Living the Promise: Chapter Nine

Coughing, Kanin hurtled down the tunnels through a haze of dust.Some vague shapes ahead of him were distinguishable only by thesounds of their voices, Cullen and Timothy. They'd been working alevel above, and had reached the tunnel area where Kanin had beenworking twenty minutes earlier. The sound of stones being hauledabout confirmed his worst fears.

"Don't move anyone if you can help it." It was Therese's voicebehind him, calling out rescue directions. Father had immediatelypressed her to accompany Kanin back below, citing his own bad hip andthe time he would end up wasting in getting medical help to whatevercatastrophe had jolted the work chambers. The communications pipeshad become a frenzy of signals.

Kanin came through the opening of the storage area, stumbling overscattered chunks of stone in the process. He tripped on the heavyhammer Vincent had been using to square off the doorway. His friendwas not within sight.

Against the far wall, though, in a jumbled heap of rock, metal,machinery, and dust, Cullen and Timothy were carefully crouched overtwo motionless figures.

Therese fairly flew past Kanin and down beside them as the otherworkers quickly gave her access. Kanin slumped against the doorway ofthe chamber with only one thought reverberating in his mind: Vincenthad insisted on staying below and working, sending him up to have hismeal with Olivia.

In safety.

Now, his friend was strewn across the floor, surrounded byshattered stone, face down, his powerful body partially coveringMouse's own still one beneath him.

That reality would have to be how Vincent would have been found --protecting -- always protecting. God! Kanin raged silently withinhimself, why don't you ever protect him?

"I need some help. Kanin, here, please." Therese's voice pulledthe stonecarver into the midst of the devastation, and the truth ofhis co-workers' injuries. The left side of Vincent's face was cakedwith dusty blood. Mouse's blond hair was also bloodied, at the backof his head, where Vincent apparently hadn't been able to reach asheltering arm.

Therese was running her hands carefully over Vincent's prone body,her fingers coming away from his thermal shirt wet with more blood,near his left side. "We need to get him onto a stretcher. Where arethose stretchers?!"

In a matter of moments, several other figures negotiated thedebris-strewn entryway of the chamber with stretchers between them.Amos and Dominic brought one up to the wounded and carefully settledit on the cleared-away floor beside Therese.

"You'll need to move Vincent onto that one first. I can't get tothe wound like this. Careful now. Slowly."

With as gentle a motion as they were capable of, Kanin, Timothy,and Dominic coordinated their movements enough to roll Vincent's limpbody cautiously onto the canvas stretcher. A gasping shudder ranthrough Kanin when his friend was settled on the carrier.

The entire front left portion of his shirt was soaked with blood.The area where he had been lying gave evidence of a dark pooling thatterrified Therese to a shaking fear she worked desperately to pullherself past. The wound was serious. For Vincent, it could belife-threatening, she knew, judging by the amount of blood that he'dalready lost, blood they had no way of replacing through transfusionbecause of its unique characteristics.

Then Kanin caught sight of the apparent cause of the wound -- ashard of stone, half the size of the chisel Vincent had been workingwith, protruding above the torn flesh in his side. In a matter ofseconds, Therese had cut away some of the blood-soaked fabric fromaround the injury.

"Sweet Mother of God!" Even as he fought a wave of nausea that hithim unexpectedly, Kanin felt his arm being taken hold of, his handbeing set, against his will, to a padding of gauzes that the youngmedic had enclosed carefully about the wound.

"Hold these bandages in place for me, Kanin, while I at least getthem taped down. It won't stop the bleeding with that shrapnel there,but it will slow it down."

Automatically, the stonecutter did as he was instructed, watchingwith heart-numbing

attention as her quick fingers temporarily secured the gauzes.They were soaked even before she was able to tape them.

Giving a cursory exam to the cut above Vincent's eye, she decidedthat it could wait. Instead she drew up the earpieces of herstethoscope from around her neck, coldly aware that even without theinstrument, she could tell her patient's breathing was hoarse,shallow, and labored. His pulse was no better. Taking a bare instantto close her eyes, Therese was able to clear her thoughts.

"His lung's probably collapsed," she announced as she drew thestethoscope down from her ears. "The stone must have punctured it.Get him up to the hospital chamber -- Now!

Amos, get up to the pipe level and signal Father. Tell him to prepfor surgery. I'll see to Mouse and get him stabilized here if I can.Move!"

The urgency with which Therese's slight form ordered the men aboutsent chills up Kanin's spine. He strove to keep an even hold on thestretcher as Dominic began to lift it from the floor. They werejogging down the tunnels in the next moment, trying to keep a steadybut imperative pace. Kanin's shoulder struck against an outcroppingof the rock wall in a turn. He didn't even notice.

His gaze was fastened on the bandages he could still see darkeningon Vincent's side, his mind bent on the terrifying calculation of howlong the life's blood had been pouring out of his friend's bodyinstead of his own.

