Living the Promise: Chapter Thirteen
Joe set his signature to one final document, and then let it fallonto the pile beside the phone with a decided flourish. Andrea hadoutdone herself, this time, he thought, gratefully. She'd stayed lateto help make sure he'd be able to get every last bit of paperwork offhis desk before quitting for the Christmas weekend. The least hecould do was see to it that everything was officially signed, sealed,and parceled off to its proper destination. Paperwork would be thedeath of him yet, even though he knew law as a career would involvebecoming buried in torrents of it every day.
Pushing back his chair, the DA came to his feet and stretched,feeling the muscles in his legs protest in response. Now, Maxwell, hechided himself. That was never going to do. Too many hours behind adesk. He was going to need to get to the pool at the "Y" again on aregular basis, soon. Between his work and his mother's holidaycooking, he was certain he'd end up like so many of the veterans heknew in law enforcement around him -- either wearing their beltshigh, or low, over a pronounced gut.
Sheepishly, a warm smile stole over his handsome features as hetook in the steady snow falling outside his window. Having Rita inhis life would keep him in line. There was no way on God's greenearth that he'd even consider being anything less than his very best,in everything, for the wonder that was the young lawyer in hisexistence now.
Damn, he missed her, terribly. Boy, you've really crashed andburned this time, Joseph, he told himself, happy to be able to findhimself in such dire straits, at last. He was head over heels, lock,stock, and legal pads, in love. And it felt . . . like heaven.
He prayed he'd be able to survive til tomorrow evening. Rita wouldbe back tomorrow.
She'd gone back down to Baltimore to spend a couple of days withher brother's family again for Christmas, hopefully without anyoutbreak of infectious childhood diseases looming over thefestivities. He'd wished to be able to join her, was anxious toaccept her
brother's generous inclusion, but he couldn't get out of hisblasted office that easily.
But this weekend would be theirs, his and Rita's. It was the onlyreason he'd stayed behind to clear off the chaos of his desk -- hedidn't even want to think about work for the next forty-eight hours.That time would be reserved for the earnest young attorney, for theboth of them, and nothing short of all out criminal warfare was goingto intrude.
A day and a half to spend together: The quiet before the stormthat would be the delightful, and overwhelming reality that wasChristmas spent at his mother's house in Astoria. Rita's initiationinto his own family circle was bound to have a monumental effect onthe festivities there, that was for sure.
For now, Joe let the smile radiating across his face reachinwardly, to his heart. They'd be able to survive the outpouring offamilial warmth only by focusing all of their energies onto oneanother this weekend -- phone off the hook, egg nog to sip and softmusic playing in the background of his flat. The quiet closeness oftheir love enveloping them.
He ached to hold her. It was there, inside of him, the need, tohold Rita, feel her in his arms again. He never believed he couldwant someone, all of someone, as much as he did Rita, want her in hislife, in his heart and soul.
Joe reached down and opened the side drawer of his desk, pullingout a small jeweler's box, as he had done probably for theseventeenth time in the past three days.
Opening the box, he fingered the ring inside it -- delicate,simple, the diamond much smaller than he'd have wished to offer her,but he knew she'd never want anything pretentious. Rita wasn'tpretentious. She was quiet, supportive, warm . . . and undeniably theone person he could dream of sharing the rest of his life with.
It was amazing.
The past three months had seemed as though he were a prisonerunexpectedly let out of years of solitary confinement. The freedom,the wonder of it, was close to terrifying. The brightness made himblink, brought tears to his eyes -- he hadn't been certain that hecould actually believe the reality before him. Yet, knowing thatRita's gentle support had been there for him, waiting, had been worthsurviving all the confusion, pain, and guilt.
He'd finally been able to set Cathy to rest.
He'd taken up his own life again, unafraid of the gifts reachingout to him, and since then, everything had seemed to fall into place,as though only awaiting his final liberation. And now, now, it allfelt so . . . natural . . . so right . . . to be with Rita, open hisheart to her, let her help him carry his hopes and dreams andfrustrations. It felt so natural to take her into his arms, likeshe'd always been there beside him, would always be there beside him.God willing, he'd always be there for her, wanted to be there forher, wanted to spend his last breath speaking her name.
Diana had been right.
Love had reached out to him from the most unlikely of sources --the quiet strength of his co worker -- and he'd been able to find thejoy, and the courage, to accept it.
For a moment, Joe's thoughts settled back onto Diana as he slippedthe ring box into his pants pocket. He owed his amber-hairedcolleague a lot, too.
She'd redirected his life with her own selfless, truthful support.She'd dared him to begin living again, forced him to survive theagony of guilt that had been Catherine's loss to him, challenged himto seek out his own heart's desire once more.
He'd relish being able to give Diana his news face to face.Knowing her, she'd probably chide him for having taken so long to seeit, recognize Rita's caring support for what it really was -- love.She'd turn that enigmatic smile of hers on him and thank heaven thathe'd finally come to his senses, sigh with satisfaction that he'd yetagain been forced to see things her way at last, swallow hisemotional Italian outlook on life and give in to her formidableCeltic foresight.
Trying to remember their last correspondence, Joe struggled for aninstant to recall when he'd last heard from his former colleague,wondering if there was any chance that they might actually get to seeone another again, for more than a few windswept, anonymous momentsin a graveyard. She'd been pretty regular with her letters to him,notes full of support and encouragement, radiating with her own joyand expectation. God, he found himself thinking, she should be prettyclose to having her baby by now. That should effectively keep anyprospect of seeing the young police woman face to face from becominga reality any time soon, Joe realized with a pang.
He prayed a moment, silently, automatically, that she was allright. That feeling of protective care, loving, acknowledging care,he knew, would always be there inside him for the firebrand force ofnature that was Diana. She deserved her happiness, too, any breath ofhappiness she'd been able to find . . . with Vincent.
It had been about a month since Joe had last written her, though,at the usual post office box address she'd provided him with, and herresponse hadn't come back to him yet. A nagging bit of worry tuggedat his insides because of it. She'd looked so . . . at peace. . .
standing beside her mythic husband, and her little son, that nightin front of Cathy's grave. Her last letter gave no indication ofconcern or conflict. So why hadn't she written back yet?
Common sense told him that a woman in the final stages ofpregnancy a few days before Christmas might have other, more pressingdemands made upon her time and attention than those required fortimely correspondence between long-distance friends. Still, Diana'spresence in his life of late was yet very much an integral facet ofhis renewed hope.
She'd told him that evening when she'd come to his office monthsago to announce her impending departure from the police force, and,indeed, from her own existence in the city: There would be no needfor them to lose their ties to one another. They were trustedfriends, and Joe knew that she'd have kept their links to each otherwithin reasonable reach somehow, wherever her heart had taken her.She'd always be there for him, offering support and encouragement,sharing hope, like Rita would always be there.
Joe prayed that Diana knew she would always be able to count onhis care for her, too.
Taking another look out the window at the falling snow, the DA lethis momentary concern slip to the back of his thoughts, concedingthat Diana was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, no matterwhat. He'd had enough run-ins with her outraged temper when he'd hadthe stupidity to doubt that within her hearing. Quite unexpectedly,he wondered to himself how her husband might be faring in the face ofsuch a confoundingly independent personality. Maybe Diana wasn't theone he should be worried about, he thought, with softly amusedkinship.
Reaching over to the coat rack, the DA pulled on his woolenovercoat and then turned out the lamp on his desk, eager to begetting home. There were a few parcels on his kitchen table thatneeded to be wrapped. To them, he'd have to add the small ring box inhis pocket. Suddenly, the entire idea of celebrating Christmas becamea total joy within his heart, no longer the near blasphemous secularexcuse for consumer excess, but an actually welcome, beautifulopportunity to share in caring for those around him.
Leaving his inner office, he walked past Andrea's desk, the familyphoto of herself with her parents and three brothers gracing hisview. Now, he really must be needing some psychiatric care, or, atthe very least, some heartfelt counseling -- He was actually lookingforward to spending time within the loving, overbearing reaches, ofhis extensive family in the walls of the house in Astoria. How luckycould he get? He'd even have Rita there at his side, helping todiffuse the concerned speculation as to his marital status once andfor all.
That is, if Rita would say, "yes," to his proposal.
For an instant, his heart dropped out of his body.
