To Hope Anew

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I believe we are all here, Jacob." Dr. Peter Alcott gave hiscolleague a strong pat on the back. Father smiled up to him, pullingon his reading glasses with his usual easy dignity.

"Then we shall begin."

Peter took his seat among the community members, greeting severalHelpers. Father signaled to Daniel, and in a moment, the Great Hallwas flooded with the airy strains of Vivaldi's "Seasons", practicedfor weeks by the young musicians of the Underground. The sweet melodylent the perfect touch to the perfect day, as well-scrubbed andseriously-demeanored youngsters eagerly offered their beloved mentora gift of music on his wedding day.

Vincent moved over to where his father stood at the head of thecommunity beneath a trellised and garlanded arch, Cullen's andMouse's handiwork. With one man used to the practicalities ofwoodworking, and the other never far from the heights of inventivefancy, the decor was a miracle of propriety for the moment. It wasamazing how everyone's best efforts for the day were simply meldinginto a wondrous, joyous, beautiful, hopeful whole-

like the love they were celebrating - becoming so much more thanthe sum of its already incredible parts.

Pascal took his place beside his childhood friend, easily holdinglittle Jacob up and into his father's eager, awaiting arms. Never oneto wax too poetic about anything other than his beloved pipes, theslight, earnest man actually felt as though a burden had been liftedfrom his own heart, as he took in the sight of his dear friend andhis child.

There had never been such a look of peaceful anticipation on thatso singular face before, not even when Catherine was alive, Pascalobserved. Dressed in his best, profound blue eyes alive with a tenderhopefulness, Vincent's princely, mythic bearing was made sobeautifully human by the gentle care of the child in his arms. Hisfriend was at last the recipient of heaven's unbounded blessings thisday, Pascal knew, as surely as if the wonder of the moment were hisown.

"Father, will I remember what I must say to Diana?" The sweet,boyishly quiet sound of his son's voiced anxiety prompted Vincent toset a reassuring kiss to his forehead.

"Don't worry, Jacob. Pascal, Grandfather, and I will remind you ifyou need help. You will do just fine."

Pascal was about to offer the little boy his own spoken supportwhen his attention was captured by the leader of their communitydirectly before him. Father had looked up from the notes in his handand the paternal dignity of the leader of the tunnel communitysuddenly gave way to confounded -- awe -- audibly acknowledged. Theever so calm and cerebral gentleman slowly reached up to pull off hisglasses as he stared, transfixed, at the mezzanine stairs severaldozen feet away.

"Dear God!" he whispered undecorously, almost loud enough to beheard all the way to the third row of seated guests over thechildren's music playing. Vincent's attention was immediately pulledfrom his child to his father at the incredulous sound of thewords.

Jacob, senior, somehow found the presence of mind to continue histhought. "Is that Diana?" Then, a look of sheer, marvelousrecognition lit his face.

Pascal couldn't help himself; he had to turn completely around totake in the sight that had caused such a reaction from Father. Heunderstood the need for incredulous wonder the minute his eyes restedon the stairway.

As did Vincent.

There, being carefully led down the stairs by Mary's hand, andfollowing Samantha who was a lovely, arresting vision in her ownright, was . . . Diana . . . or had some ethereal spirit of the faeworld itself just stepped into their midst?

Pascal stumbled over his words, he who could find poetry in thesound of clanging pipes, but could be left literally shaking in hisboots if Rebecca were to turn a word to him over the dinner table."She looks like, like . . . "

"An angel," came Jacob's bright little voice, offering Pascal justthe word he needed. "Like the ones in the book Mary has on her bedtable."

"Yes," the pipe master replied, "an angel, Jacob."

Vincent might have wanted to add his own observations to thematter, but his words failed him. As did his mind. And as hisstrength was about to, just as he'd witnessed Jeffrey wavering inuncertain comprehension when he'd seen Samantha appear at the head ofthe stairs a moment or two ago. But his heart did not fail him.Vincent felt it . . . soar.

An audible murmur of appreciative astonishment rippled through thecrowd as well. The sound, working its way through the music, didnothing to pull Vincent's attention from the sight that met hiseyes.

Diana had reached the main floor of the Great Hall, and was gentlyleaning on Mary's offered hand, moving across the width of the Hallwith a slow, graceful bearing of regal stature, every bit the mythicspirit Vincent had known her to be. She was completely enveloped inwhite, not just from the breathtaking flow of fine brocade thatsheltered, yet outlined, her body, but from a whisper of gossamerveiling that completely enwrapped her form, like an vaporous mistthat parted momentarily in the glow of candlelight.

She was both enveloped, concealed, by the whispy fabric, at thesame instant that she was made to seem so beguilingly revealed; abeing that could have existed only within the tenuous fabric ofdreams, yet, Vincent knew her to be flesh and blood, and heart, hope,and truth, for even if "angel" was indeed the word necessary todescribe her, that was not enough.

Her bearing was beyond the heavenly, somehow, holding still to themiracle of mortality and more, an elfin enchantress perhaps not evenbound to the earth, made of mist and flame, flowers and gentlyblushing porcelain.

But still a woman, so evidently a woman, with the inner wonders ofher spirit and heart no less captivating than her fairy-like beauty.Pledging her heart, her self, to him, for always . . . in earthbound,human love.

Gently setting Jacob down to his feet between Pascal and himself,Vincent let the reality of Diana's love wash over him in sweetwonder, from within and without. Tangibly, he could read it in heremerald eyes shimmering with hope and even a soft confidence.Spiritually, he felt it radiate through him from her soul, throughhis link with her very essence that sweetly doubled his everyheartstopping moment's experience of her.

She looked the absolute picture of that love, long reaching out tohim -- real and ethereal, revealed and sheltered, of heaven andearth, soul . . . and body. The aching wonder of that love, standingpersonified before him, was so beautiful it was almost too painful tobear. He could only succumb to it, find himself consumed within it .. . with joy.

As the two women came to stand before the entire community, Maryheld out Diana's hand to Vincent. The look of true, hopeful, maternalpride on Mary's face made even Father pause in his contemplation ofthe scene, her . . . serenity . . . and acceptance of the love shehad helped guide between two long-tested souls, burnishing even herown beautifully aging face.

