To Hope Anew

Chapter Three

It was so familiar now, to be standing in the tunnel outside hischamber, speaking in muted tones with the woman at his side. Dianaseemed so much a part of his world these days, as if she had alwaysbeen a member of their community, a trusted confidant, a daughter ofthe Underground. She had slipped into their routines as though theyhad been hers since childhood. He felt he knew her that long.

Yet tonight, Vincent found something else coloring his experienceof her that brought the unbelievable, fearful wonder in his heartever closer to its surface: By this time tomorrow, they would bepledged as husband and wife.

Just allowing the realization to pass through his mind, with allits frightening enticements intact, was extraordinary. It wassomething he had never dreamed possible, not even with Catherine. Andyet, it would be so. Another miracle in his life.

He'd thought that he'd need stop believing in miracles. The onesthat had become part of his life in the past had been only,ultimately, sources of the deepest pain for him. Father hadconstantly sought to protect him through the years, keep him safefrom life and the confounding nature of dreams coming true. But thebattering reality of life found its way even to him: Dreams had a wayof sometimes turning to nightmares.

And there had been nightmares.

Even now, in the hush of the late night chambers, with Jacobsafely asleep nearby and Diana's hand in his, Vincent felt amomentary wrenching within his heart -- the thorn of remembrance.

There had been a time when the joy of tomorrow's celebration wouldhave been a joy to be shared with another miracle in his life. Yet,they'd never even dared dream it, he and Catherine, a life togetherin love as one, blessed by the happiness of those around them.

Their dream had been left unfulfilled, their miracle profaned byan engulfing evil that had not only cost them their love and even herlife, but had threatened his very soul as well.

Still, God had been merciful. Amidst the agony of loss, thehopeless grief, the nights of tears and days of hidden anguish,Vincent had found his saving miracle again -- in the redeemingpresence of his tiny son.

Jacob became, simply, the tenuous source of his salvation. To livefor the little child, to help open the world up to him, to nurturethe precious life entrusted to him -- this had been Vincent's savinggrace, his very lifeline. Without Jacob, in a world alone, he wouldsurely have lost his soul to the despair.

Still, it had not been Jacob alone who had redeemed him fromcertain, total desolation.

Vincent became aware of Diana's voice directed towards him,through his thoughts. She had come closer to his side, setting herhand onto his arm with a gentle ease of shy familiarity. "What areyou thinking about, Vincent?" she asked quietly, though she couldguess.

"About how far we've come, and all that has transpired betweenus."

Vincent watched as a soft and knowing smile made its way acrossDiana's treasured features. Her face belonged to another time; thelight of her smile brightening it with a medieval glow. There was asmuch an aire of mystery about her now, after three years of sharedexperiences, as there might have been between two beings ofcompletely different spheres of existence -- human and supernatural.Vincent knew even now he couldn't be certain that she was completelyof the former type of being and he only of the latter. She seemed toenter his very essence at times as though she was not burdened withany limiting existence of her own, a fairy spirit indeed.

"You mean about how far we never might have come, and all that'sconspired to place itself between us." Diana's judgment of theirshared past gave Vincent pause -- but only for a moment. He drew hergently into his arms. She easily followed his invitation and restedagainst him in complete comfort and trust, her head lying on hisshoulder. It seemed as though she had been thus at his side for mostof his life.

But he knew that was not the reality. She had had a life Above,filled with dreams and experiences he could never be a part of. Tothink that she would be willing to leave them all behind, for him, tolive in his world, was the sweetest reality he could ever dream offor himself. Could it truly be possible? Even tonight, he had to ask.She was giving up so much -- for him.

"Diana, are you certain that... ?"

He was kept from finishing his inquiry by flashing green eyes anda cool, long-fingered hand pressing against his mouth. A rush ofconfident words followed, as always, when she was certain she neededto enlighten him with her truth.

"Am I certain that I love you? Am I certain that I want to spendmy life with you? Do I really want to be able to care for Jacob as myown? Do I really want to give up a life in the world Above, with allits anger and ugliness and disillusionment, to spend the rest of mydays here Below with friends who love me? Would I rather stop placingmyself into the minds of killers and users and instead share theminds of children blossoming into life? Yes, Vincent, I amcertain."