Then Joe let his hope encompass even that unexpected possibility-- Rita would accept. He knew it, with every fiber of his being. Itwas right, for the both of them. She would look at him with thosebeautiful dark eyes of hers and he would just melt at the sight ofthe tenderness they held for him in their sweet depths. And it wouldtake every ounce of his self control for him to wait for herresponse. "God, I don't deserve her," he whispered as he locked theouter office door behind him, "but I sure need her, and I love herwith all my heart."
Taking two steps out into the only partially lit corridor, thesudden ringing of a telephone startled him out of his softlypetitioning thoughts. Damn, Joe thought, his heart thudding at theunexpected sound. Why on earth would the phone be ringing at thishour? It was after six on the Friday before Christmas.
Joe's first instinct was to simply let the phone ring. But his ownoffice extension should not have been receiving the call. It shouldhave been picked up at the switchboard, with the recorded messageannouncing that offices were closed and emergencies should bererouted. Whoever was on the other end must have been trying to get ahold of him, specifically.
It was probably Rita, calling from Baltimore, he decided, quicklyfishing his keys out of his coat pocket once again. He would end upfumbling with the lock in his hurry to catch the call. Rita wouldknow he'd be working late, trying to tie up all the loose ends beforethey could call the time they looked forward to their own withoutguilty consciences. Finally, the lock clicked and the door swungopen. Did he ever want to hear the soft sound of Rita's gentle voice!Just the thought of her kept his heart quickening, even though he'dgotten over the momentary startlement of the phone ringing.
Eagerly, Joe took possession of the receiver on Andrea's desk."Joe Maxwell," he announced, a bit breathlessly.
The voice on the other end of the line pretty nearly struck himdumb.
"Joe? This is Diana."
He didn't answer right away, absolutely incredulous. The voicerepeated itself, a note of anxiety threading through the no nonsensetones. "Joe? Can you hear me? It's Diana."
Finding his voice, the DA responded at last. "Hell, Diana! You arethe last person I expected to hear from tonight!"
"Well, it's nice talking to you, too, Maxwell," came the curt, andfamiliar, sarcastic humor he'd learned to survive over the last threeyears. He apologized.
"I'm sorry, Diana You really surprised me, that's all. I was justthinking about you. It's been a while since you've written."
Then, suddenly aware that the voice that had addressed him hadbeen shaky before it was defensive, he asked, "Is something wrong?There's nothing the matter, is there?"
A long pause on the other end of the line sent Joe's nervescoiling within him. Those alarms in his head, that always seemed togo off sooner or later somewhere along the line when he was dealingwith the young police woman, had started. There was the sound ofother voices in the background, coming to him through the receiver heheld, and the sense that the phone, on Diana's end, was obviouslybeing passed back and forth. Now the DA felt himself break out in acold sweat -- something definitely was not right.
"Mr. Maxwell?" A younger, plaintive voice came on line finally.Joe searched his memory desperately in his rising alarm to gauge whohe was talking to now. The voice continued before he found hisanswer. "Mr. Maxwell, it's Samantha." And in a rush of barelyconcealed anxiety, "You have to come to help us! Diana is having thebaby, and we need to get her back home. Please, Mr. Maxwell. We don'tknow who else to call."
There was the definite edge of panic in the girl's words,something Joe had never heard before in the confident, self-assuredyoung lady. He tried to hearten her as he asked for more details."It's all right, Samantha. Of course I'll help. Don't be scared. Now,calm down, and tell me exactly where you are."
"At a coffee shop in Chelsea." Carefully, the girl gave him theaddress as though she was double checking it with someone there withher.
"Samantha, I'll be on my way. Don't worry. Just let me talk toDiana again. Can she get to the phone?"
"Here she is, Mr. Maxwell. And, thank you." The girl's voice wasstill just as pleading as it was relieved.
A moment later Diana came back on the line. Her voice now wasbreathless, too, and unmistakably weary. "Joe, I'm sorry . . . butyou said . . . if I ever needed help . . . "
"God, don't even think about it, kid! I'll be there in tenminutes. Hang on. It'll be okay."
"Joe, you're . . . a real friend."
The DA barely remembered to pull the door behind him as he shotout of the room. The feeling was cool and crisp His breath came outin puffs of vapor -- and his heart was so light, warm and light, andwonderfilled.
Sounds, images, swept in a dizzying cascade over him: brightness,music, the crunch of snow under his feet. And then a true treat . . .motion, rhythmic and keywound, keeping time to a charming, tinniemelody. Words filled his resting consciousness, too, breathlessly
generous with their eager delight -- "They're old toys, Father,wind up ones, like in the story of the stick horse!"
Vincent felt the tears well up into his eyes, even before he cameawake. His spirit was so full of Jacob's as he himself lay resting inhis chamber far beneath the city that the sweet child was exploring.With innocent generosity, his son was seeking to channel his everyexperience and sensation beyond the distances that separated them,drawing his father's spirit with heatfelt welcome within his own,sharing the untainted wonder readily and happily. His mythic figureof a parent would have lingered in the enchanting images with him forhours.
Other sensations soon took hold of Vincent's spirit though, andhis little boy's sheltering connection to him was softly turned asideby one even more powerful, and enticing, at the moment. There was thefeeling of warmth now, instead, a steady, building
heat that he recognized came at his unsuspecting heart from anamber-haired fairy's. His image of her within him was quietlybewitching -- he could feel, suddenly, the silky weight of her hairin his hands, tumbling, actually into his grasp, the sweep ofburnished locks cascading with luxurious abandon through hisfingers.
The lavender drifting from that auburn treasure was instantlysurrounding him, as he buried his face into it, found the smooth skinof her neck beneath it and brushed his lips over it with cherishedacceptance. The graceful length of her neck seemed to be not the onlyplace where he could touch beguilingly bare skin, either, as theinsistent fervor of their melding awareness drew the reality ofDiana's tender flesh pressed up against his own nearly out of hisdreams and into his actual consciousness. But he was cognicent enoughat the moment, to know he'd need to have a few words with hisprecious wife upon her return, to remind her she wasn't helping himadhere to Father's strict recovery instructions.
The soft, tender amusement that scene left him with began to drawhim back from the gentle restoration of sleep. He had to admit, hewasn't quite ready to give up his hold on such welcome images, whenhe was suddenly jolted awake by a slash of stabbing pain that lefthim breathless and trembling .
Throwing his long legs over the side of his bed in reflexivereaction, Vincent was suddenly buffeted by a lightheaded panic thatwas overtaking his state of heart as quickly as the debilitating painhad overrun his state of health.
Carefully, he eased himself back down to the pillows, fighting thenausea, trying to comprehend was was happening to him. Up until amoment ago, he'd been drifting within the restoring joy of Jacob'sand Diana's essences within him. Now, he needed to raise a tremblinghand to wipe his forehead unsteadily from a sheen of coldpersiration, as the startling ache that reverberated within his bodyfinally gave up its hold on him.
Lying absolutely still, Vincent closed his eyes and made aconscious effort to clear his mind of everything around, and within,him -- the gentle clanging of the pipes, the nearly inaudible sizzleof the waxpooling candles. The sound of his own pounding heart tookan eternity for him to get his awareness past, though, as heattempted to reconnect his bond to his loved ones, trying tocomprehend the pain that had unexpectedly coursed through him.
Had it only been borne from his own injuries? He must haveinadvertantly overtaxed his still recovering body somehow in hissleep, he thought, with a fair amount of guilt, given his finalmental images, yet, he didn't remember the feeling as originating inhis wounded side. It had seemed to course its insistent way throughhis entire body at once. And he couldn't be certain that hislightheadedness had been caused only by his sudden bolting reactionto that pain.
He'd found Jacob's essence within him again, and Vincentunconsciously let a sigh of relief escape his lips. But his momentaryreassurance as to the child's safety was only short-lived. His son'semotions were no longer directing themselves with exhuberant delightto him. Instead, the little boy's spirit was . . . stilling . . .suddenly self-contained, and almost . . . sad. What had happened?
Vincent swallowed hard, then sought out his other precious innergift in anxious turmoil: his bonding to Diana and their unborn child.He shouldn't have had to reach so far within himself to find it.She'd brought him such joy today, easily sharing her gifting warmthin generous connection even only a moment ago. But now, her essencewithin him was also . . . stilled . . . obviously so, only a threadof . . . disquiet . . . finding its way back to him.
Coming unsteadily back up to his feet, Vincent stood quietly inthe center of his chamber, attempting to judge how long he'd beenasleep. The candles had probably burned down more than an hour sinceFather had left him.
Diana had promised to return home by supper time.
