DECISIONS

By: Trisha Kehoe (Originally printed in the1993 Great ExpectationsConzine.)

Pausing just at the boundaries of the culvert leading from hisworld up into Central Park, Vincent's first perception as he drew upthe hood of his cloak was of the infinite silence. Scrutinizing hissurroundings, listening, watching, he appraised the area with ahabitual painstaking caution. After studying the landfall and a tractof shrubbery which lay across a small clearing, and detecting no onenearby, he stepped out into the open.

Tilting his head back and inhaling ravenously, he pulled a draftof the chill night air deeply into his lungs. Exhaling the breathslowly, knowing eyes pierced the gloom, scanning the incline to hisleft. Then, a growl of indecision rose in Vincent's throat. Thoughall appeared well, he was still apprehensive. Tonight, the world inwhich he would always feel like an intruder appeared to be overlyserene. Even the usually tumultuous din on the streets of Manhattanseemed muffled, hollow somehow, like the rushing noises one heardafter a lengthy swim left your ears blocked with irritating wetness.To him the hush was unnerving. This night everything must be secure.There was no room for even the slightest error in judgment &endash;not up here, and especially not tonight.

Resurrecting the memory of Professor Hughes, and of their conflicthere, in almost this very spot, Vincent narrowed his eyes and shiftedhis focus. Redoubling his efforts and barely breathing, he leanedforward, straining to clarify each fragment of sound. Tilting hishead to the left, he listened to the mournful entreaty of an owl inthe distance as it called out, perhaps to its mate. Or was it singingan ode to aloneness? That was a song he knew quite well.

Momentarily losing himself in the plaintive cries, an unsettlingtremor tore through his body. For all his vigilance, someone couldstill be lurking undetected just at the edge of the darkness. Someonewith a club or a gun could be behind any of the nearby trees, orhiding in the brush, waiting for just the right moment, for thatfraction of a second it would take to catch him off guard and attack,or perhaps even kill him. Yet, knowing that such a possibilityexisted didn't stop him from coming above night after night, yearafter year. He refused to be denied this one brief moment of utterfreedom.

Even so, it had been on a night much like this one that he hadbeen captured, caged, scrutinized and…shamed. One suchoccurrence had been more than sufficient.

Treading warily, Vincent moved beyond the clearing and disappearedinto the midst of a cluster of trees. Blending into the darknessthere, he became one with it, part of it. Effortlessly pushingthrough a thicket of twisted shrubbery, he glanced up into thebranches of a lofty, ancient-looking oak. Leaning back against thetree, he gazed out over the park, regarding what he considered atthis hour to be his domain. As he shifted his body into a slightlymore comfortable position, an enigmatic scowl altered the composureof what society would have deemed to be a satanic face. He had adecision to make, and it must be made quite soon.

Dear God, this silence! As improbable as it was, he could hearalmost nothing except the rapid cadence of his own heart. Curioussensation, that.

When the thick cloud-cover overhead shifted slightly and thenparted, the night-sky came alive with an abundance of stars. Then, apale winter moon seemed to peek cautiously out from in-between thewisps of frosty white. Skimming over the tops of the trees andelongating Vincent's shadow, it enfolded him in shimmers of gentleradiance. Glancing up, he smiled, greeting the moon like the oldfriend that it was. Indeed, when he was younger it had been one ofhis few trusted confidants; one that would never reveal his secrets.He and that glistening orb had shared much over a span of years, somesomber remembrances, and some events that had seemed almostenchanted. And one night had been quite different from the rest&endash; truly magical, glorious. On that most wondrous of nights hehad found…

Pulling back from the memory, Vincent contemplated his life for amoment, which seemed to evolve much as the seasons did, ebbing,shifting, and flowing ever onward. He'd witnessed so many years comeand go from within the confines of these few acres. With itsever-changing smells and imagery, Central Park held a distinct placein his heart, and in his recollections.

