To Hope Anew

Chapter 2

"Diana, if you have found a place in our hearts, it is because ofyour own loving care to us, your own generosity and devotion. Notbecause you are taking Catherine's place."

Vincent had read the gratitude in her eyes at his words thatnight, the relief. The words were true. They came from the opentruthfulness of his heart.

His heart -- it was destined to be shadowed by pain. Feeling toolittle to hope, feeling too much to ever be comforted. Yet, his heartat that moment had been so sweetly pierced by the sight before him,by the sounds and the words echoing in his chamber.

Winterfest had just come to a close, and it had been an ordeal ofthe most painful sort. It was the first festival that had beencelebrated since Catherine's death three and one half months before.Vincent had prayed for the strength to endure the memories, foughtthe overwhelming desire to quietly excuse himself from evenparticipating. Surely, everyone would understand his absence.

But, the festival, and all it meant to their history, unity, andidentity as a community was so important an occasion. And he was verymuch an integral member of that community. Setting aside his ownstruggles, he had to participate.

And he had to suffer the pain.

He could almost feel Catherine's hand in his, remembering how hehad first led her through the darkened Great Hall last year. He couldstill see the warm candlelight glow on her serene face. He couldstill hear their happy conversation, standing together admiring thebeautiful and equally mysterious tapestries on the chamber wallsaround them, those fairy pictures of long ago.

And when the night's events had ended and the Hall was theirsalone, he could still hear the music in the wind that played forthem, as they danced. He had never allowed himself the sweet pleasureof holding her so, till then, of softly sweeping to the music of aphantom waltz, the rhythm of their hearts beating closely togetherkeeping time. Holding her, holding Catherine.

But, this was another year, and another Winterfest. Everyone waspolitely, and awkwardly passing the evening away in little groupsscattered about the Hall. The music was subdued; smiles faded quicklyin guilt, the entire community feeling in its spirit a profound senseof loss.

Vincent had braved the pain in the company of the children. Thehopeful promise of their lives had always served to brighten his. Yettonight even they seemed lost.

Samantha, especially, fought back the tears as she held Jacob onher lap. She was not yet twelve, but already sheltered a sensitive,loving young woman's heart within her. And that heart ached for thegrief she knew her beloved teacher was now nearly consumed by.

"Tell us a story, Vincent, please," she had asked quietly,hopefully, knowing how easily he could lose himself in far-off times,perhaps leaving his pain momentarily aside.

Vincent smiled a breath, then reached his had over to takeSamantha's. She could not mistake the gratitude in his eyes. A storywould shorten the interminable evening. "What would you like tohear?" he asked her.

Ordinarily such a question would have had the children calling outdozens of literary titles at once. Each had their favorite, andhearing it come alive through Vincent's wondrous dramatic abilitieswas a treat each child joyfully anticipated.

Yet tonight, almost as one, all eyes in the group turned toSamantha and her guidance in the matter. More than any of them, shecould gauge Vincent's spiritual state with the tender compass of herown heart. She'd be certain to choose a benign story, with littlereference to lost love and tragedy.

"How about 'The Last of the Mohicans'?" she asked. The consensuswas unanimous. An adventure-laced tale of the pioneer spirit in earlyNew York. Before long, the children were filling in the details ofHawkeye's world with Vincent's direction.

Across the banquet table from the children's group, and to oneless-populated side of the Great Hall, Diana sat on a bench next toMary in quiet contemplation of the gathering before her. Communitymembers and Helpers came up to the women occasionally and held eachin short passages of greetings and conversations. But like everyoneelse present in the room tonight, the women's thoughts were turnedinwardly, seeking to make some sense of it all.

Diana's gaze rarely strayed from the scene across the room, thatof Vincent and the children. Mary's gaze rarely strayed from Diana'sface.

"They love to be with him, " Mary observed gently. She could seethat Diana's eyes shimmered with a light not necessarily reflectingthe candles in the Great Hall. She knew where that light came from,without surprise. The heart seeks its own solace, despite a woman'sbest efforts to discourage it. Mary herself had fallen victim to sucha search, years ago. She was still searching.

Diana didn't have to ask Mary to whom she was referring. Alreadycircumstances of the past few months had assured Diana that the elderwoman would be a caring soulmate, understanding, perhaps like noother in the community could, the disarray of her emotions. Still,Diana tried some measure of detachment.

"He listens to them and treats them all with respect. Childrenthrive on that, " Diana answered.

"We all need to feel acknowledged." Mary had placed her arm aroundDiana's shoulder just then. The fragile-hearted young woman lookedinto the older woman's gentle face filled with quiet strength andfound a soothing kinship within it.

"Jacob will have an extraordinary father." The words came out alittle too hushed, she realized too late.

"A child could never be loved more." Reading the turmoil in theyounger woman's spirit at that instant, Mary knew she had to bringher some comfort. "His heart is so full of pain now, Diana, his griefis still so new."

"What can I do for him, Mary?" Diana found the tears ready to slipfrom her eyes. She fought them back, but the words had already passedbeyond her reach. She had not intended to voice her own pain andhelplessness. Still, she had little control over her heart thesedays.

With calm understanding, Mary took both of Diana's hands intohers. She was so familiar with the nature of her companion'sdistress. And of what the outcome could be. She had missed her ownopportunity, had to settle for only a shadow of what could have been.Was this young woman destined for the same pain? Mary prayed not.