The vehemence of her response was not surprising at all to thepowerful, compelling man who held her tenderly. Vincent had come torealize very early in his experience of her that Diana existed verymuch on a level plane with him, having to show him neither deferencenor false reserve in her manner. If she ever had something to tellhim, some conviction to share with him, she was totally capable toputting it into terms that would seize his attention immediately,complete with the language that years on the NYPD had instilledwithin her vocabulary. He smiled to himself at that last thought. Hervocabulary had been one of the few things he'd been able to softenwith his influence.

Pulling back from his embrace to look him fearlessly in the eye,Diana continued her defense with her own question to him. "And whatabout you? Are you certain, Vincent?"

This time she'd issued the challenge with his own words, althoughshe almost thought better of her nearly defiant response: Herarresting companion had withdrawn his gaze from her and turned partlyaway from her as she spoke.

But when he raised his golden-haired head back to her, Dianarealized she had not caused him any momentary confusion of heart withher words -- He was actually attempting to disguise a smile that wasmaking its way across his own extraordinary face. Her spiritbrightened instantly at the sight of it.

"Yes, I am certain, Diana," he began almost gravely, but hisstartling blue eyes were throwing her challenge right back at herwith tender humor. "I am certain that I'll be pledging myself for alleternity to an obstinant, opinionated, red-haired force of nature...and that I could be blessed by no more wondrous fate."

Diana held Vincent's carefully controlled features with anincredulous stare. Had she truly heard what she thought she had?Coming from him? The answer was a delightful, "yes", and acknowledgedto her how far, indeed, the both of them had come together. There hadlong been nothing but pain and confusion between them. Now there waseven an easy, affectionate banter.

"'Force of nature', am I?" was the mock-injured reply as Dianaeased her head back to Vincent's shoulder in offended repose. Still,the strength of his arms around her never ceased to bring hercomfort, stir her heart, and his easy state of spirit helped hers tosoar. "I suppose I can live with that. I've been called worse."

"But you've never been loved more." A gentle kiss to her hairhelped Vincent prove his point to her, one that her quickeningheartbeat did not miss.

"No. And I've never wanted to love anyone more."

They stood there in the hallway, clasped in each other's arms forseveral long moments, with a sweet peace enveloping them both.Tomorrow their life together would be acknowledged and begun in thecompany of their friends. Yet, each knew that, somehow, theirdestinies had been linked long before they had ever set eyes on oneanother.

"Good God! Are you both still up? And together?" Father had beendrawn to Vincent's chamber at the sound of voices. Finding his sonand the woman who had healed his heart in tender companionshipoutside the chamber door had allowed the leader of the Underworld thefulfilling luxury of playing authoritative parent one final time thisevening. He relished the opportunity of unsettling the two lovers. Infact, he relished the idea of the two of them as lovers, and the joyhe knew had replaced the anguish in his son's heart. Who would havedreamed?

"It is past midnight. You two should not be seeing each otheruntil the wedding. Now, off with you"

Diana and Vincent responded at the same time with a repentant,"Yes, Father," that made the older man's heart melt. For, his son wasfar beyond the need of parental admonishment at this point in hislife, and his future daughter-in-law had proven herself of likespirit. But Jacob Wells knew his concern for each of them, for theirwell-being and happiness, was ever appreciated.

Easing from the support of Vincent's arms, Diana offered anacknowledging kiss to Father on the cheek. The so dignified leaderand scholar felt his spirit brighten at the gesture, as it alwaysdid. Vincent added his own similar affection, unselfconsciously. "Wewere about to say 'good night', Father. And you need your rest, too,for tomorrow."

"I know, I know. But who can sleep before the prospect of such amomentous occasion?" The older man turned then with a smile, to makehis way back to his own nearby chamber, leaving Vincent and Diana tocomplete their farewells for the night.

"Father seems like he is getting younger these days," Dianaobserved as the respected and beloved leader had turned the corner inthe tunnel.

"You bring him a great deal of joy as well, Diana. He deserves it.There have been too many burdens for him to carry in the recent past.You help him lift his heart. You help me lift mine."

A tender and open caring filled Vincent's voice, his features, ashe spoke to her. Diana found it difficult, still, to truly believe:that so radiant a display of love was hers, despite everything. Itwasn't so long ago that he could barely hold her gaze with his, theveil of anguish reaching beyond his heart clouding any contact hecould allow himself to hold with her.