In the Spring, on forays above he had listened to the murmuring oflovers as they strolled the walkway around the pond on warm scentedevenings. Tonight, perhaps due to the lateness of the hour and thenip in the air, there was no one about - no one but him.

Summer brought forth the homeless, those considered by many to bethe dregs of humanity. How many nights, he wondered, had he listenedwith an understanding heart to the inebriated mutterings of those onthe park benches, 'sleeping it off', as the expression went? Too manyto count. Silhouetted against the hazy moon, those benches stoodbarren now - unclaimed. Shuddering as a chill wind whispered throughthe leaves over his head, Vincent burrowed down further into the warmrecesses of his cloak. It was as though someone &endash; or something&endash; had imprisoned the entire city in a veil of hushedexpectancy.

Inhaling and then releasing the breath roughly, he lifted himselfaway from the tree. Praying that he would not regret what he wasabout to do, he looked over at the culvert, his eyes probing theindistinct shapes there, outlines he knew better than others knew thepalms of their own hands. Ah yes, there he was, waiting just at theedge of the clearing, as he had been told to. Perceiving someone onlyhe could detect, loving eyes swept over a barely visible outline asVincent smiled, displaying a flash of sharp white teeth.

Scanning the ground, he reached down, selected a small stone, andthen pitched it toward the ravine, signaling to the one who waitedthere. When a small form immediately leapt into full view, a suddenurge to guide his son's footsteps nearly overwhelmed him. Tensingstiffly and curling his nails into the palms of his hands, Vincentforced himself to remain exactly where he was. No, he mustn't go tohim. This was Jacob's first time in the park at night. He would wantto close the distance separating them on his own, to demonstrate thathe could do this without anyone's assistance.

As his child had so energetically explained to him only yesterday,he was 'big' now. And like all 'big' boys, he had their boundlesscuriosity, as well as a need to emulate his friends. They often spokeof the park, and of the good times to be had up there. Jacob, ofcourse, had expressed a yearning to see this glorious site forhimself. He also wanted to see the places that his father explored onhis treks above; to walk those paths with him, as he put it, 'likethe other guys.' 'After all', the child had reminded him, 'a promisewas a promise, and it was his birthday present - the only one he'dasked for.'

Remembering the eagerness in Jacob's eyes as he waited to see ifhis request would be granted, Vincent smiled wistfully. Yes, his sonwas a 'big boy' now. Why, he was all of six.

Watching as his child started across the clearing, every muscle inVincent's body stiffened as he stumbled and then fell to his knees.Instinctively jerking forward, he halted mid-step as Jacob rightedhimself. Mumbling something under his breath, he brushed off histrousers and then sprinted toward the protection of the trees.

Running feet scrunched noisily through the fallen leaves. "Ithought you forgot about me, Papa!"

Clasping Jacob's hand, Vincent squeezed it gently, his tone ofvoice reassuring, "Forget you? Oh, I would never do that."

"Well, it sure was a long wait," the child observed, eyeing him."I thought you were never gonna give me the signal."

Although he tried very hard to conceal it, Vincent noted thatJacob winced as he bent his right knee. For the moment he allowed theobvious subterfuge to pass. "You did very well indeed by respondingso promptly."

The child beamed at such words of praise from someone heabsolutely idolized. "It was really dark there, Papa, but I wasn'tscared even a little bit."

"Yes, I know," Vincent replied, smiling. " You are verybrave."

"I was, wasn't I?" Hurling himself full force into his father'sarms and burrowing against him, he hugged Vincent tightly around thewaist, forcing out the breath he hadn't realized he was stillholding. "I…I fell down, you know, just like a…a baby! Boy,that was dumb!" Jacob sneered, disgusted with himself.

"Oh, you fell?"

The boy glanced up hopefully. "Didn't you see me?"

Noting the lad's tone of self-reproach, Vincent's expression wasone of utter innocence. "Actually, I cannot remember exactly what Isaw." Focusing worried parental eyes on Jacob's lower body, hegestured to his knee. "Are you all right?"