"What can you do, child? Nothing more than what you have alreadydone, are doing. And nothing less.

"Bring him back his hope. Help him find his peace. But don't thinkyou'll be able to accomplish such a task without risking your ownserenity." Mary looked out over the crowd of beloved, familiar facesin the large room for a long moment, obviously attempting to put thenecessary words together. Diana found herself reaching a comfortinghand out to her confidant now. She watched her gather her emotionsquietly.

"I know what grief can do to a man's heart, how sweet the pain canbecome. And I know what fighting that grief can do to your own heart,how weary your own dreams can feel." Unconsciously letting a softsigh escape her lips, Mary continued her train of thought with sereneacceptance. "The years can tick away as quickly as the minutes. Butall the risk can vanish, all the pain can be forgotten, if you havethe strength to hope. For yourself, as well as for him."

The words carried so much quiet anguish with their hope.

Diana suddenly realized she was desperate to leave the Hall, themoment fate had thrust her into. She was treading on sacred ground.The very quality of Vincent's soul she had found herself captivatedby would be the very essence of the pain she needed to battle: hisunbounded capacity for love, total, pure, eternal. And that love wascompletely claimed by the soul of a murdered woman.

That any human being was capable of such love was theheart-stopping reality that had taken hold of Diana from the firstmoments she had spent in Vincent's presence. That unbounded love, noteven tempered by the grave, was destined to be Diana's greatestobstacle in her own besieged heart's quest for fulfillment. She wouldbe wresting with more than simply the memories of a grief-strickensoul. Eternity would be her enemy. How could she even attempt tofight it? The deepest reaches of her soul gave her the only answers,posed only the most painful of questions.

"You seem an eternity away, Diana."

Vincent's quiet voice, suddenly beside her, stopped Diana's heart.That word running through her mind: Eternity. It was as if he hadread it there within her, touched her uncertain anguish.

She hadn't realized that he had completed his story for thechildren, nor that Mary was no longer seated at her side. As she hadstared into the flame of a candle on the table beside her, battlingher inner demons silently, Vincent had watched the turmoil play quiteplainly across her face. Despite his own struggles of the evening, heknew he had to reach out to her. Because he understood the source ofthose battling emotions on her countenance, usually so composed. Evenif he could never accept what those emotions revealed towardshim.

Gathering Jacob up into his arms, Vincent had walked across theroom to her side.

Diana forced herself to draw her pain to herself, reading theweary restlessness that not even his concerned generosity of spiritcould hide, in Vincent's gaze. She would do nothing to cause him moretorment.

"Time seems to stand still down here." Her defenses carefullyreplaced, Diana shifted her attention to young Jacob in his father'sarms. "He is so alert, taking in everything around him."

"Yes. I believe Jacob will become quite an explorer in his time.But he's had a long day. I need to get him to sleep," Vincentresponded, a warm sense of pride slipping easily into his words.

Gratefully Diana accepted the momentary easing of tension speakingabout the baby had brought to both of them. She reached up to touchthe little boy's cheek gently without looking up into his father'sface again. Though she longed to.

Diana knew that the burdened man before her would be grateful forthe excuse to leave the gathering, also. Where he had found thecourage to participate in the evening's events, she could only guess,in awe. From that same fathomless reservoir of spiritual power thatenabled him to diminish his own heartache in favor of the commonneeds of those around him, the common good.

"Here is Jacob's bottle." Samantha had joined them, appearing withthat sudden burst of youthful breathlessness that was uniquely hers.Vincent took the bottle into his hand with familiar ease. Diana foundthat her mind had halted on the completely incongruous picture: ababy's bottle in those hands of his. It suddenly didn't even seemcontradictory -- such hands nurturing a child and his needs.

"Don't you want me to feed him before you go?" Samantha asked.Vincent smiled down to her, a genuine, tender smile filled withobvious affection.

"You've been nursemaiding us all day, Samantha. Why don't you gojoin the other children and enjoy yourself a bit longer? We'll be allright. I know Jeffrey has been eager for a rematch at chess withyou."

"Well, if you really don't need me, I'd love to beat Jeffreyagain." Samantha's tone of voice brought an infectious good humoronto both Vincent's and Diana's faces, momentarily. She was obviouslyin her element, out to prove the superiority of the female race toall those doubting Thomas's, and Jeffrey's, in her world.

"I'd wish you luck, but I'm certain you won't need it," Dianacalled out to the girl as she retreated to corner her challenger.There was a familiarity with Samantha's mission in life that Dianarecalled also espousing at her age.

"She is some young lady."

Vincent nodded, appreciatively. "In about ten years' time thisworld will be reeling from her presence."

Diana could not help catching the sound of obvious pride andadmiration in Vincent's voice just then. He looked an instant to thefeeding baby, an indescribable emotion taking hold of his eyes.

"I don't know what I'd do without her. She helps me so much withJacob. She loves him so."

And she loves you so, too.

Diana prayed the observation she felt revealed to her silently hadnot been betrayed aloud. She is aching for your pain, Vincent; sheaches for Jacob's loss. But she, at least, can do something for theboth of you, offer you a care and love you can reach out to and holdwithout guilt..

"I will guide you out as soon as Jacob is asleep."

