Living the Promise: Chapter Twelve

"Vincent, I never believed I'd be saying this to you, but there issomething in your life that has suffered immeasurably since Diana hasbecome a part of it."

The concerned tones of his father's voice caused Vincent to pullhis attention from the chess board in front of him to the elder man'sdistinguished, careworn features. "What on earth could that be,Father?" he questioned in obvious disbelief, for he knew the leaderof their community and his firebrand wife had long ago forged anequally respectful and affectionate bond. He picked up his rook andplaced it into a new, defensive position with concentratedobservation.

Jacob Wells smiled softly at the placement, in spite of himself.He reached across the board and moved his own knight to capture therook. "Checkmate," he offered, unable to stifle a bit of glee thatcrept into his voice. Then, by way of explanation, he continued:"What has suffered, my son, is your scope of concentration when sheis away from your side. It has made you, dare I say it now? a ratherpoor and distracted chess player of late!"

Vincent drew himself up out of his chair, shaking his head, andraised a strong arm around his parent's shoulders. "Well, Father,such a disadvantage hasn't obviously conflicted your conscience any,when it comes to the timing of our games. I believe that the onlyopportunities that we do play now are when Diana is otherwiseoccuppied."

Father patted his son's arm and attempted to defend himself. "Doyou think you'd be able to do any better with your lovely bride inthe room when we play?"

Smiling softly, Vincent agreed with the truth of the elder man'swords. He knew exactly what Father meant. "Diana is a distraction I'mgrateful to be troubled by under any circumstances."

The elder physician chuckled to himself with deepfelt ease ofheart, at his son's unashamed admission. He began to pack the chesspieces away.

It was remarkable.

That was the only word for it -- the relationship his son sharedwith the bright-haired and gentle-spirited woman who had become hiswife, and its effects on him the past nine months. There was so muchcloseness between the two of them that Father could see, such similarstrengths they shared. Yet, at the same time, there were such uniqueshadings in each of their hearts that, once they had been meldedtogether at last, had seemed to bring to life a wondrously complexand beautiful whole of loving commitment and gifting promise beyonddescription.

Not even Catherine had been able to bring such treasures to hischerished son, Father realized once again. Their love had been onsuch a different plane of reality . . . so exulted, and yet, at thesame time, so . . . burdened . . . the cause of such fearful turmoiland pain they'd never dreamed they could, or should, ever attempt toreach past, such uncertainty that he, himself, had helped fester andgrow within their hearts.

Thankfully, Diana had flung their fears into their faces, andunmasked them for the lies that they truly were. Jacob Wells smiledagain to himself. The fierce intensity of the young woman'scommitment to his son, and her hopes and beliefs for him, should havesent his own protective apprehensions into overload most of theirfirst months together. But somehow even he understood that Vincent'sonly salvation rested within the hands of the mercurial young womanthat would give her life and soul to set him free.

And who could have ever imagined that the simple truths andhumanity of love, its very earthbound tenderness and shelter, couldhave become the lifeline that had breathed hope back into his son'sso tested soul?

The elder man held the mythic figure of his son in quietobservation now as Vincent came to sit on the edge of his bed, andhis appearance touched the physician with a pang of protectiveconcern of his own. The strength was always evident in the coiledpower of the young man's body, but Jacob could see that his son wasstill recuperating from his wounds. His breath came, occasionally, inshortened gasps, and the sweeping grace of his movements had beenpulled into a more confined scope in even the simplest ofactions.

Because of it, Father had insisted on Vincent remaining, if not inbed, at least within close proximity of his chamber. His heavydoublet and sweater, his cloak, had all been shed for a long-sleevedchambray shirt and jeans so that his wounds, breathing, and pulsecould more easily be checked several times a day. The forcedtransformation even of his usually striking garb made the physiciansee his son, at the moment, so much the hesitant adolescent: quiet,shy, hiding behind a fall of golden hair.

Despite the still rather vulnerable state of his physical health,Jacob could discern only a wealth of vitality in his child's spiritof late . . . and peace . . . blessed, so long denied peace. From therather distant and wistful look in Vincent's arresting blue eyes,Father also noted where that spirit was resting.

"Diana is enjoying her time Above?" The question drew his son'sattention back from a cherished heart in a separate world, and intothe rocky, candlelit chamber.

What a miracle of love that gift was, too: the power of two heartsable to link themselves to one another, beyond the realms of theordinarily possible reaches of time and space.

To be loved like that.

To love like that.

Father had long ago ceased questioning such realities heconsidered to be glimpses of heaven itself. All he knew was that aspirit desolate and consumed by regretful grief was now capable ofaccepting the promise of tomorrow in hope. Because of the gentle,stubborn, unflinchingly honest heart of an amber-haired angel.

Vincent took hold of his father's walking stick as the elder maneased himself onto the bed next to him. A tender smile lit his uniquefeatures softly.

"There is a wealth of emotion channeling itself to me from herheart. Yes, she is happy, filled with warm, sweet memories, makingnew ones, sharing them with the women Above, with Jacob. And withme."

Those last three words were quietly awestruck and Father guessedwhy. Diana was not only giving her husband the gift of her happyexperiences of the day through their bonded hearts. She hadcompletely opened that heart to him in total, trusting communion,inviting him into the recesses of her spirit with a fearlesscertainty of love. That his son was capable of sharing in such a bondof expectant tenderness with another heart left Jacob near tospeechless, as always.

"Are you truly able to touch to even her memories, Vincent, at themoment?" The words were incredulous. Vincent had to smile at thewonder in his Father's voice. It almost sounded like littleJacob's.

"Yes, even her memories. She's holding nothing back from meFather, her heart is filled with all that she is experiencing. I amthere with her.

"The smell of cinnamon and ginger are in the warm air, the soundof bright laughter at a shared remembrance -- a Christmas pageant ofchildren. Jacob is finding his new family members wondrouslyinteresting, too. There is a closeness, a strength of love reachingbetween everyone in a bright kitchen -- Laura and Samantha, too.There is an ease of heart, a tender resurrection of promise."

Father slid a practiced hand gently over the cascade of goldenhair half concealing his son's face. He marveled at the generosity oflove he was witness to. Anyone else would have been hardpressed notto feel . . . regret . . . at having to remain apart from such gentlynurturing experiences. "You've given Diana a wonderful gift, Vincent.She's been burdened and overwhelmed these past two weeks. You were soright to offer her a chance for some simple, welcome, familialwarmth."

Vincent turned his soft gaze back to his father. "The gift wasfrom you as much as me. I know how important it is to consider thesafety and security of our world for you, Father. That you wouldallow Maureen the opportunity to share in our community, without everhaving actually met her . . . "

"Well, I believe we can trust Diana's judgment of her own sister,"came the immediate comment. "At any rate, I was only considering theneeds of our community with the invitation. Maureen's designexpertise may just come in handy."

A sudden, incongruous picture appeared in Vincent's mind thatcaused him to smile and shake his head in disbelief, an action thatwas not missed by his father. "Don't tell me, let me guess what putsuch a look on your face just now . . . you had a flash of what mighthappen if Maureen's architecture background were ever to meet up withMouse's engineering expertise."

Vincent laughed outright. "God help us! That could getinteresting."

"Well, then, we'd best limit Mouse's access to her, at least onher first moments with us when she does come. We don't want toterrify the poor woman right from the start, now do we?"

"Somehow I believe she would take it in stride, if she is at alllike Diana."

Sharing some trepidatious laughter between them at the thought,Father finally drew himself back up off Vincent's bed, mustering uphis medical and parental authority as best he could. "You've been onyour feet long enough today. Diana won't be back for several hoursyet, so, since I can't exhort her to caution, I'll need to demandyour cooperation. Why don't you get some rest before dinner?"

"Father, I'm fine. All I did was teach one literature class today,right here in this chamber. You'll have me atrophying to stone,soon." The response was patiently tolerant. Father, though, would notbe swayed so easily.

"One literature class . . . and helped the children practice theirreadings for Christmas services . . . and packed Winterfest candleswith Rebecca, not to mention peeling apples for William's dumplingsin the kitchen! That does not sound like much bed rest to me."

Vincent wondered at how his parent had been able to keep such aclose watch on his day's activities with his favorite littleespionage agent gone Above for the day with Diana. He suspected everysoul in the Underworld was out watching for his well-being. Whetherhe felt it necessary or not. But, it was all done out of simple,loving concern.

"You left out suffering through a game of chess with anunscrupulous opponent."

Father let that last remark go right past him, innocently. "You'llbe craving rest soon enough when the new baby awakens at allhours."

Vincent smiled at his parent mischeviously. "My one consolation inthat will be that your chamber is close enough so you'll be awakenedtoo, Father."