Father let Mary help him on with his surgical gloves as helistened to the clamor of voices outside in the ward, signalling thearrival of his patient. He had attempted to draw on his 40+ years ofexperience to bring his medical and professional demeanor to theforefront of his present awareness, but he couldn't fight thepaternal anguish that was searing its way through his very being.

He knew his first patient would be Vincent.

Not from the SOS on the pipes, for Amos had only signalled theneed for him to be prepared for emergency surgery. No, he knew thatVincent had been injured in whatever accident had occurred deep belowbecause of Diana, and Jacob.

Mary had summoned him with urgency to Olivia's chamber where he'dbeen met by the shattering sight of Diana crumpled to the stone floorin agonizing terror, calling out to Vincent over and over again.

It was his son's nightmare coming true.

Only the victim of the unnamed anguish appeared not to be Diana.For an instant, yes, the physician had been shocked to think that theyoung mother herself was in some terrible medical distress, hergasping panic fueling his fear that she, or her child, were inimminent danger from some sudden manifestation of physicalaffliction.

But when he'd satisfied his anxiety with the apparent lack ofDiana's physical injury, he was horrified to realize that the youngmother's anguish was of an indescribably empathic one. Somehow, she,and even Jacob, had been projected into the depths of suffering theirbeloved husband and father was apparently enduring, at thatinstant.

Not Mary's gentle arms, not Olivia's soothing voice, not the feelof an equally traumatized Jacob placed close within her reach, hadmanaged to quell the young woman's pain. Finally, fearful again forthe baby as well as the mother, Father had injected her with aminimal dosage of a sedative.

The drug had had little effect on her, though, until she tookJacob into her arms, sobbing, holding the child to her breast.Finally exhausted, and aware of the little boy's turmoil as well asher own, Diana had been able to take hold of her terror. The momentshe quit fighting its numbing effects, the sedative finally calmedher enough for William to gather her up into his ample arms and sether gently to rest on Olivia's bed.

Without a word, Jacob climbed beside his mother, nestled close toher heart in her arms, and fell into a disquiet sleep as well.

When Kanin and Dominic pushed through the partition curtain andinto the operating room with their burden, Jacob Wells found himselfleaning heavily against Mary, as his legs threatened to bucklebeneath him at the sight. He murmured, "Dear God," from the depths ofa father's anguish, and found himself momentarily paralyzed, stunnedat the reality of his son's life slipping away from him before hiseyes.

It was Mary who took the lead at that moment, ordering thestretcher bearers about, instructing Sarah on what was needed to preptheir patient for the surgery. Tears filled the older woman's eyes,and when she looked up to Father, she saw him blinking away his ownpain.

"I'd thought . . . I prayed . . . I'd never have to do somethinglike this again," Father confessed quietly. "All those times before .. . when Catherine was alive . . . all the danger from the worldAbove . . . I never thought our own world could be responsible for .. . "

"Father, Vincent needs your medical help."

Mary's gentle words drew the elder physician back to the moment athand. "You can help him through this, Jacob. He's depending on you,now."

Taking a deep breath, Father turned to Mary with gratitude. Hercourage, a mother's courage, was remarkably evident at that instant.It gave him strength. "Get me a reading on his vital signs, Mary", heinstructed softly.

Praying heaven that he'd indeed be capable of saving his son'slife.

Diana's hand was gently enclosed by another's as she woke, but,instinctively, before she even opened her eyes, she knew thesheltering touch was not being offered by Vincent.

Olivia's kind face came into view, her other hand reaching overand tenderly brushing across Diana's pale cheek. "Livy, where is he?"The words were so difficult to pronounce. There was a weight, apressure, bearing down on her heart that actually impeded her freebreathing. It was hardly a physical sensation. Oliva quit the chairthat had been drawn near her bed and came instead to sit quietlybeside her dear friend.

"Father is still in surgery with him."

"How long?" Did she truly want to know?

"It's been a long while." Olivia watched as the young woman's soulached visibly through her emerald eyes.

"Jacob?" Her next concern. The little boy had been as anguished asshe at his father's pain, but he was no longer in her arms.

"He awoke about an hour ago. Jamie took him to get a bit to eat.He's with Samantha now; she's been reading to him."

"I have to go to Vincent."

Diana swung her legs off the bed and struggled to sit up, but theweight of her baby and the lingering effects of the sedative defeatedher purpose. Olivia understood her urgency, though, and helped her toher feet. Had it been Kanin, she would have been doing exactly thesame thing.

It could have been Kanin.

"Here, let me help you, Diana. You're still a little unsteady.We'll go to the hospital chamber together."

