Living the Promise: Chapter Eight

"Mouse! Mouse!" Kanin's words hardly carried a foot over theshrill whirring din of the drill being so meticulously guided by thecommunity's young engineer. Finally, Vincent set his chisel and stonehammer down and reached a hand up to the excavator's shoulder.

At last Mouse realized he was being addressed and pulled the RubeGoldberg-esque drilling machine away from the wall face he'd beenworking on, turning it off. A sheepish grin covered his dusty facewhen he lifted away his safety goggles. "Sorry. Couldn't hear.

Drill too loud. Lunch time already?"

"Yes it is, Mouse. You've been working very hard this morning.Time for a break."

The enthusiastic young man looked up at the towering figure of hisdearest friend with understanding. "Mouse gets busy, hates to stop.Have to finish heavy work soon. Chambers needed, behindschedule."

Kanin beat some of the more prominent layers of dust off his heavyflannel work shirt. "We know Mouse, but you can't push that drillingmachine of yours too hard. You'll blow a gear we can't afford toreplace and that would really set us back."

Vincent also dusted himself off as best as he could, the fine filmof powdered rock greying his golden hair and thermal shirt. "Itseemed as if the pitch of sound was changing as you were drillingjust now. Did you notice it?" he asked Mouse with concern. "Perhapsanother vein of limestone through the harder rock. We must be carefulof collapse."

"Okay good, okay fine. After lunch Mouse will check things out. Goonly a little way more and listen. Find what's what."

With only partially disguised relief, Kanin and Vincent sharedknowing glances between them as Mouse turned away to dust himself offtoo.

The excavation of additional deep storage chambers had been goingon for months, because of the need to free up more living areasnearer to the Inner Circle of the growing community that could beaccessed by communications pipes. Work had been long and hard, withmost of the heavy preliminary digging being done by Vincent alone, byhand.

In the past, any such back-breaking excavating would have earnedWinslow's expertise, his blustery strength doing well against thebedrock that needed to be tackled. But the community's respectedmetalsmith had been a casualty of the chaos that had ultimately ledup to the nightmares that had threatened the Underworld's veryexistence, from without and unexpectedly from within..

Now, Kanin and Cullen could only manage the more time-consumingfinishing carving, after Vincent had blocked out the chambers'parameters. That was, until Mouse had adapted his pieced-togetherdrilling machine.

The equipment had really only been used in emergencies, itsprecious batteries too small to hold out for any extended workperiod, but the snail's pace at which the present excavating projectwas proceeding had prompted a guarded agreement to the use of thequestionable device, which actually melded high-speed drill bits withrecycled gears a half century old. So far, no problems had surfaced,as a result of the machine's use.

But, the stone deep within the earth's layers where work was beingdone had been found to be shot through with several differing veinsof minerals, unlike the normally familiar bedrock the majority of thedeep tunnels had been carved out of. With the usual hand working ofprojects in the past, the unique properties of the various stonelayers could be carefully taken into account and dealt with.

Mouse's comparatively high-speed drilling, however, hadcircumvented the extra-cautious procedures, and both Kanin andVincent were keeping a close eye on the process to avoid anypotential dangers. They were perfectly trusting of Mouses's abilitiesas engineer. It was the introduction of unfamiliar technology in hishands that sometimes gave them pause.

"Better get cleaned up a bit more. If Diana's anything like Livy,she'll not be pleased with you carrying bushels of stone dust withyou into your chambers for lunch." Kanin pulled a large bucket ofwater over to within Vincent's reach.

"It's your turn to eat at home, Kanin. I left early to be withDiana last night, remember?"

A fraternal slap on the powerful shoulders of his co-worker spokeof understanding support. "Yes, but Livy isn't due until February,and Diana is in five weeks."

"So, if you check on Diana for me and tell her I will be home forsupper, I would be very grateful. By the time you come back down, Iwill have more of this heavy chiseling done, and you will then beable to continue your finishing work."

Kanin shook his head, aware that, again, he'd lost out in hisargument to practicality, and Vincent's selfless power of persuasion.He knew that his friend would ordinarily have kept working long intothe night to keep the progress of the project moving ahead steadily.But he also knew, as any expectant father did, that those last fewweeks before the birth of a child could be the most fearful anduncertain ones of all.

Thus, Kanin had been making certain that Vincent was findingplenty of opportunities to remain close to Diana through the day,despite the heavy workload. Still, his friend always insisted onreciprocating the favor, and the earnest stoneworker was grateful forthat. He needed to be near Livy these days as much as Vincent neededto be with Diana.