The elder man walked slowly out of the room with his chess setunder one arm, muttering loud enough to be heard. "Honestly, I don'tknow how Diana puts up with you!

She must truly be an angel to suffer such obstinance . . . "

Letting the gentle harrangue fill his heart with fillial devotionfor a long moment, Vincent realized that Father would never admit tohim the terror he'd faced in almost losing his son to a simpleaccident two weeks ago. Vincent understood the pain -- he was afather himself. And he prayed he could be half the parent to his ownchildren as Jacob Wells had been to him.

His children . . . Easing down to the welcome rest of his pillows,Vincent let that awe-inspiring image fill his heart . . . Hischildren.

Jacob had been a miracle of life in the midst of madness and deathand grief. Now, soon, another miracle, of love and hope embraced,would become a part of his life, because Diana saw enough promise ina shattered heart to take hold of it with fierce, protectivepossession, and offered it back to him with the sweetest and mosttender of humanity's truths -- the gifting wonder of love between manand wife.

She was Above, in a world ever destined to be only a place ofdanger and limitations for him. His only experience of that world,with her, would forever be only beneath darkened skies or on shadowedrooftops, the only brightness allowed them just within the safeconfines of Helpers' homes. But that world was not the center of herexistence any longer, had ceased to be, from the moment she had firsttaken up her investigation into Catherine's death. Soon, Diana wouldbe returning home, to him, with his children, home, to the stark andcandlelit stone chambers that were his only sanctuary. It was herown.

Vincent let his bonded heart drift back to Diana's as sleepquickly began to overtake his weary body. He was tired, he had toadmit, still robbed of the complete scope of his physicalcapabilities. Yet, his spirit was soaring.

Diana had just turned her thoughts specifically back to him, withgratitude and near-tearful wonder. Now the tears were indeed falling,he could tell, gentle, warm tears of joy and love. She must have justgiven Maureen the Winterfest candle.

Such a small, insignificant gesture to deserve such gratefuldevotion, he thought as he drifted off. It was only a little gift oftime spent with welcome company, and the promise of even more. He'donly spoken a few words on her behalf, to Father and the Council,quelled the physician's reservations about her going Above only twoweeks before the baby was due to be born, reassured the others thatDiana's sister was worthy of their trust. Just a tiny acknowledgementof love.

What marvelous gifts had she offered him during the past threeyears? Only his soul recovered, his son safe, his humanity welcomed.She'd only brought him her own dreams, her trust, her very self,body, mind, and heart. And soon, their second child. Such blessings .. . his.

The bright, cool crispness of snowflakes against bare cheeks madeVincent smile once again, as he let love gently surround him. Jacob'schild's delight filled his heart as well, now. It must have begun tosnow Above. The flakes were drifting quietly, clinging to Diana'sburnished hair, too, he felt. She was happy, serenely, innocently,completely happy.

"Samantha, look at this one. It's all pointy. And this one is veryround. Aren't they beautiful?" Jacob was contemplating the wonder ofsnowflakes that were kept from melting on his woolen scarf longenough to tolerate a three and a half year old's awestruckobservations. Diana smiled as the children walked ahead of her in thesnow.

Her little boy was not above rolling those tender snowflakes intoa ball to fling at his cherished young nanny, either! Such a wonderof combined personality traits, she thought with understanding -- alittle boy's natural mischeviousness, his father's gentle-spiritedsoul, an angelic empathy for anyone and anything around him. Sheslipped a soft hand over her greatly enlarged belly, shielded by hertrench coat just barely able to be buttoned over her figure thesedays. Diana whispered to herself, "You'll have a wondrous big brotherto share life with, my little one."

Setting down the shopping bag that carefully transported the day'scookie production as well as the numerous gift packages being sentback to the underworld community, Diana took a moment to attempt tostretch out the painful kinks in her back.

She had thought the discomfort had only been a result of stoopingover the cookie sheets for half the day, but her spine still enduredthe dull, settling ache even now. Samantha looked behind her andnoticed that the young mother had stopped. She scooped Jacob up intoher arms, eliciting a surprised and delighted squeal, and turned backto Diana.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly, the concern for her dearcompanion immediately evident in her sweet face. Jacob also turnedhis attention from the falling snow to his mother with care.

"Mama, is something wrong?"

Diana smiled at her two protectors. "I'm just a little sore. Myback has about had it for today, that's all."

"Should we just get home then, Diana? We can stop in and seeJeannie another day. You must be so tired."

For an instant, a tiny portion of her mind counseled her to agreewith Samantha's urgings, but practicality quickly worked its waypast. It was only a bit of a backache, after all, nothing more thanthat. The baby wasn't due for another two weeks, and their next stopwas only one more block down the street.

A reassuring hand brushed over Samantha's rosy cheeks. How dearthe girl had become to her, Diana thought, too, so much more ayounger sister than merely a friend. And that sister's dark, trustingeyes were suddenly anxious.

"We'll be very busy Below with Christmas preparations and lessons.It's only another block to the shelter, and Jeannie and the girlswill enjoy the cookies tonight as much as we will. I'll be fine,Samantha."

"All right, but let me have that bag, Diana. And lean on my arm ifyou need to."

"Yes, Mama. Take my hand, too." Jacob reached up to his motherwith loving concern also. Diana couldn't help but accept theirefforts on her part. She gave Samantha the bag, although the girl wasalso already burdened by a backback of gifts and Jacob's things. Shelet the little boy carefully guide her steps over the accumulatingsnow on the sidewalks of an unexpectedly quiet New York wintertwilight.

Samantha cast an anxious glance over to her companion every fiveor six steps, concern filling her heart despite Diana's best effortsto reassure her. She had given Vincent her word, early that morning:If his beloved was in the least showing any signs of excessivefatigue or discomfort, she would get her back home to the safety ofthe tunnels as quickly as possible.

Knowing that Diana's protective care for her unborn child wasunwavering, the girl also understood that her friend would easily setaside her own needs to assure the gifting of others. Jacob was atpresent enjoying the winter frolic immensely. Jeannie could more thanlikely use a bit of spirit-lifting company, too, so Diana would bemore inclined to overlook any warning signals from her body thatshe'd done too much, if she were eager to please those that she caredfor and loved.

She appeared fine, if a bit tired at this point in the day.Samantha judged that at least Diana would be able to get off her feetfor a while at the shelter house and rest again a little there. Oncethey were back in the tunnel confines, the girl decided that shewould get them some help. She'd signal for Cullen or Kanin to comeand carry Diana home, though she knew Vincent would surely answer thecall instantly, despite his own tentative state of health.

Well, she'd just have to count on Father's ability to keep Vincentin his chamber, if need be. Samantha smiled softly at the thoughtthat even her cherished mentor couldn't always skirt Father'sauthority. The elder physician could be as stern with his mythicfigure of a son as he was with Jeffrey or Zack in their adolescentlapses of good sense. She would be certain that Vincent's trust inher would not be found lacking.

Samantha had sworn to herself long ago, in the flooded, collapsedchamber that had trapped her, Jacob, and Diana, that her belovedteacher would never again have to endure pain beyond telling becauseof tragedy touching the woman he loved. Or his child.

Or his children, the girl corrected herself, taking in thebeautiful figure of Diana. Not if she could do anything about it.

Looking up into the lovely face of her companion, Samantha let abit of settling warmth wash over her heart at that last thought --Vincent's children -- a new baby, born of love undeniable. Dianaalways seemed so at peace now, radiating love and protection andfulfillment. Someday, perhaps, the young lady dreamed, there'd besomeone for her, too, to love, to trust, someone whose love for hercould even embody itself as a child. It would be the sweetest giftshe could ever be given, and knowing that Vincent and Diana nowshared in that reality lit a beautiful peace within her own generous,tender heart.

Diana noticed her companion's sudden silence as they made theirway through the Chelsea neighborhood nearing their destination. Shewrapped a reassuring arm around the girl's shoulder. "I'm glad youcould be with me today, Samantha."

The dark-eyed teen smiled in response, cherishing theacknowledgement. "I really enjoyed the day. William never has time tomake fancy cookies for Christmas, and the few times he's let any ofthe children into his kitchen to do so have been disasters! Cleaningup took forever."

Diana laughed at the honest remarks, thinking, suddenly, that thegirl beside her no longer could be judged simply one of the childrenof the community. She was fourteen, a teacher already, confident,bright, and on her way to becoming a truly lovely young woman.Vincent was so right in his judgment of his beloved, prized student:Their world would be reeling with the effects of Samantha's maturityin the community, happily so.

