"When Fall Comes to New England"
by Aliset
Summary: Vincent and Catherine's excellent adventure, in which quite a lot of things go wrong...and right.
Rating: PG-13 (for language), eventual R in later chapters for mature content.
A/N: My thanks again to the Thursday Night Ladies---Laura, Vicky, Carole and Sandy---for your enthusiasm and patience while this was being written, and to Carole for her eagle-eyed editing. You ladies are the best.
When fall comes to New England
The frost is on the vine
And winter warnings race across the sky
The squirrels are on to something
And they're working overtime
The foxes blink and stare and so do I
'Cause when fall comes to New England
Oh I can't turn away
From fading light on flying wings
And late good-byes a robin sings
And then another thousand things
When fall comes to New England--”When Fall Comes to New England,” by Cheryl Wheeler
Chapter 1: The Journey of a Thousand Miles
"What's that, Vincent?" Catherine asked. They were in his chamber on a lazy Saturday with nothing but lots of time and the joy of being together stretching before them. Catherine was halfheartedly trying to tinker with the conclusion of a motion she was writing for court on Monday and Vincent was, somewhat more intently, trying to decipher young Geoffrey's idea of a term paper.
Vincent turned the package over in his hand. A bemused helper had delivered it just a few hours before, remarking on the odd return address. Odder still was that Vincent never got mail, unless it was from Catherine or Laura, and he certainly never got mail from someone calling himself "Jeff Radler, Etc."
"Devin sent this," Vincent said.
"Devin?" Catherine asked. "Are you sure it's not going to explode?"
Vincent's blue eyes danced in the candlelight. "Very sure. I didn't drop it, just to make sure."
They both laughed. While they knew that Vincent's brother wouldn't send anything remotely harmful through the mail, he was unpredictable too. "Aren't you going to open it?" Catherine asked.
Vincent opened the flap of the padded envelope with one sharp claw. Abandoning her legal pads and books, Catherine scooted closer to see what it was. The contents of the envelope fell on the bed: a thick highway map, a set of keys, a gas card, a phone card and a short note:
Vincent and Catherine-
Someone told me that New England is best in the fall.
The keys belong to a van parked at Mr. Ang's Grocery. (Don't worry. He knows you're borrowing it.) I've added enough supplies in this envelope to get you up there and back. Chandler, it's up to you to get to your location.---your father's summer place, right?
It's in your hands now. Take a chance on this. Fuzz, don't you dare give in, not this time.
-Devin.
PS: Charles says hello.
"I don't believe it," Catherine said.
"Nor I," Vincent said, wondering who, precisely, had told Devin of their abortive trip to Connecticut two years earlier. So far as he knew, Devin wasn't in regular contact with any of the tunnel dwellers save for Father and himself, and Father wouldn't have mentioned it either. "It's strange. And mysterious. And so very like Devin."
Catherine chuckled. "You're certainly right about that." She looked at the objects on the bed, so innocent, so full of potential. "What do you think?"
"I promised you once," Vincent replied, "that a sonnet would not always have to suffice. I don't know what prompted this package from Devin, but it seems like we've been given a second chance to make this trip happen. I don't want to waste it."
Catherine stared at him in shock. Their relationship had advanced light-years since his illness the previous summer, but it was always slow, always cautious. Was this her Vincent talking, the one who'd waited almost two years before finally kissing her? He tilted his head and smiled at her reaction. "We cannot live on sonnets alone, Catherine."
The breath was nearly driven from his lungs as she vaulted across the bed and kissed him hard. "I love you," she breathed against him.
"I love you too," Vincent replied, nuzzling against her neck and inhaling the scent of her briefly before releasing her.
Catherine looked at the objects again. "I can’t go this weekend, Vincent, not with the sentencing hearing on Monday. Next weekend?"
Vincent thought it over. So far as he knew, there were no repairs scheduled until the end of the month, no large projects which would require his skills. "A week should be fine, long enough for me to...prepare."
Catherine chuckled. "You mean, for you to tell Father what Devin's been up to, for Father to storm around the chamber for a bit, and for him to get used to the idea after all?"
Vincent laughed his breathy laugh. "Most likely, yes."
She leaned towards him again, and relaxed as his arm encircled her, drawing her close. "I love Saturdays," she said.
Vincent nuzzled the top of her head, feeling her sunlight open the dark places in his life. "I agree," he murmured.
***
The first thing Catherine did when she returned to her apartment that evening was to go digging through her address book for Devin's pager number. She wanted to ask him who'd told him about the failed Connecticut trip, but mostly she wanted to thank him. After all this time, he's still trying to make Vincent's dreams of travel come true.
She finally found the number stuck in the back of her address book with the cryptic notation of "J.R." Ever since Vincent and his world had come into her life, she'd gotten paranoid about leaving too much in her apartment that could be easily connected to them. After dialing his number into the phone, she reheated some soup from yesterday's lunch with Jenny, and waited for the phone to ring.