Had Vincent read in her the desperate need for distance betweenthem at that moment? Or was he battling the same turmoil as she?Diana merely nodded her head to him, unable to trust her voice inresponse. But if Vincent's heart was a troubled as hers, he showedvery little sign of it.

Settling little Jacob gently against his arm, Vincent easilyoffered the little boy his bottle with a practiced ease. Diana feltthe pain in her heart melt away as she watched him care for thechild's needs as expertly and tenderly as any mother ever could.

It was obvious that though the women of the community were alloffering the child their kindness and care in any capacity necessary,and at any time, his father was very much the center of hismoment-to-moment upbringing. They seemed to together embody the veryessence of love.

Vincent's eyes, so full of quiet anguish these days, were gentlybrightened as he gazed into Jacob's sweet face. The little boy heldtightly to his father's finger, secure against the world, and kickedhappily. The peace that softly radiated out from both of themmomentarily, easily enveloped Diana as well. Her heart was eased.

A tiny voice inside her counseled her to hold the moment and carryit within her. The nearness, the peace and fulfillment shedesperately ached for in her experiences with the tested soul thatwas Vincent, would be offered her only in the most minute of doses,at the most limited and distant of moments. Such as this one.

"I think Jacob is thriving on all the attention." Diana couldn'thelp but smile at the bright mischief in little Jacob's face justthen. His bottle was empty and he was nowhere near to fallingplacidly asleep for the night, despite his father's best efforts tocoax him.

"I believe he thinks that some great wonder of the world will passhim by if he should close his eyes any longer than an hour or two ata time."

Vincent's voice was illuminated more by pride than troubled byexasperation as he contemplated his little son's emergingtemperament. Diana agreed, and given courage by the promising warmthof the moment, she took the little boy up into her own arms with aneasy movement.

The child's infinite blue eyes, his father's eyes, locked onto herfeatures, as he reached a tiny hand up to her face. She felt a rushof emotion wrapping itself with welcome around her heart.

Vincent felt something suddenly pull at his heart, too. Jacoblooked so totally serene and in his place in Diana's arms. A mother'sarms. There were a dozen women in the community that were joyfullygiving the little boy their love and care, but not one of them wouldever be his mother.

"Vincent, do you have a moment or two to spare?" Father'sappearance broke into Vincent's thoughts just then, mercifully."Jerry says he has found a source for the plant lights we wanted toexperiment with and I thought he should take a look at the chamber wewere hoping to set them up in."

"Mouse has all the plans. I'll be with you as soon as I get Jacobto bed."

The elder leader of the Underworld looked over to his grandchildin Diana's arms with obvious devotion. "Ah, yes, bedtimes. A constantstruggle for a child, as I recall. And for the adults, too." Hegently held the little boy's hand for moment, moving his attention toDiana in the process.

An unmistakable aura of expectation -- and barely disguised pain-- surrounded the young woman, and reached beyond her to encompassVincent as well. Father suddenly felt as if his presence hadinterrupted some vital exchange between the two of them, one theywere grateful to be freed from, however.

Only lapsing in control for an instant, Diana responded toFather's comment. "Vincent seems to think Jacob is too busy observingthe world to be bothered with such mundane details of life asbedtimes and sleep."

"So that's what I get to look forward to? Plenty of sleeplessnights?" The question was posed by the remaining person who hadjoined in the small group, a handsome young man of about 24 or 25,with bright dark eyes and an engaging smile. Diana thought forcertain that she had seen him before, but not in the Underground. Herfeelings were confirmed when Father introduced him to her. Jerry wasLaura's husband, the young deaf woman Diana had become acquaintedwith, a former tunnel dweller herself. Jerry was also a cop, anundercover police officer who'd once been involved in a case she hadworked.

Diana wondered if there were any other people she knew from theworld Above, her world, that also carried the secret of this sowondrous, precarious, world of shadows in their hearts.

Father warmly patted Jerry on the back. He smiled at Diana, inrecognition, too. "Our Jacob will soon no longer be the youngestmember of our community," the elder physician announced with happywarmth. The look of tender and slightly bewildered awe on Jerry'sface was legible to all.

"Laura is with child?" Vincent asked the younger man quietly.

"Yes, the baby's due in May. I'm going to be a father. If Isurvive being a father-to-be," came the quietly embarrassedreply.

"How wonderful for you both," Vincent responded, with true joyfilling his voice. Laura becoming a mother: It was such hopeful news.The deaf girl had had her trials since leaving the security of thetunnels for a life above. Vincent had cared for her, loved her, ashis own child. Her leaving had been as difficult for him as it hadbeen for her. But Jerry's love had been the foundation of her newlife. And now she and her young husband were beginning their ownfamily.

Diana added her own good wishes to those exchanged among the men.Yet, she almost felt an intruder in a family's personal moments ofjoy. In her quiet observation, she also sensed that Vincent himselfwas suddenly ill-at-ease. For all the warmth in his manner and wordsdirected at the expectant father, there was a sudden -- shadowing --in his face that Diana had caught sight of.

"Let me find Samantha for Jacob and I will be with you in amoment." Vincent seemed more than a bit willing to change the topicof their discussion back to the experimental plant lights. Diana reada nameless -- something -- in his manner that tore at her heart; sheknew she had to intervene.