When Father finally removed his scrubs, he sank heavily onto thestool Mary had pulled over for him, and closed his eyes, but thesight was still before him -- blood, blood everywhere -- when he'dremoved the stone missive, it poured out of the wound in his son'sside -- so much of it lost. So much injury.

In the past, he could blame the madness of a world withoutconscience Above. This time, this time, though, his son was holdingon to his life by a thread because of a simple accident of theirchosen lifestyle -- a simple act of God.

Why was it, the weary physician thought darkly, that onlydevastating tragedies were called "acts of God?" Why wasn'tProvidence yet finished with exacting underserved pain from those heloved?

"Jacob, Diana is outside. She's been waiting. Will you speak toher? Or shall I?" Mary asked quietly.

The exhausted doctor, who was drained physically as well asspiritually, almost decided to pass his burden over to thegentle-hearted woman beside him. Wherever did she get her spirit? hewondered in tired awe. But, he needed to comfort Diana right now justas much as he guessed she needed to be held.

"I'll be there in a moment, Mary. Give me a moment."

When the partition curtain gave way and the patriarch of thetunnel community joined the small crowd that had gathered in theouter ward, not a word was uttered for the longest of moments. Kaninheld Olivia more closely. Mouse, who'd refused to remain in his beddespite his fractured arm and sutured scalp, took hold of Jamie'shand. Samantha kissed Jacob gently on the forehead as he sat wearilyin her lap, his little bunny clutched close to him.

Diana came slowly to her feet and met Father halfway across theroom. The elder man had to marvel once again, at the young woman'scourage, this time, understanding how his son could have come to loveher so.

"Will you let me sit with him now, Father?" came the soft,pleading inquiry. Father pulled the young mother into his armsgently, noted the hagard appearance of her ethereal face. He wouldhave done anything to protect the child from pain -- and at thatinstant, Diana was nothing less than his own beloved child aswell.

"He's unconscious, Diana, and probably will be for some time yet.You should rest. The stress . . . the baby . . . "

Evidence of the quicksilver nature of his daughter-in-law's spiritwas immediately visible in the flashing green eyes that met his owngrey ones. Jacob Wells knew at that moment that Diana would face downSatan himself to take her place at her husband's side.

"Yes, yes, of course, child. Come with me." Father took a slender,trembling hand in his, then led Diana back past the curtain.

"He has a concussion, several broken ribs. One of them, with thestone shard, pierced his left lung. He's lost a great deal of blood,Diana. The next 48 hours will be critical."

"Thank you, Father. I'll be all right." The tone of Diana's voicetold the physician that the time in the recovery room now belonged toher and Vincent alone. Quietly, Father retreated back out into theward.

Diana took several slow steps from the doorway of the smallchamber towards the bed. She felt herself suddenly within theindecipherable paradoxes of a dream. Though she knew only five or sixsteps would have taken her directly to her husband's bedside, she nowseemed to be walking an interminable distance through a dense fog ofpain and denial.

Mentally, though, she was already within reach of the reality:Vincent's unconscious body, lying under stark white sheets, barelyalive.

That realization hit Diana full force, the truth of thepossibilities twisting a knife into her heart . . . she might neverspeak to him again, see him again . . . she might never feel his armsaround her, hold the radiant intensity of his blue eyes with her owngaze in silent communion . . .

She might never hear him laugh with Jacob again, at thetongue-twisting humor of

Dr. Seuss read aloud before bedtime . . .

She might never be able to give him her body again, hear him callout her name with a tenderness that melted her very soul . . .

In desperate confirmation of that reality, she sought in her mind,suddenly, to recall their last moments together that morning. Hadthey unknowingly actually been their last consciously shared momentstogether? My God! what had they been? she questioned herselffearfully. Had she even remembered to tell him how much she loved himbefore he'd left for his work?

The tears flowed freely at the recollections she sifted throughwith desolate anxiety. How had they passed their last momentstogether? Had it been their final morning?

. . . He'd awakened earlier than usual, needing to get to work onthe digging sooner these past few days. It was almost Christmas, thenWinterfest. School work and holiday preparations had begun to wreckhavoc with labor schedules. The community had offered shelter toseveral elderly Helpers Below because the early harshness of winterAbove had made their lives alone difficult. Room was needed. Work hadto be done.

She'd made him some breakfast quickly at their small chamberbrazier, above his protests, before she'd even dressed -- tea, fruit,oatmeal. Jacob had joined him in the meal, practiced his readingproudly with his father a moment or two. Diana hadn't eaten, herqueasy stomach getting the better of her at the early hour. Instead,she'd simply sat between her husband and son with quiet satisfaction.A bowl of cereal later would do for her.

Vincent had suggested that she return to bed, but she'd refused,citing her own full schedule of classes, work, and activities for theday. She'd begun dressing as he finished his tea, exchanging hernightgown for a warm woolen dress behind the partition in thechamber.

And then she'd sat back down on the bed to struggle with hershoes.