The pipes were ringing now with the familiar preamble calls beforethe meal, announcing the end of lesson times, signalling the workersin the far chambers Below that the hour was becoming late. Dianawould not have lingered too much longer Above.
For all his urging acceptance of her trip to the city to meet withher sister, Vincent knew that his beloved didn't in an instantbelieve that he held no worry or anxiety about her being far from thetunnel world's safe confines. He'd only been able to concede to herthat
they'd considered every prudent precaution for the excursion, inlight of her state of health, and his own. Only the thought of what acherished opportunity spending some welcome time with Maureen wouldbe for Diana had kept his instinctively protective impulses to
within reasonable consideration.
He realized, too, that she had only gone Above because sheunderstood that being able to allow her some small measure of spaceand freedom was as precious to him as her own experiences of the daywere likely to become for her. Yet, she would never do anything tocause him concern for her in her absence.
A growing sense of foreboding, though, had begun to overtakeVincent as he considered their present circumstances. Something wasnot right.
He should not have felt so . . . bereft . . . of his connection tohis love.
Reaching for his cloak, he automatically swept it over hisshoulders with a sweeping motion. It drew a protesting jab of painthat he did recognize had come unerringly at him from his stillhealing side, and was forced to seek out the chair back to steadyhimself. The thought formed itself in his mind as he shakily tried tocatch his breath -- Father would be livid if the physician knew whathe was contemplating. But Diana and the children held uncontestedprecedence in his purpose at the moment: He would go out to meetthem, make certain they were safe and well, recovery admonishments bedamned.
Vincent didn't set three steps beyond the table edge, though,before another slash of pain nearly felled him; this time he knew forcertain it did not originate in his wounded side. The pain wassensation . . . and fear . . . together, shooting through himtotally, encompasing his body, mind, and spirit completely. He leanedback, hard, against the table's side to balance himself, the agonycoming to him somehow through his spirit as momentarily devastatingto him as the physical pain that had yet to withdraw from hisbody.
With gasping entreaty, he managed to form the word in his beseigedstate, "Diana!"
But then, the overwhelming force of the pain pulled back from him,retreating without trace, seemingly cut off at the source with abruptdeliberateness.
"She's trying to keep it from you, Vincent. The pain. Thefear."
A gentle voice, tinged with compassionate tenderness, forced himto whip around, search for its origin with startled astonishment.But, in the low light of the chamber, there was no one near.Vincent's heart went from pounding to skipping a beat, as he admittedto himself he'd expected to see no one -- he'd recognized those softtones with confounded certainty, a voice he knew he'd carry in hisheart till they laid him in his grave.
"Catherine?"
"She's trying to keep you from harm, Vincent, holding her emotionsin check so she won't draw you into danger. But, she's frightened andneeds you desperately right now. You must hurry and go to her."
The words were as much within him as around him. Though he couldsee nothing beside him with his actual sight, his empathic awarenessbrought him a light, caressing breath of a touch at his brow,brushing over his hair, slipping softly past his cheek. He closed hiseyes, grateful for the . . . love . . . he could still feel in thattouch. He acknowledged no hesitation in speaking aloud to a watchfulpresence that was only spirit, and that love.
"The baby is coming, isn't it, Catherine? Diana is anxious becauseof that. Our child."
For an instant, the tenderness that caressed those last two wordswas heavily overburdened with -- guilt. The tones that responded tohim were quietly understanding.
"You must open your arms to receive your blessings, your gifts,Vincent. She needs you there beside her. Hold her to you, and helpher."
"Always."
His instantaneous acceptance of the welcomed responsibility againgave Vincent momentary pause, his heart anxious at the thought that avoiced commitment to another love would wound the one near to himnow.
"I'm happy for your happiness. Never think otherwise, Vincent. Youcause me no pain."
His own thoughts so easily revealed took him by surprise. He wasgrateful that she could still read the care he yet cherished towardsher, no longer a guilt-riddled memory,
but a beloved guardian.
"Thank you," he whispered, in his heart setting a gentle hand toher soft brown hair. She smiled sweetly up to him, her lively greyeyes flooding with emotion. But then she turned away from him, with abroken sigh.
An otherworldly hand reached to an angel's face and brought herattention back to him with quiet urging. "What is it, Catherine?" hequestioned softly, catching a shadowing of pain evident even in aceletial gaze.
"She'll protect you with her dying breath."
The almost awestruck sound of those words tore at Vincent's heart.They left so much unsaid, but understood, nevertheless. He couldnever allow her to even think such a thing.
The reassuring reply was spoken in a heartbeat. "As you alwaysdid, Catherine."
He watched her shake her head, slowly. Sadly. She would not meethis eyes. "Memory can be a forgiving thing."
"I need forgive you nothing, nothing," came his vehementreply.
"And that is a gift I need to find the strength to accept, don'tI?" When he was ready to continue his protest, she lifted her ownhand up to his face, touching his lips gently, to silence him. "Youneed to find your way to your family now. Go to them. Hold them closeto you Vincent. Their love is what you deserve."
A cherishing warmth filled his heart as he felt the lovingpresence recede from inside him. The warmth then became a compellingneed, as Vincent sought out Diana's essence in his own. Even thoughshe was willing herself to keep her anxious pain from him, he drewher heart to him with aching compassion. "I'm with you, my love," hereassured with tremulous care. "Let me be with you in this."
The swell of emotion that lifted itself around his plea wasunmistakably Diana's now. He knew it as he knew his own heartbeat."Oh, Vincent, I'm scared. I need you so . . . "
The steps that headed him down the outreaching tunnels poundedfaster and faster, fed by the urgency he'd heard in his beloved'sbesieged confession. The ache to hold her to him, hold their childsafely between them, went far beyond the limits of any physical painhe might have been forced to endure. Diana was not the only onedriven to protect to her last breath. The cab was crawling alongFourteenth Street at a snail's pace. Joe anxiously drummed hisfingers on the seat, cursing under his breath. He would have loanedhis car to Rita to drive down to Baltimore the other day: Perfecttiming, as always. Still, he hated to think of the young attorneyjuggling luggage and Christmas parcels for hours on the train. At themoment, the tie-up of city traffic, all heading for holidaydestinations, would have yet stalled his own progress, whether he wasdoing the driving or not.
He'd told Diana, ten minutes, and twenty had already elapsed sincehe'd hung up on her in his office. Twenty minutes for a woman inlabor. Damn, why hadn't they just called the paramedics for her atthat blasted coffee shop she was at?! Reaching into his inner jacketpocket, he drew out his wallet and tossed a $20 onto the driver'sseat.
"Sorry, pal. I can't wait. I'll get out here."
The cabbie just looked up in the mirror. "Suit yourself."
Joe got out of the stopped vehicle and picked his way through thetraffic to the sidewalk, setting off a chain-reaction of hornssounding at him. He murmured a fitting Italian epitaph at the driversall hellbent on going nowhere, then set off at a quick jog down thesidewalk, dodging pedestrians and piles of slush.
He'd done this once before because of Diana, he recalled, tryingto keep his thoughts from dwelling too long on the panic inSamantha's voice, and the unexpected pleading in Diana's. He'd rushedheadlong in a cold sweat to try and reach her once before -- whenshe'd disappeared that time for three weeks. The . . . terror . . .that something had happened to her, the . . . ache . . . that hadencircled his heart because of it . . . He'd been
astonished to realize that he could yet allow himself actually to. . . feel . . . care . . . about
another human being to the point of . . . love. Not romantic love,but heartfelt connection
nonetheless.
That episode had turned out to be yet another mystery in theseries of indecipherables that had plagued his every encounter withthe fiery-spirited policewoman. She'd simply re-surfaced later,presenting herself at his office with broken limbs but a strangely atpeace spirit that had just overwhelmed his understanding. The forcesat work within her life were
always going to be beyond his comprehension, he'd long agoconceded. Still, that would not keep him from committing himself toDiana -- She'd all but given him back his life again, goaded him,challenged him, ached for him, as he stumbled back into a worthwhileexistence once more, an existence that held Catherine only as abeloved memory.
That he could even contemplate offering Rita an engagement ringtomorrow evening had everything to do with his resurrected hope inlife, a hope that his quicksilver colleague had helped him to graspand hold on to. But Diana wasn't ever going to make it easy for himto survive with her influence in his life, that was for sure.