"I'll take Jacob to bed, Vincent. Samantha just started her chessgame with Jeffrey."

"Yes, she has, hasn't she?" Vincent's arresting eyes could nothide the relief he felt at her words. "Thank you, Diana. Lana canlead you back to my chamber. I won't be long."

Diana got up, grateful for the opportunity to get her heart'sbearings back in private, knowing that Vincent himself would beattempting to do the same as he excused himself in some work projectthat could hold his attention briefly away from his pain. But just asshe turned to leave the group, Vincent reached over to offer Jacob aparting caress. His hand unexpectedly slipped over Diana's in theprocess. She had to call up all her strength and presence of mind toremain holding the child steadily.

Unaware of her unsteady state, Vincent softly brushed a fingertipover Jacob's cheek with heartbreaking tenderness. "Goodnight, mylittle one. Heaven's angels watch over thee till the morning light."Then he turned to join the other men, gratefully. There were concreteproblems to solve. Confusion of the heart would survive the wait, heknew. And that unexpected contact with a near-trembling hand holdinghis child had only fueled that confusion.

Diana held the little boy closely to her, eyes closed, willingherself to move from the spot. When she had gathered her shakenspirit back to herself, she sought out Lana. It took her until thesteps in the howling Chamber of the Winds before her heart finallybegan beating rhythmically again. By the time she was left inVincent's chamber, Diana could almost trust her emotions weresomewhat under her control once more. Still, the aching want thatcoursed through her soul would not leave her, nor the feeling thatVincent had instinctively reached out to her for help, help infinding his own uncertain way through the pain of the night.

Returned to more familiar surroundings than the Great Hall and acrowd of doting people, Jacob betrayed the fact that his little bodywas indeed weary to Diana. He allowed her to change him into hissleeping clothes without his usual playful tussle of impatience andseemed genuinely content to cuddle into the warmth of his blanket, afine hand-crocheted one in the palest shades of cream, probably bornfrom Mary's skill.

Diana absently recalled seeing other such beautiful handiwork,growing up herself. Her grandmother, who lived just a few doors awayfrom them, was forever laboring on some such project for the newbabies of the neighborhood. She had taught Diana to stitch as well,but the frantic pace of her lifestyle had never given her theopportunity to enjoy the calm hours of such loving work.

Of course, such work would be a given in the Underground --meeting everyday needs simply but with all the loving care of theheart. Her surroundings now mirrored that spirit to her, thankfullyso.

The quiet and gentle glow of candlelight in the chamber called outto Diana's unsteady emotions of the night. Giving in to temptation,she did not settle Jacob into his cradle immediately, but madeherself comfortable on the old rocking chair in the room, holding thebaby tenderly in her arms, feeling the scope of her fate surroundher.

It was the first time she had been completely alone with Jacob. Inthe past three months she had spent at least a dozen evenings in thisroom, quietly delighting in the wonder of the young child, but shehad always been accompanied by Vincent or Mary or Samantha or one ofthe other women of the community. She had yet to share a few momentscompletely alone with the little boy, and now realized how she hadlonged for the opportunity, though she couldn't, or wouldn't, attemptto understand why.

When Jacob fixed those indescribable eyes of his to her soul,Diana felt the guilt begin to tear at her, overwhelm her, the guiltshe had felt in accepting that unexpected touch in the GreatHall:

Another woman belonged there, holding that little boy to herbreast, softly surrounding him with the most enduring and undeniablelove. It wasn't her place. Those eyes of his should be holding hismother's face, his little fingers should be clutching at Catherine'shand, not hers.

Catherine.

At Vincent's side, holding Jacob gratefully, it had been too easyto coax her mind into forgetting Catherine. But Vincent could neverlet such treachery overtake him. His memory, his love for Catherinewere eternal. The momentary conflict of emotion in his face atJerry's happy news of impending fatherhood quickly called that loveto light:

Jerry could enjoy the hopeful expectation of a new life joininghis. He could tenderly care for Laura. They could share the wonder oftheir child's imminent birth with joy.

Vincent had been able to experience none of those moments.

Catherine hadn't even been able to give him the wondrous newsbefore she'd been stolen from his life.

And for all his complete, utter, and undying love and devotion forhis little boy, Vincent could never change one heart-shattering factthat would color their relationship for their entire lives: The veryhour of Jacob's birth was also the hour of Catherine's death.

His greatest joy had come at the price of his greatest love.

Letting the tears flow freely in the security of the room, Dianagently rocked the little boy, and let the truth of it all sweep overher, unable to stem the tide of pain, both her own and the one shesensed the baby and his father would ever be subjected to.

She wasn't Jacob's mother, but only a helpful stranger on thefringe of his life. She could give him nothing beyond a smile, atouch, a word or two of encouragement as he grew. If she was strongenough to let the years slip by her and watch him grow, from afar. Ifshe could bear the thought of his father's anguished heart foreverclosed to her.

Why was it so important for her to be close to the child? Shecouldn't seem to completely touch to the reasons. They were justbeyond her grasp, lying somewhere beyond consciousness, at the edgeof her inner self. Some deep part of her being had been bound to thechild, unexpectedly, to the fact that he'd had to begin his tiny lifein horror and would forever mirror that horror to the one soul whowould love him best.