Vincent returned Mary's loving, urging smile, with his own, thensuddenly realized that Diana's hand in his was trembling. He lockedhis soul-baring eyes to hers, then, with a reaffirming communion shelet her heart cling to gratefully.

The musical prelude came to an end, and the stillness in the GreatHall was so profound, Diana thought she could hear the beat ofVincent's pulse through their linked hands, as well as feel it. Thelook of sheer, awestruck, wonder, was not lost in his face, even ashe sought to reassure her with a gentle squeeze of her hand with his.And even in her own unsteady amazement of the moment, Diana was ableto take in the arresting sight of her husband-to-be with quiet,tender grace. She had never seen him so enthralling, a figure of epictales and heroic deeds, powerful -- yet vulnerable as well -- andtotally welcoming.

At last, Father managed to bring himself back to the matter athand -- a marriage to be performed, two souls to be linked in publicaffirmation. He found his voice, and with relatively steady hands,replaced his glasses on his face to begin the beautiful,tradition-laced ceremony that was one of his favorite duties as headof the Underworld community.

"Who presents this couple to our assembly?" he began with a clearand elegant voice.

Mary responded to the familiar inquiry with gentle assuredness,maternal instincts freely coloring her words as never before, in allthe years she had spent helping loving hearts unite. "I do, as adaughter and son of our hearts."

"What do you ask of this community, then, for this woman and thisman?" Father had asked the question dozens of times over the span ofhis tenure as patriarch of the tunnel world. Never before had thesimple description of the two souls before him, "woman and man," heldhim with such gifting awe. He wouldn't have ever believed it . ..

"That the joining of their hearts, as the joining of their hands,may be acknowledged with joy and nurturing support." As Mary spoke,she entwined a braided ribbon with familiar, graceful confidence,around Vincent and Diana's clasped hands. Then, with a final,tenderly uplifting smile, she retreated to stand behind the couple,to join Samantha and Pascal.

Father looked up from the wondrous reality Mary had conjured withher traditional symbolism -- Diana's slender-fingered hand clasped inVincent's powerful, unearthly one, held together by love and abraided ribbon. The elder man never believed he would live to see theday, blessing heaven silently for its mercy to his beloved child, andto the young woman he loved as a daughter, too. Raising his voice toinclude all of the assembled community, Father continued.

"It has been written in Ecclesiastes, 'Two are better than one,because they have a good reward for their toil. For, if they fall,one will lift up the other. But woe to him who is alone when he fallsand has not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, theyare warm. But, how can one be warm alone? And though a man mightprevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him. Athree-fold cord is not quickly broken.'"

For a moment, Jacob Wells looked over the gathered numbers of hisbeloved family and the Helpers who were also so much a part of thenurturing community he had helped to found half a lifetime ago. Thethread that had bound them all together had always been a need forshelter and compassion, a search for the opportunity to rest inacceptance and to be cherished. So many of the eyes turned up to himnow, both old and young alike, had come to this underground haven asvictims and cast-offs from society in the world Above.

Now, faces that had seen and endured many years of hardship, andbright, trusting faces of children and the young, were radiating asingle emotion they had in common for the one person they each lovedas their inspiration and consolation . . . joy . . . for Vincent, thesoul that had withstood more pain than any of them, and for thefiery-spirited enigma that had brought him back his hope, Diana.

They deserved to love each other, Jacob Wells thought withuncontested certainty of heart, his never merely human son and thealways totally human woman that had set him free to dream again. Yes,they deserved to steady one another, warm one another, as onemiraculous melding of souls in love.

He turned to the two young people before him again, and felt hisown heart soar, believe, and find strength.

"As we listen to Vincent and Diana pledge their love to oneanother, let us join our hearts with theirs in living the promise oflove -- to lift one another up, to warm one another with our love, toprotect, nurture, and encourage all hearts in this community andbeyond."

Reaching down, Father slipped the ribbon off the entwined handsbefore him, handing it down to Jacob for safekeeping. Diana gaveSamantha her bouquet of flowers to hold, then she turned to faceVincent. As they stood before each other, the crowded Great Hallbecame only a candlelit chamber where they stood alone. No one elsewas in the room, there was no other reality holding their attentionexcept the feeling of Vincent holding Diana's hands in both his ownwith a gentle possession that encircled their souls.

His eyes reached into her essence to read the powerful, patient,generous truth of the love she had been cherishing for him over thepast three years. Vincent never believed it could be possible,either-- than heaven's mercy could find him once again. But, it hadtaken an angel to carry that mercy into the depths of his spirit.

He and Diana had thought long and carefully on how they couldpossibly express the words they needed, to commit themselves publiclyto one another. Not even the greatest minds of literature, nor themost beloved passages devoted to a heart's fulfillment, seemed toadequately define what they wished to voice. Thus, they had agreed tolet only the heartfelt words of the ancient Celtic marriage ritemirror the state of their souls, the humble, poignant commitmentdescribed, very much the reality of their promises shared.

Vincent's voice was clear and tender. "I pledge to you, Diana, myheart, my soul, and my honor, my hopes and my dreams, all that I am,and all that I shall become, from this life to the next."

A radiant smile played across translucent skin and beguilinglysweet lips, that unexpectedly pulled treasured and breathtakingmoments of communion to Vincent's mind. He did nothing to discouragetheir passage across his heart.

"I pledge to you, Vincent," Diana began in echoing response, " myheart, my soul, and my honor, my hopes and my dreams, all that I am,and all that I shall become, from this life to the next."

Even those sublime words of certainty were hardly necessary.Though spoken from the very truth of the love she carried within her,Vincent knew without a doubt that Diana had long gifted him with allthat she was, gifted him through pain, doubt and fear, guilt anduncertainty, when only the brightness of her hopes could possiblyshine through the dark turmoil of his soul, to help them both findtheir way.

To each other.

Pascal carefully set the golden claddagh band into Vincent's handwith a genuine smile of support. The gentle, awestruck tenderness ofa freely soaring heart was not to be overlooked in the uniquefeatures of his childhood companion.