If there was one thing that most annoyed her about being eightmonths pregnant, it was the fact that she'd been forced to wrestlewith her shoes every morning like some toddler attempting a newskill. Father had directed that she wear laced up walking shoesinstead of slip-ons because her feet were constantly swollen, but hewasn't the one who had to fight past a burgeoning mid-section withonly a partial view of his feet, she thought defiantly.

. . . Then Diana felt her heart ache at the continued memory ofthe morning . . .

She'd been struggling for a long moment with her right shoe, tothe point of frustrated embarassment, when Vincent had come away fromthe table and to the bedside. Without a word, he'd come down to hisknees before her, removed her slouching sock which she'dinadvertantly put on inside out, and kissed the inner side of herankle with a heated tenderness that swept instantly to her heart.

Carefully, then, he'd replaced her sock and shoe, lacing up thestrings with the same patience he'd shown Jacob when the little boyhad endured his own dressing struggles. Pulling her easily to herfeet, he'd kissed her chastely on the cheek, though the sweetintensity of his sapphire eyes had offered her the samesoftly-embered passion he'd shared with her on their wedding night,when she'd been 30 pounds lighter and light-years more alluring. Itstill took her breath away. Even in her present state, he still wasable to look at her in an awe-struck, tenderly acknowledging mannerthat made her feel like Aphrodite rising from the waves.

A powerful hand offered a gentle greeting to their baby over thewoolen gown. "If you still find it difficult this evening, I'll behappy to help you remove those shoes as well, my love," came thesomewhat less than innocent promise that lit her very soul withwelcomed anticipation. She'd reached her hands up through his goldenhair and, yes, she had whispered the words, although she knew theyweren't even necessary: "I love you."

With a hug and a kiss to Jacob, he'd turned out their chamberdoor, and was gone.

Those had been their last moments together this morning. Typicalfor them. Not a hint of tragedy still to come. She and Vincent hadbeen gently, totally aware of one another, looking forward to theirevening together as they always did -- supper, reading, mending.Perhaps a walk to the Chamber of the Falls. An early bedtime, theblessing of lying in each other's arms in the sheltering dark,listening to Jacob's soft, even breathing.

The impatient quickening of the baby drawing both theircomforting, reassuring hands to her body.

At least their morning had been one to cherish, one she couldcling to. At least that much we have, God! Diana flung in agonizeddefiance. At least that much you've left me.

She'd managed to cross the interminable distance between her andthe small hospital bed during her recollections, and now stood only aheartbreaking touch away from her beloved's unresponsive body. Thedeep breath that came to her involuntarily was ragged, and did littleto steady her heart, which sought instantly to be settled beside theweakly beating one she'd never be able to exist without.

"Oh, Vincent," was all she could utter quietly, between the tears,as she reached out to set a shaking hand up to his bandaged forehead.She dropped her touch, in pain, to his wrapped chest, watched intorment as she noted how shallow his breaths came.

Taking up his right hand carefully in hers, Diana turned the palmtowards her and kissed it with both her lips and her tears. The achenearly overcame her then, the reality that his hand could not cupitself against her cheek just then, as it so easily did, with suchtender familiarity. "I thought we were safe. You deserved to besafe," she whispered.

There was only a distant, flickering essence that Diana's heartcould catch sight of, where there should have been a wellspring ofnourishing, spirit-gifting love reaching out to her.

"Will Father die, Mama?" Diana drew Jacob closer to her on herlap, kissed the top of his curly head softly, before finding thecourage to respond.

"I'm praying that he won't, angel."

Her every thought, every word and act, for the past three days,had been a prayer, the same prayer, but the very depths of her soulquestioned with disbelief what now appeared to be the answer to hersupplications:

Vincent's physical condition had stabilized, yes, something whichevery soul in the Underworld had breathed a relieved sigh for. Hisblood pressure and heart rate, his breathing, all still showed signsof trauma, but Father had found hope in the fact that, overall, hisson's injuries had not caused a continuing deteriorization of hisphysical state.

But that did not alter the fact that Vincent remained unconsciousstill, three days after the accident.

And Diana had not left his side.

For the past three days, she had held her own spirit open andready, hoping, praying, that she'd catch sight of a tiny movement inhis still body, be blessed by the sight of fluttering eyelashessignaling the reappearance of life within the compelling azure eyesthat could read her soul, feel a momentary acknowledging pressure toher hand as she held his.

There had been nothing.

Vincent had remained deeply comatose; even her sense of him withinher heart was distant, indistinct, a tiny point of light visible fora moment, and then quickly swallowed up by the darkness ofuncertainty.

It was killing her, too, moment by moment, the sitting andwaiting, driving a pain through her soul that she felt in every cellof her being. She'd done it before, years before, as she and Maureenhad sat and watched their mother dying, slipping away, too soon.Their dad had died instantly. Had it been a mercy?