Tossing several handsful of water over his dust-streaked face,Kanin attempted to make himself more presentable for the midday mealin community, all the while thinking of what a blessing his life hadbecome -- After four years Above in prison, where he'd come to termsfor a tragic, youthful irresponsibility with the world up top, he wasnow back home with his own family: Luke, Olivia, and, miraculously,their soon-to-be-born second child, a gift of love tested, torn, andfinally reunited.

"They are amazing creatures, these women that we love!" Kanincommented as he handed the water bucket back over. Vincent looked upas he washed his hands, then handed Mouse a thermos of soup thatWilliam had packed for each of them. A completely knowing smile brokeover the unique, dust-covered features of his face.

"Yes, and we will, thankfully, never be the same after having themshare in our lives."

"I'll tell Diana you said that," came the friendly threat with alaugh. Kanin then turned out the roughly-carved entrance of thechamber, on his way to the living areas above them.

Mouse couldn't help adding his own observations to the matters athand as he and Vincent quickly ate their lunches. "Good to have Kaninback home. Olivia's happy. Luke's happy. Family again."

"It's been a very painful time for them all. They deserve theirhappiness now, Mouse. It is a blessing to all of us."

"Like you and Diana. Pain, hurt, love, then a blessing ofhappiness, too."

Vincent looked up into the gentle, boyish face of the youngengineer, and marveled at how . . . precisely . . . he had describedthe truth. Out of the mouth of babes, he thought.

Pain, hurt, love, and blessing:

Closing his eyes a moment, Vincent let his heart seek out thepresence of his beloved family within its peaceful depths: A bright,effervescent warmth -- that was Jacob, no doubt eagerly engaged insome discovery with Luke and Katy.

Then, a gentle, steady flow of tenderness brushed with shelteringcare -- Diana, going about her daily tasks, turning her thoughts tohim at that instant, too, remarkably to him.

And a quiet rhythm of wondrous new life, pulsing gently, echoingthe love that created it -- their unborn child. His bond with thelittle heart was strong now, and capable of moving him to tears, attimes, in the quiet morning moments with Diana sleeping at hisside.

"Yes, Mouse. I have been blessed."

Perhaps after supper tonight, when lessons had been completed andthe community had slipped into its easy, end of day routines, hecould bring Diana and Jacob down to the river for an hour or so. Ithad been a while since they had allowed themselves the indulgence,what with his workload, and Diana's state of health. But, tonight, anhour in the magic of the river garden would be so welcome.

The world Above had already been buffeted by December storms oficy rain and plummeting temperatures, but below at the river therewere still plants growing in charming cracked pots and there wasstill thick grass to lie on and smell and touch with wonder anddelight. Jacob could toss pebbles into the stream or follow a stickon its journey along the current, and he, himself, would simply holdDiana and their child in his arms as the rest of his prayer for theend of the day.

Thankfully, what had so perplexed Father and Peter about Diana'scondition, its apparently accelerated state, had seemed to run itscourse without event. They'd cautiously prepared themselves to handlean early delivery of the child, but the pregnancy had simply settleditself into more recognizable patterns that everyone was gratefulfor. The baby seemed to be thriving, and Diana, too, had turned acorner in her state of spirit. Olivia's gentle encouragement andconcurrent condition had done a great deal towards easing everyone'sheart.

Mouse's reactivation of the drilling machine reluctantly pulledVincent to the present reality of more digging to be done. He smiledgenerously at the young man as he got back up to his feet andretrieved his hand tools.

The community's chief engineer was a blessing as well, hisever-optimistic outlook at what could be accomplished onlyoccasionally out of step with reality. The gentle soul deserved hiseternally reachable hope.

He also deserved the tender kinship Vincent had caught sight of inJamie's sweet face more than once, when her no-nonsense exterior wasoff guard.

Two more different spirits Vincent could never imagine as evercoming together in love -- the dreamer, and the pragmatist. The waythings had been going around the community of late, though, hewouldn't be surprised to find the two young people engaged in astumbling convergence of hearts themselves. It appeared that theFates were set to smile on them all, at last.

With chisel and hammer in hand, Vincent set out again to squareoff more of the side opening into the chamber so a doorframe could befitted, dividing up the storage space. Small bits of rock jumped upat him as he worked, giving evidence of the more brittle nature ofthe stone in this particular area of the tunnels. It wasn't even thesofter limestone that they worked carefully around to avoidcollapsing their project's walls, but something else, hard, yetunstable.

The puzzling nature of the rock slid into the background of histhoughts that again settled themselves, gratefully, onto Diana andJacob, and the sweet care of the moments that had begun theirmorning. Yet, Vincent soon realized that something else was forcingitself back into his attention again.

