Chapter Three

He was waiting for her when she descended from the entrance above him. She felt awkward, but determined.

"I got your message. I was glad to hear from you Diana."

"I have a woman who needs your help Vincent." She intended to be all business.

"So I understand. We’ve called a Council meeting. They are awaiting us in Father’s chamber."

"Good." She started to walk forward, Vincent walked beside her.

"Have you been well?" He asked.

"Yes. And you?"

That was a hard question for Vincent. "As well as I can be." He replied, "Somewhat better of late."

Diana was surprised to hear it. "Really, why is that?"

"I’m not sure." Vincent hesitated. "You know there have been times...you know the sorrow I bear...Yet lately, it seems to be lifting."

Diana nodded. "They say time heals all wounds."

"Perhaps." Vincent agreed. But he felt it was something else. A perplexing something he had felt since that morning in the park. But since he could not define it he did not try to explain further.

The Council was assembled in Father’s chamber. Mary was there, Pascal, William, Kanin, and of course, Father. Diana was suddenly a little nervous. But she plunged right in. She explained what had happened, told them what she knew about her witness from Catherine’s medical file. She looked about her when she finished.

Father was the first to speak. "And you want to bring the woman down here?"

"Yes." Diana confirmed. "It is by far the safest place for her."

"And what about us?" William asked. "Will we be safe with her here?"

"Of course. Do you think I would suggest it if I thought otherwise?" Diana bristled.

"Diana, please, William is just pointing out the obvious." Father interposed. "She has twice been confined to a psychiatric facility that we know of. It is a legitimate question."

"Rose is just as sane as you or me. It’s just that something truly terrible has happened to her. I’m sure of it. The doctors say there is no physical reason for her not to talk."

"You believe her inability to speak is trauma induced?" Father asked.

"Yes."

"Well, There are certainly documented cases of that. I will have a look at her. If upon my examination..."

"I’m afraid you can’t. She is terrified of people, of doctors, medical personnel particularly. She strikes out when she feels cornered - and...she bites."

"She what?" Father gasped.

"She bites, Father." Vincent chuckled. They all turned to stare at him, except for rare times with Jacob, Vincent never laughed anymore.

"Yes, but you have to understand under what circumstances." Diana insisted. "I told you I don’t believe for one minute that she is insane, or violent even. Not really. What she is, is terrified. She cannot bear to be touched; I suspect because of rough handling. And there is no coddling in the kind of place she’s locked up in. It doesn’t matter what she’s frightened of, how she feels, she has no more rights than an animal in a zoo. Less even. When I first saw her she was chained, literally chained, to a bed."

"Chained?" Vincent repeated.

"Yes, chained, and drugged. You have no idea what this place is like. It’s bedlam revisited. There is no privacy, no dignity. The noise is constant. The bang of the metal doors, people being buzzed in and out, the other inmates - talking, ranting, screaming. You can’t hear yourself think. They constantly shoot her up, against her will, with mind altering drugs. Her hands are bound by restraints at all times. She was subjected to shock treatments."

Vincent no longer looked amused, he looked nauseated instead.

"I understand what you are saying Diana." Father conceded. "The kind of facility you speak of, I’ve seen it myself. I would have thought that things would have improved since my time. I suppose I was overly optimistic. Generally it is because these institutions are under funded and understaffed. They find it easier and more cost effective to treat patients pharmaceutically rather than with individualized care. But she has been diagnosed as mentally ill. You can see the risk that poses to us."

Vincent could no longer stay silent. "Father, we cannot allow this woman to be returned to that place. It would be tantamount to a death sentence. They are killing her by inches there."

Father acknowledged this with a resigned nod.

Diana ploughed ahead, "Please Father. I know I’m asking a lot. But you all know what my skills are - that I can usually see below the surface of things. I am telling you that she doesn’t deserve what’s been done to her. On the night she witnessed the murder, she tried to save that man’s life. He was a gang member, probably a murderer himself. But Rose risked her own life to save his. What kind of a person does that?" Diana pleaded.

"A good and a brave one." Pascal answered.

Diana turned to him, sensing an ally. "And she is willing to help us convict these men. She, who is frightened of people walking down the street, is willing to testify to the best of her ability against men who she knows to be sadistic killers."

They were all silent for a moment, contemplating this. Then Pascal asked, "But if she is so uncomfortable around people, what makes you think she would want to become part of our community?"