"He is so far away from us, Mama. I feel him so far away." ThatJacob could sense the same, immeasurable distance between his ownlittle heart and his father's was a further agony to set Diana's verysoul to shuddering pain.

"I know, baby. So do I."

"Why can't he find his way back to us?"

The blue eyes turned to hers for comfort were his father's eyes,startling in pained intensity far beyond the small boy's tenderyears. She had little to offer as comfort for her young son, excepther own frightening, growing sense of . . . loss.

"I think he's trying, Jacob. His body's been hurt so badly,though, that he may not have the strength he needs right now to findhis way."

"But Father's been hurt before. When my mother was alive, andafter she died. He was hurt so badly when you found him, Mama. Stillhe came back to us."

"Yes, I know, angel," came her soft words, the memories floodinginto her heart at the little boy's observations neither comfortingnor capable of being denied.

She had been the one to see Vincent through his lastlife-threatening ordeal. He'd been in so much raging anguish then,desperate to battle the evils that had claimed his love, stolen hischild. The powerful force of his spirit had been tortured beyondendurance and yet he seemed . . . compelled . . . to live, to takehis own vengeance on those who'd murdered his hope.

Even so, at the time, he'd been so prepared to die, too, eager,almost, to die. To be with Catherine.

This time, though, this time, it all appeared so different.

Vincent seemed merely asleep, as though a gentle caress couldwaken him. There was no desperation, no fear fighting its way pasthis physical injuries to fuel his survival. Father couldn't seem tounderstand it, either, find some medical explanation to decipher whyhis son's body seemed willing to work its way to recovery while hisspirit remained lost.

Within her bonded heart, though, Diana could feel what sherecognized, with her own unexpected pain, as a distant sense of . . .warmth . . . pushing back . . . against . . . her own seeking,radiantly searching lifeline of love. The shudder in her soul beganforcing its way through her body as well, now.

"He must know how much we miss him, Mama. He must know it, howmuch we need him back. Don't you believe it? He must be trying hardto come back to us."

Diana took her son's hand up into hers and kissed the littlefingers, holding back her own tears. Jacob had felt it, too. Heressence of Vincent within her, despite its distance, had to have beenreaching out, trying to touch her heart, Jacob's heart, with hope.But something was keeping it from doing so with any sort ofconviction.

She attempted to grasp at what little hope she had left with herwords to her son.

"Jacob, your father loves us very much. If there is a way for himto come back to us, he will find it. We have to keep believing it,and keep trying to help him."

The small hand came up to her cheek with tenderness. "You look sotired. Will you take a rest?" The little boy's words startled Diana:They were his father's, always seeking to comfort, never looking tohis own needs first.

She understood, at last, in what possible direction that selflessgiving could have turned itself; where Vincent's heart might havefound itself, at that moment.

"I'd rather stay here, Jacob, but I need to ask you a favor."Looking into the sweet face holding hers with such devotion, Dianaread the trail of turmoil that had been left behind across the littleboy's features. He hadn't spent much time away from his father, orher, these past three days, either, and he would continue his vigil,she knew, unless she found a way to offer him some momentary respiteaway from the pain.

Away from what she knew she would soon be up against.

"Jamie mentioned she was going down to the river park to check onthe plants this evening. Would you go along with her to help her,Jacob? The plants have gotten big, and it takes a while for her towater them all well. Two people could get the job done moreeasily."

"But you need me here, don't you?"

It was so obvious that Jacob was struggling with the idea ofsetting aside his mother's needs at the moment. Diana treasured thechild's tender commitment to her, mirroring the best of what sheloved in his father. She sought another avenue to protect him fromthe pain to come, even if for only a few precious minutestonight.

"If you could bring me back a rose from our bush, it would make mevery happy. They are so beautiful; I love how sweet they smell."

The added duty being extended to her request urged Jacob torethink his hesitation about leaving Diana just then. If he could becapable of offering her the slightest hint of comfort by picking hera flower, he would do so, gladly.

Setting aside his own encompassing fear of the moment -- the fearthat his father would die when he was away from him.

"I'll come right back when we are finished, Mama."

"I know you will, Jacob." Letting the youngster slide from herknees, she watched him with aching pride as he stretched up to hisfather's bed. Laying his head against the still, unearthly hand thatrested atop the sheet, the little boy closed his eyes for a longinterval.

Diana felt her heart skip a beat, as she realized the child wasseeking to attune his spirit with that of his desperately-missedfather. A transcendent glow seemed to pass over the little boy'sgentle features, but then pulled away after only an instant.

With his eyes still closed, Jacob breathed quietly, "I will beback, Father. Mama is here alone. Don't leave her. We need you. Thebaby will be coming soon."