"Would you like to try doing something special with your hair forChristmas?" Diana ran a gentle hand over the girl's snowflake-ladenbraid peeking out from beneath her muffler. The dark eyes lit upimmediately.

"Could you help me, maybe? I thought I'd like to wear it downsomehow, but I have to keep it out of my way, too."

The practicalities of living in the Underworld made the youngmother-to-be smile. She knew how a simple, new hairstyle could becomea treasured source of individuality for the girl. And a few pointerson how to hold a certain young man's attention away from the chessboard would also be a welcome secret shared, she guessed.

"I'll be happy to. We could experiment tomorrow after lessons. Andmaybe you can help me get used to putting my hair up, too. Mary'sshown me a dozen times, but my hair never wants to cooperate. I endup using pins all over the place to tame it. It'll be sure to fallout the first time the baby tugs on it!"

Samantha smiled. "I think Mary has had lots more practice doingit, but I'll see if I can help you, Diana." Then a sweet blush ofcolor touched the girl's cheeks, beyond the brisk, snow-laden effectsof the wind whipping around them. She quickly looked away fromher

companion's face.

"What is it, Samantha?" Diana questioned softly, taking in herfriend's suddenly shy attitude.

"Vincent likes your hair, doesn't he?"

Diana found herself quietly blushing, too, at the girl's words,recalling what had caused the comment.

The other night, Samantha had brought Jacob back to their chamberfrom a round of practicing for the Christmas pageant in Father'sstudy. When the young woman had followed the child in his easy,exhuberant arrival through the entryway of his home, she'dinadvertantly walked in on a tender moment between her two dearfriends: Diana had been in the process of brushing out her hair forthe night, seated on the edge of their bed, when Vincent had sat downbeside her, gently taken the silver brush out of her hand, and begunto smooth the burnished locks for her himself, even though he had tokeep his movements a bit abreviated, because of his still-recoveringside.

It was a testament to how far he'd accepted and welcomed thehumanity of their love, that her husband had merely graced the girlwith a smile and words of thanks without interrupting the cherishedduty he was momentarily involved in.

Diana reached another hug around Samantha's shoulders now, inresponse, blessing heaven for the girl's sweet friendship.

By the time they'd reached the nondescript brownstone at the endof the city block that they sought, Diana's back seemed to be feelingbetter, and her companion's concerns could be allayed with somecertainty. Because of that fact, Jacob felt at ease showering themboth with handsful of snow from off the railings along the stairwaythey were climbing, which caught both women completely off guard --delightfully so. The child did not come out of the unexpected assaultunscathed, though, as he found that his mother and friend were justas adept at tossing snow as he was.

For a moment, all three arrivals ended up knocking off theirwhitened coats for each other before pushing open the outer door ofthe house. Once within the building, they were surrounded by anengaging confusion of chattering voices and proudly off-keyedChristmas caroling that drew them happily within the depths of theroom -- a large, high-ceilinged, parlor-type space. Though minimallyfurnished with several unmatched upholstered chairs and a large,comfortably worn couch, the room was alive with unexpected warmth,coming directly to them from its inhabitants.

Half a dozen young women, varying in age from fifteen to theirearly twenties, were engaged in decorating a decidedly unrobustChristmas tree. Several areas of the evergreen were less than full,but they were being successfully camouflaged by drapes of popcornstrings by two girls dressed in jeans and sweaters. Another girl wascarefully hanging an eclectic array of glass balls on the branches.Above all this, on a short ladder and entwined with only partiallylit Christmas lights, stood Teresa Salazar -- Doctor Teresa Salazar,the director of Magdalen House.

"Diana, Samantha, what on earth are you doing here tonight? It'ssnowing like crazy!" The newly arrived women smiled up at theobviously besieged sociologist tottering precariously atop her perch.Samantha quickly moved to free up an end of the lights that hadcaught itself on the edge of the ladder's top rung, threatening topull Teresa off her foothold.

"Thanks, Samantha," she replied gratefully, then continued inobvious exasperation, "Why do lights always go out after you alreadyhave them up on the tree?"

"I've often asked myself the same question," Diana commentedbrightly, as she reached a hand up to steady Teresa's descent.Thankfully, the tree Below, alight with reflected candleglow, neverbecame a chore to decorate, she realized with warm satisfaction.

Teresa extended an unselfconscious hand over Diana's ripe figure,with gentle care. "Your husband let you roam the streets at night,alone, in the snow?" she teased. Diana offered her friend areassuring hug.

"We were visiting family and are right now on our way home. But,if you'd rather not take our Christmas treats and shoo us awayinstead, we'll just leave."

"Wait a minute -- you didn't say anything about any Christmastreat."

"We made lots of cookies today, Terry, and we've brought you allsome, too." Jacob's warm announcement easily carried across the room,and in a moment, uncooperative decorations had been set aside for themore satisfying sampling of a large tin of assorted treats. Severalother girls drifted into the room and joined the group, the cookiesmaking a large appreciative circuit amidst them all.

Surveying the congregating girls who were now eagerly engagingSamantha and Jacob in conversation, Dr. Salazar leaned gently againsther companion to whisper, "It looks like a sorority in here, doesn'tit?"

Diana gazed over the faces of the young women in observation. Sheknew they were young because she was familiar with their ages. Teresahad told her. But several of them looked older than even the doctor'sthirty-seven years, despite their present, spirited demeanors.

With a pang, Diana recognized the eyes that spoke powerfully oflong battles with pain and fear and hopelessness, even now finding itdifficult to take courage in their nurturing surroundings. She'd seentoo many such girls in her police work, lost, struggling, andforgotten. Too many of them dead.

Through some mercy of heaven, though, there actually seemed to bea tentative feeling of . . . safety . . . within the confines of theroom.

"This is no sorority, Terry. That's too superficial a descriptionfor what you're doing here. This is a community. A family."

The usually quick-witted doctor held quietly to the words of theyoung woman who'd become her friend over the past few months. Sheknew very little of the generous-hearted mother-to-be, except thatshe came from a group of concerned souls who were willing to help theshelter in its work, even if their means appeared to be only meagerat best. The support they, Diana, had given in encouragement andhope, though, over the past several months, was worth an immeasurablevalue to the girls in the room.

"Jacob's getting bigger every time I see him. And Samantha . . .well, I've had a few of the girls ask about her after she's come bywith one of you. They don't come right out and say it, but I thinkthey are amazed by her."

Smiling softly at the words, Diana understood how the commentmirrored the hope that was evident around them. Here were a group ofyoung women robbed of promise for so long, by circumstances theyoften had very little control over. So many of them old before theirtime. And they were intrigued and taken by a girl like Samantha, aself-assured, giving, ever-hopeful teenager who, but for the grace ofGod and the tender care of the Underworld community, could haveeasily become one of their number.

That thought prompted Diana to survey the faces again, seeking outone in particular. "Jeannie's not gone, is she?"

"No, she's upstairs, finishing up on some studying." Teresa'sfeatures shadowed perceptively as she spoke. "Actually, I think she'sjust avoiding joining in the decorating. I didn't want to press her.Holidays can be hell on a kid like her."

"Then you've enrolled her in school? She won't be going back toMinnesota?" Diana asked.

"We found out she'd run away from three foster homes there. Shehas no one left. Her stepfather's in prison for beating her mother todeath when they were both drunk. Social services back there basicallysaid we're welcome to her and better luck with her than they had.They're more equipped to handle younger kids, I guess."

Diana's heart shrank at the sad narrative. She'd come across somany youngsters like Jeannie . . . who'd become victims one last time. . . victims of the streets and the inhuman madness that could bedrawn to a young girl on her own. She whispered a quiet prayer thatthis particular struggling soul might at last be finding its way to asafe and possible future.

"Do you think she'd mind if we went up to say 'hi'?" Teresa smiledgently, but the weariness in her face could not be completelydiscounted.

"She's let you get closer to her than anyone else here, Diana. I'msure she'll welcome your visit."

A moment later, the creaky steps of the house brought Diana andthe children up to the second floor dorm area. Softly, she knocked onthe first door to the right of the staircase, then gave Samantha agentle squeeze of her hand as they waited for a response.

The door opened a moment later, and the drawn features of a littlegirl, struggling to survive in a defiant adolescent's spirit peeredaround it. Diana swallowed the tears that came instantly to hereyes.

"Hello, Jeannie. We were nearby and thought we'd stop and see howyou were doing."

The cautious young girl took in the still snowflake dampened hairof her three visitors, and smiled softly, unexpectedly. "Is itsnowing outside? There's no window in this bedroom."