"There are so many chambers here. I know there are others here below who don’t participate much in the daily activities of your world." Diana answered. "I thought maybe you could let her live on the outskirts for a while. Keep an eye on her from a distance. And then, little by little, one at a time, let her become acquainted with all of you."

Pascal nodded - acknowledging the sense in this proposal.

"It could solve our problem with Elizabeth." Mary pondered.

Diana looked from one to the other. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes." Mary explained "She is an elderly member of our community. She lives in one of the outer tunnels. She values her privacy, her independence. But she has been becoming increasingly infirm, and her eyesight is failing. Yet she won’t move closer. We’re worried about her. If we told her this woman’s story, if she could be persuaded that this woman needed her help, perhaps we could get her to accept her as a near neighbor. Neither one then, would be totally isolated."

"There is a small chamber adjacent to Elizabeth’s that is unoccupied." Pascal pointed out.

"I don’t know." This was from William. They were all quiet again, ruminating.

"I have to go back." Diana had said her peace. Now she could only hope. "I don’t like leaving her alone. Thank you, all of you, for considering this."

"I’ll guide you out Diana." Vincent offered.

"We will discuss this some more Diana, amongst ourselves, and let you know of our decision." Father told her.

Diana nodded her gratitude. Vincent gathered up his cloak and preceded her up the stairs.

"Did you notice how interested Vincent seemed in the plight of this woman?" Pascal asked them as Vincent and Diana disappeared from view. He paused, "It occurs to me that perhaps the best way to help Vincent..."

"Is for Vincent to help someone else." Mary finished for him. They both turned to Father.

"It might be just what he needs" Mary continued, "to teach the woman to sign,...to trust. It sounds to me as if all she needs is safe place. We can give her that Father. We’ve taken troubled children here; children the world above us was sure were already too damaged to help. Surely we cannot turn this woman away simply because she is older than they are."

Father nodded, glancing around the room.

"You have been silent Kanin. Have you nothing to say?" Father wondered.

"When Diana was talking about the asylum" Kanin replied "I couldn’t help thinking of those seven months I spent in prison. It sounded familiar to me: the noise, the lack of control, the loss of human dignity. I watched the violence of the men around me, saw their ruined lives, the lack of remorse in them. And of course, the danger they were to myself. So many of them were predators, waiting to pounce if I let my guard down for one moment. And I remember every day, every minute, all I could think of was this place, of coming back here to these tunnels. And when they released me and I actually walked to the entrance in the park, and I swung open the gate and got my first glimpse of home - this home - I remember thinking that St. Peter’s gate could not be more beautiful than the one I was passing through. And that this is truly what it must be like to enter Heaven."

Kanin paused, swallowed hard. "I say let her come."

Father looked around at all of them.

"I second that." Pascal said, raising his hand.

Mary put her hand up too, and then, even William did.

"I am pleased you came to us with this Diana. I haven’t seen you in so long, I was worried..."

"That I was too embarrassed to ever come back." Diana completed the sentence for him. Vincent nodded.

"I was. But this was too important to allow my personal feelings to interfere."

"I’m glad. When you left the last time....You wouldn’t let me tell you..."

"Please, there’s no need for you to tell me anything. I’m so sorry I acted the way I did. I didn’t plan to, it was an impulse. It was insensitive of me...I know it’s much too soon."

Vincent looked at her earnestly, vacillated, then finally told her, "The timing was irrelevant Diana. But please don’t think that I am unmoved by your feelings. That a woman as brave - as giving and beautiful as you are - would offer herself to me with such honesty and passion...it was completely unexpected, and I’m afraid I was somewhat at a loss as to how to respond. But I’ve been wanting to tell you, what it meant to me...what you mean to me."

"I do know Vincent."

"I hope you do. Diana, I did not want you to think I was unmindful of the value of what you have to offer, or ungrateful simply because I cannot not accept it."

They were both looking down as he told her this, both somewhat embarrassed and flustered.

Diana asked him "Vincent, in time, do you think...?"

He looked up at her now, shaking his head slightly.

"When Catherine and I first began our journey together, when I found her in the park, and brought her here to heal, I felt myself, from the very beginning, unaccountably drawn to her. I would leave her from time to time, in Mary’s care, or in order to allow her the privacy of her own thoughts, but I would only be biding time until I could return to her. And then when I would set out for my own chamber, and I would start to anticipate being near her again, my heart would swell with emotions that were previously unknown to me. I had read descriptions of passionate love in books, yet they were just words, they had little real meaning.

