chinks had opened in that barrier, and I had glimpsed the hidden man who
shielded himself behind the patriarchy he had so carefully created. With
a feeling of reverence, I realized I now shared secrets with Father that
could not be told even to Vincent.
I shifted so that my head rested against Vincent’s vest. “I feel like I
am beginning to know Father...for the very first time.” After a pause, I
added, “We have never had to spend so much time together before.”
“Catherine,” he rasped. ’I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I asked. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I have asked you to assume such a great responsibility.”
Shaking my head quietly I said “No, Vincent.” I paused in thought, and I
made a discovery about myself. “When you first asked me to watch over
him I wanted to do this...for you.” I took his hand and held it tightly.
“But as time goes on...” I brought his hand against my face. “As time
goes on, I’m finding I am doing it for Father and for myself.” I paused.
’I’m beginning to understand him better. His life has been more
complicated than we know.” I looked up into his eyes. “Vincent I want to
be there…for him.”
A warmth filled his gaze, and he gave a sigh. Removing his hand from my
grasp, he wrapped both arms around me, and together we sat Until the
glow in the eastern sky forced him to seek the shelter of home.
********
When I reentered the hospital room just before dawn, I found Father
remarkably improved. He slept while the nurse explained that the Narcon
had given him almost instant relief, and that he would probably have no
aftereffects except for sore ribs and a tenderness across his
midsection. A short time later Father’s doctor appeared, and the nurse
was relieved from her watch. The doctor examined Father quickly and
assured me there was no reason to expect any further complications.
Later that morning, Father and I were alone when I awoke from a nap
feeling his eyes upon me. With a weak smile I greeted him. “Good
morning.” I leaned over and placed my hand on his arm. “How are you?”
He bunked at me and frowned slightly. With effort he formed a word, but
the sound from his throat was hoarse and uncooperative. I reached for
the water glass, lifted his head, and tilted the glass against his lips.
He sipped and then waved the drink away. “Enough.”
I said softly, “You gave us a big scare last night. Do you remember?”
He nodded once. “What happened to me?”
“You reacted badly to the morphine. They gave you an antidote.”
He closed his eyes and said almost automatically. “Narcon.”
For some reason I was surprised at his professional assessment. “That’s
right. The doctor said you should be all right now.”
After a long pause he opened his eyes and looked at me. “Vincent was
here.”
I glanced toward the empty hall beyond the door. With a nod I replied
softly. “Yes.”
He frowned urgently. “It’s too dangerous...he...”
“Father,” I put my hand on his arm again. “He’s safe. He went home
before dawn, and nobody saw him.”
With an attempt at authority, he shook his head. “He must stay away.”
I squeezed his arm gently. “He knows that. He promised me he won’t try
to come again.”
He asked more calmly, “You’re certain he is all right.”
I’m certain.” His blanket had slipped to one side, and I pulled it back
into place. “He won’t relax Until you’re home, but he is all right.”
At last he rested calmly against the pillows. His eyes followed me as I
finished adjusting his covers. I gestured toward his breakfast tray
which had been left at his bedside. “Are you hungry?”
He considered the question and finally nodded. “Yes.” He seemed
surprised. “Yes. I believe I am.”
********
The rest of the day brought a series of pleasant surprises as Father’s
strength returned with his appetite. He sat up in a chair much of the
morning and he complained when Ben Evans had to cut his afternoon visit
short. We walked the halls together twice. Then late in the evening Dr.
Evans returned. He was visiting with us when Father’s doctor entered the
room.
After a brief review of Fathers chart the doctor looked up at his
patient. “Well, Mr. Cramer. Barring any unexpected developments, I
believe you can go home tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Father’s eyes widened.
Evans grinned wickedly. “What was it you were complaining about the
other day? Something about barbaric theories in modern medicine?”
Fathers doctor glanced up. “There will be someone who can look after you
at home? I wouldn’t want you being alone for the next few days.”
I smiled. “He has someone, doctor. I can promise you he will have
excellent care.”
The physician nodded. “Good.” He closed the folder. “I think you can
plan on checking out tomorrow afternoon.”