Still, her keen insight, her deeply intuitive nature, had yetmanaged to read the growing endearment he felt for her, day by day,and her own heart was able to fix itself to the tiniest hints ofpromise revealed in his most unguarded moments with her.

A less compelling soul would have fled the ordeal of resurrectinghis hope long ago, with spirit in wracked pain. Only Diana couldpinpoint the exact instant she realized the friendship, trust, andgratitude she knew he carried with welcome within him for her werecapable of transforming themselves into the sweetest and mostprofound experience of love: that born out of shared pain andflourishing in spite of all the odds.

She had truly been most generously blessed. In almost all thingswhere he was concerned, at last. Almost. It was difficult to forcethat last thought to the back of her mind. For, there was still theshadow of pain left to linger between them, even on this night. Shewould learn to live with that shadow, somehow. It would have to bethe price she'd need to pay to shelter his soul with hers.

Vincent turned her gently in his arms, holding her lightly by theshoulders. His piercing azure eyes held Diana's for one long instantas he watched her struggle momentarily in controlling the rhythm ofher heart. There was something yet, some hidden particle of herspirit, that she guarded still. It unexpectedly forced her to lookcompletely vulnerable at that instant, poignantly in need anduncertain, despite her usually formidable, decisive presence.

Vincent felt his own heart tremble at its revelation, at thecompelling ache he felt arise within him to wipe every bit of herdisquiet pain away, fulfill her every unvoiced yearning. Whatever thecost. It urged Vincent to reach out to her tenderly, breathing asweet, reassuring touch of a kiss to her forehead. "Good night, mylove," he whispered softly. "Until tomorrow."

She couldn't keep from sinking into the comforting, yet suddenlyheart-stopping power of his body with those quiet words. Lifting hereyes to meet his once again, her heart revealed itself completely tohim. Echoing his own words with a betraying tremor in her voice,Diana whispered, "Good night, my love." Then she pulled herself fromhis now uncertain embrace reluctantly, stepping down the corridortowards the guest chamber beyond before her control betrayed her.

Jacob had kicked his blankets off again, curling himself into alittle ball at one end of his crib. Vincent shook his head at thesleeping child, a loving smile easily forming on his face. Carefully,he drew the covers back up over the little boy. The extra warmthreaching him in his sleep after a moment allowed Jacob to stretchhimself out of his constricted pose. One small hand carried awell-worn stuffed animal with him in his more comfortable position--It was a small version of a much-loved Velveteen Rabbit -- veryreal from the worn look of him. It had been Vincent's own, as achild. The total peace enveloping his sleeping son drifted deeply,gratefully within Vincent's own spirit.

He was an extraordinary child, parental prejudices notwithstanding. Jacob's very essence seemed to radiate light like thecandles in the room. And not only his physical presence, though thatwas captivating enough: tousled, golden-red curls like a halo roundhis head, a gentle mouth easily turned into a smile, small, curioushands that loved to touch and hold and be held, and a soul that wasmirrored in its grace through limpid sky-blue eyes, eyes that madeeven Vincent feel that the child could pass directly into one's ownsoul.

It seemed as though the very life source of the little boy'sspirit was not confined within his body but shimmered gently roundabout him -- knowing, learning, loving, with all his littleheart.

Vincent rested his hand lightly on Jacob's curls in fatherlybenediction. The tiniest breath of a smile passed over the littleboy's face, aware, even in his sleep, of his father's protectivetouch. With a startling, momentary ache, both proud and sad, that wasreserved for parents of young children, Vincent realized that Jacobwas very quickly outgrowing his crib, as he had outgrown his cradle.Time would not keep from racing away, taking with it the preciousdiscoveries of babyhood and toddler years, leaving confusion as wellas celebration in its wake. Jacob was already hurrying towards hisfuture, day by day, moment by moment. But he still needed the lovingprotection and presence of his father near.

Once or twice this past month, Vincent had awakened in the middleof the night to the endearing feeling of the little boy asleep in hisarms, in his own bed. Jacob had climbed over the crib rails andsought out the sheltering warmth of his father's body in sleep.