"Before her there had been another woman, a girl actually, but this...with Catherine...was entirely different. Then I had felt some vague yearnings, some restless desires, but those were imprecise and half formed; and they were mostly physical in nature. But with Catherine, all of me, every part of my being, responded to her. Now all the import of the books I had read, all the poetry, all of Shakespeare’s sonnets particularly, suddenly burst upon me with a clarity that left me breathless. I had never thought love like that was something I could be a part of. So it was with an unprecedented delight, and with a growing sense of fulfillment that I would turn my steps towards my own chamber, even if it was only to watch over her as she slept. To be near her was enough.

"This connection we had...from the very beginning, when we spoke to each other, Catherine and I, it was always with a sensation that we were exchanging something beyond words, something beyond any form of communication that either of us had known existed. What we shared was an understanding, a meeting of the minds, that neither one of us had ever had with any other person before, not even with those whom we loved most.

"So for both of us this was something very new, very new and very wonderful. Yet as the days passed, something even more fantastic began to occur. Catherine had become as anxious for my presence as I was for hers. She would grow restless with my absence, and then she would listen for my footstep, strain her ear for the sound of my voice. She did not tell me this, she did not need to. Because as she would become aware of my approach, I could feel not only my own joy, my own anticipation, but hers as well. It was at this time that the bond between us was being forged, and it was growing more tangible, more durable with each passing day. And with each passing day my life expanded with pleasure, and yes, with pain too, that I cannot even begin to put into words.

"Diana, on the last day of my life, I will be as much in love with Catherine, as devoted to her, as faithful to her, as I was when we walked these tunnels together. I am not sacrificing anything. These aren’t the declarations of a martyr; I give up nothing by continuing to feel what I feel for her. Those two years that we had together were beyond anything I could have dreamed of for myself. And those last few months, that time together held enough love to last me through a hundred life times. I can never give myself to anyone else; for whatever I have, whatever I am capable of bestowing, has already been given, -given and received. Her death has not - can not - alter that. My love for her is unchanged and unchangeable.

"She is still, even now, everything to me. I have not lost her. That would be impossible. Diana, I cannot wish for my own death. I have a son to care for - to raise. But when my last days are near, my last hours, I hope to once again be able to feel that anticipation which was ours in the beginning of our love, when each of our hearts told the other that what it cherished most was near."

Vincent had turned from her, leaning his head against the tunnel wall. Diana put her hand on his back.

"I’m sorry Vincent. I didn’t mean to make you feel you had to explain. And I think I must have known anyway. It’s just, it’s just that it is so easy to love you."

Vincent turned towards her now, deeply touched. They hugged. Diana moved back, looking wistfully up at him, then turned and climbed up the ladder to the opening above her.

 

Vincent returned to Father’s chamber.

"We have decided to allow this woman, Rose, to come to us, Vincent."

"I knew that you would - that you could not turn this woman away." He smiled at everyone present.

"We will watch her, from a distance, just as Diana has asked. Mary and I will speak to Elizabeth. If she is not agreeable - we can make other arrangements."

"Diana’s judgment has proved sound Father. If she feels this woman can be trusted, that is enough."

 

Vincent waited until just after dark. He noiselessly climbed to Diana’s rooftop patio, leaving a note for her. But he paused as he turned to leave. Something held him there. "She is coming my own, my sweet, were it ever so airy a tread..." Tennyson again. In the air. Vincent stood still for a moment, then disappeared over the side of the building.

Diana had been expecting his missive. She found it a short time later. She knew they wouldn’t let her down. She went to share the good news with Catherine.

"We’ll go tomorrow." She told her. "But first you need some more clothes, some essentials. We’ll go shopping."

Catherine felt as if Diana had done enough for her already.

"Don’t worry. The City of New York is footing the bill. You’re an important witness Rose."

There was her buzzer again. She had been expecting this as well. She hadn’t been answering her phone. It was Joe. She rode down to meet him, she didn’t want him upsetting Rose.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing Diana? No one gave you permission to take custody of this woman."

"I had to Joe. They were drugging her again. It wouldn’t have been long before she couldn’t remember anything anymore."

"Yeah, well, what do you intend on doing with her now?"

"It’s already done Joe. It’s all arranged. She’s going some place where no one can find her, no one can hurt her."