Now she was in labor, and she'd called on him for help. What inGod's name was he supposed to do for her? How could he possibly cometo her assistance at a moment like this? She wanted to get home,Samantha had said, pleaded for his help to get them home
. . . which was where? And after all the mystery of Diana's newlife's circumstances, after all she'd done to keep him in the darkabout everything the past three years, he was now going to be thrustinto the center of everything with a phone call?
After running two blocks on the main thoroughfare, the DA turneddown a side street in Chelsea, then another, following the directionsthat had been given to him. The streets
were becoming nothing more than a maze to him, and he actuallyknew his way around the city pretty well by now. Why on earth wereDiana and Samantha even out on a night like this, he found himselfthinking with impatience, if she had been so close to her baby'sbirth?
But, then Joe thrust aside the momentary irritation for aconclusion that set his protective alarms all off at once within him.He'd meant it, that he wanted Diana to call on him if she ever neededhelp. Ever. Still, for her to actually take him up on his offer . . .she was fiercely independent and self-reliant, so self-contained,never revealing herself too easily. For her to have called for hishelp was nothing short of a miracle. Or because of a catastrophe. Heprayed that the circumstances were only ones that would allow him torepay, in some minute way, all she'd done for him, so much that she'ddone for him that she'd never even own up to in a conversation, andnot a situation that would force him to witness devastation and losstouching yet again someone he cared for deeply.
Turning down one final block of chic boutiques and convertedbrownstones, Joe at last picked out the small coffee shop, "Clare's"on the next corner. He made his way to it with his heart in histhroat, not exactly certain of what he would find, storming heavensilently with urgent pleas on behalf of his friend.
A gentle-featured, middle-aged waitress met him just beyond thedoorway. She'd apparently been looking out for him. "Joe?" shequestioned as he shook a bit of the snow off his shoulders absentmindedly.
"Yeah. Where is she?" he asked in mounting anxiety when hecouldn't find a trace of Diana in the shop. The waitress smiled inpatient reassurance, guiding him past a knot of customers who weretrying to both finish their lattes and stay abreast of developmentsin the small office off the side of the counter area.
"Diana and the kids are over here. Don't worry, she's doing fine.Just being adamant about getting home. I'd be feeling better, though,if we could just have gotten her to a hospital by now."
In his anxious state of mind, Joe suddenly felt that he owed theobviously perplexed lady he'd only just met some sort of explanationin defense of Diana's seemingly illogical behavior. "Well, hercircumstances are kind of complicated."
The waitress took firm hold of Joe's arm before he entered thesmall room. "She does have someone to take care of her there, doesn'tshe? I mean, the poor thing isn't all alone in this, is she?"
The evident concern on the woman's part struck Joe to the heart.He'd not been witness to too many genuine acts of compassion in thiscity of late, only devouring terrors, and cold indifference. Lookinglong at the woman, his mind replayed the evening Diana had come tohim at his office, announcing her impending departure . . . andmarriage . . . to Vincent. She'd been so profoundly infused withradiant hope that it had taken his breath away.
"She has a husband she loves very much. She'll be all right, I'msure, once we get her where she needs to be."
The look of relief on the older woman's face was something shecouldn't disguise. "Good. I was hoping so. The kids have been perfectangels with this, too." Nodding her head to urge him on, Joe let thewoman then take her leave of him as he entered the small office.
"Boy, Bennett! You are one for dramatics, aren't you?" he teased,trying to steady his near-to frazzled nerves in familiar fashion.After all, he was here to help Diana, not be the one in need ofhelp.
The red-haired former police officer looked up at the sound of hisvoice, and her beautiful face brightened visibly. "God, Joe! am Iglad to see you!" She reached her arms up to him from her improvisedaccommodations, and Joe couldn't help but gather her close in agrateful embrace.
His breath caught in his throat at the feel of her in his arms.She felt so unexpectedly --
fragile -- vulnerable. And she looked so beguilingly -- feminine,tender. In most of his past dealings with her, she'd always seemedmade of cold-tempered steel, impervious to turmoil, defiantly incontrol. Seeing her now thus, revealed to be of flesh and bloodhumanity, made his heart swell with protective care and awestruckwonder. He couldn't imagine anyone not loving such a mercurial forceof nature, nor of anyone actually surviving loving her, either.
Freeing himself gently from Diana's embrace after a moment thatallowed him to catch his breath, Joe looked deeply into her face. Theporcelain features were gently glowing, but at the same time drawn,and showing evidence of mounting exhaustion. Her braided hair wasloosening, throwing tendrils of amber to curl freely around her face.At that moment, she appeared so totally -- maternal -- her swollenfigure unconcealed by her unfastened trench coat, and completely,startlingly, beautiful. The last nine months had been kind to her, hethought, gratefully, very kind.
Pulling his attention from Diana completely, Joe turned toacknowledge the children. Lord, Samantha was a young lady, too, hethought immediately. She'd blossomed far and away from thesoft-spoken youngster he'd last seen nearly a year ago. She wastenderly holding Jacob on her lap, with protective care, sitting on achair that had been brought in for her from out in the shop. Theconcerned love in her face was unmistakable.
Finally, Joe had to take note of the little boy being gently held.Jacob was nothing less than . . . arresting . . . too. Joe foundhimself swallowing hard as he accepted the little boy's hug ofgratitude from off Samantha's lap. "Thank you for coming to helpMama,
Mr. Maxwell," he offered, totally sincerely.
The little boy was about as close an embodiment to a Christmascherub as anyone could ever imagine. The halo of golden-red curls hadlengthened into a ring of brightness about his fair, open face. Joesaw it now, too. It hit him quite unexpectedly: Catherine's featuresin the child's gaze -- yet, not -- the cheekbones becoming a bit morepronounced, more exotic, as the child was loosing his baby fat. Hislanky legs were strong too, seeming to destine him to a share of hisfather's strength, the massive power of a cloaked figure revealed tothe DA that night in a windswept cemetary. So many kids his agelooked like long-legged little grasshoppers.
And those eyes . . . limpid, crystaline blue . . . so full of . .. wisdom . . . and serenity, seeing into Joe's very soul. He felt it,undeniably, the reach of that quiet, certain gaze, mystical.
The DA's contemplation of the little boy came to an abrupt endwhen he heard Diana take in an audible gasp. He came to her sideinstantly and took hold of her hand. "Here, hang on to me, Diana. Tryto breathe past the contraction." The pressure of her grip and thetrembling shudder running through her body warned Joe that the youngmother was indeed far advanced in her labor. Where on earth was sheexpecting him to take her? She needed to be in a hospital, andquick.
Diana fought to hold on to her focus away from the pain, as Maryhad instructed her, attempted to regulate her breathing, but thepower of the contraction was near to overwhelming. She'd been atMaureen's side when Alex had been born, but Diana couldn't rememberher sister going through such -- intense -- labor so quickly.
It was almost as if, she thought, wildly, her baby was . . .desperate . . . to be born.
"Please God, please, help my child," she pleaded softly, clutchingat Joe's hand. He blanched at the words, and at the visible force ofthe young woman's pain.
All the color had drained from Diana's face in those few seconds,and her hair was damp from perspiration. When at last Joe felt hergrip weakening on his hand, he realized that her breathing remainedshallow and forced.
"Diana, we've got to get you to a hospital," he announced withdetermination, turning to the desk and the phone nearby. "You need adoctor."
A grip as fierce as the one he'd endured from her labors took holdagain of his arm, forcing Joe's gaze back to the young woman. Thegreen eyes that held his were shot with lazer intensity. "No! I can'tgo to a hospital. If you won't help me, Joe, I swear I'll get home bymyself!" A movement to come to her feet was futile, her strength ofvoice far superior to her body's, at the moment. Joe caught sight ofthe tears in those emerald eyes, and he felt his throatconstrict.
Reaching a trembling hand to his cheek, Diana whispered, "Theytook Jacob away from Cathy . . . Please Joe . . . help me get home .. . to Vincent."
The quiet, anguishing terror in those words sent tremors downJoe's spine. "They kept her alive long enough to have the baby . . .I need to know who wanted that baby . . . "
Diana's chilling interpretation of the early facts in herinvestigation into Catherine's murder spoke all of the pain andapprehension he knew she was engulfed in now. At the time, the forcesthey had been dealing with had been hellish, merciless, bent on atwisted possession of an innocent life, and the manipulation of thosewho cherished that life.
Circumstances now would be completely, totally, different, ofcourse, he reasoned. But would they be any less threatening?