Not having had the heart to carry the little boy back to his cribon those nights, Vincent instead had safely tucked a protective armabout him and let the child cuddle close. Jacob didn't seem to beawakening from fear or dreams. It appeared that he simply needed torest himself close to a loved one's body, feeling his father's heartbeat close to his own, offering gentle, sustaining support. Havinghim near on those nights had brought as much peace to the powerful,indescribable man as it had to the little boy in his embrace.

Turning to his own bed, Vincent recognized an unexpectedlydisquieting thought that insisted on forcing itself into his mindjust then. It was a thought that had surfaced into his consciousnesswith unsettling frequency in past days and he wasn't certain he couldcome to grips with it yet, with the very idea of having toacknowledge it within his suddenly unsteady heart: He would besharing his bed once again, tomorrow night.

They had made each other a promise in the turmoil of a heatedmoment, each desperately afraid of losing the other forever to thepain consuming them.: A promise that no boundaries would be testeduntil he could find his way past them without fear. But he had alsoaccepted the hope of that promise with his pledge -- that noboundaries would be accepted with blind faith as the limit to theirexperience of love. A love that had grown more profound, tender andbreathtakingly human with each passing day.

Sharing his bed with Diana... the very thought of it conjured atoo-sweet and beguiling ache in his mind and heart that refused to bewilled away. Though they had easily shared sheltering embraces,offered one another gentle, supporting gifts of tenderness, momentsof shared closeness unafraid to touch to the depths of their love --the mere thought of holding Diana close beside him in the revealingdark of night was more than his besieged spirit could handle at themoment.

Listening to the heartbeat of a beloved resting close beside hisown, setting his beyond-human hand on a slender shoulder miraculouslywithout fear -- these were as profoundly intimate images as Vincentcould manage to allow himself possession of where Diana wasconcerned. Their sweet, hopeful promise took his breath away. Couldsuch closeness ever be truly theirs, beyond the fear?

Vincent unexpectedly lingered over the memory of just such atender moment, one he had inadvertently become a part of more thanthree years ago. It was at the time that Laura had left the tunnelsbehind for a life Above and had found herself struggling in a harshand unfamiliar world.

He had sought her out one night, with Catherine's assistance,intent on bringing her back home -- to safety, to security, to a lifeshe once knew and loved. Any parent would have attempted to do so,protect her, help guide her steps as they faltered, and Vincent hadbecome more of a parent to her than even Father.

Still, when he had finally discovered Laura's whereabouts on thatnight, in a rundown tenement, all his resolve to "rescue" her fromthe world Above had instantly vanished. He knew his efforts would befutile. The reason? He had discovered Laura was not alone in thatworld.

Vincent had come upon them simply by chance, when he had glancedinto her window from the fire escape, intending to get her attentionso that they might speak about the important things that needed to besaid: Laura and the young undercover police officer, Jerry, asleep inone another's arms. The sweet peace and comfort, the devotion andlove their tender posture radiated, erased any of the ugly seedinessof their surroundings. It was as if they were suspended in their ownlittle pocket of Eden, besieged all around by the Fall, yet somehowuntouched. It took Vincent's breath away.

And when he was finally able to speak to his prodigal daughter,when she had quietly slipped from Jerry's embrace and joined Vincenton the fire escape, there were no reproaches in his message to her,no outrage -- only a concern for her safety and happiness and aquestion whose answer he already knew: Did she love the youngman?

Her beautiful sign language said it all -- that, and the shimmerin her eyes -- With all her heart. It was nearly a challenge tohim.

Vincent had taken a moment to read her unfamiliar defiance, thenhad shaken his head slightly, the beginning of a bemused smile on hisface. When had he missed it? When had she stopped being a littlegirl? When had her heart become capable of such emotions? "You'vebecome a woman," he had observed of her simply. She had smiled agrateful, tender, woman's smile.

Thus, despite the obstacles, despite the pain, fear, anger andfrustrations, she had opted to remain Above -- to follow her heart,with Jerry at her side, in a love they could share in fully now ashusband and wife.

The sweet remembrance of the young lovers gave Vincent a moment'sheartache, despite his joy at their fulfillment: such dreams werenever destined to be his and Catherine's. The very thought of lyingso beside her, holding her to him in a lover's embrace, had been onlya terrifying, uninhibited wonder -- to be explored only upon pain ofdeath -- literally.

Even beyond the ever present shadow of his "otherness", there weremore equally compelling obstacles to their paths of completion inlove. The very fabric of their devotion seemed to mirror all theunspoken doubts Vincent carried in his ravaged soul as to hisworthiness of so sweet a blessing of heaven.