Mouse's drilling machine.

It didn't sound right, not the same as it had before they'dstopped to rest for lunch.

The shrill pitch of revolving metal against stone was nowinterspersed by moments of lower-toned grinding, as if a reluctancehad taken hold of the rhythm of the working parts.

. . . That mixture of stone types again. . . .The drill must behitting more of the flinty stone behind the softer face of thechamber wall . . . A sudden unease took hold of Vincent, and heturned from his own work towards the opposite end of the room, whereMouse continued to drill.

The instant that Vincent caught full sight of the young man andhis machine was the instant that the stone wall before them bothexploded with a shattering force that seemed to stop time itself.

Mouse only had the presence of mind to throw up his arms in frontof his face, attempting to shield himself from the terrifying, andexpected, rain of stone heading for him.

Instinctively, Vincent lunged at Mouse across the open space thatseparated them. He caught hold of the young man at about hip level,the force of his formidible body being launched against the slighterone, hurling Mouse down to the chamber floor just a breath before thedrill rigging was capsized and the full stream of shattered stonehit.

A chunk of metal from the disintegrating machine flew againstVincent as he fell with Mouse, hitting him above the left eye. Bloodstreamed from the wound immediately, impeding his sight. Smallershards of stone pelted sharply through the fabric of his work shirtwith their own stinging pain.

Mouse was being assaulted as well. He'd flown to the floor withenough force behind him to break his right arm as he landed. Agood-sized rock hit him in the shoulder, another knocked against theback of his head, where Vincent couldn't reach a protective armaround the boy.

Then, a searing, startling flash of pain coursed through his ownbody, with a power that stopped Vincent's breathing. It sent a surgeof white-hot agony from his left side through his entire chest.Fighting for breath, he could not, however, fill his lungs enough.His remaining vision began to darken around him.

Vaguely he was still aware of Mouse beneath him, and an automaticprayer reached his clouding mind in the hope that the young man was,at least, still alive. Then, in the fast-overpowering darkness andheart-numbing pain, a sudden flash of remembrance held his slippingconsciousness in a vision he'd been tormented by months ago, but hadat last dismissed only as a new father's quiet anxiety:

. . . Diana, crumbling to her knees, just out his reach.

He could hear her screaming out his name, feel her heart tearingin two, along with his own. "My love," he fought to whisper, in avoice now only a soul could hear.

Diana clipped the last yarn tie on the bright quilt and carefullyfolded the comforting blanket onto the growing pile beside her. Theimaginative mix of fabric colors, patterns, and textures had all cometogether somehow, into a sheltering warmth that welcomed anyonereaching for it.

Not unlike her own experience of life Below the past nearly eightmonths. Only eight months, and only two and a half years ofintermittant exposure to the nurturing, hopeful world before that:Just a bit more than three years since she'd taken on aninvestigation, against her better judgment, that would literallychange her entire life.

It was so amazing: She felt as though her very first glimpses oflife had been bathed in the soft, muted glow of candlelight. The cityAbove, and her own former existence in it, were far from her heart --another life -- another person's life.

The present reality was here . . . Olivia's chamber, with thequiet hum of the sewing machine and the gentle song of friendlyconversation. Luke and Jacob, building some intriguing structure withJacob's birthday blocks, their infectious energies for the most partnow confined to the stone floor across the room.

More present reality . . . The women at work on quilts for theshelter houses they were preparing as community Christmas gifts tothose in need Above; the holiday an occasion to give and nurture andoffer quietly anonymous support, not a rat race of meaninglessconsumption bordering on the blasphemous.

This was now the actuality of her home.

Yet, she'd not been completely cut off from the city and its sooften spirit-shattering coldness, but, at last, she'd been able toactually feel as if she were doing something for someone to improvetheir lives, instead of always having to pick up the pieces afterunholy chaos had shattered them.

Diana had accompanied Lena and Laura as they'd delivered one giftof a dozen quilts several weeks before to a home for young runawaysand prostitutes trying to break free from the streets. The women hadpersonally brought the quilts up to each of the girls in their sharedrooms, giving faces to those in need who benefitted from theUnderworld's outreach of love.

The quilts were only collections of recycled fabric bits thatwould help warm beds in sparse dormitories that were difficult tokeep comfortable in the old brownstone, but the gift of care thatwent out along with the simple blankets had served to warm a numberof hearts that day.