Taking Diana's left hand and resting it on his opened palm,Vincent carefully slipped the wedding ring onto her finger, marvelingat how -- right -- and perfectly natural it looked. She smiled inrecognition of the symbol, and at his efforts to share its powerfulimagery as a source of inspiration for their love. A sweep of emotionfilled his heart at Diana's silent thanks.

"Accept this circle of gold as a tangible symbol of my unendingdevotion, from this day forth." The words were like balm on hissoul.

Diana felt the peace and accepting reality of his receptive heartso clearly that it took her breath away. If she ever had any doubtsthat they would be able to finally embrace their intertwineddestinies in hopeful confidence, they were all washed away with theflooding radiance of their souls reaching out to cling to oneanother, in familiar, and now publicly acknowledged support.

It was all, at long last, so totally right.

Completing the hopeful circle of fulfilling reality, Vincentpulled his tender gaze from the cherished beauty and grace of spiritof his new bride to the treasured sweetness of his little son. With apracticed and familiar ease, he lifted the little boy up into hisarms so that he was within sight and reach of the angel committingherself to them. There were more than several misting eyes in thegathered crowd of family, friends, and soulmates.

Vincent took his child's small hand into his and kissed it softly.An entrancing smile swept over the little boy's face as he touched toboth the joy in his father's heart and his own sweet happiness in themoment -- the moment that would give him an earthly mother to guidehis steps, wipe away his tears, and share his laughter, an earthlymother that had let her own soul shelter his tiny, so extraordinaryone since the very first days of his life.

"Beyond my heart, I entrust to you my most cherished gift in thislife," Vincent announced, "my son, Jacob, knowing the love andnurturing shelter you will offer him all his days."

Diana reached out, then, to the arms of her love, to accept fromhim, without guilt or hesitation, the small bundle of sweet boyishwonder that was his son. Jacob eagerly slipped his arm around hershoulder, the penetrating blue eyes he shared with his father alightwith life.

"I pledge to you, Jacob, all my love and care, as your mother,always. You will be my son in name as you have been my child inheart."

Turning to his father for a momentary prompting, Jacob began thewords he'd been practicing with Pascal, the words that his father hadexplained to him and that he rejoiced to be able to offer to theamber-haired angel he'd considered the earthly embodiment of motherfor most of his young life. The small voice was strong andheartwarming in its careful recitation.

"I promise to love . . . cherish . . . and . . . respect . . . youas my own mother. Every day of my life." A broad, delighted smilecrowned his beautiful little face with pride at having remembered allthe words properly. Then Jacob let his actions speak as eloquently ashis words: He set his head to rest on Diana's shoulder, gratefully.Vincent reached up to him and patted him softly on the back.

Father was one of the community that found himself holding backtears at the moment, but he could see the radiant support andintertwining spirits of the three beloved souls before him clearly,nevertheless. At that instant, he truly believed that with love, allthings were possible.

"We have witnessed today, the birth of a new family in our midst,one born out of love and hope, that reaches out to all of us here. Asa community, Vincent, Diana, and Jacob, we pledge to you our supportand encouragement, our hearts to shelter and our hands always toreach out to you in whatever your needs.

"May heaven smile down upon you, and God's spirit of love alwayssustain you." With heartfelt wonder, the elder leader embraced hisgrandchild and daughter-in-law, then, his son. Taking little Jacobinto his own arms, he directed his words to Vincent. "You may kissthe bride, my son."

For a breathless moment, Vincent let his soul-reaching eyes readDiana's heart. He could feel her tender, aching love resonate withher hopes, enveloping him. Yet, there was also the faintest breath ofanxious hesitation reaching him as well from her essence. He read theunwhispered uncertainty even before she knew she had formed thethought completely in her mind: They had never, actually, so publiclyacknowledged the love accepted within their hearts. For so long, eventhe honesty of eyes shining with urging welcome and need had beenfervently withdrawn from revelation, both from each other, as well asfrom those around them who loved them and ached along with theirpain.

He had told her that his newly-liberated and hoping heart couldnot yet fathom the wonder of the choices opened to them in theirlove, existing with tantalizing expectation just beyond the realm offear and doubt. She'd become so used to his stoic restraint ofemotion and her own quietly endured deprivation of communion, thateven today, at this moment between them, now that they'd beenformally committed to one another, she could still fear that hewouldn't find the courage to accept a simple call to tenderly affirmall they were to one another, all they had become.

She was afraid, Vincent read within her heart, with a wealth ofcompassion for her tenderness always on guard. She believed that eventhis day he would draw the barriers of denial like armor around hishumanity, turning an invitation to touch her soul in a kiss into astill-haunting beguilement he had no right to believe he, they,deserved.

Knowing that such hesitancy was still within her spirit, Vincentfelt his own stumble, at evidence of what his vigilance of fear hadtruly left her with. Oh, Diana, he thought silently, in guilty pain,you won't have to dread my heart's reaction to the tenderness withinyours any longer. I swear it, my love, my wife.

How could he possibly hold on to his fears now? She looked sowondrously, damnably arresting, every breath of her love in her face,the truthful pools of her eyes. They pleaded silently with him totake courage. His own words to her from earlier that morning suddenlyleapt into his mind, pushing aside the uncertainty. "Today is aboutwhat can be for us." She had drawn the truth out of him despitehimself once again, that he ached for the possibilities of lettinghis humanity reach out to her. This day . . . this night. That dropof water had finally bored a hole completely through the stony armorof his denial.

With shy grace, Vincent reached out to the mist of veiling thatstill shielded Diana's face and form. The limits and boundaries thathad surrounded them to that point, haunted them, haunted him, withimages of terror and pain, could quite possibly be as insubstantialas the gossamer texture of the veil separating her lips from his now.He needed only to believe, to gently lift it aside -- and draw her,her intimately seeking love, into his arms.

He did, with a tender astonishment, a possessive anticipation thatmanaged to stop her heart, and his, with its honesty.

Carefully, Vincent lifted back the veil up over the halo offlowers that crowned her burnished, braided hair. Samantha helpedsmooth it back for him. There was a maidenly blush on Diana's cheeksthat had been hidden till that instant, a bewitching expanse oftranslucent skin revealed by her upswept hair. He caught, too, thereality of how her unsteady breathing was causing her chest to riseand fall in a catching, uneven rhythm.