"Let me guess. You’re taking her to the safest, soundest place on earth."

"That’s right, I am."

"And Vincent? Will she be safe around him?"

"More than safe. She’ll live under his protection. Everyone there does. It was Vincent

I’m sure, that convinced the others to harbor her."

"Where is this place exactly?"

"Again Joe, I can’t tell you. Legally, they really don’t belong where they are."

"They’re squatters?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"I see. More of this we’ll all interpret, or rather ignore the law as we please. I can see why these people are your friends Diana. Birds of a feather."

"I didn’t hear you complaining when I shot Gabriel."

Joe backed up. "I didn’t hear you say that! And don’t ever repeat it. Jesus Diana! I’m the District Attorney for God’s sake!"

"But you’re my friend too. You know you are Joe. Whatever you say, I know I can trust you. And you know you can trust me. I’m going to close this case. We’re going to get two cop killers the death penalty, or at the very least put them behind bars forever. This is personal. Jesus Machuca was a friend of mine - I was a guest at his wedding, his daughter’s christening...and then at his funeral.

You might not always agree with me, but you know I do my job. You do your job and I do mine. And all we can do is pray that we always do the right thing - the just thing. That’s what I believe in - Justice - and so do you."

Joe couldn’t help feeling that she was right. He believed in her. Impetuously, he grabbed her and hugged her. "God, I hope you know what you’re doing!"

They stood for a minute, his arms around her. Suddenly awkward, they parted. Diana went back upstairs to make up her sofa bed for Catherine.

They spent the morning going over Catherine’s testimony. Diana picked up more details. In the afternoon they went shopping for toiletries, a sewing kit, other odds and ends; they stopped and had pizza for dinner. Then to Catherine’s surprise they ended up in a blind alley. Diana set her shopping bags down and motioned for Catherine to do the same. Diana pulled open an old rusty door that led to the basement of a building.

"I know this looks scary. The place I am taking you to, it’s not like anything you have ever seen before. It’s underneath these streets, under the subways. It’s a safe place. Please don’t be frightened."

Catherine nodded. She wasn’t afraid. She peered into the dark, dreary, musty basement - maybe she should have been - but she wasn’t. They descended the narrow steps, opened a trap door in the floor, and descended further via an old iron ladder that was set into the concrete. There was the odor of minerals, of stagnant water, of fresh turned earth. Catherine turned around at the bottom, she saw a ray of light coming from somewhere. Her heart lifted. It sang and danced. She picked up her bags and followed Diana into a tunnel. It wound away into the dim light, they followed. Her heart followed. Suddenly they stopped, arrested by the sound of a far off explosion.

"That would be Mouse!" Diana smiled. "They sometimes excavate to build new chambers. Dynamite - that’s Mouse job. His favorite job, I imagine."

Far below them Kanin, Vincent, Jamie and others were digging out a new chamber. The ground trembled underneath their feet as Mouse’s contribution to the project blasted into the rock wall. Is that what Vincent felt? He wasn’t sure. Because something was vibrating all through him. He stopped, stood still. "My heart would hear her and beat, were it earth in an earthy bed..."

Above them Diana stopped at an intersection, she had found what she was looking for. She bent down and picked up a large stone. But she waited - the pipeline was already in use. Catherine stepped over to the pipe. She ran her hand along the metal. But she could barely feel anything through the bandages and the raw skin of her hands. She leant down and lay her cheek against the bar, feeling the vibrations. Diana stared at her in amazement. She gaped in even greater astonishment when her witness lifted her face again; it is full of contradictory emotions, sorrow and joy, peace and agitation. The itch in the back of Diana’s brain was throbbing. What was it about this woman?

But the tapping had stopped. Diana took the opportunity to rap out a message of her own. She was not quite fluent in the language of the pipes, but she knew enough to send a basic message. They waited in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. A man in what looked to Diana and Catherine like monk’s robes came to meet them. He didn’t say much, his face was shadowed by a cowl, he held a lantern over his head. He led them through dark tunnels; the lantern not doing much more than throwing ghostly shadows onto the walls. Diana and Catherine stumbled a couple of times, but they kept moving. They finally entered a slightly better lit area and the women could discern murals painted on either side of the galleries. The images floated by them as they kept to their path, the flickering light of the lantern making them seem to be almost in motion at times. Some of the pictures were mundane, some odd and fanciful: A New York sky line that didn’t seem quite right, an old black woman stirring a cauldron, a man holding a lion cub. Catherine had but a vague impression of all this. She moved as if in a dream. What a strange effect this place was having on her. It was certainly an odd place, to be sure. But still, she felt as if her heart could burst with the way it was beating.