Father lay back
with a look of intense relief on his face.
Dr. Evans and Vincent had already made plans for Father’s return to the
Tunnels. Because the park entrance was too public, they had decided I
should drive Father to an abandoned warehouse near the
A note detailing the final plans was delivered to the hospital just
before bedtime, and Father nodded his approval as he scanned the page.
Removing his reading glasses, he closed his eyes and sighed. “It will be
good to go home.” A nurse brought him a pain pill and readied him for
the night. On her way out she switched off the overhead light, leaving
only a small bulb glowing over the head of Father’s bed. The result was
a dimly lit room, not unlike the Tunnels.
After she left, I retrieved my bedding from the corner and began to make
up my cot for the last time. Quietly Father suggested “You could go
home, Catherine. There’s no reason for you to sleep here tonight.”
I continued to work with the blankets while I shook my head. “No. I
promised Vincent I would stay.”
“It truly isn’t necessary.”
“I know.” I paused. “But I think I would rather be here.”
Glancing up moments later, I was surprised to find a very gentle and
paternal expression in his eyes as he watched me. I smiled at him as I
straightened. Tilting my head, I asked, “What are you thinking?”
He snatched his gaze away almost like an embarrassed school boy. With a
hint of being flustered, he murmured “It was nothing.”
I asked, “You were looking at me so strangely.”
After a silence, the gray eyes returned to mine and he said softly, “For
a moment...for just an instant...” He cleared his throat and put his
reading glasses on the table at his bedside. I waited. He seemed about
to say something, but then he changed his mind. His words did not
express his original thought. “Your father must be…very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Father.” His compliment was unexpected. I paused briefly
before I probed for that original thought. “But that is not what you
were about to say.”
“No,” he admitted. I waited again. “I...” He sighed deeply. “Catherine,
for just an instant...” With difficulty he continued, “I saw you…as
Vincent must see you.”
Surprised, I asked, “I don’t understand.”
He replied gently, “You are a remarkable woman. You have been
patient...and forbearing.” After a pause he added “I have not been an
especially...amiable patient.” If he expected me to argue with him, I
didn’t. He continued with his eyes downcast. “Ben told me you have
assumed full financial responsibility for my medical bills.” The gray
eyes lifted to mine. “You know I cannot possibly repay you.”
“Father, we don’t keep ledgers on each other. You have taught your
people to help one another...to share what they have without thought of
repayment.” I paused. “You and Vincent saved my life. I could never pay
you for what you have done for me, and for what Vincent has meant to
me.” I smiled. “I am just grateful that my money has been useful.” Then
I stopped smiling as a more somber thought came to mind. “There have
been times when I wondered...”
Father waited a moment, then prodded, “What have you wondered,
Catherine?”
I hesitated to change the comfortable nature of our conversation, but I
still had questions which remained unanswered. “I have wondered if
my...financial situation...” I had difficulty choosing the right words
“...if my social position...” With a guarded breath, I asked, “Would it
have been easier for you to accept my...relationship with Vincent if I
had been less...comfortable?” I waited for him to respond, but he just
looked away from me, fingering the blanket across his chest. At last I
added “I know Margaret was extremely wealthy. And I thought...” My voice
faltered, and I felt very self-conscious.
For a moment Father frowned severely and he seemed deeply disturbed. I
wondered if I had offended him, and finally I whispered, I’m sorry if I
said something I shouldn’t have.”
“No.” His weathered fingers passed over his hair and he sighed heavily.
“No. That isn’t it at all, Catherine.” He continued, “Your question is a
valid one, and it touches upon...thoughts I have had recently.” He
coughed once and cleared his throat. I’ve been considering something you
said to me “
“Something I said?”
He continued hesitantly. “I believe your words were...” He paused. “You
cautioned me not to. compare you with...”
“I told you not to expect me to repeat Margaret’s mistakes.”