His son looked slightly indignant. "Papa, I only fell down, that'sall. A' course I'm all right. It's just these dumb old laces…"Lifting his left foot, Jacob wriggled it back and forth, pouting asthe laces on his sneakers flip-flopped from side to side. "See? Nomatter what I do they just won't stay tied!" Not losing track of theprimary topic of conversation, he shot his father a look of totalexasperation. "I was in that old ditch for a year waiting for you tosignal me. A whole year!"

Patient eyes locked to challenging ones as parent and child staredat each other. At the look of annoyance Jacob nailed him with,Vincent barely managed to conceal a smile. To a child of six any timespent having to wait quietly for just about anything must have seemedinterminable. Kneeling down to retie his son's sneakers for what hadto be the umpteenth time today, he nodded, accepting thechastisement. "It must have seemed like a very long time, yet it wasonly a matter of fifteen minutes, I assure you."

"Fifteen minutes," Jacob echoed, his meaning quite clear. I won'tpush my luck, but I still think it was a year, no matter what yousay.

Feeling it would prove safer to change the subject, Vincent peeredup at the sky. "The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

Eyeing them, Jacob gasped aloud, awed by their brilliance. Starssure didn't look like this in books! Pointing upwards, he exclaimed,"Papa, look how big the moon is!"

"Jacob." Although the word was gently spoken, the message wasexplicit.

Wide-eyed, the boy clamped both of his hands over his mouth.Suddenly remembering the rules that must be obeyed when he was abovewith his father, he gave him an apologetic look and lowered hisvoice, whispering conspiratorially, "Well we're here, so what are wegonna do now?"

Furrowing his brow, Vincent tried to think of a game asix-year-old would enjoy; one which could be played safely up here inthe time left to them.

When his father didn't respond quickly enough, Jacob tuggedimpatiently on the sleeve of his cloak. "Papa?"

"Forgive me, I was wool-gathering."

The child glanced around dubiously. There were sheep in CentralPark? Ohh… Nodding in sudden understanding, he replied, "Oh,yeah. 'Wool-gathering'. That's an idiot, right?"

"Mmfff…!" Tensing his stomach against the roar of amusementthreatening to burst forth, Vincent shook his head from side to side,emphasizing the ending syllables, "Not an idiot, an idiom. But I'mvery pleased that you were on the right track."

Jacob proudly drew himself up to his full forty odd inches. Well,at least he'd been close. Hopping impatiently from one foot to theother, he repeated, "So, what are we gonna do now?"

Vincent shrugged noncommittally. "As it is your birthday, I shallabide by your decision &endash; within reason. What would you like todo?"

Trying to decide, Jacob eyed the playground to his right. Nah, toodark. Besides, his friends weren't there. He wondered if Papa likeswings? Hm, the swings… Nah, he could do that in Mouse'schamber. He had some way cool stuff in there! Peering up into thebranches of the tree that shielded them, he pursed his lips,frowning, looking so much like his mother that Vincent's heartconstricted.

Catherine.

Reliving a time which had nearly shattered his soul, he was rippedwide open again as her son announced eagerly, "I'd like to climb thisold tree, that's what I'd like to do!" That said, he reached for thelowest branch. "I bet you can touch Heaven from way up there. Heavenmust be a really beautiful place, huh?"

Keeping his face composed only by sheer strength of will, Vincentlooked up. "Quite beautiful, I would imagine. Perhaps you truly cantouch Heaven &endash; from up there." Turning slightly to the left,he kept both his expression and his tears hidden from view, and histhoughts to himself. 'I have seen Heaven, son. All of it lay open tome for the taking, captured in your mother's eyes. One day, throughthe eyes of the woman you love, one who returns your affection fullmeasure and more, I hope you have the good fortune to experience suchas wonder &endash; and name it…Heaven.'

He was brought back to the present by a small foot edging into thepalm of his hand. "Boost me up, okay?" Jacob whispered impatiently."I choosed, and now I wanna find out how high I can climb."