They finally reached their destination. The man uttered a low farewell and was gone. Catherine could smell the distinct odor of oil paints.

Diana and Catherine entered a large, warm, dimly lit chamber. An elderly woman was sitting by a stone hob. Catherine turned her head upward to see that the fire pit was vented high above them, up into a dark place. The room was comfortable; it was set about with objects that Catherine suspected were pieces from Museum gift shops from around the City. There was a large bed heaped high with home made quilts and Afghans. A long table was literally spilling over with paints, brushes, bottles of mediums and paint thinners, pallets and paint covered cloths. Diana greeted the woman, introducing herself and Catherine.

"I’ve been expecting you child. Come closer. My eyes are not what they used to be. Ah, well. It is no good. I cannot see you properly. I see only shadows and shapes now. But sit down, be comfortable. I hear we are to be neighbors."

Diana told Elizabeth about the signals - one tap for yes, two for no. "That will do for now, I suppose. We will work something out I am sure." Elizabeth assured Catherine.

Elizabeth’s chamber was long and low. At the end of it was a small corridor, and then almost directly across from her chamber was another, much smaller one with a wider entrance. It was to this alcove that Elizabeth led them. In the corner of the room a bed had been set up for Catherine. There was a small circular table by it; and on it was a tarnished brass candle holder with a homemade candle stuck into it. Across from it was an old wooden dresser that had seen better days. But there was a white lace runner adorning the top of it - held down by a large blue crystal rock. There was also a hair brush, comb and mirror set. Each instrument had colored stones and shells pasted to the back of it, the work of a child.

"The girls made that." Elizabeth informed them. "Everyone has contributed something. They sailed through here this morning like a flock of magpies, you wouldn’t believe the ruckus they made."

There was a beautiful pastel colored hand made quilt, several articles of clothing: A dress, a night dress, a crocheted shawl, a knit pair of gloves with missing finger tips, an embroidered vest. There was a watercolor of the carousel in Central Park hanging over the bed.

On the bed itself was a large map that was folded over unto itself, each sheet representing a level in the tunnels. There were small crudely drawn pictures of all the residents with their names written underneath: Father standing by his bookcase leaning on his cane - Vincent at his table, bent over his journal, his mane falling over his face - Mary sitting in her rocking chair. There was a depiction of a large rodent in one chamber with the letters ME written under it.

"Let me guess." Diana laughed. "This is from Mouse."

"The map, yes." Elizabeth answered. "He made it himself, and no one knows these tunnels better than he does."

On her pillow was a small carved wooden pendant, a stem with two leaves supporting a half bloomed rose.

"Cullen carved the rose, and Mouse strung it for you."

Catherine glanced up at Diana and Elizabeth, deeply touched. She fumbled with the clasp but then managed to suspend the rose about her neck. ‘It’s lovely’ she mouthed to Diana, who was getting quite good at lip reading. Catherine acknowledged all her gifts by nodding and smiling at both Diana and Elizabeth. Then she noticed something half pushed under the bed. She bent down and retrieved the items. Something very like a current moved up her arm and into her chest. She slowly lifted them, sitting down on the bed and placing the articles in her lap.

"Those are from Vincent." Elizabeth said when Diana described them to her. " It’s a book on signing. Peter gave it to him long ago so that he could teach Laura to sign; and a calligraphy set. It’s not new. Some of the pens are missing and the bottles aren’t full, but Vincent thought you might like to have it. He wanted me to tell you that when you’ve settled in, when you’ve had a chance to get used to us all, he would be happy to help you with either thing or both, with writing and with signing."

"I didn’t know Vincent could sign." Diana remarked.

"As beautifully as he speaks." Elizabeth smiled.

"Is that even possible?" Diana wanted to know.

Catherine didn’t remember crying. She was sure she could not weep any more than she could speak. But she cried now. She sat on her new bed and hugged the book and calligraphy set to her and sobbed her heart out. She wished she could tell Diana how grateful she was. But Diana knew anyway, she sat down beside her.

"You’re safe now Rose, really safe. Everyone here takes care of each other. You’ll see."