“Yes.” He nodded and looked away from me. “Exactly.” I waited for him to
continue. “Catherine, I loved her...so fiercely…she filled my life. She
was the reason for everything I did...everything I was...everything I
wanted to become. And when she left...” He amended, “When her father
took her...” For a moment I thought he could not possibly continue, but
at last his voice resumed almost inaudibly. “There was nothing.” He
turned his eyes slowly toward me. As he spoke, his voice broke. Coughing
softly, he reached for a drink of water. After putting the glass down he
asked quietly, “Catherine, have you read Swinburne?”
Puzzled I answered. “Not enough to be familiar with him.”
His gaze went beyond me toward the window. “It was Swinburne who said
’At the door of life...by the gate of breath, there are worse things
waiting for men than death.”
I felt the sting of hot tears. “Father,” I whispered “you don’t have to
tell me this.”
“No, Catherine. Somehow I want.. need...to tell you these things. You
deserve to know.” He reflected a moment and then resumed solemnly. “If
it had not been for the Tunnels...for the few good people who were
already there...” He sighed deeply, and his voice continued with more
strength. “I was brought to them.” He finally looked at me. “At first I
just went through the...motions of living. Day by day. Pascal’s father
found things for me to do...things he insisted were essential...to the
community.” With a sigh, he continued. “And at the end of a year...
Well...” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “By the end of a year I
faced the...possibility that I might live.” He looked deeply into my
eyes. “I had made a pact with Pascal, you see.”
“A pact?” I had a suspicion of what it had been.
He nodded. “I promised him...because I admired him and valued his
counsel...I promised him...” His voice broke again. “I promised I would
wait...a full year...before I...”
Stunned, I shook my head. “Father, you value life too dearly. You would
never have been able to end anyone’s life...not even your own.”
“Oh, yes, Catherine.” He nodded. “You were not there. You could not know
the depths of...despair...the hopeless misery.”
“But you lived.”
He nodded “I did.” At last his expression softened. “And a few years
later I found a new reason to take joy in life.”
“Vincent.”
Finally his tired eyes smiled. “He was a miracle. Even at the very
first, when he cried so uncontrollably...when no one thought he would
live.. loved him even then.” Father’s eyes misted with old memories. “He
had a way of burrowing under my vest or sweater as I held him. And
later...when the crying was over, he would look at me with those huge
blue eyes and I would see such total faith and trust in them.” Father
shook his head in wonder. “Pascal said Vincent was the only being in the
world who thought I was perfect.”
I smiled. “In many ways he still does, Father.”
“Because he sees
me from his own perspective. Vincent hunts for the best in everyone.
Somehow in spite of all the injustices he has endured...he still
believes in beauty and goodness...” After a hesitation Father sighed
heavily. “And so...after I began to believe he would live...I knew that
I must live too. And somehow...everything that had happened to me began
to have a purpose, a value. My loss…all the pain...had led me to that
miracle child, and I was the only one who could create a place for
him...a place where he and all the other cast-off children could grow
and thrive.”
“And you became Father to them all.”
“Yes.” He looked at me carefully. “He justifies it all, Catherine. His
life gave me the ability to accept all the suffering...to forgive all
the hurt.”
I touched Father’s hand. “Even Margaret.”
He flexed his hand slightly. “Especially Margaret.” He continued
hesitantly. “Catherine, I have never spoken of this to anyone…not even
Vincent.” In silence, I waited for him to go on. His voice trembled as
he whispered, “All those years...for over thirty- five years…she lived
with the conviction that I would be unable to forgive her for...denying
life to our child. And possibly...in the deepest part of me...I wasn’t
certain.” He looked into my eyes and his hand turned under mine Until he
held my fingers. “And then...you gave her back to me, Catherine. If it
had not been for you...” With a tremor he whispered, “Because of you we
had those last seven days, and all the hurt was forgiven. I can never
adequately thank you for what you did for her...and for me.” He looked
away, “When I think how ungrateful I must have sounded...there on the
steps to the subway...and all the times since then.”
I did not answer.
Father closed his eyes. After a long silence he said, “He loves you...in
much the same way I loved her.” He looked back at me. “That is what
frightens me so much, and that is why I am telling you this. I want you
to know why I feel so strongly. If you know what I went through, perhaps
you will be able to understand why I would do anything to shield Vincent
from the pain I endured.”