One blanket Diana had spread over the bed of a 16 year old hookernamed Jeannie. She was a runaway from some vague little town in theMidwest, a victim of her mother's alcohol and her step-father'sperversions, made hard beyond her years, with brown eyes that carriedno life within them. Yet, beyond the "I don't give a damn" attitude,Diana recognized a frightened, lonely young girl.

The quilt, though, unexpectedly lit up Jeannie's spiritimmediately, in spite of herself. Without realizing that even hertone of voice had changed as she spoke, she said quietly, "My grandmamade me a quilt like this once. She made lots of them, really fancyones, with stars and fans and things. I used to love looking throughher fabric piles."

Diana had sat on the bed beside the girl and they'd spoken for afew moments about her memories, especially those of her grandmother,the only happy recollections, it seemed, the girl had. Then Jeannie'sattention abruptly rested on Diana, without apology, and on herunborn child, as if forcing herself back to the present.

"You know who the father is?" came the cold, almost hostileinquiry.

Startled at the question, and its tone, Diana then realized thepain it had sprung up from within the girl's soul. "My husband is thefather of our child," she responded softly. The girl seemed almostcapable of understanding that.

"You happy about it?"

Another pang of frightened defiance, lashing out, unwilling tobelieve.

"Oh, yes, Jeannie," Diana said with all the wonder in her heart."Yes! We both are, and so grateful. This child will be born of ourlove, a love we never believed we'd be blessed by. It took us a long,painful time to find our way to each other."

The girl's hardened features gentled again, despite her protectivefacade. "I used to wish I'd fall in love, get married, have ababy."

"It can still happen for you, Jeannie. Love can touch your life,too."

The vehemence with which the young girl shook her head broughttears to Diana's eyes. But for the grace of God, that girl could havebeen Samantha, selling her body just so she could eat, devoid of allhope.

After a moment of silence that echoed with pain, Jeannie found hervoice. "Could I, could I just . . . touch . . . you?" The careful,stumbling request gave Diana pause again, but this time at the girl'sobvious attempt to reclaim her innocent belief in life . . . andlove.

All she'd ever experience of pregnancy, Diana guessed, was thefact that it would get her into trouble with her pimp, and keep herfrom working for her very existence.

A sharing of souls in love was beyond her comprehension.

Gently, Diana had taken the girl's hand and had held it to herbaby for a long moment. When the little one stirred, as if knowingthe important need for it to do so at that moment, Jeannie actuallylaughed, the warmth almost rising to her huge brown eyes, acceptingthe promising wonder that could be life.

"That's really something," she said. Diana could almost hope forthe girl.

Still, when it had been time to return Below, the image that thetender, caring mother had brought away from the half-lit room wasn'teven that of a hardened young hooker trying to take hold of her life.It had been, instead, that of a little girl, wrapping herself up inher grandmother's quilt, dreaming of a loving heart to share.

"Diana, you seem far away. Is anything wrong, dear?" Mary's gentlewords slipped around her thoughts and reassured Diana of where shewas.

"I'm fine, Mary. I was just thinking of how blessed my life is,compared to the lives of those we're making these blankets for."

"Yes, we are all very gifted in that, aren't we? We have eachother. We have people we love and who love us. We have our hope."

Mary's quiet description of the wonder that had become her lifemade Diana truly realize what gifts she'd unbelievably been able toclaim for her own this past year -- a loving community of family, awondrously treasured little boy, and an extraordinary heart:

the father of both that little boy and her own unborn child.

A sweet tenderness holding her spirit told her that Vincent hadsought out her presence within him. That Diana could even be aware ofsuch a thing was part of the miracle in their love. She let her heartdrift to its partner's, with welcome.

"Have you decided what you wish to do for Father this Christmas,Mary?" Olivia's question brought a sweet wash of color over the olderwoman's gentle, care-worn features. She, too, had been able to takehold of blessings this year in her life.

"Yes, Livy. Actually, Samantha's been helping me with it forseveral weeks now. I've been learning to play chess, so I may play itwith Jacob."

Diana and Olivia laughed softly at the perfection of the gift Marywas preparing for the beloved patriarch of their community.

For the adults of the tunnel world, Christmas gifts meantofferings of the spirit to those they loved, gestures of shared timeand talents, in keeping with the true meaning of the holiday. Oh, thechildren were allowed the luxury of a plaything, an almost newgarment, a treat adventure in the world Above, the more tangiblegifts that their young hearts could still delight in, in addition tothe spirit-gifting offerings that were the center of theircelebrations, and indeed, their everyday life throughout theyear.

But, the adults had long ago decided that gifts of themselves werethe only treasures they'd consider for those they loved.