Vincent's heart was every bit as fearfully expectant as hers.They'd shared moments of tenderness before, perhaps not within sightof the entire Underworld community, but instances of sweetacknowledgment that touched their needs and desires with promisingenticement, nevertheless. But they'd only been moments stolen fromrationality, moments to mistrust as much as delight in. They'd neverbeen moments that were theirs, by right, and by honest conviction ofheart, past the pain and fear.

This would be one such moment for them, Vincent decided withcourage, the first of many, if heaven were willing to end all oftheir struggle, at last.

With the fearless urging of that decision made, he lifted onebeyond-human hand to Diana's glowing cheek, and brought his cleftlips to hers, sharing her suddenly ragged breath. Her spirit withinhim trembled, and then ascended to the heights of her hopes.

There was the truth to cling to this day, for them both. Diana hadabided by his limits for the past six months in quiet hopefulness,praying for love to work its miracle on his fears. She'd believed itwhen she'd made that maddening pledge to him, giving him his limits,but, at the same time, forcing his hand to acknowledge what could bepossible. One either moves towards love or away from it. There was noother way. The threads of destiny did not weave themselves.

For a heart-sustaining instance, Diana knew it for certain: Theirvigil of denial would never need extend beyond this presentmoment.

When they drew apart, Diana let her body rest, gratefully, againstthe strength of her husband's. Even though she realized he wasleaning on her just as gratefully, in need of support from herslender form as well. Totally fearless, he slipped his hand overcream colored brocade to ease her way along the now eager crowdpressing to enclose them all with their good wishes. The soft feel ofher body up against his felt so blessedly right.

"Well, then, my friends," Father's words managed to somehow reachthe crowd above the rising sound level, "we have a wedding feastawaiting us all."

Music filled the Great Hall once again. And the impossible wonderof destinies accepted filled the hearts of an enigmatic force ofnature and a mythic knight-protector

vanquished on the field of love.

William's contribution to the celebration of the day was indeed afeast. He and just about every member of the underworld community,and probably half of the Helpers as well, had had a hand in themagical abundance laden on the venerable tables in the GreatHall.

For a community whose frugal existence was an everyday fact oflife, the opportunity to share in the joy of an occasion so longawaited called for an outpouring of tastes, textures, and quantitiesunheard of to that day -- platters of roasted poultry and meats,vegetables and breads in overflowing arrays, cookies and sweets anddrinks all conjured by the happy efforts of dozens of pairs of handslong into even the first light of this morning.

And . . . an actual tiered wedding cake, brightened by bunches ofdelicately sugared blooms . . . violets, pansies, and rosebuds.

At the main table, Vincent and Diana were flanked by Jacob, Fatherand Mary, Samantha, Pascal, Rebecca, Mouse, and Olivia. Theconversation throughout the great room was lively, easily punctuatedby laughter, with a backdrop of musicians in an array of sizes,expertise, and instrumentations.

Father came to his feet amid all the expansive activity, andcalled on everyone's eager attention with the ease of a confidentleader and a patient parent. When he was assured of everyone'attention, he led the grace for the meal. Pascal, then, lifted aglass filled with wine in the direction of the new bride andgroom.

"To life, to love . . . To Vincent and Diana . . . To hopes anddreams and the possibility of their truth."

Everyone in the room raised a glass, whether it was filled withwine, cider, milk, or water, each eager to join their heartfeltwishes to Pascal's. The feasting began in earnest after thetoast.

Throughout the meal, Vincent and Diana could hardly share in thecomfort of each other's nearby presence. Their attentions were drawninto a dozen different directions by all those around them as thecelebration settled into the lively rhythms of a family gathering.Very little food was actually touched by either of the couple, thoughWilliam's solicitous attendance made certain that plates were heapedand glasses filled.

At one point, Diana finally was able to rest her head on Vincent'sshoulder, a look of bewildered, patient amusement on her lovely face."And I thought my family occasions were monumental!" she observedwith gentle good humor, recalling the Bennett clan reunions of herchildhood with tongue in cheek.

Vincent slipped a tender hand to her face. "You must beoverwhelmed by this all," he said in compassionate understanding.

"Not really. I just feel like I've been thrust into the midst ofmy every family gathering all at once."

"And you won't be left on your own until you have hugged everyuncle, let every exuberant aunt pinch your cheeks, and sufferedthrough every mischief of cousins you'd sooner like to disown."

Diana lifted her head from her husband's shoulder to look himcarefully in those incredible blue eyes with wonder. He had capturedher every experience of growing up amidst the loving and sometimesoverbearing extensive family circle of her childhood.

"You are amazing, Vincent," she whispered close to his ear, herheart alive with the feeling of having him so receptively near.

"And you are . . . bewitching," came his reply, in a voice thatwas dusky with rising emotion. Diana's heart leapt into her throat atthe thought of what that emotion meant, even as they were surroundedby people, noise, and happy confusion. Perhaps Mary had been right:The truth of their love could indeed prevail this day, of all days.This night of all nights.

As plates emptied and were cleared, tables were pulled around toopen a space in the center of the Great Hall. Father once againclaimed the attention of his family and followers, relishing hisduties obviously.

"I like to hope we are living in a democratic community here," hebegan, and was greeted by good-natured laughter and reminders of hisoccasional moments of autocratic

temperament. The teasing set a bright sparkle to his kind greyeyes.

"But, rank and age do offer some of us a few privileges down hereas well. One of those privileges is dancing with the bride, thoughI'm afraid the best years of my capabilities in that realm are behindme. Vincent, if I may, I would like to assume that welcome privilegenow, and lead your beautiful wife onto the dance floor first. Diana,would you honor me?"

A soft blush came over the bride's cheeks as she looked to herhusband momentarily. Diana then took hold of Father's outstretchedhand that assisted her courteously to her feet.