"Really big snowflakes, Jeannie, coming down in bunches." Jacob'senthusiastic response caused the door to come open wider. Jeanniebent down to Jacob, kindly, and stretched out her hand. Diana's heartstumbled at the sight, in gratitude.

"Come on inside and see what I've been doing, Jacob." The littleboy let the girl guide him across the room, to a battered student'sdesk piled with textbooks and papers. Part of the desktop waslittered with an accumulation of tiny bits of recycled office paper,next to a stack of beautifully cut out snowflakes in a myriad ofshapes.

"Have you ever made paper snowflakes?"

Jacob's eyes lit up, their celestial blue radiating. "Oh, yes!Mama and Samantha and Luke and Katy and I made ever so many of themthese last few days, for decorations."

"My fingers got sore from the scissors," Samantha confessedeasily.

Jeannie handed Jacob a folded triangular piece of paper and asmall scissor from her desk. "Since you are such an expert then, howabout making one for me? Be careful, though. Those scissors have apointy edge, not rounded."

Jacob easily plopped himself down to the floor of the room andbegan to cut patterns into the blank shape happily. Jeannie returnedher attention to the women. "I love making snowflakes. You never knowwhat they'll look like until you open them up."

Diana smiled softly. There was an almost . . . hopeful . . .quality to the young girl's voice. She hadn't expected to hear that.Perhaps Jeannie was indeed finding her way back from hell in time,she thought with relief. "Teresa says you'll be starting back inschool in January."

"Yeah. She said I have to graduate or I'll never be able to reallyhelp myself." Gesturing Diana and Samantha to join her, Jeannie satdown on her quilt covered bed. Samantha was glad to see Diana acceptthe restful spot.

"It won't be easy, I'm sure," the red-haired woman noted. Jeannienodded in agreement.

"I know. I'm so far behind. Terry's been giving me some help, andso have some of the other girls, but it's been a while since I've hadto concentrate on books and classes. History's especially hard. I cannever keep all those dates straight."

Samantha reached over to the high school world history text leftopen on the bed. "Science is my problem. I hate to try to explainthings in logical order; you know, proofs and such. I mean, sometimesthings just -- happen -- they're beyond explanation."

Suddenly, all three women laughed at the remark, warmly. Dianaunderstood what Samantha was trying to say. Like her dear youngfriend, she herself was such an . . .

instinctive . . . person. Rational, logical order were difficultbarriers to contemplate, even though her work Above had constantlydemanded her dealings with them. Sometimes things really did just . .. happen. And the world was a better place for it.

Like the warm friendship she realized could just be beginning totake shape between two so dissimilar girls from opposite ends of thehuman spectrum.

"Jeannie, maybe you could use some regular study help."

Samantha looked up at Diana, and immediately followed her lead --and her heart. "If it's all right, maybe I could come and help youstudy for a while, until you get caught up."

"Samantha's an excellent tutor."

"Even in history?" came the expectant inquiry.

"History's one of my favorite subjects!"

Jacob came over from his snowflake construction and eagerly handedJeannie his creation. "Samantha's a really good teacher, Jeannie. Sheeven helps the big boys and girls with their work at home."

The young educator in question blushed softly at the effusion ofpraise on her behalf, and Jeannie suddenly couldn't help but hope atthe generous gesture she was being offered, which, she somehow knew,went beyond the simple opportunity of remedial school help. There wasa genuine warmth and caring obviously reaching out between the twowomen and herself that she really, unexpectedly, longed to take holdof.

It had been so long, so very long, since she'd been able to trust,to feel.

"You'd spend time with me studying?" she asked Samantha, not quitecertain she should expect an affirmative response.

Diana found her observation drawing comparisons between the twogirls. Jeannie was only about a year and a half older than Samantha,but she'd already been witness to more heartache, futility, anddesperation than a dozen lifetimes could be burdened by. Yet, at thesame time, there was still a childlike vulnerability struggling tosurvive within her.

Samantha had led the sheltered, nurturing life of a tunnel dwellersince she was no more than a baby. Still, her strength of spirit andmaturity went far beyond those of her own age in the world Above.

The older woman knew how her young friend would answer a plea forhelp.

"I'd be happy to. As long as it's all right with Dr. Salazar, andeveryone else."

The girl's emphasis on the "everyone else" part of her sentencemade Diana's hope for the plan take a momentary reality check. Fatherwas so very cautious about allowing the youngsters of the tunnelcommunity interaction with the world Above, not so much because hewished to stifle hopes, as much as he was desperate to keep those heloved safe. Still, she knew that the leader of the Underworld wouldnot turn aside an opportunity to reach out to someone truly in need,even if that person lived beyond the sheltered confines of their ownworld, in the teeming city, so long as the security of the tunnelcommunity was not compromised.

Vincent had long ago convinced the patriarch that although theirworld was separate and apart from the one Above, that didn't mean theresponsibility each community member had to the struggling of thatworld had been voided.

The shy happiness coming over a teenaged former prostitute'sfeatures underlied that fact: It was possible to make a difference inthe world, one soul at a time. That was a cornerstone of theUnderworld community's spirit, Diana realized once again, in quietsatisfaction. How blessed her baby would be to be surrounded by sucha nurturing spirit from its very first moments! She'd had her ownsoul restored.

Thoughts of her child pulled the older woman back to the realityof the winter evening getting along quickly. Vincent was expectingthem home for supper. It was getting late, and they still had half adozen blocks to walk before reaching their closest tunnel accesspoint. "We'd better get going," Diana announced as she came awkwardlyto her feet from off the bed.

A sudden surge of pain up her spine caused her to wince, somethingSamantha didn't let pass her own attention. Catching her companion'smomentary concern, Diana attempted to stretch herself out of thediscomfort. "I'm going to need a good back rub, tonight!" sheannounced with a sigh.

Jeannie began walking them all to her door, then called a halt."Wait, please." She returned to her desk and picked up two of hersnowflakes, handing one to Jacob, and another to Samantha. "You gaveme yours, Jacob. Please take one of mine. You, too, Samantha."

The youngsters thanked the girl for her gift, and Diana thankedheaven that the sudden hopeful promise she'd caught sight of in atested sixteen year old was only the beginning to a new life for her.She was assured of it when Jeannie returned to her with somethingspecial in her hand.

"I'd like you to have this, Diana. I've made a few for our treedownstairs. Your quilt helped me remember what my grandma showedme."

The small gift was a tiny quilt square of fabric, with a brightlypieced star in the middle. Diana found herself marveling at the workinvolved in the hand stitching appreciatively. "Jeannie, this isbeautiful. Thank you."

Now it was Samantha's time to be awed by her new friend'sexpertise. Though the young tunnel dweller was well versed in thesewing arts, by necessity, she'd never really found that she couldsit still long enough to tackle anything beyond the mundane mendingand piecing of their tunnel garments. "Did you stitch this, Jeannie?Really?"

"Yeah. My grandma made wonderful quilts when I was little. Shehelped me do a few easy things."

Samantha traced her fingers carefully over the tiny, cleanstitching. "I'd never have the patience to do something like this.This is great!"

Shyly, Jeannie made an offer that confirmed Diana's hope for her."Maybe when you come back sometime, we could set aside a bit ofsewing time as well as studying. I could help you make one. It'sreally not too hard, just like piecing a puzzle."

A radiant smile accepted the offer to help. "I'd love that."

Several moments later, Jeannie was settled into the parlor, too,hanging up her paper snowflakes and fabric stars on the now quiterespectable tree. And Jacob, Samantha, and Diana once again foundthemselves deliciously awash with the real thing -- blowingsnowflakes, setting a gentle, bright-spirited expectation to thenormal chaos of the city.

The wind kicked up along the streets and people hurried by the twowomen and the little boy with collars upturned, needing to distancethemselves from the snowstorm's effects as quickly as possible. Thetunnel dwellers, though, found that they were enjoying being about inthe swirling whiteness. The lights decorating the windows of the chicboutiques they were passing by made the frosty covering come alivewith chilled color. Jacob was in a wonderland, running ahead ofSamantha to stop at window displays, throwing his head back to letthe snow cover his lashes and cheeks with welcome.

"Oh, Mama, I hope Father can feel what I'm feeling right now!" Thechild's exclamation caught at Diana's heart as she watched Samanthalift him higher to a window so he could see the animated Christmasfigures -- a penguin skating party -- without obstruction.

Jacob understood now, Diana knew, that he shared a special bondwith his father's heart, though neither of his parents had actuallysought to explain the indecipherable wonder to him. In the past,Vincent had sought fervantly to keep that connection turned only intoone direction, away from his child, because of the morass of pain,regret, and guilt his own heart had been struggling with for so long.He'd accepted with eager, relieved, cherishing the tender care andbonding the child's innocent spirit had offered him, clinging to itas a lifeline of hope for his desperately tested spirit. Yet, he'dalways taken ruthless hold of his own turbulent state of heart beforethat turmoil could reach its anguish to his son's awareness.