That same innermost sanctity of her heart had been bound to hisfather, too, a vital corner of her soul that had clung instantly,enabling her to place herself so much into his tested spirit that shehad fallen in love with him long before she had even set eyes on him,found him, that night, half dead, on Catherine's grave.

What her heart refused to accept, however, was the reality of thesituation she'd been cast into helplessly, willingly: An eternity oflove would call out an eternity of grief. And she would always remaina casualty of that eternity.

Swallowing her tears back, Diana took Jacob's little hand into herown. Drawing in a slow, unsteady breath, she calmly voiced thereasonable consequences of battling for her heart's desire aloud tothe child in her arms. Aloud to herself.

"I guess this is going to be as close as you and I are ever goingto be, Jacob. I would so very much love to be more to you, to giveyou more, give you what you deserve, but I don't think I have thestrength to endure the wait."

The small hand reached up to Diana's face in wondrous exploration.Even amid the tears and frustration, Diana had to smile at thatinnocent touch. Everything was so hopeful and new for the child.

Diana touched a kiss to that little hand. It could have been amother's kiss. Softly she continued her conversation with the child,giving voice to so many entangled emotions locked within her.

"I don't have to worry about you, Jacob, I know. Your father lovesyou more than you will ever be able to understand. He'll always bethere to help you and guide you, to protect you.

"And Mary and Father, all the wonderful people here around youwill help you grow and be happy. They are all your family."

Finding it so painfully difficult to put any other of herengulfing thoughts into words, Diana sat rocking quietly with thechild, until she was capable of grasping the reality of the situationshe was enmeshed in.

"Maybe from time to time I can come and spend an hour or two withyou here, too. I could tell you stories, and let you know a littlebit of the world Above, the good parts. Maybe we could be...friends."

The gentle-spirited young woman faltered over that last word --"friends". It seemed more of a condemning sentence than a promisingjoy -- a sentence that would keep her safely on the edges of thelittle boy's life. And his father's. Anything closer and her ownheart would truly be endangered, her serenity and hope in lifebesieged. Because Diana had to remind herself just then of the oneperson she could never become: Jacob's mother.

The truth was heartbreakingly simple: the child did have one, amother, who had loved him with all her heart and soul, who hadbravely awaited his birth alone, surrounded by pain, evil, andfinally, death, a mother who now could only watch over him from a faroff heaven.

Despite that truth, Diana's heart still refused to be bridled. Soher sentence would be a condemnation to mere friendship. If it kepther at all within the child's life, it would be enough. She couldbear the limitations, if it meant enriching Jacob's existence withher care.

A friend's tender hand could just as easily wipe tears away. Afriend's caring and trust could almost ease pain, just as well. Afriend's gentle touch could comfort and sustain... ... a motherlesschild...

But was this all really simply about reaching out to a motherlesschild? In her honesty, Diana had to accept the truth herself: Afriend's gentle touch could comfort and sustain a motherless child.But it could never replace a beloved's hand.

Vincent turned down the final corridor towards his chamber with ameasured step. His own room had seemed to offer the promise ofsolace, where he could sort through the emotions of the evening andattempt to get past them for another day. Yet that solace would needto wait even tonight. Diana would be in his chamber tonight, withJacob. He would need to walk her the long way out to her own home.They would need to share the company of more minutes than his heartcould handle without pain.

For there was pain within him where Diana was concerned, a pain ofconfusion, guilt, and unexplained -- oneness -- that he could nottrust his heart to acknowledge.

He owed Diana so much: his life, Jacob's life. She had riskedeverything to help him, without questions. She had asked nothing,absolutely nothing, in return. Except in the depths of her greeneyes.

Even now, she was reaching a hand out to him, hesitant, unsteady,reading the deepest recesses of his soul with a grasp of the truththat was terrifying -- as well as unexpectedly comforting.

Thus, Vincent wasn't entirely surprised at the feelings thatbattled within him when he at last came up to the doorway of hischamber.

The rocking chair in his room was facing at an angle away from theentrance, and the sight of Diana cradling Jacob in her arms seatedthere was something he could gently linger over without immediatelybeing noticed.

He had to linger, to hold the sight and sounds in his heart, forthey pierced him with a sweet ache he could not bring himself tointerrupt.

Diana was suddenly plunged into the same situation as Samantha hadbeen earlier that evening: She needed a benign way to defuse thevolatile and painful combination of circumstances and emotionssurrounding her, threatening to engulf her at any moment. Vincentwould be returning soon, and she'd not cause him any more pain thanhe was already enduring. Even if she longed to unburden her heart tohim, longed to feel his tenderness reach her own pain.

Something neutral was needed, to bring some surface balance backinto her demeanor. A story. She would read Jacob a story. It wouldfix her mind on other, less catastrophic thoughts, pull herexperience of the evening back within bearable limits.

Easing off the chair momentarily, Diana reached her free arm tothe wooden chest that served as a table and storage space within theroom. Numerous well-worn children's books had been piled upon it forquick reference -- "A Child's Garden of Verse", "When We Were Young","Just So Stories".

Choosing the Kipling volume, Diana resettled herself and Jacobonto the chair. The little boy batted lightly at the book in herhand. Diana had no doubt that even at such a tender age, the sound ofthe written word coming alive was a familiar part of Jacob's world.He may not have understood the words yet, but the comforting sound ofa beloved voice was clearly part of the respite that was hishome.