In the three years that she had known Jacob Wells, he had alwaysseemed to her loving, nurturing, and a guiding force in the lives ofall the Underground's inhabitants, from the youngest children to itsmore life-battered citizens. Diana realized now how he'd managed togovern so diverse a grouping of souls so well for so long: He had theinimitable gift of generosity, of being able to make anyone, andeveryone, feel special, loved, and of worth. A trait he'd passedalong to his son. A trait she'd witnessed so often in her own father,and one that was reaching out to embrace her as well today.

She may have missed having Timothy Bennett lead her in the firstdance of a wedding celebration, but she very much still had a fatherwhose heart was as filled with happiness and care for her as her ownparent ever would be.

The musicians struck up a Strauss Waltz, and Diana let herself beeasily swept around the floor in graceful, arching movements, if onlya bit slowly, to compensate for Father's ailing hip. Indeed, shecouldn't believe how well he danced, despite his state of health andher own tentative experience with the quaintly antiquated steps.Seeing the two of them so, one would have been hard-pressed torealize that Jacob Wells usually relied on a walking stick tonegotiate the uneven surfaces of the tunnels, pipes, and chambers. Atthe moment, though, he was expertly slipping Diana across thefloor.

Undeniably, too, he was lifting her heart, with his words softlyspoken to her over the music. "I will never be able to thank youenough, child, for bringing my son to this day in his life."

Diana smiled softly, reading the genuine affection and care theelder man held for her. "I believe we brought each other here,Father, Vincent as much as I."

"Yes, my dear, but yours was the more lonely and painful route.You could have so quickly despaired of every finding your happinesswith him, and no one would have thought the lesser of you."

"Father, I love him so much," was all she could say.

"He loves you, too, Diana, more, perhaps, than he will ever beable to tell you or show you. Believe that always, my dear. You are atreasure to him, a precious gift, a hope embodied. Hold your heartout to him . . . he won't let it languish in the cold."

Suddenly, Diana felt that an unvoiced confidence had passedbetween her and the leader of the Underworld. She knew he and Vincentspoke to one another about nearly everything, offering each othertheir support, advice, and encouragement. What exactly did Fatherknow about their circumstances today, the conflicting realities anduncertain dreams?

She had bared her turmoil to Mary this morning, felt compelled todo so when she could not find her way to the hope of a love totallyunburdened. The gentle lady had helped her find her convictionsagain, touch to the possibilities and not the denials.

Of course, Vincent must have done the same with his father at somepoint in time -- voiced his fears, sifted through his doubts. Had hebeen able to see the hope completely as well, at last?

The unexpected look of undisguised need in his eyes as they hadspoken earlier at table gave her her reply, echoing the mercifulfreedom he'd touched to her in his kiss at the end of the ceremony:The only thing keeping the two of them, and their welcomed humanity,apart, was the extent of the celebration around them.

When they were left to themselves, when guests, family, andfriends had offered them their final good wishes and good nights, sheand Vincent would have nothing else left to keep them from oneanother's arms.

Or would they?

Father's elegantly accented voice pulled Diana from her thoughts."I believe there is someone else ready to be honored by your hand, mydear."

Releasing his grasp, Father set a tender kiss onto her cheek."Remember child, with love, all things are possible," he whisperedsoftly into her ear.

Then he took up her hand once again -- and placed it intoVincent's, who had come to stand at the center of the Great Hall.

Holding her suddenly misting eyes with his, Vincent reached herhand to his lips, in a heartstopping, courtly gesture, then stretchedhis arm out with hers. He slipped his other hand across her back,resting it on the rich fabric of her dress lightly. Diana set her ownunsteady hand onto his arm. Easily finding the rhythm of thecontinuing waltz, they began to sweep across the room.

But there was no room. There were no other people around them, nohappy faces, no conversation or laughter.

There was only the two of them, and the music, at that instant intime.

If Diana had sheltered a breath of doubt at the end of theceremony, as to the strength of Vincent's belief in the moment, sherealized exactly what depth of conviction it had taken for him tocross that dance floor and accept her into his arms so willingly,with such sweet . . . expectation.

For, during a moment of soul-revealing torment in the early partof their entwined lives, Vincent had told Diana of the blessed wonderof the Winterfest with Catherine before she died.

He'd confessed with grief and guilt to her understanding kindnessabout dancing with Catherine for the first time at thatcelebration.

Despairing of the sweet hunger he'd felt reaching out to him thatlong ago evening across their bond, they'd had to wait until theGreat Hall was emptied before they could touch to a moment of gentlecommunion -- he and Catherine, alone, in each others' arms.

They'd swept together to the strains of a melody they could hearonly within their own hearts, lifting themselves beyond the limitedhopes of earth and reality. Vincent had blessed heaven for themoment, awed by the sheer wonder of finding himself welcomed inCatherine's embrace.

It had been a sweet, gifting, magical moment between them, withouta hint of darkness or pain. They'd been simply a man and a womansharing their very souls to the sounds of an old-fashioned dancemelody that played only in the wind beyond the wooden doors.

Vincent hadn't danced with anyone till that night. He hadn'tdanced with anyone since.

Yet, now, Diana was in his confident embrace.

A casual observer would have seen nothing beyond the charming,archaic propriety of the dance movements, but the gentle, hypnoticmotions were very much, in reality, an enveloping, tantalizing,heart-beseeching embrace of need too long denied.

They were transported . . . within one another.

The measured slipping of cream-colored brocade against his body asDiana followed along his graceful movements set Vincent's breathingto catching . . . as though there were not a half dozen layers ofheavy fabric shielding her skin from his. The distance their properdance stances placed between them was hardly enough to keep one heartfrom leaping across it to join the other in completion.

Candlelight playing amongst braided, auburn tresses, and skimmingover golden, loosened ones, could have been the bright warmth of asunny spring day. No one would have noticed that a slender,pale-skinned hand was nearly lost in a fur-backed, taloned, unearthlyone.

They would have seen only two lover's hands clasped joyfullywithin each other, two lover's bodies melding into the oneness oftheir love.

Diana let her astonished spirit cling to the details of a wondroustransformation that was taking part within her husband as theydanced. She'd always been transfixed by his arresting presence. Evenafter three years, she still found herself momentarily stunned uponfirst sight of the mythic soul she'd come to love instantly, herheart taking an instant to grasp the reality of him, and histenderness for her.