With his renewed hope in life, in the peace that he had found intheir existence together, Vincent had at last been able to unshacklethe complete marvel that was his bond to his child's heart, not onlyaccepting the little boy's sustaining connection, but offering hisown emotions freely to Jacob, letting the child link his awarenessdeeply to a heart whose nobility and generosity existed beyondboundaries.

And the little boy had happily become an eager guide, also, to themystical power of that life-giving force between them.

So many times when she and Jacob returned home after a period oftime Above, the little boy would hurry over to his father andbreathlessly question him about the experiences of the day he'dattempted to selflessly share with him. It brought a wealth of wonderto Diana's own spirit she could never even begin to describe.

"Did you feel how bright the sun was on my face in the park,Father?" would come the sweet and eager words. "Could you hear theducks quacking in the pond? When they all took off to fly, I couldhear the wind of their wings! Did you hear it that way, too?"

With awe, Diana had realized that the little boy always made it apoint to carry his father's spirit with him now, whenever he venturedbeyond the tunnel's confines.

Not once did he question why Vincent never accompanied them Aboveon their adventures, why he could share the wonders of the park withhis father only late at night. Diana suspected that it was becausethe little boy could also feel her husband's pain, without the needfor explanation, at the exclusion. That her beloved was unafraid toreveal such still spirit-diminishing pain to his son was a miracle ofitself, the unmasked vulnerability of his heart serving only toheighten the child's miraculously unselfish empathic powers. Feelingthat he could, indeed, be gifting his father with a pricelesstreasure of awareness, made Jacob's own sense of worth soar.

Yet, Vincent never sought to keep his child from experiencing theworld Above. On the contrary, he encouraged Diana's time alone withJacob in the city, his moments with the other children, withSamantha. And somehow, understanding the immense gift of . . .freedom . . . his father was willing to offer the little boy, Jacobwould always seek to recompense the gift with his own: He'd drink inevery opportunity, revel in every delight, observe with minute,detailed concentration, every event, so that he might share them allwith his beloved father, in his words and descriptions, yes, but somuch more so in their bonded hearts.

Thus, despite the fact that Diana was beginning to feel a grippingfatigue overtake her, she sought to give Jacob as much time as hewished in exploring the wonders of the holiday city around him. Sheremembered how her own Dad had understood the magic of the greatmetropolis at Christmastime, how he'd always made it a point to bringher and Maureen into the heart of the city and let them live thebenign fantasies of a childhood winter wonderland for at least a fewmoments. Even though he was completely aware of the fact that justbeyond the twinkling lights, the delightful displays, the shimmeringabundance, lay a reality that could become dark and menacing withlittle provocation or conscience.

As Jacob and Samantha stopped to watch in delight a display ofdolls and wind-up toys in a charming antique shop window, Diana foundthe semi-sheltered entryway of the building and leaned against thedoorframe for a moment, catching her breath.

A small part of her own inner consciousness had begun to centeritself around the unfamiliar sensations she was now beginning toacknowledge within her body, and Diana conceded that, perhaps,Samantha's concern might have some foundation. That suddenlyunsettling possibility caused the young mother to attempt to read herown inner state at the moment, anxiously.

For, a wondrous connection linking lovingly empathic hearts wasnot only limited to the miracle that existed between her husband andher son. Diana knew that her own interior workings were just ascapable of being channeled to Vincent's awareness, their boundlessdevotion to one another melding the reality of both their souls toeach other's sheltering awareness with equally gifting power.

Defensively, Diana sought to draw her feelings beyond the tiny,nagging prospect that counseled her to give in to fear, knowing thather state of heart was completely open to her beloved in the tunnelsBelow. She forced herself past the momentary -- panic -- of findingherself far from the protective boundaries of their world at such avulnerable instant, her intensely guardian nature unwilling to allowanything to pass through her heart that might feed itself intoVincent's awareness with alarm.

She'd sworn a silent oath on their wedding night that she'd neverdo anything, place herself anywhere, allow herself to becomeembroiled in anything, anything, that could even remotely drawVincent protectively to her into the dangerous city.

That had happened only once, one time, when she'd found herself abreath away from death, a gun savagely raised to her head, justwithin the tunnel entrance in the park. She'd come there seeking outthe desperate, shattered soul who had refused her help, Vincent, theindescribable being that had instantly taken hold of her heart'scompassionate tenderness. Instead, she had stumbled upondrug-maddened vagrants holed up within those dark confines, who'd noteven hesitated a heartbeat to thrust her, face down, into the dirt, abullet ready to be fired only a centimeter from her brain.

Vincent had saved her then, dispatching her murderous captors withprotective fury. Afterwards, she'd realized she'd just watchedanother piece of his own humanity ripped to shreds. He hadn't evenreached a hand down to her to help her up, hadn't even dared thoughtof holding her to him in comfort, sought to understand if she'd beeninjured somehow or been miraculously spared, unwilling to let a touchdamned with blood come anywhere near her.

He'd only stared at the body at his feet, pronounced, coldly, toher, "So, now you've seen", and turned, in silent torment to stalkaway from her, into the dark. She'd watched a part of him die there,too, knowing that she'd seen him at his instinctively savageworst.

It made no matter to him that he'd just saved her life. Neitherhe, nor she, had had the courage to accept the fact that he'd come toher aid because he'd been able to read her heart, feel her terror. Ashe had always felt Catherine's, calling out to him, pleadingly, toomany times.

Diana had made it clear to him, that night, that she would neverlet him be responsible for her safety, that she would never expecthim to be, never accept his risking his soul for her.

And she had sworn it to the Almighty Himself, on their weddingnight, the sight of bullet wounds marring the otherworldly beauty ofher husband's body stopping her heart: She would die before she'dever lead Vincent back into the insidiously treacherous capabilitiesof his fiercely protective instinct. Knowing his presentlystill-recovering state of health only steeled, further, her resolveto keep him far from the city's jeopardy, whatever the cost.

As it was, though, at that moment, she was able to take a longinstant to resettle her spirit, forcing herself to think rationallypast her own formidibly sheltering essence. No one needed to be indanger, here, she knew. Even if the sensations within her weresignalling the early onslaught of labor, she didn't need to give into alarm. They'd taken generously reasonable precautions for her tripAbove today. Samantha was with her. They only needed to walk a fewmore blocks before they could lower themselves into the safe confinesof the tunnels. If things should start to happen too quickly, they'dhave the pipes to signal their situation for help. And first babiesalways took their time, Mary had reassured her.

Finding comfort again in the actual reality of the situation,Diana let herself breathe a bit more easily, praying that herturbulent emotions had not revealed themselves to her husband'sawareness of her. If she wasn't careful, she rebuked herselfsilently, she'd let her own protective urges draw Vincent Above thisnight. The sound of Jacob's laughter at the delightful display he wastaking in helped to refocus his mother's attention.

Diana let her gaze rest on the shop's windows, too, doing her bestto return her heart back to its quietly hopeful grounding, and, atlast, felt an easing of both her spirit and the pain that had takenhold of her body. Immediately, she ran a comforting hand over thebaby within her. "If you're determined to join us tonight, angel,just, please, let us get back home. Your father will want to hold youfrom your first breath. I'll want to set you in his arms from thatinstant. Let him know that moment, my sweet angel. He'd give his lifefor you. For us all."

The shop's assortment of items visible to her from a second nearbywindow at last held Diana's attention with gentle appreciation. Therewere some beautiful pieces of old furniture displayed, finely worked.Each was tagged with the exhorbitant prices that were a given in theupscaled shops of the area.

Diana wondered to herself with bemusement: Her own vanity Belowwas probably of the same historical period as those furnishings inthe window, yet she had come to prize it solely for the sweet gift ofacceptance and welcome that it mirrored from Vincent's love for her,offered to her as a cherished wedding gift. The Stickley table inFather's chamber was a study in utility, its functional beauty asgathering place for community discussion respected for its ownworth.

Both furnishings would have been reduced to status-raising pricetags in the world here Above.

Settling herself a bit nearer against the door of the closed shop,Diana was startled a moment to realize that a fashionably dressedyoung woman from within the store was staring at her, then at thechildren who were still taking in the toy display. Diana smiledeasily at the woman, acknowledging her with a nod of her head, thenreturned her attention to a collection of antique ladies'appointments set out on a shelf in the window nearest her.