Paging through the volume, Diana came to a halt at "The ButterflyThat Stamped", one of her own favorite stories. She turned herattention momentarily back to Jacob.

"All the bigger children really enjoy it when your father tellsthem a special story. He's probably already telling you and readingyou stories, too, right?" A little fist bobbing onto the page was theresponse Diana received. Settling Jacob a bit more comfortably in herarms, she continued rocking slowly for several moments.

But it was no use. Her conflicting hopes, her flooding emotions,would not be quelled this night by the gentle wonder of a belovedfairy tale. Only the truth would do, this night, both for the child,and herself.

Instead of reading from the pages of the oft-repaired book andplacing both herself and Jacob into the "high and far-off times",Diana closed the volume and shut her eyes. No, tonight the little boyneeded to hear a different story. Her own heart needed to be remindedof a different story.

"I'll tell you a very beautiful tale tonight, Jacob. It's veryspecial, too, because it is a true story."

In the concealment of his position, Vincent shifted a little moreinto the room, sensing Diana's struggle for control even now. Hecould make out the brightness of tears where they betrayed themselveson the pale cheek turned closest to him, but he had neither thestrength of heart nor the power of hope to reach out to her in herneed. That need was, at the moment, too frighteningly intertwinedwith his own.

Diana bent her head down close to Jacob's face, so the little boynow and then could reach up to her easily as he lay serenely cuddlednear her heart, wrapped in his blanket. It didn't take long forVincent to understand the significance of Diana's course of action.He nearly held his breath to listen, to steady the rising tide ofengulfing emotions pulling him into its wake, triggered by the gentlescope of love reaching out to his child. And with a burden of guilt-- to him.

"There was once a wondrous and brave knight who lived in amagical, shadowy kingdom beneath a great city. The knight was kindand good, with a heart full of truth and honor. The people in hisshadow kingdom loved and respected him.

"But the knight had been placed under a terrible curse throughsome unknown evil of long ago: The beauty of his soul would remainalways hidden by his beyond human body. The people of his kingdom sawhim as the wondrous, magnificent being that he truly was. But in thecity above his home, he would only be seen as frightening andthreatening. He was free to walk the city streets only in the dark ofnight because of it."

A sudden chill ran through Vincent's body at Diana's eloquentlyanguishing description of his existence. Yet, he could not turn awayfrom the sound of her voice, the depth of care softening her words toa pained whisper.

Diana continued her story, stroking her hand gently over Jacob'sdowny hair as she spoke.

"One night, as he walked the city alone in the dark, the knightcame across a helpless young woman, injured and close to death. Eventhough she was from the land above, a stranger who might do him andhis world harm, he risked himself to bring her to safety in theshadow land. For days he cared for her, helped nurse her back tohealth, and it wasn't long before he and the woman fell deeply inlove.

"But, she was a princess of the world above, the city that wasbright as day, and the knight could only be safe in the twilight ofhis shadow land below, far beneath the blue skies of her home."

Searching blue eyes held her face with astonishing directness. Asshe looked lovingly into Jacob's sweet features, Diana suddenly feltas though the child was listening to her with true understanding, notsimply being lulled placidly by the soft sound of a familiar voice,but truly reacting to her words with transfixed attention. Shesmoothed the blanket wrapped round his sturdy little body withtrembling hands. But the commitment to her narrative did notwaver.

"The princess was kind and good as well. Her joy was in helpingthose around her, how ever she was able. She and the knight dreamedof living a happy life together someday. Their love would create awarm and safe and bright kingdom all their own, where they wouldalways be free to share one another's hearts."

Another pause let the words penetrate to Diana's soul. A love likethat... She could only imagine loving someone like that, being lovedlike that.

And Vincent could only remember.

Diana stroked the cheek of the child in her arms as she took in aragged breath. That little boy was the very embodiment of thatperfect love, precious, treasured, beyond price. Her own aching heartcould hardly compete in the face of such perfection. Still, in theshadows, the truth of it held another grief-stricken heartentranced.

"Though the knight and the princess loved each other deeply andtruly, there was no place in her world for him, and he would neverdream of asking her to leave behind her own bright home for hisshadowy existence. Their beautiful love was destined to remainincomplete. Still, they managed to find happiness in the times thatthey did share.

"One day, it seemed that heaven itself had blessed their love, allthe pain and uncertainty they'd had to endure. The princess was givensome miraculous news: the love she and the knight shared would bringthem a truly marvelous gift -- a child. But before she could eventell the knight of their precious joy, the princess was stolen awayby an evil ruler of the land above, one who destroyed anything goodor light or truthful he could find because he believed only in hisown dark power of fear."

Looking across the softly lit room, Diana was returned to a sunnymorning when she had listened in pained attention to the details of adesolate man's futile search for the woman he loved. Vincent hadstood before the windows of her loft, the bright light of daystreaming in over his magnificent features, yet he had beensurrounded only by the gray-black pain of grief and regret.

"The knight searched desperately for his princess for months,never resting. All of his people searched as well, night and day. Noone could find her.

"Soon it was time for the princess to bear her child, and she wasterribly afraid. She knew that the evil ruler meant only to lure theknight away from the safety of his home. He would use her and herbaby without mercy for his terrible plan. And she would never live tosee her beloved knight again."