For Catherine was his dream, his miracle, the shining light thathad brilliantly opened the world to him. The tapestry of their lovewas woven in threads of silk and gold, in colors rich and rare, allworked into a marvelous, fragile, costly portrait of love at its mosttotally pure and elevated reaches.

Yet, in the weeks before losing her, when he'd never dreamed theworld's vicious evil could rip her from his life, Vincent had begunreading more from Catherine's emotions through his bond to her heart.Only in those deep places of her soul did he realize that her totaland unshakable love for him could still ache for more total andcomplete fulfillment for them both... that the spiritual wonder thatwas their love still could long for the emotional, the physical,outpouring of that love between them.

In beguiling moments that hinted at eternity, they had begun toshed, ever so cautiously, the carefully erected defenses around theirhumanity. What would the future have held for them then? What wouldthey have been willing to risk?

Catherine had been torn from his existence before they could evereven begin to contemplate such a heart-stopping turn in their livestogether.

And now there was Diana.

He somehow already almost knew what it would be like to feel herasleep in his arms in the middle of the night, to shelter her body aswillingly as he sheltered her spirit within his soul. The deep,uncharted waters of any physical completion for their love were stillso unknown, risk-charged and threatening, but for some unexplainablereason Vincent believed himself capable of grasping to thepossibility of a safe haven somewhere beyond the murky depths. Itwould require all his courage and a complete trust in Diana's love.He already knew where her fragile heart stood in the matter.

She was so different from Catherine... indeed, his love for herwas so different, too. There was less of the awe and incredulouswonder and more of the indescribable -- rightness -- of it all. Thefabric of their compelling devotion to one another was more a wovenhomespun than silk, soft, warm, comforting, beautiful because itsintricate patterns of care and trust and shelter were the hard-wonpossibilities born of their own hands and hearts. They could wrapthemselves within it easily and be consoled. Its gentle, familiarpatterns were gifts of home, hearth and humanity, difficult torefuse. Sharing his life, his dreams, his world... his bed... withDiana meant only accepting the natural consequences of a love basedon the shared needs of very human souls.

Catherine had been a miracle in his life, a rare gift he neverfelt completely worthy of accepting.

Diana was a reality born from his own spirit.

And they would be pledged to one another in marriage tomorrow. Shewas not only ready to embrace him as her partner, her soulmate, forlife, but accept his world as well, his child, Catherine's child.There was something so extraordinary in that part of the reality ofher love for him.

Even Catherine had had her doubts about giving up her life Above.When she had come Below for his comfort as she grieved the loss ofher father, he had risked hellfire in allowing himself to hope thather experience of an existence Below, with him in his world, mighthave been one she truly would rather never want to leave behind. Butit was not to be.

He had comforted her in her feelings of failure then, pointing outsensibly that there would be other moments to consider such a step intheir lives, moments not charged with foresight-robbing emotion thatwould cloud their thinking. Still, he had bled inside that she tookhis words to heart in total trust. He would never ask her to give upthe promise of her world for the shadows of his.

Diana had come to accept his world, though, as her own personalsanctuary over the course of time they'd shared, separate even fromhim. The world she was leaving Above was one rife with emotionalanguish for her, a draining, daily immersion into the belly of thebeast that was so often the city. The quiet, spirit-nurturing supportof the Underworld was of a kind her beleaguered nature acceptedreadily, with little doubt or turmoil. And in that acceptance therehad been a wealth of hope for them both.

There was still so much fear to work past, though, so muchuncertainty between them. Their steps together up to that moment hadbeen hesitant and plagued by the guilt and doubt of their individualresponses to a love unlike any other. They had promised to work pastit all with tender patience, the very reality of sharing theirhumanity with one another the unthinkable, but very center, of theirpain. Could it be possible?

He had taken one small step, allowed himself the thought that itall could be right for them, opened himself up to the admission thathe truly ached to be husband and lover to Diana. And dreamed that shemight welcome him with the glowing candlelight of her own precious,generous love, one fearless of boundaries and limits.

Vincent left the side of Jacob's crib quietly, intent uponreassuring himself of his heart's conviction. He pulled open a drawerin his wardrobe, trying not to awaken the child. Even in the dimlight of the room, he had no trouble finding what he sought in thedrawer -- a rectangular-shaped bundle caught up in a worn length oftoweling.

