"Ha--caught you, Radcliffe!"

"Yipes! Joe, you almost gave me a heart attack. Sincewhen have you taken to lurking outside Ladies' Rooms? You'll neverget to be mayor that way."

"I'm not lurking, Cathy," Joe replied sternly. "I'mkeeping an eye on one of my employees who's come down with the latestoffice bug and is too stubborn to admit it."

"Joe, I'm not really that sick--I've been taking lots ofvitamin C and it's really working. I admit my stomach's a littlerocky now and then, but I feel OK most of the time, honestly. If yousend me home it'll probably get worse; work takes my mind off it."

"I'm so glad the DA's office can be of service, M'am."

"Joe, sarcasm doesn't become you," Catherine announcedloftily as she began edging surreptitiously toward the office.

Joe's tone turned ominous. "If Manuel had gone home whenI told him to, he wouldn't have infected half the staff. No moreMister Nice Boss, Chandler. Out." He pointed to the door with aflourish worthy of the villain in a Victorian melodrama.

"But, Joe..."

"OUT! If it'll make you feel better, take some work homewith you."

"I don't have anything left I can do at home," Catherineadmitted. "I've already read all the new case files."

"I thought you had reformed, Radcliffe." Joe was gettingthat big brother look in his eye again. "You've almost gotten down tothe work of a normal human being lately. I was hoping it meant you'ddecided to have a personal life or something."

"Everybody's social life has slow weeks," Catherine saidevasively. "All right, you win, I'll go home."

"Feeling uncomfortable?" Joe asked pointedly.

"It's just that it's getting stuffy in here,"Catherine retorted, fixing him with what she hoped was a witheringlook. Trying not to look quite like she was fleeing the scene ofbattle, she collected her belongings with as much dignity as shecould muster and left the office aware of Joe's speculative starefollowing her out.

Riding down the elevator she leaned thankfully againstthe wall and closed her eyes. Catherine wondered why she couldn'thave a boss who didn't give a hoot about his employees. Of coursethen he wouldn't be Joe. She didn't really want him any other way,even if his curiosity about her personal life forced her into verbalgymnastics all too often.

She opened her eyes and focused them on her left hand.The silver ring of Celtic knotwork was beautifully ambiguous. Mostpeople who didn't know her assumed it was a wedding ring--which itwas, to her. Those who knew her, if they thought about it at all,tended to think it might be a "partner ring," or a family heirloom,or even an attractive professional woman's way of discouragingunwanted suitors. What Joe thought she had no idea. She had caughthim surreptitiously eyeing it more than once but he had beenuncharacteristically silent. Perhaps he sensed that any questionwould open altogether too formidable a can of worms. Perhaps hethought if she wanted him to know about it she'd tell him--and washurt because she hadn't.

Catherine shut the door of the house behind her, drinkingin the sense of peace it always gave. Maybe staying home wouldn't besuch a bad idea after all--even though it had seemed rather empty allweek without Vincent's presence. She wouldn't have been so eager totake all that work home lately, no matter how short-staffed this fluhad left the DA's office, if Vincent hadn't been needed in the farreaches of the Tunnels for major repair work. For a moment sheconsidered visiting Below, but dismissed the idea. Joe might possiblybe right, and she couldn't risk infecting anyone in the Tunnels,especially the children. Even a simple flu was such a drain on theirresources ... she couldn't take such a chance just because she wantedcompany.

Putting her coat away in the closet and startingupstairs, Catherine decided to face the chaos her home office hadbecome. Keeping all the parts of her life in balance sometimes seemedlike juggling an extremely varied assortment of objects whilestanding on a tightrope. Balanced on one foot. She smiled ruefullywhen she thought of how often her attempt to keep up with her oldfriends turned out to be the ball that dropped. With a righteoussense of resolution, she plunked herself down in front of the papermountain and set to work.