There were gloves and beaded purses and jewelry, among othersmall, personal items. When her gaze settled onto a series ofextravagant hat pins held in a porcelain container, she smiled toherself. Grandma Annie had a hat pin that she'd let her and Maureenadmire on numerous occasions when they were just little girls.

When they'd asked her how it was used, the dear lady had explainedits dual capacity with nonchalance -- it held a proper lady's hat inplace atop her knotted hair, and it also could be used as a veryeffective deterrent to any unwanted attention. Her father, sheremembered, had loudly protested such a revelation as an archane bitof nonsense, but Diana had taken the unqualified blessing to keepherself responsible for her own safety to heart, even back then. Onemade use of whatever advantage one had.

That thought held her own spirit as she continued to appraise thedisplay of beautiful articles before her. Diana's attention returnedto a silver hair comb that had probably helped hold a Gibson bun inplace on top of some stylish, turn of the century lady's head,without the hat or requisite pin. The ornate silver detailing on thecomb very nearly matched the intricate pattern of her own vanity setBelow, she was surprised to note, the one Vincent had given her alongwith the use of the dressing table.

Her train of thought still flowing from her grandmother'sscandalously confident manner, the young mother-to-be found herselfthinking that such a comb could also become a very functionalaccessory in a woman's wardrobe, an unexpectedly tantalizing

one, especially if it helped to tame an abundance of amber locksthat a certain mythic figure of a husband had a true affection for.What goes up, must come down, she thought, mischeviously . . . Maryknew how to get it right -- all of her long hair simply twisted andknotted, to be held in place with a minimal number of pins. A littledrama with a hair comb could come in handy some time. Maybe she couldborrow one from the tunnel matriarch.

Marveling at her perfectly outrageous turn of mind, Diana beratedherself at the thought of what Vincent must be attempting to decipheras her state of heart at the moment. She'd gone from panicked tofiercely protective to downright disreputable in a matter of minutes,and she was certain to find herself brought to task because of itwhen she was back home.

Shaking her head in amused compassion, she conceded that herhusband had no way of knowing what sort of lighthearted mischief herunburdened heart was capable of. It was a true gift, after the painand terror of almost losing her beloved that she'd been agonized byonly a few days ago.

She'd have to make it up to him upon her return, Diana promisedherself. Vincent had been so solicitous of her, as the burden of herpregnancy had literally weighed down on her more and more. His tendertouch had eased her aching back, his gentle caution had urged him toprotectively share in her moments at the bathing pool, he'd brushedher hair for her and tied her shoes and the sweet radiance of carethat those intimate instances of devotion were evidence of onlyhelped her spirit soar.

Just as she was thinking about how she could possibly get Fatherto ease up a bit on his stern vigilance for Vincent's recovery, thathad them both sighing in reluctant acquiescence when all they wishedto do was lose themselves within each other's tenderness, Diana wassuddenly overcome by a stab of pain that nearly doubled her over,almost as though it were a reminder of the tentative state of her ownpresent health, as well as that of her husband. She clutched at herswollen belly instinctively with one hand, the other catching at themetal railing to keep herself upright.

All of her attention was fused to that sensation at the moment, asthe pain radiated from her spine to below her abdomen, forcing achill that was both sensation, and fear, through her. Diana closedher eyes and sought to understand what was happening to her.Contractions? Was she in labor? It was possible, but nothing she wasfeeling seemed to correspond with what Mary had attempted todescribed to her as the early stages of childbirth. There was noslowly increasing perception of constricting muscles, no cramping.This was just sheer, unadulterated, pain, and far from remainingsomewhat centered on her abdomen, the feeling was coursing throughouther body at once.

Then, after a minute, it stopped. Completely. No lingering,telltake after effects, except for the thin sheen of perspirationthat had settled over her face, despite the cold wind whipping aroundher.

Diana realized she needed to get back home, now, get back toVincent. Even though she was still two weeks from her due date, thebaby was definitely in charge of her body at the moment, and shewasn't certain why.

The rising threads of panic had begun overtaking her again, as shewatched the children still enjoying the toy display in the window.Trying to assess their situation calmly, she knew that they were atleast four blocks away from their nearest tunnel access point, on theroute that had partially collapsed during the flooding over two yearsago. That meant that even within the relative safety of the tunnels,it would take another three or four blocks of walking before theycould reach an area where the pipes used for communication were stillcompletely intact and they could call for help, if necessary. Thesentry posts on that route had also been moved because of thedamage.

A call for help would certainly bring Vincent, too, she knew,risking his own recovering state of health to reassure himself ofhers. The long journey through the maze of tunnels would surely taskhis tentative strength. Father had allowed his son only a verylimited amount of walking the past few days, carefully balancing hispatient's need for exercise with the threat of relapse into aprecarious state of health that had almost claimed his life.

That realization left Diana with one avenue of response to herpresent uncertain circumstances: She would simply refuse to let fearand panic overtake her, and channel themselves to Vincent's sense ofher. They would just get home on their own, she and the children, andonce there, she'd give herself over to Father's medical expertise andVincent's loving, protected, care.

After all, she told herself with growing confidence, even if shewas in labor, first babies take their time. Her sister was in laborfor hours before she even had to get to the hospital when shedelivered Alex. It was simply a natural process women have beenenduring for eons. She'd be fine. They'd get home. Father and Marywould be besides themselves in their care of her and the baby. AndVincent would be safely at her side without tempting fate.

Consciously, Diana forced herself to close her eyes again andbreathe deeply and rhythmically. She let her thoughts slip backthrough the pleasantries of the day, attempting to quell heranxiousness and uncertainty. When she felt her control returnsomewhat, she again rested in quiet observation of Samantha and Jacobstill at the window display, hoping that she wouldn't need to alarmthem, either, unnecessarily.

"You'll have to move on from there."

A curt, female voice behind her caused Diana to turn around,startled, shakey as she still was. In the shop doorway stood thewoman she had seen staring at her before, now peering around thehalf-opened door she gripped with a generously jeweled hand.

Not exactly certain she had heard all the woman had said to her inher preoccuppied state, Diana simply replied, "Excuse me?" with quietinquiry.

The woman pointed to Samantha and Jacob and then continued toaddress Diana, an obvious distate showing in her carefully made upface. "You'll have to move on, with your . . . children . . . too. Ican't have my doorway blocked by you people. Customers have to getin."

Diana pulled herself up slowly from against the door frame whereshe was leaning, about ready to point out to the woman that her shopwas closed and that no "customers" were about to trip over her intheir effort to enter the store. But the children heard the voicesbehind them and they turned, too, from the display.

Wearily, the young mother reached to the nearby railing to steadyherself again. "I'm sorry. I was only resting. The chidren wereadmiring your display."

"Well, go and 'rest' somewhere else, before I call the police,"came the astonishingly cold reply, before the door slammed shut inDiana's face.

Samantha drew Jacob to her and collected the bags she wascarrying. The children moved to join their companion in startledamazement. Diana said nothing, but let Samantha ease her steps fromthe stoop back to the street itself, wondering silently what sort ofattitude the woman would have had towards her and the children if shestill carried her police seargent's shield with her.

Shaking her head with incredulous disbelief, she took hold ofJacob's hand, letting a look pass between herself and Samantha thatsaid everything, acknowledging the cold-heartedness that so many ofthe tunnel world's inhabitants had had to endure in their livesAbove. Only Jacob was uncertain as to what had just occurred, hisguileless little heart confused.

"Mama, why was that lady cross with you?" he asked innocently,never once believing ill of anyone without explanation. Diana bentover her son gently, taking in the overcoat which was a size toolarge for the little boy, and the carefully knitted muffler and capthat helped to keep him warm in the blowing snow.

"The lady was just ready to lock her doors, angel. I was standingin her way."

"She could have been polite and asked to be excused."

"Some people are too busy to remember being polite, Jacob. Nowwe'd better head home. Father and Grandfather and Mary will bewaiting to hear all about our adventures today."

The little boy accepted his mother's words, but, instead ofcontinuing on his bright exploration of the city streets, he clung toDiana's hand and held it tightly. "I want to go back home," heannounced quietly.

Continuing on the sidewalk, Samantha leaned against Diana a momentand whispered softly, "That woman wasn't too busy to judge others,though, was she? She thought we were street people, didn't she?"

Diana took in the young girl's figure a long moment. Though thewool coat she wore was a bit short in the sleeves, it was spotlesslyclean. A snuggly scarf was pulled over her dark, braided hair andaround her neck. The parcels she was carrying were carefully packedinto a backpack and a plain, handled shopping bag. The girl may nothave been one of the vapid fashion ingenues making their anonymousway across the streets, but she was clearly no urchin, either.