Now, the mysterious and for so long burdened presence that wasVincent had actually seemed to break free totally of every darknessthat had ever haunted him. He was open, proud, secure, and . . .free. And that freedom made him appear not more heroic a figure, butinstead, so much more human, so approachable and full of expectantpromise.

To Vincent, their dance revealed only one truth: Diana was his . .. his partner, his soulmate, his friend . . . his wife.

Not a word had was spoken between them, yet, all that needed to beshared had been, in all its richness.

The music at last came to an end, a momentary pause before thenext piece began allowing many more dancers onto the floor, many moreunexpected hearts touching to one another within the shelteringrhythm of 3/4 time: Mary and Father at long last, comfortable in theyears of their shared experiences, but somehow reaching past them atthat instant to new hopes; Samantha and Jeffrey, incredibly, oldenemies laying down their grievances and taking up their buddingpossibilities instead; Jamie and Mouse, independent spirits, eachwith their own unique perspectives in life, finding warmth in thegenerous space of their acceptance of one another's unparalleledcharacteristics.

Vincent and Diana let their friends and family members share inthe beloved possibilities of the moment on the dance floor of theGreat Hall. If they could take up their star-crossed destinies andfind fulfillment at last in tender communion, then there had to behope for them all.

Before the next waltz began, the bride and groom retreated totheir seats, to contemplate the gathering before them, surely, butalso to give their ever more receptive hearts the opportunity to easea breath away from their insistently engulfing emotions . . .

and needs. Diana leaned quietly against Vincent's chest, silently,fervently praying that she'd live through her anticipations. Theunsteady cadence to his breathing behind her did little to help herstate.

Luckily, a powerful, sheltering arm embraced her, and Jacob whohad climbed happily up into her lap, with enough familiar, reassuringease, to keep her sane and whole, for the moment. But there was alsojust enough enticing promise in that embrace to set her sensesreeling, too.

A sweet little voice coming from her lap broke in on her unsteadythoughts. "Are you really my mother now, Diana?"

The bride's attention was held to the curly-haired little cherublooking up to her with deep, searching eyes. She felt plunged into anunsettled confusion in another direction at the inquiry.

For an instant, Diana hesitated responding, her automatic state ofheart at mention or thought of Catherine drawing itself quickly intogauging Vincent's reactions. She never was truly certain she wouldnot cause him pain in any way she could answer such a question,innocently voiced by his son.

A reassuring pressure on her arm from a powerful, loving hand,told her she didn't need to be anxious.

Looking to Vincent first, whose gaze caressed her with tenderurging, she spoke her own feelings to the child freely. "Yes, Jacob,I am. You will always have your mother,

Catherine, watching over you from heaven, but I will be helpingyour father care for you and help you grow."

The profound eyes touched her heart as surely as his father's werecapable of. The little boy seemed to be attempting to grasp somepuzzling concept for a long moment; then he lifted a little hand to acool, soft cheek. "You've always been doing that for me, Mama."

Tears welled up into his father's eyes as easily as they gatheredinto Diana's. Vincent set a gentle kiss onto her hair. Diana, inturn, gathered the child more closely to her.

"I love you, Jacob. I'm so happy that you are my little boy."

"I love you, too, Mama," came the sweetest words she could everhear from the child. It was as if the final thorn within bothVincent's and Diana's hearts had been gently removed by Jacob'sgenerous blessing.

For three years, Diana had dreamed, dreaded, and despaired of everhearing Jacob call her "Mama." She'd always spoken to the child ofCatherine as such, always taken pains to be certain he knew ofCatherine's place in his life, and her own in comparison. The littleboy had once or twice asked her why Katy could call Lena the sweet,childhood endearment, how Luke, a big boy, could bring such a wealthof tender mercy to his tested parent, Olivia, with the word. It wasdifficult for him to understand why Diana should inhabit a lesserplace within his little heart, be left bereft of such an obviouslycherished gift.

Even with Vincent's patient guidance, even with his father'sunderstanding ache of heart echoing his own, the little boy felt a .. . betrayal . . . of the amber-haired angel's spirit, at the needfor distinguishing between his tenderness for the two women. To him,Catherine was the lovely lady in the storybook portrait that hisfather could only look at with tears in his eyes, a beautifulprincess whose spirit lingered beneficently over the community, butone who could not reach out to hold him when he fell and skinned hisknee trying to keep up with Luke's long strides down the tunnels.

That was Diana's place within his little heart. The comfortingarms that scooped him up, the gentle hands that brushed away tears,the warm lips that kissed the hurt, the tender eyes that shared inhis distress. She was the body he could fall asleep against when themusic concerts went on a bit too long in Grandfather's study for himto endure with proper dignity. She was the bright smile that receivedhis carefully penned efforts at writing his name with wonder andgifting appreciation. She was the scent of lavender and hot chocolateand sunshine.

She was the miracle that had made his father smile.

To Jacob, there was no other word for her, now that hislong-practiced pledge had stated his heart to everyone in thecommunity. She was . . . Mama.

Vincent heard a small sob escape from Diana's breathing. For allher resilient courage, he knew just how fragilely tender her heartreally was. If he had long harbored doubts as to his worthiness ofher love, he saw now how long she'd harbored her own doubt as to herplace within his life, and within Jacob's, the poignant, humble,quietly uncertain state of her heart always sending his own toyearning in its sight -- yearning to set every breath of her anxietyto rest.

Jacob had done it for him, just this instant, acknowledged withouturging or hesitation truly all that Diana was to him, all that she'dbrought into his young life. Could he do any less for her now? Iswore it to myself, Diana, with my pledge to you this day, Vincentreminded himself yet again. You will never need doubt my heartagain.

Father and Mary were returning to their nearby seats, catchingtheir breaths from a turn on the dance floor that had done nothingless than open their spirits finally, in complete acknowledgment, toone another. They reached the table in time to witness the lovingscene being played out between the three souls they both cherished asno others, the very instant that Vincent had regained his hope andhumanity, with Diana's, and Jacob's help.

Father reached a comforting arm around Mary's shoulders.

"May I dance with you, too, Mama?" The little boy's eyesbrightened with his request.