Unable to hold back the anguish any longer, Diana closed her owneyes. She heard her son's retreating steps, and assured that thechild had indeed left the room, she swallowed hard, preparing herselffor what she knew she must attempt to place herself within.

Coming to her feet herself, more than a bit awkwardly, because ofthe hours she'd spent in the chair as much as because of her pregnantstate, Diana slowly halted at Vincent's bedside. For the longestbreath of time she simply took in the beloved, familiar features withbeseeching need -- his unique, finely-chisled face, bruised andbandaged, reminding her of another time she'd kept watch over hisbedside, terrified at his torment, yet drawn irresistibly within thevulnerable power of his compelling presence so at the mercy ofFate.

She sank wearily now to the edge of the bed, feeling her legsgiving out from under her, and not only from exhaustion. With atrembling hand she reached up to the thick silk of his golden hairand took hold of a precious lock possessively. Lovingly.

She'd done just that, the first night he'd been sheltered at herloft so long ago, never once fighting the need to touch him, claim aknowledge of him then that went beyond sight and simple observation,to the ready recognition her soul held for him.

The heavy softness, so unexpected, of his hair against her skin,sliding through her fingers, had fanned that sudden flame ofrecognition within her heart, for she'd already felt what it would belike to have that bewitching, arresting mass of gold brush againsther own sensitized flesh before -- somewhere in the unacknowledgedreaches of her most profoundly cherished dreams.

The talon-tipped hand she'd taken into her own, as she did so now,was never merely a weapon of avenging justice, to be feared. It wassimply, remained simply, an eloquent extension of a soul's unspokenuniqueness, capable of both judgement and tenderness.

Beyond the edges of the fresh bandages, too, Diana's heartconstricted at the visible evidence of Vincent's past, risk-chargedencounters with the madness of the world Above

-- the healed over scars of the bullet wounds in his shoulders andchest. Now, the remarkable beauty of his treasured body would beagain marred by the reality of risk and harm, only this time, it hadreached him from the benevolent confines of his own home.

Diana set her head gently to his shrouded chest, longing for thesheltering comfort she'd always been able to find there. Instead, thesmell of antiseptic, the sterility of the bandages, caused her totake in a ragged, pained breath: even his usual, gently envelopingscent, of soap, candleflame, leather, and his own uniquely complexmaleness, was all but lost to the heartbreak of his presentstate.

Everything she knew of him, cherished of him: the eyes that spoketo her without need of words, the husky, comforting, gentle tones ofhis voice, the richness of his touch, the scope and wonder of hismind; all that Diana had taken to her heart of him as she had noother living soul, all now seemed suddenly, maddeningly, just beyondher reach. Perhaps it had never, indeed, been hers to begin with.

And she understood why.

When she lifted her head from his body, the movement caused herperception of the subdued candlelight in the chamber to glint off thegolden band on his finger.

It shouldn't have been so; she should not have felt so totallybereft of his presence within her.

Vincent had taken that ring from her so freely, on their weddingnight, let her slide it in place with a welcoming wonder she'd neverdared to dream possible. They'd believed in the hope, found their wayto it beyond the fear, committed themselves to it, to the rightnessof their profound love, from this life till the next.

Still, the communing reality of their intertwined existences wasyet to be subjected to ironic forces beyond their control. In thepast, those forces had always been threatening, destructive, fates tobe battled as sources of undeserved pain, and the uncontestedbrutalities of desperation that should never have attempted to claima justified place within their shared hearts.

But, how could she struggle now against the powerful forces bornof a love once as richly gifting as her own?

"I understand, Vincent, what's happened to you," she whispered, inquiet agony. "As much as you love us, Jacob and me, our baby, youcould never bring yourself to cause Catherine pain . . . and comingback to us means leaving her behind again, hurting her, doesn't it?She's there with you now, isn't she?"

It all was falling into place. She'd managed to dig out the truth,understand the indecipherable powers that had torn her beloved frombeyond the loving reaches of her soul.

Diana knew what the conflicting warmth was she'd felt, tuggingaside her own reaching thread of connection to Vincent within herheart. It was the current of Catherine's love, urging him away fromthe cherished, familiar tides of his present reality of love and backinto the sweetness of their shared past.

That was why Diana felt no fear or pain or threat to her husbandin his present purgatorial state -- He was in no danger, facing nodark essence robbing him of his soul. He was only being sheltered ina loving presence from beyond, a presence still strong enough to holdhim honorbound to a yet-treasured, extraordinary, transcendent,perfect love.

And where did the quietly ordinary devotion of her own soul standin comparison, she wondered with pained entreaty? He'd been able toreassure her once, when she'd been forced to face the samecontrasting truths with him on that night of reckoning in herloft.

But where could she find the courage to believe that her ownday-to-day dedication to a

quietly gifting reality of existence could now stand the test of alove that defied the boundaries of life and death?