Almost two hours later, she leaned back, sighed mightily,and surveyed her accomplishments. A disorderly pile of unpaid billsand unanswered letters had been transformed into a neat stack ofstamped envelopes. The wastebasket overflowed with junk mail detritusand the books Devin had asked to borrow were carefully packaged andready to mail. Catching sight of the desk calendar brought to lightby her recent excavation, Catherine felt a pang of concern. Had shemissed lunch with Jenny again? Please, God, let it be nextweek, she prayed as she realized the date showing was almost twoweeks ago. Chandler, you've got to get organized, sheadmonished herself. Suddenly her hand stopped in the act of turningthe page. For a long moment the world around her seemed as still asher body had become. Slowly she laid the calendar back on the desk.As if a spring had been released, she leaped up, rushed down thestairs and out the door, throwing on her coat as she ran.

An hour later she was sitting on her bed, staring at theobjects in her hands. It couldn't be true, it wasn't possible...wasit? The turmoil of conflicting emotions within her threatened toswamp any attempt at rational thought. With a prodigious effort ofwill she tried to impose some measure of calm. Taking a deep breath,she reached for the phone.

"Hi. Yes, it's me, Cathy. No, I'm fine. Well, maybe I dosound a little strange, but I have good reason--I think. What Ireally need this minute is to talk to a friend. Are you busy rightnow? ... no, I'd rather come over there if it's all right.Thanks--I'll be right there!"

***

"Vincent OK? Dust in face?"

"No, Mouse, I'm fine."

"Why're you shaking your head then? You do look a littlefunny," Jamie asked curiously.

"Looks to me like he's getting a message from radioCATH," Cullen grinned wickedly as they hoisted the last piece oflumber to shore up the crumbling passage. "You didn't drop the beamor anything this time so it must be suitable for the whole family."

"Your metaphors are certainly original, Cullen," Vincentreplied, attempting to ignore the teasing tone. Cullen's sense ofhumor sometimes took an unfortunate turn where he and Catherine wereconcerned.

"There's nothing wrong, is there, Vincent?"

Vincent reached out to rest his hand on Jamie's shoulder."No.." he replied uncertainly. "I'm not sure what it is. She'sfeeling some strong emotion, but it's very complicated...differentfrom anything I've sensed before."

"Well," Cullen yawned as he picked up his tools, "you'llbe seeing her in another day and you can ask her yourself. We shouldfinish this by tomorrow afternoon, and I'll be glad to see the end ofit. What a job."

"Good job," Mouse insisted proudly. "Last forever!"

"Well, a long time, anyway," Jamie amended. "You've beena big help, Cullen."

"Maybe, Jamie my girl, but I'm made for finer things.Cathy found a great old chest in the basement of the Chandler-Wellsresidence. With a little repair work and a lot of elbow grease it'llbe perfect for Mary's room. She needs more storage space."

As they moved wearily back to their camp, Vincent smiledinwardly. It pleased him that his relationship with Catherine oftenseemed to bring almost as much happiness to his friends and family asit did to himself. He recognized that even Cullen's relentlessteasing was just another way of sharing their joy. The depth of thatjoy astonished him--every time he thought they had reached the limitsof it, new vistas opened up.

The house had seemed a gift from the Fates as much asfrom Catherine's surrogate grandmother. Within its sheltering wallsthey had been able to build the kind of life he never dared imaginehe could have. How often in their early days together they had talkedwith such pain about their dream ... now life was like thatdream--only better. For so long they had agonized over the demandstheir different worlds made upon them, and in the end they createdtheir own special place in between; a place that served not only as arefuge for themselves but as a bridge for those they loved and thosewho needed them; a bridge between Above and Below.

Indeed, the "Chandler-Wells residence" seemed to haveacquired a symbolic importance to many of the Tunnel family. Eric hadtaken to calling it the Rainbow Bridge, and Samantha had dubbed itthe Last Homely Tunnel, much to Catherine's delight. Father had beenreluctant to spend much time there at first, partly from hislongstanding distrust of the world Above, partly from a fear ofintruding upon them. Gradually seduced by the irresistable collectionof books and music that Catherine constantly added to, he could nowbe found almost as often in their library as in his own chambers.