The pain filling the quiet room was suddenly so palpable itoverwhelmed Diana with its power. Her words were only a shudderingwhisper. "As soon as the child was born, he was taken away from hismother. The princess was left to die, unable to even hold her littlebaby. And the knight only found her in time for her to die in hisarms, as she told him with her last breath about the son he didn'tknow he had."

Looking away from the child she sheltered in her own tenderembrace, Diana felt an horrific ache burn into her heart for aninstant. Had it been Catherine's pain just then? "Oh, Cathy," shebreathed in turmoil, "you are the one that should be here now. Notme."

Vincent clutched at his own chest, leaning heavily against thestone wall, tears streaming freely from his eyes -- tears for hisbeloved, lost Catherine, torn from the bright hope of his life; tearsfor himself; for Jacob, who would never know a mother's love. Andtears for Diana; Diana, loving, and never knowing if her tender soulwould ever be blest by its return to her.

After a long moment of battling complete, emotional torment, Dianarealized that she had to give up her narrative or risk being found intotal anguish upon Vincent's return to his chamber. Defensively, shemoved to ease herself up from the chair, trying to understand how herattempt to steady her precarious control on her heart had descendedinto utter spiritual chaos. What had possessed her to throw herselfinto such turmoil? And she believed she could survive the wait for agrief-shattered man to find his hope in her? She couldn't hold on tothe hope herself, let alone reach any of it out to Vincent.

Her gaze fell finally back to Jacob, the child settled withoutquestion to a total contemplation of her pain-darkened green eyes.She suddenly saw his father's face in that gaze, reaching, aching,yet so terribly afraid, so lost and alone. She knew she had tosomehow find the strength to continue, for the child's sake. For herown. The seeming knowledge and comprehension she read in thosestartling blue eyes called out to her, willing her, pleading withher, to continue.

As was Vincent. Fighting the pain and turmoil in his own heart, hestill found the capacity to wonder at the power of Diana's presence,at her ability to cauterize her own pain so she could give Jacob thisprecious gift, the story of his mother's and father's love andloss.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Dianaregained her voice and continued her fable. It was the only thing shecould possibly do. It was the only way she could find her own paththrough the maze of assaulting pain.

"The little prince was lost to the world, a prisoner in the evilking's castle, without a mother or father to protect him. But theknight had not given up his search. He had lost his beloved princess.He would not lose his child, too. He dreamed of his little boy,risked everything to find him -- his freedom, his home, his ownlife.

"He gave himself up to the king, ready to die to save his child.The king would not release the little boy. Instead he kept the knighta prisoner as well, hoping to turn him to evil. Certain of his owndeath, the knight fell into his darkest hour, despairing of everfreeing his child. Still, when there seemed to be no hope left withinhim, heaven smiled down upon him and brought him help.

"People from both the knight's shadow world and the princess'sbright city found their way to the dark castle. The evil king knew hewould soon be defeated. Planning his own last horrible vengeance onthe knight, he tried to kill the little prince. Knowing that hischild was in danger, the knight found the strength to free himselfand saved the child before the king could harm him.

"For a long, terrifying moment, the knight stood over the wickedking, remembering all the pain and horror he had brought into theworld, into the knight's own life, all the loss. He ached to destroythe king, to send him and his evil power straight back to Hell wherethey belonged. But the knight knew that if he did so, the king wouldhave indeed won his battle -- for he would have taken the knight'sheart of honor and truth and turned it into a heart of darkness likehis own.

"So, the knight simply turned away from the king, gathered hislittle child into his arms, and started on his way back to hishome."

Diana sat silently at last, drawn back into that moment, theinstant she knew that Vincent's torment at the hands of the evil ofthe world above would not yet be ended with Jacob's rescue. It hadbeen her cursed destiny to end that torment. And her blessed burdento seek to restore his hope. The stillness surrounding her was socomplete that she could almost hear the candlelight. Would heavenever turn the remaining darkness shadowing her love to bright andtender light?

With a supreme effort to pull herself back to the present, Dianasettled her thoughts to the child in her embrace. Jacob had yet tofall asleep. He was sweetly, easily, settled into the comfort of herarms, a look of soft, cherished acknowledgment reaching out to herfrom his face. It felt so right to be holding him so, such a mercifulgift to love him so. But would it really ever be hers to accept?Gathering the child up gently, she moved to place him into hiscradle, lest her anguish of the past moments be too evident to hisfather upon his return.

And what had that anguish accomplished this night? She had giventhe child the story of his parent's love, of all they had dreamed,all they had endured, all they had risked, in the name of love. Itwas an extraordinary story, an extraordinary love. Her own simpledevotion paled in comparison, a trembling uncertainty destined neverto survive. It would be best if she just accepted her fate. She couldbring Vincent little beyond a hesitant friendship that he couldwillingly embrace for its tolerant shelter. Even if it was nothingmore than a lie, an illusion of quiet acceptance drawn over ayearning need to hold him, heart and soul, to herself, for alleternity.

It would appear that even that lie was found out, now, becausebefore she could come to her feet, Vincent had left the shadowed areaof his chamber door to come to her side.

Kneeling before her, his uniquely beautiful face level with hers,he'd somehow been able to gather his courage enough to announce hispresence to her.