Setting the bundle onto his writing table next to the fewstill-lit candles, he carefully eased a wooden box from the cloth --a beautiful box of old mahogany gleaming in the light. Moving aside asmall metal latch, he opened it and removed the precious contentsfrom the satin-lined interior.

There were three pieces: a comb, a brush, and a hand mirror, eachof heavy, ornate silver -- a Victorian ladies' dresser set. The metalglowed softly in the candlelight as Vincent held the brush in hishand.

Even just a few short weeks ago, he would have seriouslyquestioned his hold on his sanity for even considering such a giftfor Diana on their wedding day -- such a personal gift that seemed tooverstep the boundaries they'd willingly agreed to concerning whatwould be possible for them to embrace as physical expressions oftheir love. But just like most every other aspect of their singularrelationship, it seemed that forces beyond their control orunderstanding were guiding their paths to each other in a directionthat hardly steered clear of the depths of passion that could proveblessing or curse in their lives. The gift had come to him in likemanner -- unexpectedly, and bewitchingly disguised within thetenderness of a humanity they both craved, yet feared:

When Mary had ventured to offer him her idea of planning a ladies'evening for Diana, Vincent had already been struggling for severaldays in an attempt to find a way of doing something special for herhimself, offering her some sign of welcome and acceptance into theircommunity, for he realized from the rather distracted nature of hermanner during past days that joining the Underground would entail agreat deal of upheaval in her life, and cost her a good part of whatshe cherished in the world Above, for all its trials and heartaches.Vincent hoped to find some small way to ease her transition, make herfeel less like she was abandoning her existence Above for the unknownand unfamiliar world that was his home. It suddenly had become soimportant for him, to help her feel at home, as if she were now notso much in his world, but in their world.

Mary's idea of a shower would assure his bride-to-be of thefriendship of the women, and indeed of everyone, in the community.And Vincent thought he might be able to help Diana adjust in anotherway: He would make his chamber a little less like his sanctuary andmore like their home.

It was quite a momentous decision, for the only change his roomhad seen since Devin's departure and the packing away of children'sbooks and toys, had been the addition of Jacob's cradle and dresser,and then, as the little boy had grown, the exchange of the cradle fora crib. But, he felt it was a small gift he could present Diana with,in light of the drastic turn her own life would need to take, nomatter how anticipated, by living Below.

So, Vincent, Mary and Olivia had headed down to the storagetunnels one afternoon in search of items that could make his chambera bit more welcoming to Diana.

Their success had been almost immediate, which he took as apositive sign. A small drop-leaf table was found, along with a pairof matching chairs, to replace the writing table that seated onlyhimself in his chamber. A hinged screen was retrieved from a farcorner of the storage area to serve as a divider for Jacob's alcovein the room, once it was brightened with clean fabric on its threepanels. A bright patchwork quilt that was sadly torn on one side wasdeemed perfect for the wall behind the child's crib after it was cutdown to size. The extra fabric bits from the damaged end could beused for a pillow.

Those finds easily decided to, Mary then asked Vincent a practicalenough question in light of their endeavor. "Will Diana need adresser or chest, do you think?"

Vincent considered the question a moment before responding. "Thereis plenty of room in the one I already have. But I'm certain shewould appreciate some small furnishing of her own."

"What about this, Vincent?" Olivia had ventured far into therecesses of the stored furniture, chests, candlesticks and beds, todraw a sheet from off one intriguing item.

It was a turn-of-the-century ladies' dressing table of finelycarved cherry wood, standing on slim, turned legs and crowned with amarvelous framed oval mirror only slightly hazy. Several smalldrawers were finished with carved fronts, and a padded bench with atapestry seat fit into the recessed leg area.

Mary's face lit up when she recognized the dresser. It had beenbrought Below years ago, as part of the estate of a dear and valuedHelper who had bequeathed her few, but exquisite possessions to theirworld. Antique dealers had offered intermediaries next to nothing forthe piece, citing the need to have the mirror re-silvered, so thepossibility of selling the dresser had been dropped in favor of itsuse by the ever expanding community. Father, himself, had offered thefurnishing to Mary for her chamber, to replace her own unsteady chestof drawers, but she had promptly declined it, observing that such afine dressing table deserved a lovely young lady's reflection in themirror, and not her own graying one.