Diana easily came to her feet and lifted the child up onto herhip, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I would be honored, Jacob, to dance with you." With bright goodhumor, mother and child joined the crowd of dancers in a flurry ofsweeping skirts and tousled curls.

Mary came around Vincent's chair, standing behind him as hewatched his wife and son in overwhelming joy. Two work-worn, gentlehands, the ones that had cared for his own skinned knees so long ago,rested on his shoulders. "You've been blessed, Vincent, by the bothof them."

"Yes," came the soft, wondrous reply, as he slipped his own handover Mary's. He'd indeed been blessed. Jacob's treasured little soulhad kept him alive, during all the long, black months ofgrief-stricken loneliness. Knowing the child needed him was the onlymercy he could cling to during those days.

And knowing he needed Diana now was the only hope he couldpossibly accept. She'd nursed him, comforted him, confronted him, andloved him, since the moment she'd first laid eyes on him, with acourageous, patient, generosity that had withstood every test, everyheartache, without counting the cost. He, now, was reaping the fruitsof that love. She would not be left without the sweet fullness of hisown.

"Jacob will be tiring out soon, I'm certain, with all thisactivity. And I'm sure I've only a few dances left in me as wellbefore the day catches up to me, too."

Although it had already been arranged that Jacob was to spend theevening and night in the company of his grandfather and Mary, thegently leading words of the beloved lady that had been his own motherin heart came as a quietly urging shock to Vincent. Had the belovedlady read his mind?

Father had settled himself down to a game of chess with Jeffrey,no doubt offering the boy a few pointers on how to beat Samantha,though, it seemed the students concentration was straying. Marypatted Vincent's arm in motherly affection, without waiting for areply to her observation from him. Then she joined the gamesmen atthe far end of the main table.

Vincent was left to contemplate his beseeching heart, praying thathe'd have the courage to hold to his promising vows.

Guests, Helpers, and family members were willing to extend theirhold on the joy of the moment long beyond what was anticipated. Thecommunity having been forced to function under the lingering pall ofgrief for so long now clung to the opportunity to open their heartsagain to one another.

Thus, the celebration continued in earnest for many happy hours.Between the two of them, Diana and Samantha had survived the notablehonor of dancing with every male of the company, from the age ofthree to seventy-three. Mary was also similarly occupied for sometime. The charming, radiant charisma of all the women exuded to thosearound them was infectious. Everyone wanted to touch to it. It wasnothing less than heart's desires finally coming within reach.

Vincent was kept no less occupied the rest of the evening by theother half of the community. It was no great secret amongst thefemale members of the Underworld that each harbored some measure oftender attachment to the mystical presence that was their brother,father, childhood companion, mentor. Every heart reaching out to himat the moment, every good wish offered, every graceful step danced,only helped to reinforce the feeling of relieved joy at his longoverdue blessings. And in the scheme of things, Diana was consideredvery much a rescuing soulmate and not a rival to them all.

The sum total of the situation ended up with the reality of manymore hours being spent by all in the Great Hall in family fellowship.Even though the feast had begun in mid-afternoon, it was closer tomidnight than twilight before the crowd had thinned to more immediatecommunity members alone.

Samantha and Jeffrey were engaged in an interminable game of chessat one table, the play stretched out beyond normal limitationsbecause there seemed to be as much contemplation of each other asthere was of the playing pieces.

Father attempted not to let a bewildered smile escape him but wasunsuccessful. "I've barely survived one stormy romance in thiscommunity before I'm faced with riding out another," he commented toPascal.

"That one is going to hair-raising, I'm sure, too," came thereply.

William was still passing out portions of the meal's leftoverbounty to departing Helpers.

Rebecca was collecting some of the still fresh flowers to offerthem as well. Brooke swept out of the Hall with several bunches ofthem, too, to an unknown destination.

Vincent had appeared at Mary's side with a cup of tea, calling outhis greetings to a departing Peter. Then he sat down beside Mary.

"Thank you for making this day so beautiful for us all," he said,gently kissing the elder woman on the forehead.

"It was a wondrous joy for me, Vincent. It filled my heart to behere with you, today."

She slowly sipped her tea, watching as the mythic figure besideher gazed across the great room, attempting to search its parameterswith detached observation. Mary, though, could guess that hisobservation was not as casual as he'd have her believe.

Taking in the now rapidly emptying room, Vincent realized thatsince he'd begun seeing guests off, he hadn't caught sight of Dianafor at least the past half hour or so. Casting a gaze again aroundthe central part of the room, he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Mary, where has Diana gone?"

"I think she was trying to find a quiet place to sit with Jacob.He was getting tired. I offered to take him off to bed, but she toldme she'd rather I sit and rest."

Vincent came to his feet and crossed the width of the Great Halltowards the entryway leading to the Chamber of the Winds. There was asmall vestibule-type area of the room there that opened to one sideof the huge main doors at that end. It would be out of the way andquiet enough to take a tired child, he knew.

Softly turning into the enclosure, Vincent felt his heart melt ina breath of time.

The vestibule held, on one wall, the mysteriously unearthedportrait that Kristopher

Gentian had painted of Vincent and Catherine four years ago.Without having actually had his subjects ever pose for the portrait,the equally indescribable Kristopher had created a stunning depictionof the scope of love he in some way knew existed between the twosouls that had captured his secret attention.

In the painting, that could only be described as mythic and heroicin its stunning depiction, Catherine was breathtakingly portrayed,strong-willed, vibrant, dressed in a burgundy velvet gown that hungin sensuous folds around her body, turning her into a jewel-likepresence beyond price. She stood before Vincent on the canvas,actually leaning closely against his powerful body.

He was depicted in an equally arresting manner, regal, mystical,in his flowing mantle, with leather gauntlets on his hands,challenging, and provocatively possessive of Catherine in his arms,one of which was thrown across her breast, holding her to him. Thepassionate acknowledgment of all they were to each other dared to berevealed.

The painting had been too heartbreaking for Vincent to beholdafter Catherine's death.

For all its incredible beauty, it seemed to mirror to him aprofound level of humanity in their love neither he nor Catherine hadever dared to dream of touching to in reality. Kristopher had paintedthem as . . . lovers . . . in body as well as soul.