Vincent knew that Catherine still regretted that shecould not show him her whole world. In lieu of that she seemeddetermined to collect every nature or travel program available onvideo. He smiled as he remembered her eagerness to have him view thelatest acquisition. Curled up with her on the sofa, enthralled by therather astonishing mating ritual of the banana slug, he solemnlyinformed his wife that he now knew more about the habits of obscureflora and fauna than most people would ever want to. Catherineretaliated by tickling him, and somehow-perhaps it was the influenceof those banana slugs--they never did see the end of the program.Vincent reluctantly set the memory aside for savoring after the restwere asleep. No sense encouraging Cullen.

True to Cullen's prediction, the construction crewcompleted its work early the next afternoon. Jamie, Cullen and Mousedetoured to the bathing pools to wash off the dust. Vincent brieflyconsidered joining them, until he realized it was Saturday andCatherine would probably be home. After more than a week's absence,she would surely prefer to see him sooner and grimy than later andclean. Besides, the bathing facilities at the Chandler-Wellsresidence would likely provide a degree of personalized attention notavailable Below ... Vincent began to run.

Reaching the house, he raced up the hidden stairway tothe second floor, sensing Catherine's location. As he emerged intotheir bedroom, Catherine threw herself into his arms before the panelopened all the way. "Oh Vincent, I'm so glad ... you're home ... Imissed you so much ... " Her words were punctuated with kisses thatVincent returned avidly, holding her as if he had been gone a monthinstead of a week.

Eventually they paused to breathe and drink in the sightof each other. Catherine looked more beautiful than ever, eventhrough the thick coating of Tunnel-dust that now clung to her."Catherine, I'm sorry--I should have cleaned up before I came home,but I couldn't wait." He tried with little success to brush the dustfrom her face. "I've become spoiled, my love. Having you with meevery day makes a week apart seem so long."

"I'm glad you decided not to wait. I've been so anxiousfor you to come back ..."

Vincent was confused by the indefinable look on her face.He could detect no distress in her, quite the opposite--but therewere layers and depths to her emotions unlike any he had sensedbefore. "Catherine--is anything wrong?"

"Of course not, love, you'd know if there were." Her tonewas light, even; a deceptively smooth surface over deep currents."Come on, let's get you cleaned up ... and me."

Sharing a shower with Catherine usually meant thatgetting clean was of secondary importance. This time, however, shewas content to concentrate on bathing him, with a gentle thoroughnessthat made it seem like she was seeing his body for the first time.Falling under the spell of her odd mood, Vincent let her dry him andcomb his tangled hair, after he had done the same for her. Onlyafterwards did she lead him back to the bedroom.

Catherine made love not with the hungry passion Vincentexpected after their separation, but with a slow, aching tendernessthat left him too moved to speak. For a long time afterwards he layholding her, thanking every god he knew of for such a gift. It wasCatherine who broke the silence at last. Raising her head from thehollow of his shoulder, she studied his face for a long time beforetouching her lips to his.

"Vincent ... " She traced the line of fur from his noseto his upswept brow with a touch light as a breeze. "Can we godownstairs for a little while? There's something I want to show you."

At that point, Vincent could not have refused her if shehad suggested walking to China. Besides, he sensed in her a risingexcitement and anticipation that told him the explanation for herstrange mood might be at hand. He put on the dark green robeCatherine had given him for his birthday--could it really be threeyears ago now? The happiest years of his life. As he walked down thestairs with Catherine's hand in his, he realized that in a littleover two months, it would be the sixth anniversary of their meeting,and the third of their wedding.

Just over three years since they had become lovers,almost three since Catherine had bought this house that had becometheir refuge. Vincent smiled to himself. He and Catherine shouldvisit Narcissa again soon. Surely she would read magical significanceinto all those threes coming together. To him, though, every momenthe spent with Catherine was more magic than any man deserved.

Leading him to the library, Catherine motioned Vincent tosit on the sofa, while she retrieved a book from the shelves and satdown beside him. "I bought this from Mr. Smythe yesterday."

Taking the beautiful old volume in his hands, Vincentsmiled fondly at his wife. "Mr. Smythe certainly must bless the dayyou first walked into his shop, Catherine." He looked with pleasureat the well-laden shelves surrounding them. He and Catherine hadbegun with a substantial collection between them, and it had growneven larger in the past three years. Catherine must surely be thebookseller's best customer.