And Diana, herself, was in her dark trench coat and leather boots,scarfed and muffled against the cold. She was only obviouslypregnant, not looking for a hand out. But, what if they had beenthree poor souls in need, she thought, suddenly, without a warm, safeplace to call home, or family and friends to love and care aboutthem?

Letting a reassuring hand slip over Samantha's snowflake ladenshoulders, she observed quietly, "You know, I wonder if Mary andJoseph would have even found a place to rest in Manhattan."

The young girl understood. "I'd like to think we'd offer themone."

Smiling softly in agreement, Diana believed that was the truth, areal gift that had become a part of her life. She suddenly felt justas she guessed Jacob did now. The magical, wonderfilled city had justrevealed its cold and compassionless heart, and she wished very muchto find herself encircled by the loving warmth of her home and herbeloved, at that instant, in the true reality of her cherished homeBelow.

The gifting reassurance that came to her with that knowledge wasforced to give way to anxiousness once again, as another pang of paincaught hold of Diana, forcing the breath nearly completely out of herlungs. She couldn't keep from squeezing Samantha's hand at the urgentforce of it, and the girl immediately stopped to gaze into hercompanion's face with deep concern.

She was about to ask Diana what was wrong when she caught sight ofa pleading that directed itself to Jacob with wordless request.Samantha understood that the child would be alarmed and that hismother wished to protect him as long as she could, but, still, theyoung girl was at a loss about how to help her friend who was inobvious distress.

Some alarmed mental calculations brought Samantha to within sightof their situation, revealing it to be precarious. It was just aslong a walk back to the shelter house as it was on to their tunnelaccess. Dr. Salazar wasn't a medical doctor, but she could havehelped, if Diana was indeed in labor. Yet, they would be beyond thesafe confines of their tunnel world, even within Magadalen House'sdoors.

Silently she recalled the pleading trust Vincent had left her withthat morning. He had urged her to get Diana Below at the first signof complication. His quiet concern, though, did not hide from her hisreal fear for his beloved in such a situation that the young girl'ssensitive heart had read in his eyes: Within the tunnel's boundaries,both Diana, and their baby, would be safe.

Their baby . . . the very embodiment of a compellingly beautifullove, unlike any other.

Its father . . . the mythic protector of a secret world; acherished, miraculous, being . . . unlike any other.

Samantha decided that she'd have to get them all to the accessarea. It was the only thing that they could do and safeguardthemselves against the cold, conscienceless reality of the city theyhad just been unexpectedly subjected to. Even as they walked onward,though, the young guardian realized that getting to safety would bean equally trying objective at the moment. Diana was visiblytiring.

"Would you like to rest again for a few minutes, Diana?" sheasked, as she caught sight of a small coffee shop on the next corner.The tremor she felt running through her friend subsided a bit andfinally, the quickly exhausting mother managed to find her voice. Sheattempted to urge it into a bit of bright confidence.

"Yes, why don't we stop a minute for some hot chocolate? What doyou think, Jacob?"

The little boy looked long into his mother's face, attempting toread her emotional state, and Diana found she had to force herself toappear casual and undisturbed to the child. She knew that Jacob'sempathic abilities were becoming more sensitive as he grew, and hewas particularly attuned to the reality of her own emotions, not ascompletely bonded to them as he was to his father's spirit, but closeenough just the same to draw a long look of confused concern acrosshis gentle, trusting face.

"If you need to rest, Mama, yes, that would be nice, too," heanswered with genuine care.

Leading the way into the shop, Samantha found a small table in aquiet corner near the windows. Jacob clambored up onto a chair andDiana slowly lowered herself down to another. She took a deep breathand closed her eyes for a long moment, finally able to center herconsciousness past the diminishing pain.

Trying to make some casual observations then with the children,Diana looked around at the ambiance of the shop, and suddenlyrealized they'd stopped in one of those upscale coffee boutiqueswhere a cup of cocoa was liable to be rather expensive. Not wantingto cause further concern to Jacob by getting up and leaving again,Diana dug into her shoulder bag and retrieved her wallet, somethingshe was no longer used to carrying.

Opening it up, she noted that she had only five dollars insingles, and about another dollar in change -- emergency andtelephone money, if needed, that all the tunnel dwellers carriedaround with them Above. She never had use, now, to be concerned formuch of anything else.

Glancing up to the menu board behind the counter, she decidedthere was enough money for two cups of cocoa, for the children. She'dbe happy just to sit and rest again, while they enjoyed their treat,gathering her reserves of strength and determination about her forthe continued trek home.

In a moment, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile came over totheir table to take their order. Diana felt she knew her fromsomewhere, her face open and bright. She looked a lot like her aunt,her father's sister, whom they'd visited summers when she was alittle girl. The woman's friendly manner helped to dispel bothSamantha's and Diana's anxiousness.

"What can I get you ladies this evening?" she asked easily, andthen, spying Jacob beneath his layers of winter garments, she smiledgenuinely. "Well, I thought that was just a bundle of woolies there,but I guess someone's inside, too! What can I help you with, youngman, is it?"

Jacob smiled in return, and momentarily unwound his muffler fromhis neck, removed his snowy hat, and revealed his wealth of reddishblonde curls. Looking to Diana for permission, he then carefullyaddressed the woman. "Please, may I have a cup of hot chocolate?"

"You certainly may, young sir," came the eager reply, with a hintof amusement at the gravely proper tones coming from the little boy."With marshmallows, or without?"

The little boy's eyes lit up perceptively, and his mannerdisintegrated quickly back into that of an exhuberant child's. "Oh,with, please! I love marshmallows!"

With a laugh, the waitress wrote down the order, then turned herattention to Samantha. "And what about you, miss?" The girl warmedinstantly at the pointedly respectful greeting. The woman's demeanorwas in sharp contrast to the antique shop owner's that was forcertain.

"I would like the same, too, please."

"Two hot chocolates, heavy on the marshmallows," came the repeatedorder. Then, finally, the woman looked up to Diana, questioning.

"Nothing for me. I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you sure, dear? You're obviously eating for two. How about aglass of milk and a muffin? Have to watch the caffeine when you'reexpecting."

Diana silently calculated her funds, and her state of questionabledigestion, and declined again. "No really. The children just need towarm up. I'm fine."

Nodding in agreement, the waitress disappeared around thecounter.

The few moments that elapsed until their refreshments arrived werepassed with pleasant recollections of the day's activities, butSamantha's attention was rivetted on Diana's face, which appearedmore and more fragile and weary as they sat. She wondered how she'dever be able to help her friend even walk the distance to the tunnelaccess now, though Diana was keeping a protective hold on heremotions, obviously willing herself to find some reserves ofstrength.

"Do you think there'll be enough snow to build a snowman,Samantha?" Jacob questioned eagerly.

"Maybe, if it keeps up all night," came his response, but theyoung nanny's attention was still drawn to the features of thered-haired mother sitting across from her.

A moment later, the waitress returned with two mugs of steaminghot chocolate, each sporting a flotilla of tiny marshmallows, anddecorated with a candy cane stirrer. Jacob was delighted. Dianasmiled an acknowledgement to their hostess, then was momentarilytaken aback when a large glass of warm milk, and an entire basketfulof miniature muffins-

blueberry, apple, banana, and cranberry - was settled onto thetable before them.

Just as Diana was about to protest that she'd not ordered anythingfor herself, the waitress began a hurried and . . . unconvincing . .. explanation. "I nearly forgot we run our special after fiveo'clock: Any two mugs'll get you a third. And our muffin basket isjust a Christmas treat for our late evening customers, too.Otherwise, the hour before we close, I have to wrap all our leftoversup, take them home . . . it's just a nuisance. We just set them outfor everyone."

A gentle smile directed at her warmed Samantha's heart, andDiana's was restored back to its faith in humanity. She took notethat another waitress was setting baskets of muffins onto the otheroccuppied table of the little shop. Quietly, she reached into herwallet and handed their hostess four of the five singles she had asshe spoke. "That's a very generous special to run."

"Anything to warm the customers on a snowy, cold night." And asDiana still handed out the money to her, the waitress took only oneof the bills, though the prices on the menu clearly indicated thecocoa was $l.50 a mug. Then she closed Diana's hand around theremaining bills, gently. "Merry Christmas."

Stunned, Diana looked deeply into the soft brown eyes of thewoman. They were eager and warm, and quietly reassuring. So much likeMary's eyes, Below, a mother's eyes. "You're very kind. Thank you . .. "

" . . . Clare. My name is Clare, like the shop."

With that Diana realized that the woman was the owner of the shop,waiting on tables herself. "Thank you very much, Clare. I'm Diana,and this is Jacob, and Samantha."