With his heart in his mouth and all of his misgivings reflected inhis eyes, Vincent helped his son into the tree, and then watched ashis diminishing form climbed higher and higher, further and fasteraway from the safety of his arms.

Choices. Decisions. Such terrifying words, if one truly thoughtabout their meanings. Correct decisions could mean life itself, whileinaccurate ones…

Swallowing the rancor that rose in his throat, Vincent wonderedhow one determined if the choices and decisions people made in theirlives were the correct ones? This night, his decision had been theonly one he could make, as far as Jacob was concerned, and at thismoment that choice was profoundly disquieting.

For his sixth birthday, Jacob had pleaded to be allowed above atnight, as he himself had pleaded with Father at that very same age.But when he'd begged for the opportunity to see the world he yearnedfor so badly, Father had said no. The memory of that word, thefinality of 'no', altered his own initial response of denial to hischild to one of consent. Looking into the eyes of his son and seeingthe hope reflected there, he simply wasn't able to bring himself tosay no. A heart, especially that of a child, could be so easilybroken by a single word spoken in haste; so easily torn asunder. Thisis knew.

Realizing, of course, that he must permit Jacob certain freedomsfor spiritual growth, and that he would have to find his way in notone world, but two, troubled Vincent greatly. What if his child chosea path one day that led away from…him?

As he peered up at the tree, knowing within his heart that he hadmade the correct decision tonight was of no comfort. Jacob was solittle, and like most children, he wasn't very well coordinated attimes. He could get caught in the branches up there and injurehimself. Some could be too thin to support even his slight weight.Suddenly, the expression on Vincent's face was one of utter panic.Dear God, what if he fell!

Shaking off his anxiety, and never losing sight of Jacob'sprogress, one parent's heart called out to another's; to a man whoalso had a child who had wanted to climb trees. Running a tremblinghand across his brow, Vincent implored silently, 'How did you endurethis, Charles Chandler? How did you abide such feelings of utterdread without crying out? Were you as anguished then, when Catherineclimbed beyond your reach, as I am now, as my child rises beyondmine?'

"Papa," a breathless whisper wafted down, "Look how high I amnow!" From ten feet up, Jacob waved victoriously.

As he waved back, tears stung Vincent's eyes. The boy seemed evensmaller from this angle, so alone, so isolated. To feel all alone wasa dreadful experience. This he knew all too well.

Centering his focus on Jacob as he began his descent, Vincentwanted desperately to cry out, Don't fall! But he didn't. Hecouldn't. His throat was too choked with emotion to form thewords.

With his entire being riveted on his son and the tree, he wasn'talert to another presence until a hand with slender fingers reachedout to clasp his arm. "Hi. How's it going?"

Crouching slightly and whirling around to face the unexpectedintruder, Vincent snarled, the sound thunderous, and then clutchedhis chest as his eyes met those of a woman. Falling back against thetree, he gasped, "Dear merciful God, you frightened me nearly todeath!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I wanted some fresh air anddecided that now would be the perfect time to join the men in mylife. I'm glad we discussed Jacob's birthday venture. It made findingyou a lot easier." Smiling, Catherine reached out and curled herfingers through his. "So, it seems our son is also a climber, huh?"Tilting her head back, she peered upward, but as the moon driftedback behind the clouds, she was unable to distinguish anything butvague outlines and shadows. "How's he doing up there?"

"Oh, Jacob will be fine." With the fingers of his left hand stillclutching the center of his chest, Vincent's words tumbled out allover each other. "It's I who may succumb at any moment from utterpanic."

"Why?" she asked, laughing softly. "Oh, Vincent, it's not reallysuch a big tree. You mustn't worry. I climbed much bigger ones thanthat at his age."

"Yes, I recall our conversation about that the night you finallycajoled me into climbing one with you." Crystal blue eyes nailedhers. "I nearly fell that night."

"I… remember." Biting her lower lip and keeping her eyesfocused on the ground, the woman he adored fought to stifle herlaughter, and failed.