So it came to no one's surprise that Mary had decided to take uponherself the challenge of secretly learning the strategic game Fatherhad at last despaired of ever interesting her in, simply so that sheand the venerable physician could spend future evenings in a quietly,warmly shared activity that would gift them both with time andcloseness.

"That is marvelous, Mary," Olivia responded. "Father's beenlooking for another worthy opponent for his games."

"Jeffrey's not yet in his league and he's given up on beatingVincent any longer. He's even asked me why on earth I didn't learn!"Diana interjected with humor. "I told him I don't have the patience.You'll give him a real workout, though, I'm sure."

"Precisely why I asked Samantha to teach me. Jacob has said oftenher grasp of the game was extraordinary for one so young. I plan ongiving him many a good battle!"

"What about you, Livy? What are you doing for Kanin?" Dianaasked.

"I hope it will be something special for him, too," came thesoft-spirited response, as Olivia left her place at the sewingmachine and walked over to Luke's small chest of drawers. The boycame over to his mother's side after he realized she'd been rummagingabout a bit without obviously finding what she sought. Jacob joinedthe group of women, too.

"Here, Mother. I pushed it farther behind my clothes so thatFather couldn't find it by accident." The earnest, dark-haired sixyear old carefully pulled what appeared to be a muslin sack out ofthe deep drawer, a heavy one, about the size of a pillowcase.

Olivia reached into the drawstring sack and came over to Diana'schair with three chunks of rock, each about the size of a fist.Immediately, Diana could appreciate the appeal of the stones. One waspure, pearly white. Another was a veined green, and polished smoothon three sides. The third was speckled in red and black.

"Marble. And granite. They're beautiful, Livy. Where on earth didyou find them?"

"Remember when Mouse brought news of that old bank building theywere tearing down in Greenwich a couple of months ago? I went up withhim once to see if I could find some special stone for Kanin to dohis carving with. There was this beautiful staircase all shattered tobits in the rubble, and chunks of a doorway lintel. I gathered abouta dozen different pieces."

Diana smiled with understanding. Olivia's face, long etched withundeserved lines of weary pain, shone gently as she spoke of herhusband, finally returned to her.

"Kanin is a fine stonecutter, and he loves working the chambersbelow. But being able to sculpt in marble or granite -- that issomething he's always wished for. I know the pieces are just tiny,but, perhaps, he can do something with them."

Carefully, Olivia replaced the stone chunks into the bag, whichLuke again hid deep into his drawer. Jacob came over to Diana's side,then announced with generous pride of his own, "Mama has been workingon a gift for father, too. A book of music poetry."

"Really, Diana?" The little boy's announcement quickly turned allattention to the remaining woman in the room. She was happy to shareher secret as well.

"Vincent enjoyed the two classes I planned with the olderliterature students on music poetry so much that I thought he'd likereading more. I've written down some song lyrics that have meant agood deal to me over the course of time, and bound them together in asmall journal for him."

"How wonderful!" came Olivia's comment. Mary also recognized thesweet and gentle spirit of love shared in such a gift.

"I believe that Vincent has probably read every volume down here,literary or not, at least a half dozen times," came the warmstatement from Mary with a laugh. "He's certain to welcome a newsource of poetry."

"Mama has drawn beautiful pictures to go with the words, too."Jacob's further explanation turned Diana's cheeks to a gentle pink atthe inevitable outpouring of interest in her project.

"I didn't know you were an artist, Diana," Olivia said.

"Oh, heavens, far from an artist, Livy!" Diana rushed to inform."I only sketch a bit, very simple things. Unfortunately, it came inhandy when I was Above and working on a case. I'd sometimes sketchout scenes of incidents as I pictured them in my mind so that I couldstudy them more closely for possible leads. It was hardly aworthwhile expression of any artistic talent."

"But Vincent surely will love a glimpse into another facet ofyourself, child," Mary pointed out. Diana smiled shyly, trying tocall to mind the number of times her husband had told her that he'dnever come to completely understand her, and that he would beeternally grateful because of that fact. It must be at least ahundred times by now. Mary's observation had indeed been part of themotivation for her gift. All she'd ever have to give her belovedwould be herself. She welcomed the opportunity to reveal her heart,in some small way, even more intimately to him.

The trusting friendship that the three women shared urged Oliviato ask a favor. "Do you think you could show us some of your worksometime?" With the remarkable spirit of the sensitive, intuitiveyoung woman a known and so welcome part of the community now, too,Olivia was certain any sketches Diana might have lately created wouldsurely be special works of art.