Realizing that, she could never blame Vincent for having to placehimself, his very soul, in the unthinkable position that at presentclaimed the majority of his conscious spirit. He wouldn't be theprofoundly compelling man that she loved with every fiber of herbeing if he'd been capable of totally ridding himself so easily ofsuch a blessed attachment.

"I can't even blame you, Cathy," Diana spoke her thoughts aloudsomehow, past the choking ache clutching at her spirit, as though thewoman she was addressing was actually standing beside her in the roomand had not been dead for over three years. Catherine's answeringpresence was suddenly so strong there with her.

Diana brushed the back of the unearthly hand she held with tenderpossession. Vincent had tied her shoes with that hand the lastmorning they had shared. He'd caressed their unborn child, and her,with that beloved, otherworldly touch. She understood the pain ofneeding that cherished oneness.

"If our places were changed, I know I'd want to do the same thingyou are doing myself, if it was ever even remotely within my ability. . . I'd want to hold on to him and never let go of his love." Dianaclosed her eyes defensively against the flood of tears they held.

"But I can't keep from feeling it, keep from saying it to youfinally," the spiritually assaulted young mother offered withrighteous injury. "Why are you doing this to us? Here and now is allI'll ever have with Vincent." The shudder in her soul was nearlyoverpowering. "You have the undisputed right to eternity with him;you know that! I gave up that right when I put a bullet intoGabriel's worthless heart!

"I'd do it again, though, God help me, because that bastard wouldhave never given up his determination to corrupt or destroy the manwe both love.

"Eternity, Cathy: It will be yours without question. I won't beanywhere near Paradise when I die. You won't have to worry about me."The quiet, matter-of-fact acceptance of such an everlasting destinyonly accentuated the astonishing courage that she'd been able totouch to in her softly outraged defense. Diana knew she was speakingnothing but the truth, a truth not even an angel could dispute.

"Here, now, this is my chance at heaven with him, Catherine, mychance at an eternity

of our own construction. Why, then, do you need my time, too?"

The tears, hot and catharic, drove Diana to voice everyjustification of her own position, their own position, hers andVincent's, together, when she never believed she could find theconviction to. She'd held her own validity secondary for too long. Ithad to end. Vincent's life was at stake now.

And not only his.

There were two other lives hanging in the balance as well, twoother futures moving towards undeserved loss and confusion.

The surge of indignant, personal threat died out with Diana asquickly as it had flared up within her. She'd lived in the shadow ofCatherine's love long enough to understand what was of realimportance in her unexpected struggle to win back her husband'ssoul.

Diana carefully shielded her unborn child in a comforting embrace.Her words, at present, were soft again, pleading. They came from thehonest, selfless love that had always been her gift to Vincent, whathad raised him up from a haunted heart, a hope-robbed shell of a man,to a beloved husband and father.

"Cathy, this isn't about you or me any longer. If it ever was, I'dgive you no argument, because I've known all along I'd never stand achance. The two of you, Vincent and you, what you had . . . it wentfar beyond anything I could have ever imagined . . . it was . . .lifted . . . beyond anything I'd ever come close to understanding.What little I've been able to bring him is completely . . .earthbound . . . in comparison. But it is a . . . future . . . onewith discernible boundaries that reach out into . . . hope . . . inhis life. It's a future you couldn't, or wouldn't, offer him, forwhatever your reasons, whatever your choices.

"It's about his children -- Jacob, and this little one here."

Diana remembered with unconcealed awe the moment Vincent had firstgifted her with the sound of their baby's heartbeat, channeledthrough his own. Her trembling voice became more certain. "You knowwhat it was like to lose a child, the ache that must have permeatedyour being because of it.

"Do you want Vincent there with you now, knowing that it wouldmean robbing him of his children? His children of their father? Wouldyou subject them all to that pain as well? Wasn't there a moment,before you lost him to Gabriel, that you longed to hold Jacob toyourself, be a mother to him for an instant?"

Reaching a shaking hand up to her husband's cheek, Diana willedher heart to remain strong. Quietly, she urged, "Do you think Vincentcould feel any less loss, any less hurt, if he had to give his son upnow? He offered Gabriel his life for that child, Cathy! Will eternitymean anything to him, do you think, when he knows he'll never holdhis second baby in his arms? Can you possibly want to force him tochoose between you and his children?"

The realities of what life had been for the man she loved in thepast drove Diana to fearlessly hold up the truth of his present,promising hope as her own vindication for him. "He's found a peaceand a fulfillment safe from the insanity of the world you could notgive up for him. Will you keep him from a life blessed with thatpromise?"

One final truth remained that could be offered, for Diana to makeher case with conviction against the profound reaches of atranscendent love. The words came unsteadily, shaken from the depthsof her own remembered experiences of the past three years.