Disappointment swept through me. I had hoped he had finally accepted my
role in Vincent’s life. Pulling my hand from his, I pleaded, “Father,
you can trust me.”
“I believe that now, Catherine. But you must understand there are other
factors involved...things only Vincent can tell you. But beyond
those...” He paused. “I believe you would not hurt him intentionally,
but I also believe that the relationship between you and Vincent cannot
help but result in heartbreak and disaster.”
I shook my head, feeling my chin tremble. “No.”
I’m sorry, Catherine. I am truly sorry. You have been so good to us
both. You deserve happiness.” His eyes misted again.
Lifting my chin defensively I fought back my tears. “I won’t give him
up..not unless Vincent himself asks me to.”
He nodded. “I think I know that now.” He reached for my hand as it
rested in my lap. “I am not your enemy, Catherine. Please believe that I
care for you both. I want what is best for you...both.”
“Then, Father...you have to give Vincent and me the freedom to discover
what is best for us...together.”
His gaze fell upon our clasped hands, and he did not answer.
I continued “I know you want to protect Vincent...”
He interrupted “I want to protect both of you.”
With a nod I whispered, “I believe you. But, Father, as painful as your
relationship with Margaret was, it was your choice to be with her. You
had the opportunity to make your own decisions and your own mistakes.
And you grew from it. You used your past to build a future for Vincent
and all the others. Your wisdom built the foundations of your society,
and that wisdom is the result of all the experiences you have had...good
and bad.” I paused. “But now you want to deny Vincent his right to live
his own life. Trust him, Father. Let him go.”
He whispered an
echo. “Let him go.”
“You have taught him well, Father. Believe in him.” Still holding his
hand, I pleaded, “He won’t disappoint you...he already has such great
strength. But he needs your approval.”
I sighed. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for him to send you
Above for this surgery. His opposition to your instructions saved your
life...but still...” My eyes met Father’s. “Last night he asked me if
you were still angry with him.”
Father released a great breath. “Angry?” His fingers tightened over
mine. “Is that what he has been thinking all this time?” I nodded. The
gray head shook slowly. “I added that burden...to everything else he has
had to endure.” He looked at me sadly. “And you call me wise.”
“You are, Father.” With a gentle smile I added, “You are also
human...and no matter what Vincent thinks, none of us is perfect.”
His free hand came to my face and he lifted my chin with one finger.
Traces of a smile flickered through his eyes as he asked, “How did you
come to be so wise, Catherine? You are so young…Where have you found
your wisdom?”
I leaned my cheek into his hand and shook my head. “It’s not wisdom
Father. I just try to follow my heart.”
His smile deepened, and I could almost see Vincent in his eyes. Softly
he said, “It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?”
“It has to, Father. For me there isn’t anything else.”
He nodded wearily. “I know. I may not approve...but I am trying to
understand.”
I lightly traced his aging knuckles. “Father, Until now, you and I have
had so little in common...except that we both love Vincent.” I looked
up. “I am grateful for these past few days we have shared.”
“Catherine...” His eyes had grown heavy, and I glanced at the clock by
his bed. The hour was very late. I pulled my hand from his and switched
off the light over his head. As I stood he took my hand one more time.
“Catherine. In one aspect, I can happily compare you with Margaret.” He
whispered. “You are both very beautiful.”
I felt a quiver in my chin as I kissed his forehead gently. And within
moments he was asleep.
********
“Father, are you sure you want to go in my passenger car? I could easily
rent the van again.” I pulled open another drawer, making certain I had
forgotten nothing.
Father watched me as I packed the few things we had accumulated.
“Nonsense. I am perfectly capable of sitting in a car seat.” Fully
dressed he sat up straighter in the bedside chair, as if to prove his
point.
“All right,” I acceded. “But promise me you will not argue with Vincent
when we get Below. He’ll be waiting with a stretcher. He said it’s a
very long walk from the warehouse elevator to your chamber, and we all
agree you should be carried.” I latched the suitcase and set it on the
floor. Father opened his mouth to reply, and I interrupted him, “Vincent
will finally have an opportunity to help you...don’t deprive him of the
pleasure.”