Diana was able to easily take the request in the spirit in whichit was intended -- a confidence shared between loving family members.Funny, ordinarily such a private person Above, defensively so, whatwith her soul-eroding past vocation, she'd felt so strangely at homewith her shift to a very community-oriented existence, openingherself up to these supportive women as well as to her belovedhusband, happy to welcome their concerned and gifting friendship asif from her own family.

"I'll do better than that," she replied to Olivia's request withfervant trust. "I'll let you see the book for Vincent. Jacob, youknow where it is. Would you bring it back for me here, please?"

The little boy was out the chamber door before anyone could blinkan eye, eager to show his treasured extended family members that he,too, could be trusted with a special and important secretproject.

Mary bent back to her hand sewing, a satisfied smile gracing hermother's face. She was so glad that Diana could feel close enough toher and Olivia that she could share a relatively intimate revelationof her heart's love with them.

It hadn't been so long ago that the tested young woman had buriedher hopes and emotions for the mythic, haunted being that had beenVincent, devoid of all promise in his life. Now, the man that Maryloved as her own child was finally at peace with his soul, shelteredin the warm and generous love of the burnished-haired redeemer beforeher. And that long-assaulted young woman's spirit was also givensancutary at last, finally free to proclaim its love and care withoutguilt or shame.

Yes, the blessings were finally within reach for so many of thoseshe loved, Mary decided with great satisfaction.

A few moments later, Jacob returned, carefully carting a metaltin, about the size of two shoeboxes put together. The tin wasdecorated with a Currier and Ives winter scene and had once beenfilled with butter cookies.

Diana smiled and shook her head as the little boy gently set thebox on what was left of her lap. "Oh, Jacob, angel, you didn't haveto bring the whole box! You know the book is inside."

"But I didn't want to upset your special treasures, Mama."

With a sweeping hug and a heartfelt kiss to the little boy'sgolden hair, Diana acknowledged his care with her memory box. "Thatwas very kind of you, Jacob." Realizing that Mary and Olivia would bejust as intrigued by the contents of the box as by the poetry book,she took a leap of faith into the bonds of family and opened the boxup in their presence.

At first reluctant to intrude on Diana's privacy, her twocompanions eased over to her side with gratitude at her invitation.The enigmatic young woman at once became a forever beloved sister anddaughter, as any final vestiges of polite distances were setaside.

Carefully, Diana eased several stacks of letters tied with ribbonout of the box, then shared her photograph of her graduation day atthe Police Academy with the women. Olivia commented at how alikeDiana and her father looked. Mary, with a mother's eye, caught sightof the pride, and quiet ache, in Diana's own mother's warmfeatures.

She also noted the official-looking certificates their companionset aside without explanation, catching sight of the words "bravery"and "commendation" on both of them. That Diana wouldn't even give asecond thought to such things at the moment came as no surprise toMary.

Then a smaller stationery box came out of the tin, at which Jacobchose to remain for closer inspection. It was his favorite object inthe memory tin, though he'd been offered only slightly revealingexplanations as to the items' importance to his mother:

The container held some carefully wrapped and dried flowers -- arosebud corsage, treasured from a long-ago evening of dancing in thepark, with a newly-discovered soulmate; a red rose, that had graced apillow on another tender, threatened, wondrous night; and, mostimportant to the little boy, a third rose treasure he did know thefull story of . . . the white and red blossom that he'd given Dianaon his last birthday, the mystically melded flower that had told herthe time was right to leave behind her guilty fears and rejoice inthe promise of the day.

Beneath the small box of fragile blossoms were two slim, oldvolumes of verse, so similar to the ones easily evident all aroundthem in the community -- Grey's Elegy in a Country Churchyard, and acollection of Dylan Thomas. Diana handled the books carefuly, gently,offering the other two women beside her only a few words ofexplanation:

"These finally led me to Vincent." Poetry of loss and remembrance,that had finally drawn Diana to the one place where she would meet upwith her destiny face to face . . . Catherine's grave, and thetormented remnants of a remarkable heart that was to become herbeloved.

One more special little keepsake Jacob reached into the box for,with obvious familiar fascination -- a perfectly preserved fossil ofa seashell. The little boy couldn't quite understand why his motherdid not keep it within the glass jar that sat on her mirrored dresserand held numerous other, tiny shells. He did, though, treasurelooking at it for the secret, long ago world it hinted at that musthave existed within the parameters of their own world.

Diana had singled it out, though, for the memory of how she'd cometo possess it -- swimming in the hot spring stream so far below withVincent for their Midsummer excursion. The powerful forces of naturethat had melded an object of beauty from the world Above to thestoney depths of their own world had become a cherished mirror, forher, of her entire existence of late, indeed, even of Vincent's stateof soul.