"These children need their father. If I have to give up any claimon his heart of my own, I might be able to find some way to do it, ifit meant he'd be free to live out eternity in some sort of peace atlast. But, Catherine, these children don't deserve to lose theirfather."

The fiery will to protect within her, lit Diana's soul, set herspirit to steal. "Damn it, Cathy! You can't be capable of wantingthat, causing that to happen! The woman I've come to know throughthese years wasn't capable of exacting such a price, in the name ofeternal love!"

Then, her words softened again, accepting the possibility of herown blame, her own failed instincts. "Or have I been wrong about youall along? Would you tear him from his life, his hope, his children?God! Jacob didn't even get to say 'goodbye' to him, Catherine! Thatlittle boy has spent three days at his father's side, praying for amiracle. He could never even dream that it might be you that washolding his father's heart away from his own."

The pain became almost suffocating, as Diana contemplated thefinal loss she might need to endure, herself.

"I didn't even get the chance to set our new baby into myhusband's arms."

The ache, the bleeding agony, took ruthless hold of her hope, now,leaving her spent and so frail of heart. "That is the reality yourholding on to him is offering him now," she whispered, from thedepths of her desolate loss. "Even God took pity on you, Catherine,and let you die in Vincent's embrace. You were able to look into hiseyes one last time and hold his heart until you left him. You had thechance to say 'goodbye.'"

Overcome by the emotion of her appeal, by the unending stress ofher vigil, by the weary exhaustion of her condition, Diana could findno other breath of strength to cling to. Only the unequivocalcertainty of losing her heart's sheltering, gifting partnerresounding from deep within her soul, rising to a deafening,engulfing, smothering ache.

There was only one thing left for her to do, she knew suddenly,transcendent perfection be damned! She would at least offer herbeloved one final moment of imperfect, shamelessly human, love. She'dbe his wife for one last breath of time, offering him the tendercommunion of married devotion only she'd ever gifted him with.

Collapsing to Vincent's side on the small bed, Diana settled herbody as closely to his as she could, trying to find the cherished,comforting position she always treasured in his arms, knew hetreasured. Her head carefuly eased down to his chest, away from hiswounded side, her hand resting softly, tenderly . . . holding hisheart in place. His hand she lovingly touched to their baby shelteredbetween them in her womb.

If an eternity of perfected love beckoned, it was going to have toget past the here and now of her own hold on his soul.

Closing her eyes against the devastating truth that she knew wouldsoon still her husband's faintly beating heart forever, Dianawhispered in loving defiance, "I won't let you go without holding youone last time. But do what you need to, to find your peace, Vincent.It's the only thing I'll be able to give you up for. Be at peace, mylove, wherever

you need to be."

The wrenching ache that wrapped itself around Diana's heart tookits place the moment her words fell silent. She'd offered him thatgift once before -- on their wedding night -- the gift, the freedomto choose in which direction the reality of his love lay -- withinthe desperate sweetness of his lost past, or the liberating freedomof a future still to be charted at her side. She tried to set her ownspirit, now, beyond that reality, knowing she could never survive hishaving to make such a choice again.

For a merciful moment, the astonishing truth that had been thegift of that first choice came to her mind with tenderacknowledgement: a new life that was the very embodiment of loveaccepted in all its blessings. Jacob's thriving, wonderfilled littlespirit, too, had come to her with every breath of its sweetlyinnocent and uplifting devotion.

But those two small souls would now become casualties as well,victims of a love capable of reaching past even the limits of lifeand death. Sweet Jesus! she thought to herself in silent torment, howcould she ever find the words to explain the extent of a broken heartto a three year old, be able to describe to a child a love socompelling that it could claim his father from beyond the grave?

Finally spent with the effort at holding to her courage, Diana washelpless to withstand the simple humanity of unfettered grief. Hertears soaked hot and hopeless into the sterile bandages she restedupon, the room echoing with inconsolable, disbelieving pain . . .

. . . So it was nothing less than a miracle of itself that she wascapable of hearing the words through her torment -- whispered slowly,with great effort, barely above a breath:

"Don't cry, Diana."

Her immediate reaction was to let her eyes fly open, but sheresisted, forcefully, the compulsion, terrifed of what she believedwould meet her gaze -- the mythic, beloved features of her husband'sface growing visibly pale as his hostage spirit pulled free from itsfinal, earthly constraints before her eyes, the words only a finalparting.

But, she couldn't mistake the touch, confuse it for a death-throethat would haunt her for the rest of her days.

No, the touch was gentle, not desperate, warm, and claimingpossession of her and her child within her with infinitely sweet . .. life . . . And more words, just a shade louder this time, spokenwith less painful effort than the first: "I'm here with you, mylove."

He'd been freed to make his choice, not even the beguiling promiseof an early, perfected heaven standing in his way. And remarkably,again, Vincent's heart had come to her, in all the generosity andhumanity of their love.