He closed his mouth and sighed. “Very well. But just this once. I will
not be mollycoddled and treated as an invalid.”
With a smile, I watched him rub the handle of the cane he held between
his knees. He had insisted that Evans bring the cane to him along with
his suit, shoes, and tie, and I suspected Father felt the stick gave him
style and flair. Shaking my head I cautioned, “You had major surgery
four days ago. This is not the time to try to impress everyone with your
physical fortitude.”
He gave me the very same look my own father had given me when I had made
Dad go home from the office with the flu.
His reply was silenced by Ben Evans’s arrival. “All signed out and ready
to go.” Evans was followed immediately by an aide with a wheelchair.
“Hop in, ...Lloyd.” He grinned and motioned toward the chair.
Father looked at me with an appeal in his eyes, but I leveled a stare at
him. Docilely, he climbed into the chair. He had abandoned the cane when
he needed both hands to rise from the bedside chair, and I picked it up.
“There is something about a cane,” I said as I polished it a bit more. I
handed it to him and grinned. “It gives even the wisest and most
conservative man a touch of panache.”
*********
The afternoon sun was shining brightly as Father, Dr. Evans, and I drove
up to the warehouse door. I had expected Vincent to wait for us at the
bottom of the elevator shaft, but when I drove through the wide doors, I
saw him inside with several young tunnel dwellers. Almost before the car
stopped, Vincent snatched open the passenger door and knelt on one knee
within Father’s reach. Neither of them spoke as Father smoothed his
son’s heavy hair back from his face and looked into the brilliant blue
eyes. Then after a long moment, the older man leaned forward and placed
a gentle kiss upon the concerned brow.
Sometime later, Mary and I were waiting in the study when Dr. Evans
emerged from Father’s private bed chamber. Seating himself the doctor
accepted a cup of tea He must have seen my eyes as I looked expectantly
toward Father’s chamber. With a slight nod, he explained, “Vincent will
be out in a minute. Jacob chased me out. When I tried to get him to
sleep, he said he needed to talk with Vincent alone.”
Several minutes later, Vincent returned to us, tucking something into
the pocket of his tunic and looking very relieved and grateful.
“Is he okay?” I asked.
He nodded and took my arm as he extended his right hand to Dr. Evans.
“Benjamin,” he clasped the doctors hand and hesitated “...there is no
adequate way to thank you for what you have done for us.”
Evans’s dark face spread into a slow smile. “Did Jacob tell you to say
that?”
Vincent tilted his head and his eyes sparkled. “No.” He smiled with
mischief. “Actually he told me to tell you that ’there is no need for
you to wait around for him to croak anymore.”
Mary’s kind face recoiled in horror, but Evans gave a hearty laugh.
“Well, I knew all along he was too ornery to die.” He put down his tea.
“Do you think he’ll let me come back in now and form my own opinion?”
“I believe so.”
Evans motioned to Mary and the two of them returned to the private
chamber. Vincent’s hand slid from my arm and took my hand sending a
pleasant tingle through me. “I’ll walk you back to your car, Catherine.
I don’t want you going back to the warehouse alone.”
Glancing toward Fathers chamber, I said, “I haven’t had a chance to say
goodbye.” I hesitated. “Do you think it’d be all right if I drove my car
home, and then came down through the sub-basement to spend the evening
here?”
He gazed down at me. “I was about to suggest it.”
I smiled and we left the study together.
We walked Until we were beyond the living chambers. When we were alone,
I squeezed Vincent’s hand and looked up at him. I was surprised to see
his eyes twinkling with good humor. Unable to contain my curiosity, I
asked, “Dr. Evans said Father refused to rest just now Until he had
spoken with you privately. Can you tell me what he said?”
Vincent’s hand returned my squeeze. Then he released my hand, and his
arm came up across my shoulders, pulling me closer to him as we
continued walking. He answered softly, “He called me in to ’correct some
of my misconceptions’.”
“I don’t
understand.”
“He said it’s time for me to become more realistic in my expectations of
him.” Only half-seriously, he asked, “Catherine, where did he get the
idea that I expect him to be perfect?”