About an hour later, it did. "Hi, Chandler," Devin said.
"Wait, you know my number?" she asked.
Devin laughed. "Of course. How else was I supposed to get in touch with my brother without going through the Old Man?"
"True enough," Catherine replied. "Devin, about this trip---"
The amusement left his voice. "Who interfered this time? The Old Man?"
Catherine grinned, realizing they were crossing wires. "No, Devin. We're going. I just wanted to say thank you and---"
"And ask who I talked to?" Devin responded wryly.
"Well, that too," she said.
"I'm not telling. Because whoever it is doesn't want to get in trouble with the Old Man, and I can understand that. I'm glad you're going, but I'm not going to tell you my source." He paused. "Chandler, will you do something for me when you come back?"
"Sure, Devin. What?"
"Tell me how it was for him. I don't need details," he laughed, and Catherine blushed, grateful that Devin couldn't see her, "but I always wanted him to see the leaves in fall. I can't take him now, but you can. So call me and tell me about it when you get back, okay?"
Catherine thought of all the tales Devin had told Vincent as they grew up, tales of a world no one believed Vincent would ever see. "I will," she whispered, touched by his generosity. "You better believe I will."
"Hey, I have to go now, Chandler," Devin said. "But take care, okay. And enjoy."
"We will," she promised. "We will."
Her next call was to the Palmer's, long-time friends of the family who owned a cabin five miles away. In the past, they'd come in and turn on the electricity and restock the pantry before Catherine and her family arrived. "Why, hello there, Cathy!" Gertrude Palmer said. "It's so nice to hear from you." There was a pause, then: "We're both so sorry to hear about your dad. We wanted to make it to the funeral but Matt was in the hospital that week."
"Thank you, Gertrude, that means a lot. Matt's okay, though?" Catherine asked, remembering Matt Palmer as a giant bear of a man who didn't seem like he'd ever be felled by something as mundane as illness.
"Oh, yes," Gertrude said, laughing. "Up and about and raising hell as usual. It was just appendicitis, nothing serious, thankfully."
"That's good," Catherine replied. "Say, Gertrude, a...friend of mine and I are coming up to the cabin next weekend. Would you and Matt mind getting the cabin ready?"
"Sure, honey," Gertrude said. "A 'friend,' huh? You never brought any of your other 'friends' up here." The woman's voice was teasing and Catherine was reminded that Gertrude had known their family since Catherine herself was a teenager.
"Well, there's friends, and then there's friends, Gertrude," Catherine said lightly. "He's never been up to Connecticut before and I wanted to show him what fall was like."
"Oh, he'll just love it. Sure, we'll get the cabin ready. Anything particular you want in the pantry? Chocolate, oysters...?"
"Gertrude!" Catherine laughed.
She could hear Gertrude's wide grin over the phone. "Just checking. Oh, by the way---you'll have the lake pretty much to yourselves this year."
"Why is that?" Catherine asked.
"One of the main access roads is closed for resurfacing, though why they'd choose to do that now is beyond me. Anyway, most of the cabins aren't being rented out, so it's just those of us who own who'll be here. You'll have to bring your...friend by to meet us."
"We'll see, Gertrude. He's...pretty quiet." Catherine thought of all the euphemisms she'd used over the years to keep Vincent a secret from her curious friends. Jenny was a helper now, but even before Jenny had been brought into the secret, Catherine knew she hadn't really fooled her friend. Small wonder if she wasn't really fooling Gertrude either.
"Oh, a quiet type, eh? Well, bring him up here and Matt and I will be here. See you next weekend, Cathy."
"Take care, Gertrude. And thanks."
Catherine hung up the phone, grinning. Next weekend was going to be so much fun.
Chapter Two: Promises to Keep
"You want to do what? And this was Devin's idea? Have you completely lost your mind?" Father spluttered.
Inwardly, Vincent reminded himself to congratulate Catherine on being right. "Yes, Father, it was Devin's idea. Yes, we are going to Connecticut next weekend and no, I have not lost my mind." He folded his hands, looked at Father across the chess table. "Father, Catherine and I did not make this trip two years ago. It remains one of my biggest regrets, that I could have given her this one small thing and yet did not. I am not willing to let this opportunity pass again."
Father sighed. "Vincent," he said, and his voice was old and tired, "I love your Catherine as a daughter. Nothing would make me happier than to see you both realize your dreams. But Above is not safe for you---it never has been. And you're planning this trip out of state, far from any helpers? What if something should go wrong?"
"Father," Vincent said, "I love Catherine. But our relationship cannot go forward staying in our safe places. She has made numerous commitments, altered her life to keep my life and this world safe. I owe her much more than a week in the country and a life colored only by sonnets."
Father looked at him then, and the grey eyes softened. "I am not so old that I don't remember what it was like to want time alone with the woman you love. I fear for you both, Vincent. I always will. But if you're determined to do this thing, then do it. And come back to us safely."