Vincent stood in silent contemplation of the dresser for a longmoment. Mary guessed he wasn't simply assessing the quality of theworkmanship, knew from a mother's pain exactly what he was thinkinginstead -- that he had never had a mirror in his chamber before. Therealization almost shook Mary's faith in the rightness of theiractions, dreading having caused turmoil instead of encouraging hope.But then the matriarch of the community watched gratefully as thequiet warmth of Vincent's intense eyes deepened. She was certain nowof what he could see in his heart: A gentle-spirited, amber-hairedyoung woman seated on the bench before the mirror, attending to hergrooming in the peaceful glow of their home. "I believe Diana wouldbe very pleased with it, Olivia," Vincent pronounced quietly.

Mary breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

"We will need something for the top of it. A lace scarf, perhaps,and maybe a small keepsake box." The elder woman had the situationwell under control, it seemed, again.

"Would there be anything in the 'Bride's Chest' like that, do youthink?" Olivia questioned. Mention of the "Bride's Chest" assuredVincent he had absolutely no place in the continued proceedings inthe room, but the two women would not lose their reluctant companionso easily.

"I'm certain there is," Mary replied. "You must help us, Vincent.The chest is down over there. I'm afraid it's been all but buriedsince Laura's wedding."

Vincent followed Mary's directing hand and managed to free a largesteamer trunk of ancient pedigree from the surrounding clutter ofdusty furnishings. He could not help himself, despite his misgivings:The mystery of the "Bride's Chest" was of interest even to him, as herecalled its history:

Mouse had been the hero of the day where the chest was concerned.He had come upon the trunk buried in the rubble of a leveled buildingseveral years ago, during one of his foraging expeditions with anumber of the other boys. Finding the trunk, and getting it Below,were two quite separate stories, replete with adventure in their ownright.

But when the chest had been opened, Mouse was disappointed to findthat it held not preciously useful tools or hardware goods. Instead,the chest sheltered a wealth of "ladies' doodads" as he called them-- fine embroidered linens, bolts of exquisite fabrics, silvercandlesticks, and carefully preserved letters and momentos, all inmarvelously good condition. Beneath it all was a silk wedding gownand veil, and the dried remains of a flower bouquet in a smallhatbox.

Mouse's discovery may have been a distress to him, but he becamevery quickly a hero to the women of the Underground who could stillappreciate the fine hand-worked treasures that were obviously a partof a bride's trousseau from at least eighty years ago.

The letters told the story of a young English bride -- JaneElizabeth Wentworth, who had come to America to join her recentlyemigrated Irish husband, Michael O'Neill, in New York. The couple hadbeen faced with parental opposition, the letters revealed, and theyhoped a new life in the U.S. would bring them happiness free ofprejudice.

Unfortunately, Michael was killed during the First World War, justmonths after Jane had come to New York, and their dreams were leftunfulfilled. Jane never married again, instead devoting her life tohelping poor immigrant girls without families. She died in aninfluenza epidemic at the age of 28. Her precious possessions werelost through the years, ending up somehow in the ruined building,untouched.

Having learned the story of Mouse's treasure, it was unanimouslydecided by the community's council representatives that the contentsof Jane Elizabeth's chest be held for similar use as her own life'swork: Each young woman of the community was to have the opportunityto choose a small gift from out of the chest at age 16, and thenagain at the time of her marriage. The older women and those alreadymarried could also choose something from the chest upon the birth ofa child, or a milestone birthday or wedding anniversary.

In the eight years that the "Bride's Chest" had become a part ofthe Underworld, nearly every woman over the age of 16 had been giventhe opportunity to share in its treasures. But there were still manymore articles left, as the women had been claiming only the smallestof items -- a single doily, a lone yard of fabric. And the mostprecious articles, the wedding gown, the flowers and the letters, hadbeen carefully repacked within the chest to someday be displayed withhonor therein.

Mary had been placed in charge of the wondrous chest and it wasone of her particularly pleasurable duties to help a young bridechoose her gift. She had never dreamed she would someday be doing thesame for Vincent's love.

Olivia carefully removed a long dresser doily of cutwork and lacefor Mary to consider. "Is this one long enough?"