Vincent couldn't bear to keep it in his chamber, for all the painand grief, all the lost moments it would have continually remindedhim of. Yet, the . . . promise . . . of that painting was toobeautiful to leave abandoned and languishing.

At last Winterfest, the portrait had finally been hung in theGreat Hall. With the anguish of his loss slowly becoming moreendurable, Vincent had consented to have the picture displayed inthat gathering place of the community, so that it might enricheveryone's experience.

Still, its placement in the quiet vestibule and not the Hallproper, was as far as Vincent knew his heart could come towardsaccepting the present reality of the portrait's circumstances. And inthe small room, it had almost taken on the aura of an icon.

At the moment, though, the painting was not actually what hadfilled Vincent's heart with tender wonder. Rather, it was the sightof the tiny space's human inhabitants that caught at his heart withoverwhelming emotion.

An antique deacon's bench, cushioned with a rich, but worn,tapestry fabric, was placed against the wall opposite the painting.On it sat Diana, or more correctly, she reclined on the oldfurnishing, as she had her feet up on the bench as well. Nestledamidst the cloud of creamy fabric that was her wedding gown wasJacob, sound asleep, across her breast.

Diana appeared asleep as well, one hand holding Jacob's small onepressed up against her skin, above the neckline of her gown.

Vincent stole softly into the room. His heart was so full of thetender sight before him; a more profound portrayal of love couldnever be found.

One would have thought the gentle scene, being watched over byCatherine's suddenly so strong presence in the room, would have beentoo much for Vincent's tested heart to bear. Yet, the sweet sightonly lifted his heart, not burdened it, as the truth of love restedquietly displayed before the dream of it. At this point in his life,Diana and Jacob were that

truth, a reality he took hold of with a tenderly soaringspirit.

He would have left the two sleeping souls, to seek out a shawl orblanket to offer them some small extra bit of warmth in the coolimmenseness of the Hall, but Vincent felt himself so irresistiblydrawn to remain in their presence that it was as if he had no will ofhis own that instant, the love that filled the tiny chamber takinghold of his heart and unwilling to release him.

Vincent came to the side of the bench, dropped to his knees, andlightly touched his baby's curls with paternal care. Jacob did noteven stir, his deep, even breathing speaking of the total shelteredsense of repose he was in.

"Heaven's angels watch over thee, my loves," Vincent whispered.And without hesitation, without guilt or doubt or a troubled, hauntedheart, he let his gaze move from his precious child to the cherishedsoul that was now his wife.

In this most . . . maternal . . . of all poses, Vincent wassuddenly unafraid to accept the fact the Diana appeared as well sobeguilingly . . . enrapturing . . .too. He never imagined battlingthe rise of emotions steadily encompassing him as he would haveinstantly, mercilessly, done not so very long ago. Instead, his everysense was totally aware of how

. . . beautiful . . . how actually . . . bewitching . . . she was-- hair of flame, carefully tempered into plaits that still glowedamber; translucent, opalescent skin bared over shoulders and throat,that ached to be touched by a lover's hand; a face whose image wouldhave been treasured in a Renaissance palace, glowing with a radiant,ethereal grace.

He kissed her . . . and felt her take in his breath with herown.

Emerald eyes opened slowly, and were flooded with tenderness theinstant she recognized he was near.

"I must have dozed off." Her words were apologetic, her momentaryanxiousness eased by another kiss to her forehead.

"I didn't mean to wake you. It's been an exciting day. You must beexhausted."

Diana looked deeply into the features of her husband and read thetender warmth and possessive expectation in his so unique face. Itsrevelation coursed through her with certain welcome. She wasn't thatexhausted, and she almost told him so, her rebelliously

hopeful spirit nearly causing her to forget she happened to be anewlywed bride who also was a newlywed mother.

She tried to concentrate on the restraint that had becomeingrained within her during the long battle she'd fought to rein inher heart, and restore the one that beat within the powerful figureof the man kneeling beside her, but all attempts at quieting herspirit faltered in the light of azure eyes that looked upon her withas much consuming heat as tenderly innocent hesitation. And hersingle moral anchor, holding to her determined

commitment to patience and reason he had pleaded for from her, wassuddenly set adrift with the recollection that they were now husbandand wife, aching to search out every depth and breath of what thatmeant between them.

"I just needed a few moments to rest," she responded quietly,holding to the mythic

features that cherished her own for a long instant. Then she drewher attention down to

the little soul she held with sweetness that had gifted her withhis own treasured

devotion. "Jacob, though, I'm afraid is done for the night."

Smiling, Vincent carefully helped Diana to pull herself to a moreupright position, then he gently rolled Jacob from her body into hisown embrace. Diana came to her feet, and slipped her arm through herhusband's almost shyly. He turned a kiss onto her braided hair, warmwith his breath, and their need.

"We had better get this little one settled in for the night withMary, then."

Diana almost forgot to breathe, as she took in Vincent's words,spoken so naturally and without hesitation. Why? Because sheactually, fully, had expected not to be spending the coming nightalone with Vincent.

With all the unspoken uncertainty that had still found its path totheir hearts in recent days, resting fully upon their pledge to notforce their way past limits, the practical circumstances of thisnight had not even been discussed, not even hinted at. Diana had beenprepared to sensibly take her place, both literally, andfiguratively, at the foot of Vincent's bed. She would not be the oneto step beyond their self-imposed boundaries

first, knowing that it had to be her beloved's decision to shatterthose shackles of fear himself.

Oh, but she had ached at the thought of having to find herselfsharing a bridal bed with a heart that might still need to see it asa bastion of denial!

Could she believe Vincent was, at this moment, as anxious to ridthemselves of their fears and doubts as she was? That he was willingfor them to share this night, their first night together, alone,knowing what they needed from one another?

Diana rested her head on Vincent's shoulder as they joined theremaining members of the community in the Great Hall. She'd beentaken completely off guard, and her pounding heart was evidence ofthat fact. She'd dared him to love her, knowing that the battle wouldbe hard-fought and rife with his fears.

He'd dared her to believe that he could, with a quiet passion thatwas even at that instant charring those fears into cinders.