He took the bundle from Mouse and shook it out to dress as quickly as
possible. The spring-fed pools were warm, but the air surrounding
them was quite cool and he was anxious to cover himself, though the
tremors rocking him could not be attributed solely to the cool air of the
tunnels. Still, the chill was helping to distract his thoughts from
the Bond vision just experienced and he needed to gain as much distance
from that as possible before he encountered Catherine.
Suddenly he became aware of what he was holding, he paused, confused.
"Mouse, this is just a nightshirt and robe. I need a change of day
clothes, Catherine is coming."
"Know it, saw her," Mouse ducked his head shyly and blushed - he was quite
enamored of Catherine, Vincent knew.
But it wasn't just Catherine, it was the very idea of Vincent's
Catherine that pleased Mouse so much, and Vincent knew that too,
though it made him uncomfortable to think on it.
"No other clothes left, not your size, all in laundry. Tried
to find, can't," he shook his head wildly for emphasis.
Vincent knew it was hopeless. If there was anything to be found
Mouse would have found it, especially now, with Catherine here to see him.
For a moment he considered putting his dirty clothes back on, but his
fastidious nature just wouldn't allow it. He sighed resignedly.
It was probably best that he and Catherine didn't spend much time together
tonight anyway, not in his weakened state. And Catherine was
exhausted too. She needs sleep as much as I do...
His mind was wandering again, and again he shook it off. They would
have to settle for a short meeting tonight, perhaps they could plan an
evening together for later in the week, that at least would give them
something to look forward to.
"Don't worry Mouse," he assured him. "It's all right, I know you did
your best, there's nothing that can be done about it."
Mouse watched him silently, still uncertain. All right?
How? Catherine was Below, waiting, for Vincent. He wouldn't
stay, not long, not in sleepclothes. Still, nothing to be done.
Mouse shrugged helplessly and followed Vincent out of the chamber.
Would this never end? The sentries had recently reported that
the rain had not made a reappearance in a full 24 hours. Perhaps it
was over. There were a dozen things he should be doing; evaluating
Cullen's last report, reviewing the habitation status of levels D and E
with Pascal, discussing the food supply with William, checking on the flu
cases in the hospital chamber, though none of them appeared too
critical...
Despite all these things, he sat ensconced in his comfortably worn chair
as if in a daze. He never noticed Mary entering the chamber, and
actually jumped a few inches when her voice suddenly startled him out of
his reverie.
"I need to talk to you Father."
No preamble or pleasantries, how unlike her. Oh God! Could
it be raining again? He wouldn't be surprised if the sentries
had sent Mary with the news, he had quite lost his temper with James when
he had delivered the last such report. A sheepish expression
appeared on his face at the memory. He must remember to apologize.
It was really quite appalling of him, killing the messenger so to speak.
"What is it Mary?" he asked warily, not at all sure he wanted to know.
"Catherine's Below. I think you should check on her, Father.
She doesn't look at all well to me." She said this firmly, sure of
her strategy and the outcome (she'd known Jacob Wells for over thirty
years and knew all his weak points).
"Catherine?! What's wrong, Mary? Is it the flu?"
Father's dismay was very real. It had taken awhile, but he could no
longer deny Catherine's place in his son's heart, nor in his own.
Somewhere during their battles a stalemate had occurred. He didn't
quite know how or when it had happened, but she had become like a daughter
to him - the thought made him wince as the mental appellation
'daughter-in-law' snuck through his defenses before he could stop it.
'Stop this dithering Jacob!' he sternly rebuked himself.
Once again, despite his best intentions, Mary's voice startled him.
"She's at the A2 bathing pool. She looks exhausted Father.
I've insisted that she stay Below for a few days so that we can take care
of her properly. I'm really quite worried. She's being
stubborn as usual, just like Vincent always is when he's sick, but I won't
have her Above like this. She should be here with her family taking
care of her, not surrounded by strangers or alone in that apartment.
You can make her come to her senses, she'll listen to you. Please
Jacob," (she knew what an impact her use of his Christian name would have
on him). "I'll have her come directly to your chamber as soon as she
finishes bathing." As with Catherine, she left quickly before he
could come up with any response.
As she left his chamber a small smile played about her mouth, unseen by
Father. He was hooked, and she knew it. She'd forced him to
castle early, and he was now stuck in a corner. A wider grin broke
out at that analogy, 'he's even losing the invisible chess games now!'
she thought gleefully. This was the first lighthearted moment she
could remember in a week and she relaxed considerably as amusement bubbled
through her tired frame.
By the time Mary returned Catherine had regained control of her emotions.
Hopefully Mary would attribute her red, blotchy eyes to the exhaustion she
had noted earlier.
"I found this gown and robe in Vincent's bureau. Will they do?"
The answer would have been obvious to a fool (the gown was the one she'd
worn while Vincent nursed her after the attack three years ago), but she
wanted to watch Catherine's expression anyway. She wasn't
disappointed.
"Of course Mary, they'll be fine."