Joe had been so focused on attempting to relieve Diana's presentphysical suffering that he'd nearly overlooked the other half of herbaby's parentage, and the spiritual agony its discovery could posefor the beleagured young mother in a hostile world. Jacob was anarresting child, yes, but, aside from his seeming . . . intuitive . .. abilities he showed very little outward sign of anything besidesCatherine's genetics.
What if Diana's baby favored its beyond human father?
What would a hospital staff, or a conscienceless public, be likelyto do in a situation like that? The child's father had apparentlynever actually been seen in the light of day. A cage in Gabriel'sstronghold suddenly loomed dark and telling in the DA's memory justthen, echoing every horror within Diana's heart.
He set a soft, reassuring kiss to the frightened young woman'sforehead, tears coming to his eyes. "Don't worry, kid. I'll take youwherever you need to go. I'm here for you. Just say the word. It'llbe all right."
The flood of gratitude that reached out to him from that angelic,enigmatic face stopped Joe's heart a beat. He wiped the tears awayfrom her cheeks, swallowing his own hard, praying that he'd be worthyof her trust.
"Samantha and Jacob will lead the way," came her quietinstruction.
A moment later, the young girl had the little boy muffled againstthe cold once more, and Joe had helped Diana dress herself againstthe elements, too. Clare returned to the little office with a smallwhite bag that she handed to Jacob, full of the muffins she'd placedat their table earlier.
"You'll need to keep growing big and strong, young man, if you'regoing to help your Mom raise a new baby."
"Yes, ma'am," the child responded. "Thank you."
"Yes, thank you, Clare, for your kindness. And your generosity.We'll never forget it." Diana reached a hug around the older womanwho accepted it readily.
"You just try to make it back here with that new little one sometime. Take care of yourselves."
Samantha also gave the older woman a hug, then took Jacob by thehand. Joe spoke sincerely to Clare, too, "You've resurrected my hopein humanity." The kind-spirited hostess just patted him on thearm.
As the children led the way out of the small office and back intothe coffee shop, Joe bent down to where Diana was still seated. Butinstead of simply offering her his hand up, as she'd expected, heswept her into his arms, taking her completely by surprise.
"What on earth are you doing, Maxwell? You can't carry me all theway!"
The steel-willed firebrand might have been suddenly back in hisembrace, but this time she was going to let him look out for her ashe saw fit, whether she liked it or not. "How many more blocks do weneed to go, Samantha?" he asked, deliberately ignoring Diana'sprotests.
"Three more blocks, at first," was his rather cryptic reply, atwhich he turned his attention at last back to the woman in hisarms.
"Well, that settles that, doesn't it? You are in no shape to walkthat far, Bennett, so you'd better just pray that my back holds upuntil we get wherever the hell we need to."
"Joe, really, I'll be okay between the contractions," came thealmost apologetic response, as Diana was eager to keep her friendfrom becoming, literally, more burdened by this whole situation. "Youdo not have to . . . "
This time the dark Italian eyes brooked no protest. "Do I looklike I'm going to accept an argument from you now, Sergeant?"
Diana looked long into the face of her trusted friend and realizedthat he was absolutely serious. So was the overwhelming fatigue thatengulfed her from the moment they'd set foot into the shop, now agood 45 minutes ago. Meekly, she settled her head against Joe'sshoulder and allowed herself to be carried back out into the street,the sounds of a half dozen voices all wishing them godspeed warmingher heart, if not settling her spirit. The snow was whipping aboutfrom a strengthening wind and piling onto the sidewalks and streetsin earnest. Joe judged that probably three inches had already fallen,with more to come, surely. But, through the increasing bluster,Samantha picked her way down the quiet, dimly lit streets withpurpose and familiarity. Little Jacob had to take two steps to eachof hers, but he was keeping valiantly up with her stride. Joe prayedthat he himself would be able to do so as well. Diana seemed to weighnext to nothing, his adrenaline-fed stamina apparently up to the taskof carrying her however far that was necessary, but the cold wasdetermined to defeat his purpose, numbing his limbs and threateninghis balance and strength.
"I don't suppose I could have hailed us a cab for this trip?" heasked uncertainly. Diana raised her head to smile patiently.
"We'd still have to contend with traffic, and causing me to havethis baby in the back seat of a cab isn't exactly how I thought you'dbe able to help me."
Joe appreciated her attempt to bring some relief to the tension ofthe situation, but he still couldn't help feeling the apprehensionhold fast within him. Even though he believed Diana knew what she wasdoing, and how she was asking him to help could be the only way outof her presently unpredictable situation, a major part of Joe'slevel-headed good sense was saying that this entire thing wasabsolutely crazy: He was working his way through a snowstorm ofgrowing intensity, following two kids God knew where, carrying a verypregnant, and hard-headed, young woman, who needed an obstetrician'sexpertise, not a piggyback ride.
Clare's anxious questioning of him at his initial appearance inthe coffee shop took hold of his awareness, shaking his confidence."Diana, when we get where we need to go, will you have some realhelp? I mean, medical . . . you know, someone who'll be sure you andthe baby are all right?"
Diana nodded with quiet reassurance at his concern. That was Joefor you, always looking out for her, in spite of herself. "I have awonderful doctor taking care of me, Vincent's father. And a midwifewho knows more about babies and children than Dr. Spock himself."
"Well, that makes me feel a little better."
Reaching her gloved hand softly back up to Joe's face, she dusteda few snowflakes from off his features. "I'm sorry to have to put youthrough all of this," she apologized genuinely.
The generous face close to her own became teasingly menacing. "Oh,you'll owe me for this one, big time. Really big. We're talking adebt to the grave here, Bennett!"
"I get the picture, Joe."
The easy banter that helped to quell anxious hearts momentarilywas halted when Joe felt Diana's arms stiffen around his neck. Shelet her head drop wearily to his shoulder again.
"Another one?" he asked in concern, mentally timing thecontractions. Seven, eight minutes between them, tops. "All right,Lord," he prayed silently, without a second thought. "We need someserious intervention here."
He wasn't certain that the answer he needed to his prayer would bethe sight of Samantha pulling to a halt in a dead end alley way.
In his concentration on Diana, Joe'd not consciously beenobserving their route along the streets, only following the girl'ssnowy wool coat step for step down several dark city blocks. Now, hethought, with a shiver that had nothing whatever to do with thedropping wind chill, the poor kid seemed to have led them intounfamiliar territory. The backs of commercial buildings all appearedanonymously the same. Only a lone street lamp lit the alley halfwaydown its length.
A good place to get mugged, Joe thought, grimly. Or worse. Hecould see the headlines in tomorrow's paper, "DA, Pregnant Woman, TwoChildren . . . "
But then Samantha set her parcels down next to a manhole cover andbegan to pull at the heavy weight. Joe set Diana gently down to herfeet, his arm around her waist holding her to him, helping to steadyher against him. "What in God's name are you doing, Samantha," heasked, incredulously.
The girl looked up at him with patience, but kept tugging at thecover. It finally moved a bit to one side. Jacob struggled mightilyto help her shove it completely off its opening even before Joe'dmanaged to attempt to lean down to it, too.
"This is the way home, Mr. Maxwell," came the girl's voice.
There were at least a dozen and a half questions the beleaguredrescuer needed to ask at that moment, but he fought them all back ashe watched the girl expertly make her way down the metal ladderwithin the manhole. Jacob then eased the parcels down to her andclimbed below the street confidently himself.
"We're going down there?" came Joe's undisguised disbelievingquery. Diana nodded, then took his hand,urging him away from her sideand to the opening's edge.
"It might be best if you go down first, Joe."
Hesitating only a moment, the DA swung his legs onto the metalladder and descended a couple of steps. He stopped, then reached backup to Diana to balance her as she came down to sit at the edge of theopening, in the snow. Slowly she managed to ease herself around andset her feet onto the first step, then the next, gripping the metalside rails tightly as she made her unsteady way down. Joe matched hermovements step by step, keeping a few paces ahead of her, helping herhold herself onto the ladder, until he set foot into a large drainagepipe that was lit by a kerosene lantern Samantha was nowcarrying.
He reached up and lifted Diana down beside him. She slumpedagainst the wall of the pipe tunnel when her feet at last touched,and Joe realized that she was trembling. Her face, in the sputteringlamp light, was ashen, as she fought to catch her breath.
"You'll have to go back up to close the lid, Mr. Maxwell,"Samantha instructed. Joe did as he was told, then returned to jointhe children and Diana. The girl handed him a second lantern that shehad lit.
"How far do we have to go?" he asked her.