***
The week seemed to fly by for Catherine. Joe granted her vacation request, though Catherine thought he was probably relieved that she hadn't asked for all of her available vacation time which---due to the many, many nights she'd spent working overtime---probably numbered in the months by now. She called Mr. Ang at his grocery to confirm that the van (one of his delivery vans, as it turned out) would still be available Friday night.
And as she made lists of clothes to bring and foods to take with them on the trip, of music she thought Vincent would like, it suddenly hit her: They were really going to go. She imagined Vincent's mane glowing in the autumn sun, of his joy when he first saw the sunlight and the leaves in all their varied colors. Vincent would see sunrise on the lake where her father had fished, and he would see the narrow bank of trees she had hidden in as a girl. It wasn't going to be just a story she told him anymore; they were going to see this place for the first time together.
For Vincent, the time passed nearly the same way. Remembering the objections of his tunnel family the last time this trip had been planned, Vincent expected some outburst, some variation on the theme of "But you can't go! We need you!" And he had marshaled his responses, only to find that they were completely useless....because no one was complaining.
In fact, the most emphatic response he got was from Lena, who grinned at him as they were folding laundry late Wednesday. She'd said, in a voice only he could hear, "I'm glad you're going. Enjoy yourself, will you?"
And that, in itself, was quite a thought. That he might take the time to enjoy Catherine, to enjoy being with Catherine, without leaking pipes or classes that needed to be taught or any number of ordinary things that had interrupted their time together...it was something he never knew he needed until the prospect was so close in front of him. We are going. We really are.
***
And then it was Friday night and time to meet Paul Ang at his grocery's threshold and leave for Connecticut. As Father and Vincent said their goodbyes, Catherine had hung back, not wanting to intrude. To her surprise, Father had gestured her forward and hugged her fiercely. "Come back safely, both of you." Vincent had picked up his satchel, and they had begun the long walk to Ang's threshold.
"How long do you think it'll take us?" Vincent asked.
"Maybe a day or so, if we don't break any speed limits," Catherine replied. At Vincent's look of alarm, she grinned. "Relax, Vincent, we won't be breaking any speed limits. I don't want to attract attention to us. Besides, I haven't gotten a speeding ticket in oh...months."
Her amusement was like lightening through their bond; Vincent relaxed as he realized she was teasing. Catherin took his free hand as they walked. "How long have you known Mr. Ang?" she asked.
Vincent considered. "He's been a helper for seven or eight years. Dr. Wong—Lin's grandfather—found him starving in the alley behind his shop and brought him to us. He stayed with us for three or four years, then returned Above."
There was a rapid flutter on the pipes. Vincent smiled and beat out a reply message using a rock he picked up from the ground. "Mouse?" Catherine asked. There was something so...characteristic about that choppy message.
"Mouse," Vincent confirmed. "Did you understand the entire message?"
Catherine shook her head. "Not all of it, but something about 'Go away'?"
Vincent chuckled. "He said, 'Go away, come back, okay good, okay fine.'"
Catherine raised her eyebrows. "He's happy for us."
Vincent nodded. "He's happy for us. And he asked us to bring back some apples for Arthur." His blue eyes, dancing merrily, met hers and they both laughed.
They rounded a corner and then another corner and finally, they were at the entrance to the basement of Ang's Grocery. They climbed up the short ladder and then Vincent rapped on the stockroom door. The door opened a tiny crack, then wider, and Paul Ang's face looked out at them. "Vincent, Catherine, come in, there is much to explain," he said in his careful English.
Once they were inside his stockroom, piled high with bags of rice and vegetables and foods that neither of them had ever seen, Ang handed them a note. "It's from Devin," he said, handing the note to Vincent.
Vincent opened it and read it.
Hi Catherine and Vincent---
Nice to know you guys got this far. Mr. Ang has had the van recently serviced, so you shouldn't have any breakdowns. There are some blankets and emergency food supplies in the back of the van.
About the van itself: it's a refrigerated delivery truck, only the refrigeration doesn't work. (I know I said the van was just serviced, but he didn't have them fix the refrigeration unit. I can't imagine why.) So anyway, Fuzz, you won't freeze. There aren't any windows in the back, so no one should be able to see you. So relax and enjoy yourselves.
-Devin
"Take as long as you need for the van," Ang said. "I owe your tunnels very much."
Vincent smiled slightly and nodded. 'Thank you, then." Ang guided them out to a darkened parking lot just behind his grocery. "Here you are," he said. "Full tank of gas, new tires and brakes."
"Thank you," Catherine said, and with a brief nod, Ang returned to his shop. "Well, this is it," she said. "Are you ready?"
She couldn't quite see his eyes; the hood of his cloak was up and the new moon made everything dark and foreign. But his kiss was all the answer she needed.