"Bring it over here, Livvy, and we can see what it will looklike," Mary instructed, as she dusted off the dresser with part ofthe sheet that covered it.

As the two women contemplated the appropriateness of the linen,Vincent was drawn to the remaining contents of the chest and whatthey represented. Here was a story of tragic love that somehow hadmanaged to gently touch the lives of people Jane Elizabeth wouldnever know. But her kindness and courage amidst tragedy would be alegacy to be cherished by strangers who would consider her always asa beloved benefactor.

Moving his hand lightly among the snowy linens in the chest,Vincent suddenly felt something hard beneath a pile of tattedhandkerchiefs. He reached into the pile and carefully guided a heavyrectangular wooden box free of the delicate fabrics surroundingit.

A polished metal latch held the top of the box locked into place.Vincent slid it free and curiously opened the lid.

Inside it was something metal, and substantial, though the yearshad coated it with layers of tarnish -- a fine ladies' comb and brushset, obviously of silver.

Mary and Olivia had returned to Vincent's side. "So that is stillin there, too," Mary observed. "We really should pack it away withthe gown and the letters. None of the girls wants to choose that setfor themselves. They all think it is much too special."

"It is beautifully worked," Vincent responded, running his handover the intricate styling of the brush back appreciatively.

Mary, taking another chance on her mother's intuition, andfollowing the urgings of her heart, that would see her beloved fosterson freed of pain and regret, continued speaking casually to Vincent.She did not mistake the look of quiet wonder in his eyes as hehandled the hair brush.

"The only way that set will find its way to a new bride'strousseau these days is if it is given to her as a gift." She knewshe couldn't expect Vincent to respond outright. His iron will hadheld the tenderness of his heart in check for too long. So shepaused, instead, a moment, to allow him the luxury of conjuring upthe image in his mind that she knew he was nevertheless carryingwithin his tested soul. And she innocently voiced the necessarywords. "Do you think Diana would accept it as a gift? I hate to thinkof the poor thing just tarnishing in a box, unused."

Olivia, long deprived of her own heart's hope, was just asobservant of Vincent's thoughtful manner and came easily to the sameconclusion that Mary had. She added her voice to the weightyargument. "It would be perfect for her, Vincent, as a special gift.She has that beautiful, long red hair. Any woman would love to usesuch a fine brush on her hair."

Or have someone she loved use it on her hair for her.

Mary could follow Vincent's silent train of thought, miraculous asit was for him, in his eyes. She hadn't been wrong. At the moment,those azure eyes were focused on the brush in his hand, and seeingthe silken amber locks that would slip through it with breathtakingease.

Yet, he struggled mightily to bury that image deep within himagain. Mary almost lost hope. She folded the dresser scarf carefullyin her hands, catching Olivia's distressed look as she did so, aswell. Vincent set the brush back into the box and closed the lid.

With suddenly heavy spirits, the women turned to leave. Comingback up to his feet, Vincent reached his hand to Mary's arm andquestioned her directly, then. "Do you think William has something Ican use to clean the tarnish off?"

Another prayer of thanks joined Mary's first one.

Vincent reset the wooden box into his wardrobe drawer. He wasn'texactly certain how he had been able to convince himself of theappropriateness of the gift to Diana. Lately, he had found he wastreading on ground he would never have dared dream of as anything butvehemently forbidden him. Yet, something of Diana's inner strengthseemed always within his spirit as well, gently guiding him past oneobstacle after another.

God only knew what the coming day would bring.

Vincent realized then that he was desperately tired. The hour waslate, and he very much wished to ease into bed and sleep. It took himonly a few moments to slip out of his layers of clothing and underthe quilt on his bed.

Gazing one final time to Jacob asleep in his crib, Vincent at lastlet the gentle darkness of the room envelope him. Tomorrow wasalready here, with all its incredible possibility reaching out tohim. Whether the day would be one to treasure or dread had a greatdeal to do with the direction the fates had pointed him into oflate.

As the sheltering release of sleep at last overtook him, Vincent'sheart left behind the reinforced defenses of the day. In thatvulnerable freedom, he received his answer to tomorrow's unnamedpromise: It rested in a pool of candlelight, reflected in a mirror...And in the wonder of amber silk hair framing porcelain skin, tendergreen eyes holding to the most fragile of hopes with welcome --his.