"Another four blocks until we can call for help on the pipes."
"And then what?"
"It's probably another mile home from there." Diana's voice wasweary.
Joe turned to look long at his companion, his conclusions comingto him aloud. "A mile for anyone else to get to us. Or for us to getto them." A nod of the amber-haired head was his response.
"It usually isn't so long, but this is the route that was damagedin the flood, when Diana was hurt." Samantha's explanation, thoughoffering him a great deal of acknowledging trust in revealing some ofher world's secrets, did little to steady Joe's racing heart. All hecould think of, at the moment, was the fact that a child was going tocome into the world in a drainage tunnel beneath the streets of NewYork City and there wasn't going to be anything he could do to changethat reality. And this was how he was going to help?
He took a deep breath, then leaned down to Diana and gathered herback into his arms, following Samantha and Jacob further into thereaches of the dimly lit passageway.
After several minutes of following the pipe and its turningcircuit, Samantha led the way down another metal stairway. Joebreathed a grateful sigh that this obstacle at least was an actualstaircase and not a simple access ladder. He could still carry Dianadown it. She'd have never managed it otherwise. Though he wasterrified of losing his footing on the metal steps and sending themboth plunging, he was able to at last get them down and into anothertunnel that was much larger than the drainage pipe, its smoothsurfaces illuminated by regularly placed work lights in cages.
Though he longed to just sit down on the last stair and catch hisbreath, the DA fought his own mounting exhaustion and continued onafter the children, letting his attention settle onto theirsurroundings in distraction. He remembered that Diana had told himabout a network of old tunnels and chambers she'd discovered beneathCatherine's building, a mysterious, and apparently all but forgottenaccess area that fanned out beneath the city streets for miles. She'dhinted that those tunnels somehow linked that city with the shadowedworld of Cathy's protector, Vincent.
Joe could readily believe such a reality. But all he could thinkof was that Diana had evidently given up her airy, bright loftapartment for a drainage tunnel beneath the city streets. He wascertain, now, that he understood the red-haired beauty in his armseven less.
A few moments later they came to one more stairway, and the DAbegan seriously praying that his strength should hold up, becausethis obstacle was a great, circular metal stairway, several stories,it appeared, in length, that was lit by burning torches along thewalls that had become brick and stone somewhere along their descent.Diana had been able to negotiate such a climb earlier on her way intothe city? Nine months pregnant? He allotted her a generous portion ofsilent admiration. There was no way he was going to attempt to carryher now down that circling expanse without a momentary breather.
Diana read the weariness taking hold of her friend even before headmitted it and said, "We'd better wait a minute here, Joe. You cancatch your breath."
Softly he set her back to her feet, nodding in agreement. Then heleaned heavily beside her against the stone wall, afraid that if heshould come to sit down, he'd never be able to get up again. "Boy,you weren't kidding about these tunnels, were you?" he breathedincredulously. She smiled softly at his consternation.
"I know. It took me by surprise, too."
Jacob accepted the opportunity their halt in movement gave him tocome over to his mother's side from where Samantha had sat on thetopmost step. The poor girl was beginning to give in to fatigue, too.The child gave his young nanny a hug, then came to rest beside hismother, leaning against her body. He wrapped his little arms as faras they would go around what was left of her waist, his golden-lockedhead coming to rest on the baby she carried. He closed his eyes, ashe quietly spoke. "Don't worry, Mama. We're nearly home."
Diana reached a cherishing hand down to the little boy's curls,then felt him tighten his embrace about her. "You and Samantha havedone so much to help me today." Joe let his own acknowledgement reachthe children, too, as he smiled over to Samantha and patted thelittle boy beside him on the back.
"We'd better get going," he announced again, decidedly.
The children began their advance down the stairway, as Joe movedto gather Diana back into his arms, but, from the look of wearyastonishment that came over her porcelain features, he realized thatshe was having another contraction. She clung to him with a forcethat was at once startling as well as debilitated, gasping forbreath. She'd bit down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood,and the DA's heart lurched at the evidence of her pain. In thefirelight of the torches, her amber hair had darkened considerablyaround her face from the moisture that beaded up there suddenly.
He forced himself down the stairway with her in response, prayingthat he'd be able to get them both to the next level in one piece.The sight of Diana's pallid features urged him on in spite of therising fear taking hold of his spirit.
Then panic, full, cold, and paralyzing, hit him, as he felt anunexpected warmth of rushing wetness work its way across his rightarm and down the front of his wool overcoat as he carried hisprecious burden. God . . . she was bleeding! he decided in an instantthat stopped his heart. But the young woman in his arms read theoverwhelming fear stiffen his body even in the midst of her own painand pulled herself under control far enough to stammer a few words inexplanation.
"Water . . . my water . . . broke . . . Supposed to." Joe noddedin understanding, but his heart still was racing at thesensation.
The contraction this time seemed to go on forever, still holdingDiana with a consuming power by the time they'd made it to the bottomof the twisting stairway. Her voice came out in a labored whisper,the last thing he prayed he'd need her to say. "Joe . . . can't goon
. . . please stop . . . here."
Calling to the children ahead of them, the DA gently set hiscolleague down to the floor of the tunnel. Quickly he ripped off hiscoat, turned it inside out and bundled it beneath Diana's head andshoulders. When Samantha returned to them, he asked, urgently, "Howmuch farther until you can get help?"
The girl took in the ashen features of her beloved friend, and theanxious edge in Joe's voice. "The signalling pipes are just ahead. Wecan send word from there."
"Then do it, Samantha. Diana can't go on. I'll try to get hercomfortable here."
Taking in the stricken young mother, a cold fear overcame thegirl, instantly. She'd been around Mary any number of times whenbabies were born in the community, helping whenever she could, butshe didn't remember any of the labors being as intensely forceful asthis one. Diana appeared on the verge of collapse.
Catching the worry in the young girl's face, and in Jacob'sembrace as he, too, had returned to her side, the besieged motherattempted to reassure both the children. "Go on Samantha . . . andtake . . . Jacob with you . . . Signal for help, then . . . keepgoing to . . . home chambers."
"But Mama, I don't want to leave you now. You need me." Jacob'sgentle eyes were darkened with his own turmoil, attuned to thedistress his mother was enduring. Diana kissed him softly on thecheek, intent on sparing the child from more worry. Something withinher was urging her to drive the little boy safely away from themounting chaos of their situation, protectively.
"Go on with . . . Samantha . . . angel . . . You know Grandfather. . . doesn't wish anyone to walk the tunnels . . . alone now. Youhave to watch out . . . for Samantha. I'll be with . . . Mr. Maxwell.Don't worry."
The little boy seemed unconvinced, torn between the need to remainnear each of the two women he loved most in the world. A soft, urgingnod from Joe, however, swayed him to Samantha's direction. "I'll takecare of her, Jacob. You go get help."
Assured now that his departure would be necessary for both hischerished soulmates, Jacob let Samantha take his hand. Still, even asthe two children broke away to a run down deeper into the tunnel, thegolden-haired child kept watching over his shoulder until theyfinally turned a corner in the tunnel and disappeared from sight.
With mounting anxiety, Joe then turned to tend his charge. Hisheart about broke as he took in the sight of Diana, lying on thedirt, propped up on a coat, trembling from pain and an anxious --despair -- not even her beautiful features could disguise any longer.He reached into his pants pocket, past the jeweler's box that heldRita's ring, and drew out his clean handkerchief, pressing it againsther still bleeding lip. Then he wiped off her wet face gently,tenderly. The frightened uncertainty in the depths of her green eyestook hold of his heart. There was little that he remembered had everreally frightened Diana, but her fragile form now was heartstoppingin its vulnerability
"I don't suppose you know anything about actually delivering ababy," he asked her in a forced humor that was tinged with hopefulpleading. Some help he'd proven to be!
"When I was in uniform . . . my partner and I helped one mother .. . in the back of a
station wagon. It's been a while, but I might . . . rememberenough . . . to talk you through it . . . if it comes to that."
Joe shook his head. "We might have done better in that cab,then."
The green eyes focused determinedly onto his brown ones. "I'm notworried, Joe. You're here," she responded with soft reassurance.
He had to catch himself, keep from uttering the words that leapedinto his mind. Yeah, I may be here, but what about your baby'sfather? Running a shaking hand through his thick hair, Vincent triedto draw in a deep breath but was unsuccessful. He leaned heavilyagainst the stone wall then, and closed his eyes, working to gatherhis strength back to him, steady his spirit which was in completeturmoil from colliding emotions and sensations.