It was during that journey that she'd revealed to him thewonderous fact that she was bearing their child. That time, too, hadbecome for them an opportunity of unburdened, uninhibited, lovingacknowledgement of their need for each other, a touching to the verybonds that held their hearts and souls as one.

The sweet memory brought a breathless stirring deep within herspirit, and body, that hardly took note of the fact she was eightmonths pregnant now. Diana smiled softly to herself as she picturedhow Vincent would be giving her a startled, but not too harsh,reprimand, when he came home tonight, about the direction herthoughts had no doubt threaded themselves into his heart from herown, when he was trying to put in a day's work in the chambers below.It would only serve as further evidence of the ease with which theynow were free to accept all of their compelling devotion to eachother.

"Here's the book, Mama." Jacob had set aside the seashell andretrieved the final item in the keepsake box -- Diana's gift toVincent for their first Christmas together. Almost shyly she handedthe booklet over to Olivia, as Mary looked over her shoulder. Thewomen began to page through the thin volume with gentle wonder,slipping into the heart of their mercurial friend and reading thetender radiance of her love there for her husband.

The cover of the booklet was sturdy card stock that had beenwashed with a gentle irridescence of watercolor that left just a hintof rainbow hues. The front cover was simply title, "Lyrics" inDiana's unflourished penmanship, written carefully in blackcalligraphy ink.

The pages of the booklet were also softly washed with the sametint of colors as a background to neatly handwritten words thatspread beneath a more prominently lettered title. On most of thesheets, in at least one corner or another, a small, penciled sketchenvisioned a portion of the song lyrics with understated, quietpoignancy, from an obviously talented and intuitive hand.

"Diana, these are beautiful," Olivia commented softly, as shecarefully flipped the pages. The eclectic collection of lyrics thatwere contained within those pages soon proved to be very much acomplex and revealing portrait of its creator her companions feltpriviledged in its unveiling to them:

"Both Sides Now", by Judy Collins, graced by a sketch of cloudsand a rainbow; "I Am, I Said" by Neil Diamond; "Forever Autumn" fromthe Moody Blues, in warm colors of a wood, beckoning, but sad, too;and several selections from Simon and Garfunkel --

"Bridge Over Troubled Water", "The Boxer", and "ScarboroughFair."

"I remember this one, Diana," said Mary with gentle introspectionat the sight of that last lyric selection.

"You were humming it to me when I woke up after the tunnelcollapse." Diana recalled the quiet sound of the familiar melodyseemed so suddenly enchanted, filling the stone chambers. It hadcomforted her, soothed her pain, so much of which had been spiritualand emotional, as well as physical, at that time.

The sketch for that song brought Mary back to the scene she'dwitnessed in the hospital chamber that so long ago morning: Diana,battered, weak, and so terribly alone, suddenly being resurrected bythe simple presence of Vincent in the room; and her beloved fosterson, thoroughly incapable, for once, to bury with harsh denial thelonging love that his heart was so guiltily harboring for theneedful, and deserving, young woman before him.

The picture Diana had set to the corner of the page for"Scarborough Fair" was a small vignette of a medieval country fair,with pennants flying and children romping through vendors' stalls.Beneath a tree in the foreground sat a young couple, a pretty girl,blonde and fair, in medieval gown, and, from his own tellinggarments, a dark-eyed troubadour with a lute resting at his feet.

The couple was embracing tenderly, but the girl was betrayed by asingle tear slipping down her cheek.

With the next page, the lyrics and pictures became morerecognizably personal, as the beautiful, but anonymous figures in theprevious drawings had now become familiar:

"A Place For Us" from "West Side Story" becoming a depiction ofthe city Above divided from the tunnel world Below; "I Don't Know HowTo Love Him" from "Jesus Christ, Superstar", sheltering just a smalldrawing of Vincent from behind, only his cloak and the fall of hislong hair, with the skyline of the city indistinctly beyond his view,and a hand, a woman's slender arm and hand, reaching out to rest onhis shoulder -- but stopping short in the attempted touch.

Mary put her own arms around Diana's shoulder, as all three womenlingered over the memories that picture conjured up for them each,but then, the amber-haired artist turned to smile through tears stillheld in check. "It gets better, don't worry."

"Diana, you've put your heart and soul into these pages. Vincentwill treasure them." Olivia gently turned one more sheet, and cameupon "All I Ask of You" from "The Phantom of the Opera."