I smiled. “Can I assume that we are forgiven for taking him Above?”
“He asked me not to make a habit of defying him...but in this case, it’s
possible that I was right, and I am forgiven.”
Coming to a stop, I exploded. “Why that incorrigible old fraud!”
“Catherine.” His eyes widened.
“After everything he put you through, he still won’t admit he was
wrong.”
Hugging me, he sighed peacefully. “It’s enough that he is not angry with
me.” His hand rubbed my arm lightly and I could sense his contentment.
We began walking again as he continued to hold me close. After several
minutes he said softly, “I sense that much has happened between you and
Father since you went Above.”
I’ll tell you about it later.” I paused at his look of mild concern, and
I explained, “I have so much to think about.”
“Everything is all right...between you and Father?”
I hugged him tightly and nodded. My heart was very full of things I
wanted to share with him...but some of the most important things were
secret, and I did not dare to talk seriously with him Until I could sort
out my thoughts. We walked in silence Until we were beneath the
warehouse where he guided me into the elevator.
As we ascended, I buried my nose against his vest, experiencing a
cherished, familiar sensation. I inhaled deeply and sighed. Then I
pulled a fold of his cloak against my face and drew in another breath.
“Catherine?” He looked at me. “What are you doing?”
I smiled. “I am enjoying the smell of leather and wool.”
He made no reply, but I saw amusement in his eyes. The elevator arrived
at the warehouse level, and Vincent pulled the protective gate open
while he gazed at me indulgently.
As we walked toward my car, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
crumpled bit of paper. He placed it in my hand, and I recognized it as a
five dollar bill - a Silver Certificate dated 1951
“What is this for?” I asked.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” he frowned. “Father told me to give it
to you. He was very cryptic...he said that you should ’get a sackful.
And don’t forget the baby green onions and the pickle’.”
Suddenly I was laughing. Laughing harder and more wonderfully than I
could ever remember. I was dimly aware of Vincent’s look of
bewilderment, and I was certain he must have been very confused by my
reaction. But I threw myself into his arms, hugged him tightly, and
laughed harder. When I finally found my voice, I pulled back from him.
“Tell Father I understand.” I smiled up at those wonderful blue eyes and
smoothed my fingers across the worry lines on his forehead. I’ll explain
it all tonight, I promise.” I climbed into the car and waited while
Vincent opened the large double doors of the warehouse. He returned and
closed my car door. Rolling down the window, I looked up at him. “I will
see you in an hour in my basement.”
He backed away and nodded as I turned the ignition switch. The motor
started and I let the car roll forward slowly, but then a marvelous idea
came to me, and I backed the car up while Vincent watched me, still
bewildered. I leaned from the window and smiled at him, “Make that two
hours, and tell William not to cook supper.” Then I said to him more
softly, “Vincent, I missed you more than you can know.” And I drove
away.
Epilogue
Both men and Father looked up as Catherine and Vincent carried a tray
into Father’s bed chamber. “What have you there?” Father asked from his
bed.
“Hamburgers, Father.” Vincent explained. “Catherine brought supper...
hamburgers for everyone in the Tunnels. She insisted that we bring these
to you and Ben.”
Ben Evans grinned as Catherine handed him a large brown paper sack. The
young woman smiled at him. “Thick…with the buns lightly toasted.”
Father looked at her questioningly. “And the other things?”
She nodded. “It’s all there, Father. As requested.”
“Good,” he nodded. He glared at Benjamin Evans. “This makes us even,
Benjamin. Agreed?”
The doctor opened the sack and inhaled deeply. “Agreed.”
Benjamin hardly noticed as Vincent and Catherine slipped out of the
room. But then he looked at his graying friend and saw an unusual
expression in Jacob’s eyes as he watched the couple walk away hand in
hand. Ben listened to the sound of Catherine’s soft voice as it faded in
the distance. Then, looking back at his friend, he stated, “She’s
worthy, Jacob.”
Father sucked in a breath. “I know she is, Benjamin.” He sighed deeply.
“I know she is.” And he reached for a hamburger. |