His own body was vehemently protesting the pounding trek he'd justsubjected it to for the past twenty minutes. The wound in his sidethrobbed, his lungs were on fire from the gasping need for air. Yet,Vincent forced his conscious pain to the background of his mind inorder to touch, instead, to Diana's.
She was calmed now, her battered spirit regaining its strengthafter the last wave of pain that he had felt coursing through her.There was a flood of generous gratitude within her, too, directedtowards someone near her. She wasn't alone. Someone was helping her,beyond the children, someone she trusted without question.
Laura? Jerry? Vincent remembered vaguely that Diana had told himthe young couple and their little boy would be leaving for a holidaytrip that evening.
Was it her sister, perhaps, who'd delayed her return home? Havingcome to know Maureen through Diana's recollections, as well as in thecorrespondence they'd lately been sharing, Vincent knew withoutquestion that if there had been even a hint that all was not wellwith Diana Above, her sister would not have hesitated to remain ather side.
At any rate, Vincent felt the tremendous relief that presence wascausing Diana to experience, and he blessed heaven for it, even as heinwardly berated his own unsteady state of health that was keepinghim too long from his beloved's side at a moment like this.
Diana's momentary respite in her intense besiegement gave Vincenta tiny opportunity to clear his own thinking, reclaim his ownemotions. Since she'd stopped trying to keep her distress from him,he'd been battered by a torrent of powerful forces he couldn'tbelieve the bare slip of humanity he loved would have been capable ofsurviving.
Her turmoil had been devastating in its physical force, andterrifying in its emotional toll. For an instant, Vincent cursedhimself, that he might have been the cause of such . . .
anguish . . . to touch the amber-haired angel he loved. Then hechastised himself in ready shame for allowing such a thought to evenpass within his mind . . . Diana's pain was bringing their child tobirth, the breathtaking passion of their love embodied into lifeitself. Dare he curse that miracle? He might as well curse all oftheir devotion to one another.
Attempting to take hold of his embattled spirit, Vincent was ableto recognize the overwhelming forces at work within his own soul, atthat instant that troubled him, as well.
He was terrified of losing Diana.
His connection to her debilitating labors was setting off a chainreaction of pain, fear... and grief . . . that he realized werecoming to him from the memory of Jacob's birth .
And Catherine's death.
Forcefully, Vincent drew his awareness back into the actualcircumstances of his present reality. It was Diana's pain he wasconnecting to, not Catherine's. Taking advantage of the momentarylull in sensation pounding him, he continued on in the tunnel, tryingto take the trek at a more prudent speed. He wasn't going to be ofany assistance to Diana if he reached her in a state of collapsehimself. He sought to keep hold of that practical state of goodsense, knowing that she, and their child, would need to depend on ithere in the far reaches of his Underworld home.
For a moment, that practical good sense urged him to considersignalling back for help on the pipes. He'd purposely avoided runninginto anyone on his exit from the home area of the tunnels, knowingthat Father would have been quick to put an end to anything evenremotely having to do with his quitting his chamber. No one hadcaught his departure, and he was sure that Father still believed himat rest where he'd been left, but now Vincent conceded that he'd needto advise everyone of his whereabouts to get Diana the help sheobviously required.
Just as he was about to reach to the pipes, a fervent tappingleaped from this quiet section of the tunnels, reverberating againstthe narrow confines of the space before him. Vincent froze, all ofhis attention rivetted to the quick, staccato that repeated itselfseveral times for urgent emphasis - "West End Stairway. Send Help forDiana. Samantha."
His beloved and the children then were already well along in thetunnels. He'd thought their presence felt especially close. ThankGod! He was afraid they were stranded somewhere Above, the collidingforces at work within him leaving his empathic sensitivitiesembattled as well, uncertain. But his premonition, his unexpectedencounter with Catherine's presence, were all proving true -- Dianawas having the baby. Now.
The Great Stairway was only a few moments more away. Vincent drewhimself from the pipes, urging himself onwards, but was promptlyengulfed by an overwhelming magnification of sound, rhymthic,pounding. A heartbeat.
His unborn child's?
At first awestruck at its sudden surging presence, where it hadonly always been a quiet, comforting acknowledgement of new life hecould touch within Diana, Vincent felt his own emotions stumble intoa staggering, and bittersweet, recollection that had begun in similarfashion nearly three and one half years ago -- the moment he'd firstheard Jacob's pulse beating within his own consciousness, asCatherine had struggled to bring him to birth.
Tears . . . of remembered loss . . . filled Vincent's eyes at thememory . . . so wondrous, and yet so . . . haunting, anguished. He'dbelieved the heartbeat to be Catherine's, the bond to her spiritreturned to him after its hope-numbing absence that had been the costof his collapse in the dark catecombs Below. Catherine had been lostto him for months, ripped from his love by the fanatical Gabriel andhis horrific obsessions. The sudden, gifting sound of that heartbeathad drawn Vincent back, miraculously, to his love's side.
But, the blessed sensation had not been Catherine's bonded heartreturned to him. It had been, in truth, the sound of Jacob's tinyspirit struggling to life outside the womb, the child Vincent neverknew had even been conceived. The baby's heart was what drew him tothat windswept rooftop three years ago -- to find Catherine dying,alone, and bereft of her son.
Shaking his head in desperate, aching, frustration, Vincent soughtto force the unendurable memories back to their deep place within hisheart. He attempted, in overwhelming anxiety, to touch to the realityof this moment before him: It was Diana he was now aching to reach,not Catherine. The heartbeat urging him on was seeking only to callhim to the joy of birth, not to the devastation of death, not towatch his beloved wife take her final breath in his embrace.
"Please, God, I must be able to do this!" Vincent whispered in thesilent tunnel, taking in the forceful shaking of his hands before himwith growing dismay. "Diana needs me. Our child needs me.Please."
Divine intervention seemed, for once, to respond to his pleadingrequest quickly. The pounding in his head drew back, somewhat, atlast, resettling itself into the gentle, cherished, familiar rhythmof his baby's heartbeat again, no longer a battering prophesy ofloss. Vincent sought out Diana's presence instantly within him then-- and found it reaching far into his consciousness with its ownplea: an ache, to be acknowledged. She was still safe, but yearningto have him at her side, struggling to bear up under the powerfulonslaught that was her labor and needing, acutely, to be held.
Taking a deep, steadying breath that actually made it past thelimitations of his healing lungs, Vincent strode purposefully downthe tunnels again. He would be at his wife's side and there wasnothing more that capricious Fate could throw at him to stop him.
Turning into one more flood-forced detour of the tunnel route,Vincent felt a strong jolt hit him square against both legs, at kneeheight, nearly sending him sprawling. It was lucky for both theprojectile, and its unwitting victim, though, that the jolt wasswathed in damp woolens.
"Father!" Jacob grasped the powerful legs he'd careened into withgrateful recognition. After regaining his balance, Vincent pried thelittle boy off his resting place, and gathered him up into his armsin concern at the blow.
"Are you all right Jacob? You should never come running blindlyaround a corner like that! You're not hurt?" The gentle admonitionwas halted as Vincent took in Samantha's breathless form just threesteps behind the little boy.
"Vincent . . . you must . . . come . . . quickly . . . "
Trying to spare the girl what little respiration she had left, herwelcomed companion reached one arm from Jacob to her heaving form incomfort. "I heard the pipes. Try to calm down, Samantha. I amhere."
The girl collapsed against his side only long enough to catch herbreath somewhat under the gentle touch of his hand across hershuddering shoulders. Jacob took the opportunity to fill his fatherin on the pertinent details of the emergency.
"Mama needs you, Father. The baby is coming, and she wasn'texpecting it to happen today. She hurts very badly."
"I know, son." Setting the child back down gently next toSamantha, Vincent urged, "Now get to Grandfather. Tell him what'shappening. I'll go to your mother."
The children were already turned down into the tunnel he'd justquit before Vincent called after them, remembering the sensations ofrelief he'd picked up on from Diana a few moments earlier. "Issomeone with Diana, Samantha?"
A nod of her head confirmed Vincent's impressions as the younggirl returned to his side. "Mr. Maxwell. He's been carrying her.She's too exhausted to walk. We called him when Diana realized Iwasn't going to be able to help her enough. I'm sorry, Vincent."