"Nice to meet you all. Enjoy, now." With a bustlingpurposefulness, Clare turned to attend to the other few customers inthe shop. There weren't more than five or six, Diana noted, aseveryone was in a hurry to get where they needed to go on this snowyFriday evening three days before Christmas. But, in the generosityshe had extended to two cold children and a very pregnant youngwoman, Clare had also included those few patrons in her shop.

"May we have a muffin, Mama?" came Jacob's eager request. Diananodded. The little boy was constantly hungry these days, his longlegs and boundless energy attesting to the seemingly permanent growthspurt he was engaged in. Samantha also reached for a hot treat.

"I believe Clare would offer shelter, too, don't you think,Diana?"

Her companion nodded in quiet agreement, then took a long sip ofthe warm milk, hoping to settle her suddenly rebellious digestivesystem a bit before having to move on. The food and momentary restseemed to do the trick, as Diana felt the wave of fatigue pull backsomewhat from her. She drifted into a calming warmth that overtookher, which didn't actually seem to be coming from the refreshmentsalone, though. Diana closed her eyes a moment and let her spirit seekout its longed-for comfort: Vincent's loving essence within her.

He must have sensed her anxiety, she thought, and the wealth ofsolace she was feeling surrounding her suddenly became words in hermind . . . "My love, I'm with you. Let me be with you in this."

Diana felt tears lifting into her eyes. She'd always done her bestto protect the compelling, yet fragile, wonder, that was herbeloved's heart and existence, doing it instinctively, like a motherin the wild, fighting to the death to protect her young. But nowVincent's spirit was seeking hers out, nevertheless, past her ownattempts to place protective barriers between them. It was pleadingfor less protection from her, and more trust.

Mary's words to her, when she first told the dear lady that shewas carrying Vincent's child, echoed through her thoughts now, too."Don't be afraid to need him. Let him be your husband in this."

Suddenly, desperately, she needed her husband, to see her throughthis, help her through the fear and uncertainty and pain, to be thereand take his newborn child in his arms from its very first breath.The thought that they might be kept from one another, divided by theruthless, cold-hearted reality of a world that would ever remain adanger to her beloved, was more than she could bear alone. She wouldgive her life for him, but she was carrying life within her now, thelife of their child. And she was scared, weary, and so very muchalone, despite the comforting presence of Samantha and Jacob at herside.

With nothing but trusting need urging her onward, Diana opened herheart totally to the loving presence within her, holding nothingback, as she had been doing without hesitation earlier that afternoonin Laura's home. Sharing her fear with her love, drawing him near toher in spirit, accepting his care. "Oh Vincent, I need you so," herheart pleaded silently. "Help me get home to you. Let me lean on yourstrength. Don't you dare even think of leaving the tunnels because ofme! but, please, just send me your care. We'll get back to you, thechildren, the baby, and I."

The words were barely voiced in her heart, when another surge ofpain coursed through her tired body. In reaching to grip the tablesides, Diana knocked over her still half full glass of milk. Itsshattering clamor set all eyes in the coffee shop on her.

Samantha was immediately on her knees at her side, Jacob rightbehind her, holding her trembling arm. Clare came to the table, too,and stopped to drape a steadying arm around the young woman'sshoulders.

"Honey, you're having that baby now, aren't you?" she asked withquiet determination. An agitated nod was her response, even beforeDiana found the strength to speak.

"Oh God! . . . I'm not due for another two weeks . . . "

"That's all right, dear. Babies have their own idea of time. Here.Come with me. There's a chair that might be a bit more comfortable inthe office there. We can put your feet up, too, then see aboutgetting you some help. Can you walk?"

A young man from behind the counter quickly came to their side, asdid nearly everyone else that was left in the small shop, eachcarefully urging the mother on. Clare directed her assistant into theoffice with Diana leaning on his arm. She gathered Jacob and Samanthaalong. "Don't worry, kids, we'll help your Mom."

Between them all, they got Diana situated on a padded desk chairand slipped a cardboard box of office supplies beneath her feet.Jacob held her hand on one side, Samantha on the other, brushing herhair out of her face softly. She noted that the mother's forehead wascold and clammy.

Clare leaned against the desk in the small room, scrutinizingDiana's face in assessment. "The contractions coming quickly?" sheasked.

"Maybe less than ten minutes apart," was the shaky reply, "butthey are so intense. I didn't expect them to be so intense soearly."

With a confused frown, the older woman looked from each of thechildren and back to Diana's drawn features. "This is your firstbaby, then, dear?" she questioned.

"Yes."

A bit of relief spread across Clare's face at that response,realizing she must have misjudged Diana's circumstances. The littleboy and the girl may have been her children, but she'd apparently notgiven birth to them. No wonder the poor woman was terrified, shethought, kindly -- a new mother.

"Then, you have a little time yet, Diana. Don't be scared. Firstbabies usual put you through plenty, but they like to take it slow,and labor can be nothing short of bewildering, if you don't know whatto expect. Each baby's different."

"You've had children, Clare," Samantha observed, with a bit ofhopeful pleading in her usually so self-assured words. She rested herhand over Diana's on the baby, softly, protectively, for themboth.

"Oh, gosh, yes, I've had four kids! Most natural thing in theworld, honey. Don't be scared for your Mom."

Turning back to Diana, Clare stroked a reassuring caress over hercheek. "Now tell me, how far is home? Can we call your husband tocome get you? Is he home from work?"

A furtive look passed between Diana and the children before shereplied. "We have another hour's walk home . . . and my husband . . .can't be reached. He's . . . he'll meet me at home. I need to gethome."

"Well, an hour's gonna see that baby born for sure. You're in noshape for a walk like that." Clare stood silently a moment, recallinghow she'd noticed Diana counting out her money before ordering theirrefreshments earlier. "Let's get you into a cab and to your hospitalthen, honey, my treat. You'll need to be there soon enough."

Without warning, Diana struggled to her feet. "No, I can't go to ahospital! I have to go home, Clare. I need to get home. And a cabwon't do it."

Taken aback by the desperation in her voice, and the look ofanguish on her face, the elder woman set a gentling hand onto theagitated mother's shoulder, urging her back down onto the chair. Nomoney, probably no insurance, either, she thought, maybe not even ahusband. Kids not her own, and pretty advanced in labor -- The youngwoman surely did find herself in a hell of a situation, Clare judged.She obviously was frightened, though attempting, with only minimalsuccess, to put on a brave front for the children. The older

woman knew she simply had to lend a hand, somehow.

"All right, dear, don't worry. We'll get you home. Do you knowanyone you could call, someone who'll come for you and get you whereyou need to be?"

Diana closed her eyes as another wave of pain hit her full force.Jacob, still holding to her hand in his two little ones, pressed itgently to his cheek. The gesture pulled Diana back from her painenough that she opened her eyes -- and saw Vincent's blue onesholding hers tenderly in his child's presence. "Mama don't befrightened." The words held her heart.

"Mr. Maxwell can help. We can call him, Diana," Samantha announceddecidedly, and a second later, Jacob concurred.

Working fervantly to draw her awareness from the painfulsensations coursing through her body, Diana attempted to guide herfoggy, panic-edged thinking through the reality of her options. Lauraand Jerry had already left for their holiday trip by now, sheguessed. A few of the other Helpers that she knew she wasn't certainof how to contact quickly. The tunnel community kept in touch withthem through notes and letter, and personal contacts, not phonecalls.

Peter was gone, too. The doctor had left for Santa Fe to spendChristmas with his daughter. He'd planned on being back in the citythe day after the holiday, so that he'd be close by, in case Fatherneeded him for her delivery. Neither physician had expected an earlylabor any longer, not since her condition had returned itself backinto the more familiar circumstances of a normal, healthy, pregnancy.If they had, Father would never have consented to her going Abovetoday.

That seemed only to leave -- Joe. Knowing the DA, he'd probablystill be at his desk, working late. They might be able to reach him.And Diana trusted him implicitly. He'd understand why it was vitalfor her not to be anywhere near a hospital up top when her baby wasborn.

Clare looked questioningly at Diana, awaiting her response. As thefinal strength of the contraction wore off, the young woman quietlyrecited a phone number which Clare dialed. Handing her the receiver,the hostess backed out of the small room, leaving Diana and thechildren to some privacy. "I'll be right out here if you needme."

The ringing of the phone seemed interminable, as Diana realizedher call was being automatically routed from one switchboard toanother at the Criminal Justice building after hours. God, she hopedshe was right about Joe! This was no time for him to compromise hisworkaholic attitude on her. She was about ready to hang up and tryhis home number.

Then, finally, the sound of her call being answered gave Diana'sheart an unexpected start.