Catherine's peaked features had softened and her tired eyes took on a
dreamy, far-away look. Mary was sure she was seeing their Bond in
action. Somehow she knew that Catherine and Vincent were in direct
communication during that fleeting, tender moment. But there quickly
followed a sadly resigned wave of emotion across her face which Mary had
not anticipated. Though she didn't know what had caused it she felt
a pang of remorse for having initiated it. Whatever it was,
Catherine clearly did not want to discuss it, at least not now. Mary
busied herself about the chamber, calmly filling her in on the latest
pieces of information she had.
"The guest chamber should be ready shortly. We're having a slight
problem finding linen, the laundry crew is really backed up, but I think
there's an extra set in one of the storerooms. Rebecca is looking
now and she'll let you know when everything's ready. A message just
came over the pipes, Vincent should be back in about half an hour.
William has dinner ready for the crew returning, you make sure and eat
with Vincent. You have to keep up your strength Catherine, there's
quite a flu epidemic among the children right now."
"I will Mary." Catherine felt properly chastised, like a schoolgirl
who couldn't be trusted to look out for herself. I wonder why it gives
me such a warm feeling then?
"By the way," Mary stopped halfway towards the chamber exit, "stop in and
see Father before you do anything else. Make sure and claim you're
not sick; tell him that you don't want to stay, or put anyone out.
Believe me Catherine, I know Jacob Wells. Do as I say, and he may
never let you leave!"
They were both chuckling as Mary left. But Catherine's heart had
caught at Mary's lighthearted advice. To stay... forever...
Two more items checked off his list; Cullen and Pascal had both reported
in, and with guardedly optimistic news. Make that three items; James
had stopped by at the end of his shift to tell him there was no rain in
sight for now, eager to make up for the bad news he'd brought two days
before. Well, at least he'd been able to apologize and get that
guilt off his chest. If they could just maintain the status quo for
one more day, he might be able to breathe a little easier. Next
item, check on the children.
He was just reaching for his bag when Catherine entered. Mary's
words came back to him full force, but he scarcely needed them when her
fatigue was so very evident for all to see.
"My dear! Come here and sit down immediately before you fall down."
His physician's manner was in the forefront, he was in his element.
"Whatever can you be thinking of to wonder around like this? Bed is
where you belong young lady!"
Catherine was about to reply per Mary's advice when a thermometer was
popped into her mouth and the business end of a stethoscope slipped under
the neck of her gown. He seemed to be working himself into quite a
state. Perhaps she wouldn't need to say anything at all. What
an ironic twist this was. She should have asked Mary for a few
helpful 'Father' tips long ago.
Several minutes passed with only the sounds of Father's muttering as he
removed both the stethoscope and thermometer and proceeded to make some
notes in his patient log. She waited until he'd finished taking her
pulse before she ventured to speak.
"Really Father, I'm fine. I just came to see how all of you are
doing. Please tell Mary there's no reason for me to stay here,
you're all much too busy without having an extra person to worry about."
She had said much the same thing to Mary earlier, with exactly the same
intent. How could she behave so shamelessly?!
"Don't talk nonsense Catherine! You've got a fever, your pulse rate
is too rapid and your breathing is labored. You will do as I say
young lady and spend several days, at the very least, with us."
(Wow! two 'young ladies' in just as many sentences.) Throughout
the whole encounter he managed to maintain his very best scowl under a
menacing, lowered brow (he must really be enjoying himself).
"I'll contact Peter tomorrow and he'll get in touch with your office."
"All right Father, if you insist," Catherine responded demurely. She
quickly decided that now was not the time to fill him in on her vacation
time. Shameless!
Catherine moved easily about the chamber, her sense of purpose seeing her
through these last, tired minutes of preparation before Vincent arrived.
She had stopped at the kitchen on her way from Father's chamber where she
found William and a huge tray waiting for her (Mary had already been there
it seems). It was loaded down with enough food and tea to feed five
people! She didn't know how she'd carry it the short distance to
Vincent's chamber, much less eat anywhere near her share of that vast
quantity. But William had that covered too. Once again Kipper
was pressed into service, not that he seemed to mind, especially when
Catherine slipped him one of the four blueberry muffins stashed on the
tray on his way out.
She looked about her, satisfied that all was as she wanted it. The
covered plates were on the table, the tea cozy was keeping the tea warm.
She had a second tea kettle of hot water ready and a large, shallow basin
with some foot powder William had provided which he swore by ("a man of
my size knows about sore feet" he'd asserted wisely). The
chamber held a low, mellow glow from the amber backlit window glass and
the few candles stuck in various nooks and crannies about the room.
There were fewer of those lit than normal tonight; despite her assurances,
Catherine knew that she did need the rest everyone was so anxiously
insisting upon - she didn't want to scare Vincent away with her haggard
appearance! As if she ever could, she thought somewhat ruefully.
Come on Cathy, lighten up! a voice deep inside her said.
She stopped suddenly, in the middle of the room, closed her eyes and took
a deep breath. He's coming. Vincent... Though
there wasn't a sound, when she opened her eyes he was there.
Was there ever
any doubt?