"I know that you remember." Her bond-mate eyed her silently for amoment longer, then he reached out to pat her rather bulging tummy,teasing, "Is the impending birth of our second child the only thingpreventing you from joining our eldest…." Hesitating, heafforded the tree a scowl of consummate displeasure. "…upthere?"

Appraising the tree again, Catherine hunched her shoulders. "My'condition', as Father so delicately phrases it, isn't the only thingthat stops me. I guess I'm just not as daring as I used to be."

Once assured that Jacob was safely nearing the ground, Vincentwrapped both arms around Catherine and eased her backward, into thefolds of his cloak. "Oh, I must contradict that statement."

Half-turning, she tugged on a length of his hair and gave him alook of mock indignation. "Oh you must, must you?"

"Most definitely." Slowly turning her in his arms until they wereface-to-face, Vincent's eyes glittered almost silver in the moonlightas they claimed hers. Gliding the pad of his left forefinger gentlyover her mouth, he murmured, "You, my dearest Love, are utterlyfearless."

The look in his eyes was so openly hungry it seemed to edge alongCatherine's spine until it made her knees knock together. "Am I?" shewhispered, easing strands of long, reddish-gold hair back into theconfines of his hood.

"Utterly," he repeated. "You are the bravest person I have evermet, or ever shall meet."

A rustling sound from directly above them checked theirconversation for the time being. "Hi, Mama!"

"Hi, imp." Catherine smiled at her beloved son. "Are you ready tocome down now, Jacob? It's getting very late."

"Yeah, I guess so. But I wanna jump. Papa, catch me?"

Stretching his arms wide, Vincent caught the boy and set him tohis feet, smiling as he took hold of Catherine's hand and his andbegan swinging between them. Feeling at ease for the first time sinceentering the park, he led his family toward the culvert &endash; andhome. Watching their son as he ran ahead of them into the culvert, heremarked, "You really don't believe how truly brave you are, do you,my Catherine?"

"I'm not brave at all, you know. I just put on a good act," sheretorted, winking at him.

"An act? No, I don't think so," Vincent disagreed lovingly. "Noone can feign such courage; it must be a part of you." Smiling ather, he continued, "It is a part of you, Beloved, and it always willbe. How well I remember some of the decisions that you made yearsago. I know some of them were quite difficult. But then most of yourchoices have been complex ones."

"Oh?" Catherine eyed him. "Which ones, for instance?"

"Returning Joe Maxwell's book to him at my request, trusting in mecompletely, took exceptional courage on your part. To allow mymisgivings to guide you, when I had no facts to base them on, was nota judgment you made easily." His eyes locked to hers. "Was it?"

"No, it wasn't," she admitted, her expression somber. "But when Ithought of what happened the night I wouldn't listen to you and wentto Stephen Bass, it became much easier to accept your insightswithout questioning them. My love, with all that's happened in thelast years I'll never disregard your instincts again, believe me."Stopping, she peered up at Vincent, knowing that she could easily getlost in his eyes forever. Placing both hands on his wide shoulders,she studied him resolutely. "Some decisions I made were for thebest."

"Three certainly were," he replied huskily. "Guiding me to trustin my heart instead of in my fears was a gift that I shall ever begrateful for, Catherine."

"That's one. What were the other choices I made that led you tothink I'm fearless?"

Vincent's tone of voice was so shy, so vulnerable &endash; evennow. "One act led to…the other. At a time when I was close todeath, in choosing to save me you gave me back not only my life, buta child as well. Our son. My son." Resting his mouth lightly on hers,he nuzzled gently back and forth. "For the miracle of him, I have nowords to thank you. As for your third decision, you made that onelong ago, almost nine years ago…" The remainder of the wordswere breathed into Catherine's mouth as Vincent leaned forward tokiss her with all of the yearning of a man in love for the only timein his life. "…when you chose to share your heart and your lovewith…me."

*************

And in an extraordinary world below the city of Manhattan, thedream continues &endash; always.