Standing with head bowed momentarily, uncertain as to whether shewould be able to bear the knowledge that she'd let her belovedteacher's trust in her waver as easily as she could stand a sternreprimand for a breech in community security, Samantha was insteadrelieved to feel Vincent gently raise her chin, and her gaze, back upto him. He nodded, urging her on her way.
"You did the right thing, Samantha," came her heart-swellingresponse. "I felt it was someone you all trusted. Thank you forwatching over her for me."
The warm smile on the girl's earnest face spoke the gratitude andlove she could not, at the moment, take the time to express.
Vincent turned from the retreating children and automaticallyreached back up to draw the hood of his cloak over his head, reactingto Samantha's disclosure. But then, he stopped, in mid-action, notbecause of the twinge of pain that movement sent down through hiswounded side, but because the reality of the situation had comeclearly to his mind:
He was deep within his own world, in the safety of his own homechambers. Diana had trusted Joe Maxwell with her unborn child, turnedto him in a moment of need in the world Above where her own husbandwould not have been able to reach her, come to her side. This was nota time of hesitation, of second-guessing trust, Vincent conceded.
He and the DA were destined to meet face to face, this night. Joewas gently stroking his hand over Diana's hair, wishing with everyfiber of his being that he could offer her a more tangible source ofrelief for her pain, but there wasn't any. She was totally exhausted,lying heavily across the arm he had offered her in minimal comfort.The contractions were coming pretty much at will now, almost oneafter another. Yet, they seemed to no longer have any consciouseffect on her.
She appeared to have withdrawn into some far away place deepwithin herself. It frightened Joe.
"Diana, can you hear me?" It took a second attempt before Joe wasable to get a response out of the young woman beside him. Her emeraldeyes opened slowly, took a long time to focus on him. The tiniestbreath of a smile on her fragile features told him she'd recognizedhim, but that did little to hide the disappointment in her eyes.
"The kids will get you help. You'll be all right."
The words were as much for his own reassurance as for hers, Joeadmitted wearily. He took a moment to scan their strangesurroundings, that were right out of a Victorian novel, trying tocome up with some destination the children might be heading for thatcould somehow bring welcomed aid.
"Samantha knows . . . these tunnels . . . like the back . . . ofher hand." Diana's words were just above a whisper, yet they startledJoe as he was touching to the uncertain anxiety of letting twoyoungsters walk away from them and into the dimly lit passagewaysbeyond.
Joe settled Diana a bit more against his side. She was shiveringnow, though her face was bathed in persiration. He pulled herunbuttoned coat more closely about her, a wave of instinctitiveprotection reaching out to her from him. He could sense her pain,that was so much more than simply physical suffering, and he was onlyreacting to the chaotic situation he'd been thrust into with herunexpected phone call. All of his care, all of his shelteringinstincts were aching for the amber haired young woman, and his onlytrue connection to her was the fact that she was a friend.
How much more intensely plain should her need have become tosomeone who truly loved her, to someone she'd given her every hopeto?
Yet, Diana was still going through this all alone. She was minutesaway from giving birth, lying on the dirt floor of a stone tunnelsomewhere beneath the streets of New York,
looking to him for help. This was supposed to be a place of refugefor her, a place she'd pleaded for him to bring her.
Why, in God's name, was she still in his arms?
Didn't Vincent realize she needed him here at her side?
His absence was the cause of the painful disappointment Joe'dcaught in her eyes as she'd struggled back from where she'd slippedto in her weary ordeal. Joe knew it for certain: She was gratefulthat he was there with her, but her heart was on the verge ofbreaking for want of her husband's presence.
Couldn't Vincent sense her need now, the DA wondered, not a littlebitterly. He'd supposedly been at Catherine's side too many timeswhen danger had threatened her. A chill rose up Joe's spine. Theforce of that mysterious being's compelling devotion to Cathy hadapparently extended to his . . . killing . . . to keep her safe fromharm.
Yet, here was Diana, the woman who'd become his wife, ready togive birth to his child, alone in a drainage tunnel, and he wasnowhere near.
Joe almost lit it slip again, asked Diana the reason why, but hissheltering instincts set off those protective alarms for her withinhim again, so clearly -- The question, if he'd ever find the heart toask her, could prove to be just as painful as her presently --abandoned --state, the answer -- unendurable.
His own answer to the confounding situation was hardly comforting:Perhaps the . . . bond . . . that Diana had hinted at, the force ofdevotion that kept drawing Vincent to Catherine's side, theconnection that gave him the intimate knowledge of Catherine's stateof heart, was something purely unique to their relationship.
Maybe Vincent, now, wasn't as attuned to Diana's spirit, andneeds, might never have been. What he and Catherine shared could havebeen destined never to be experienced again.
It didn't seem to leave Diana with much.
Joe wondered, with a pang, what the fiery-spirited police officercould actually have given up her dreams for: a reality that mighthave proven less than gifting. He looked long into the features ofthe young woman in his arms. She'd always been a rock, anextraordinary source of strength for him, her friendship anunshakeable anchor in the chaos of his own besieged life. Now sheseemed reduced to the trembling image of an abandoned child -- withchild herself. The uncertainty in her eyes, the possible reasons forit, beyond her physical devastation, was unbearable to him.
He'd tell her what he knew she was praying to hear, if only togive her some momentary relief and hope.
And, if he needed to, Joe swore to himself, he'd carry her out ofhere and back into the real world, if those words should proveuntrue.
"I'm sure Vincent must be on his way here."
The sound of his voice betrayed enough of his concern, though, forDiana to pick up on it, even within her own reeling spirit. She wasnot so far lost inside it that she'd miss her dear friend's emotionalpain -- for her.
"I know he will be, Joe." She closed her eyes again, as anothercontraction swept over her, then found her breath enough to continuespeaking, despite Joe's efforts to quiet her. "It's a long way . . .for him now . . . coming so far . . . He's hurt . . . I almost . . .lost him."
The DA felt a staggering burden of guilt suddenly drop itselfsquarely onto his shoulders. So, there was an explanation as to whyDiana had been so hellbent on making it back home, one that wentbeyond her fear for her baby in the world Above. There was fear forher husband, too, a reason he couldn't get to her: He was hurt, andshe'd been determined to make it back to his side, even though shewas obviously the one in need of sheltering care.
"I'm sorry, Diana. I had no idea," came Joe's heartfeltexplanation. A shaky hand reached around his arm then. "Is he hurtbadly?"
"Ribs . . . punctured lung . . . concussion. I almost thought . .. I'd lost him . . . to Cathy . . . He fought his way . . . back,though." The gentle awe in her soft eyes made Joe's heart skip abeat. She continued. "It will cause him . . . so much pain . . . ifhe can't make it here . . . in time. But I don't think this littleone . . . will wait . . . any longer."
"He'd want to be right here with you, I'm sure, Diana. Any manwould want to be with the woman he loves at a time like this, butmaybe it's not meant to be."
The deep, emerald eyes shifted from acknowledging tenderness, todisappointed acceptance, then to trusting decision. "I think it'sgoing to be . . . up to you, Joe . . . to give me some help." With aweary smile, she added, "Looks like . . . you're going to . . . haveyour way . . . with me after all . . . Maxwell."
Joe felt himself melt at the offhand remark, evidence of theconsiderable power of her spirit, able to make light of theirsituation even now. "God, Diana!" he admonished her, blushing at thethought. She continued to attempt to ease his heart, unfazed, readingthe tender care in his eyes, the concerned, frightened uncertainty ofa friend trying to help.
"It's not like . . . you've ever been . . . physically attractedto me . . . Joseph . . . anyway. It'll be . . . all right . . .Something to tell . . . your kids."
"Yeah, right, Bennett," he countered, defensively. "Who the hellcould possibly be attracted to a spitfire banshee like you?" Bendinggently down to the angelic face, the DA kissed Diana softly on theforehead. She smiled a breath and nodded her head, giving Joepermission to literally take her life, and her baby's into hishands.
At the undeniable trust he saw flooding from those beautifulfeatures, Joe crossedng himself, automatically, whispering a silentprayer for guidance and help. He was startled to see that Diana didthe same thing: She quietly crossed herself, then brought her handback down to her swollen abdomen in an obvious caress for herchild.
Joe drew on his defensive humor again to attempt to cut throughsome of the tension surrounding them. "I hope you realize that if I'mgoing to help bring this baby into the world, I fully expect to bechosen it's godfather."
"That would be an honor for us all."
The sound of a deep-toned, slightly hoarse, man's voice, above andbehind him, stopped Joe's heart cold.