Yet, a part of him wished desperately that he had never lingeredlong enough to hear Diana bare her soul. For that was what hadtranspired with her words. They had been meant as much for hertroubled, guilt-ridden, loving heart as they had been for Jacob. Andthey had become a gift for him, too, one he could only stand in aweof and dream sadly that he could find the strength to accept.

Diana faced Vincent with a shuddering spirit. When she realizedhow long he could have possibly been listening, her heart snapped intwo. What pain, what grief had her words set alight within him onceagain? Mary had counseled her to "help him find his hope." She wouldhave done anything to reach him, to comfort him, to spare him pain.But now she had to face him in a state of turmoil of her ownconstruction that had the power to crush his so desolate and fragilespirit to dust.

"I'm, I'm sorry, Vincent," she quietly stammered out, aware thathis eyes had pierced her to her soul. "I'm sorry... I never meant to,to trivialize your pain." She covered her face with one hand inabject shame, even as she held Jacob protectively on her lap with theother.

Vincent didn't even have to think about what he should do. It cameas a natural, so needful gesture to them both: He raised his ownhand, that unearthly, deadly hand, to her face and lifted her gazegently to his, drew her past confusion and remorse to breathtakingtenderness, his soft, comforting voice easing her anguish surely.

"The only thing you have trivialized, Diana, is your own role inour story. If Jacob is to know the truth, value his past, understandit, and use it as his strength for the future, he will need to knowthe whole story. I would have him learn the whole story as he grows.He will need to hear about another principle character in thefable."

Diana felt her heart tremble with an unexpectedly sweet ache thistime. Would heaven indeed show them both a glimmer of mercy?Vincent's penetrating gaze never released hers as he spoke, his azureeyes alive with some indescribable emotion that was only partlysorrow and remembered pain. She could easily catch the trailing oftears that had found their way down his cheeks, still threatened tospill even within her sight. Yet, there seemed to be a very realbreath of hope radiating out to her from him, an acknowledging careunafraid in its momentary revelation.

Vincent settled one hand on little Jacob's head protectively, andthe other over hers on the chair arm. Diana held her breath. Then hecontinued the story for her, as he knew it should be remembered, asit was written within his own heart.

"When the knight returned to his home with his child, all hiskingdom rejoiced at the little prince's rescue. With love they alljoined together to help care for him,and his sweet, gentle spiritbrought them all much peace, despite the pain of loss at theprincess's death. The beautiful child carried the brightness of hismother's world in his heart, and his deep, truthful eyes mirrored thesheltering shadows of his father's home. "Still, the knight knew hewould only be able to love his little son through a spirit veiledwith tears and pain. He knew that without the princess at his side,he would never again feel the joy and wonder of love and hope. And,he so desperately wanted his child to know those precious gifts inhis own life.

"In his aloneness, heaven once again took pity on the grievingknight, sending him someone to share his burdens -- a bright-hairedangel, with a mind full of wonder, a soul full of courage, and aheart... full of unquestioning... love."

Pausing a moment, Vincent read Diana's soul in her face. She'dwanted so fiercely to protect him from her heart. Yet, she couldn'thelp but rejoice as well at its unveiling to him, rejoice and pray.Her prayer was answered. Vincent's voice became the sweetest sound ofacknowledgment, his eyes filling with grateful, tender radiance as heheld her heart, unafraid.

"The knight recognized the angel at once: When the little princehad been lost and alone, she had been his guardian spirit, bringinghis father to save him. When the knight had been certain all wasdoomed, she had been the one to find help to free him, the one whoprotected him, and indeed, kept his heart safe from the darkness ofevil threatening him. She had safely directed him and his child backhome."

Vincent's hand, resting softly over Diana's on the chair arm,gathered her long fingers with his own, sheltering them. The sweetwarmth of his touch pulled Diana's gaze up to his face, every breathof love she carried within her being for him totally unhidden. She'dalways taken such pains to conceal the truth from his fragile spirit,but there it was, out in the open before the two of them -- a loveunashamed to cling to hope, suddenly unafraid to, despite the long,rocky road destined to be the path before them.

Breaking the bond, at last, with her truth, Vincent drew his gazeback to her slender hand in his, overwhelmed at the trust and hope hehad touched within her heart. His voice was even more of asilky-hoarse whisper than it usually was as he continued hisstory.

"And even when they were securely within the magical kingdom ofshadows, if the little prince ever felt alone in the midst of all hisloving family and friends, the angel was the one soul who couldgently gather him up and offer him a tender mother's love... Beyondeven that generous gift... When the knight himself despaired of everfeeling peace again, the angel's quiet presence offered... him...hope."

Diana lingered over the words a long moment before being certainshe could trust her heart. She knew she couldn't trust her body, forher hand within his was trembling, with deeply held emotion and theeven more deeply aching need to draw his touch to her lips, banishevery breath of pain from his heart with her love. Yet, she knew thatthat mercy would not be theirs this moment. She could only offer himher words, her spoken truth.

"Vincent, I don't ever want to cause you or Jacob any pain. Idon't ever want you to feel as though I'm trying to take Catherine'splace in your hearts."

Then his own words, so blessedly comforting, returning her hope."Diana, if you have found a place in our hearts, it is because ofyour own loving care for us, your own generosity of spirit towardsus. Not because you are taking Catherine's place."