This page was graced with two larger pictures that were simplybreathtaking in their subtle spirit as well as in their execution. Onthe full page opposite the soul-revealing lyrics, Diana had sketchedher own portrait, and Vincent's, on their wedding day, at the momentMary had left their hands joined by the entwining bonding ribbon. Thepicture caught the quietly awestruck wonder in each face, as theirattention was held to their clasping hands, Diana's ethereal graceand Vincent's mythic power each tenderly caressed by the warm colorsof candlelight that encircled them. No one else was visible -- onlythe two of them at that compelling instance, embodying the pleadingpromise of the lyrics.

Then, on the page of the song itself, at the bottom corner,another sketch took hold of the women's hearts with tenderunderstanding. This picture had Diana sitting in her home chamber ona chair beside the bed. The soft tunnel gown she was clothed inshowed evidence of her enlarged figure. Little Jacob was kneelingbeside her, his head resting on her lap, as his mother set her ownhand gently onto his bowed head. A volume of Dr. Seuss wasrecognizable beside them.

"Mama even drew a picture of me," came Jacob's wonder-filledcomment, that elicted a sweetly generous hug and kiss from hismother.

"You are one of the most wonderful parts of my life," she breathedtenderly, as the little boy returned to his block building with Lukeon the floor.

There was one more blank page of watercolored paper left in thebooklet. "That one is for a picture of Vincent and the baby," Dianaexplained with quiet tenderness, her hand automatically going to herripened form with cherishing acknowledgement.

Mary leaned a hug down to her with sweet recognition of her own."Diana, thank you so much for letting us see your journal."

"Thank you for letting me feel comfortable enough to want to." Thewords were certain and truly grateful.

"Is there anywhere a poor working man can go for a decent meal?"The sound of Kanin's teasing voice filled his chamber suddenly, as hestrode over to kiss Olivia on the cheek. Noticing the weddingportrait of his friends on the page open before his wife, he smiledat Diana. "So, that is what I missed! Vincent wasn't far off the markwhen he described you as an angel on that day, Diana."

"Only that day?" came the accusing question, as Diana carefullylaid the booklet, and all her treasures back into her box, setting itfinally on the table.

"It must be your turn to check up on these ladies, right, Kanin?"Mary questioned with brightness. Their newly arrived, and stilldusty, companion gave Luke a hug, then settled down on the floor withhis son and Jacob to investigate the children's constructionendeavors.

"Can we help it if we are both worried about you two?"

Olivia pulled herself a bit ungainly to her feet, and shooed someof Kanin's dust-filled wake off the shoulder of her sweater withexasperated patience. "Just wait, Diana, and see if their concernextends to midnight feedings and dirty diapers."

Diana smiled as she flicked a bit of stone out of Olivia's braidedhair. She came to her feet, too, as Kanin's appearance would denotethe fact that the lunch hour was imminent. And everyone in thecommunity was well acquainted with William's displeasure with latearrivals to the dining room. He simply hated when his cookingexpertise was reduced to cold, unrecognizable remnants of meals.

"I have to defend my husband, though, Olivia," Diana continued asshe took a few steps from her own chair. "Vincent has been more thanhelpful these days. I'm overwhelmed with tender care."

"Now you're going to get me into trouble the next time I overlookputting away my carving tools," Kanin pleaded with Diana first, andthen his own wife with good humor. He helped Luke settle aparticularly stubborn block into place on the tower he was erecting.Jacob picked up his own construction, a fanciful ship, for a finalobservation.

But, just as the little boy came to his feet, too, eager toexhibit his handiwork to his mother across the room, he stopped deadin his tracks. The little ship clattered to the stone floor from hishand and broke apart.

All eyes in the room were instantly on the child, who grew visiblypale and nearly tottered on his feet. Kanin, who was closest to him,wrapped a securing arm around the little boy. Diana moved towards himunsteadily herself, as Kanin questioned in urgency, "What is it,Jacob, what's wrong?"

The little boy appeared not to hear, as huge tears formed in hiseyes and ran suddenly down his cheeks. He clutched at his chest,apparently fighting for his breath. Only Kanin was close enough tohear the child whisper through his gasping sobs, "Father."

Then a heart-wrenching cry filled the room.

It was Diana, falling heavily to her knees.

Mary swiftly took hold of the young mother, attempting to supporther somehow, but her own hands trembled as she took in what Diana wasactually crying out in agony: It was Vincent's name. Sobbing it overand over again, Diana couldn't bear the horrific ache that waspressing in on her from the depths of her soul. "Oh God, God, no,please no! You can't! Vin-cent!"

Unable to catch her own breath, suddenly, the room began goingdark. Diana collapsed against Mary in devastated disbelief andpain.