Turning his attention to her latest acquisition, Vincentturned the pages with appreciation. It was a jewel of a book, made inthe days when the binding was as much a work of art as the contents.Despite their age, the illustrations seemed as fresh as the day somefortunate child first turned over these pages in the the early yearsof the century.

"Catherine, it's beautiful--a true work of art, as wellas a classic story. Why did you choose it? Was it a particularfavorite of yours as a child?"

"Yes, but that's not the main reason I got it." Catherinegently traced the complex pattern of the binding as Vincent held thebook. "I wanted to read it to Jacob someday."

Vincent stared at Catherine, as confused by the tone ofher voice as by her words. "I'm sure Father would appreciate this asa thing of beauty, but it seems an--unusual choice for something toread to him."

Catherine dropped her eyes to Vincent's lap as she gentlytook the book from him, twining her fingers around his. "I don't meanFather," she said softly, a catch in her voice. "I mean JacobCharles."

Vincent was more confused than ever; he was sure neitherhe nor Catherine knew anyone of that name ...

"Or it could be Caroline Mary."

As Catherine raised her eyes to meet his, the emotions heknew she had been keeping in check were suddenly freed. Vincent feltas if he had been tossed into raging rapids, unable to sort out thepowerful tangle of feelings he read in Catherine; unable to makesense of her words.

Catherine raised his hands to her lips, kissing each onein turn without taking her eyes from his. She took a deep breath.

"Vincent--I'm pregnant."

For a long moment, Vincent sat immobile, stunned."Catherine ... " His voice sounded strange even to himself. "Are yousure? When we agreed to take no steps to prevent this I ... I reallydid not believe it was possible. My biochemistry is so different ...Father told me it was impossible, Peter ..."

"Peter believes it now," she said gently. "As soon as Irealized I was late I ran to the drugstore like a madwoman. I got twopregnancy tests--different brands--and they both said yes. Then Iwent to see Peter, and he confirmed it. I've been having morningsickness for a week. There's no doubt."

Of all the conflicting emotions that assailed Vincent,fear was uppermost, followed closely by guilt. Paracelsus' horriblelies still haunted him, even though the rational part of him knewthem as lies. His great unspoken fear was that the truth might beworse. The dark unknown that was his origin suddenly became populatedwith demons, each showing him a scene more hideous than the last, andall ending in pain and death for the woman he loved more than his ownlife.

"Vincent ... Vincent!" Catherine's voice brought him backto reality, but the fear was still mirrored on his face.

"Oh, dear love, don't do this to yourself!" Catherinepleaded. "It will be all right, I promise you. I have the two bestdoctors anyone could wish, and I want this so much. Dear Vincent--letyourself be happy. Let yourself believe in just one more miracle."

The love and conviction in her voice overwhelmed thedemons, for the moment at least. With an inarticulate sob, Vincenttook Catherine in his arms, clinging to her like a drowning man to arock. "Catherine, Catherine ... a child of ours would bring me morejoy than I could ever tell you. I wanted it too, more than I couldadmit, even to myself. But I am so afraid for you ..."

Catherine held him as tightly as she could, stroking hishair as she reassured him. "Everyone thought this was impossible ...I can't believe in a Providence that would give us such a gift if itwere fated to bring anything but joy. Oh, dear heart ... let yourselfbelieve that you deserve to be happy."

Vincent was never able to remember what he said afterthat. He only remembered that they laughed and cried by turns, andkissed, and held each other a long time.

"Vincent?"

He could feel Catherine's joy and love through the bond,so strong it was almost tangible. If she asked him for the moon atthat moment, he would have found a way to get it for her. "What itit, love?"

She got to her feet and tugged on his hands so he wouldfollow. "I've been keeping this inside for too long. Now that I'vetold you, I want to shout it from the rooftops--but I'll settle forpounding the pipes. Shall we go tell Father he'd better get used tobeing called Grandfather?"

Some time later, Catherine found herself experiencing adistinct feeling of déja vu as Father's reaction paralleledVincent's. Shock gave way to fear and finally a wary sort ofhappiness.

"Catherine, I should have expected this," Father finallyconceded. "This was the only impossibility you had yet to make real."

"I guess this means you'll have to revise your definitionof 'impossible,' " Catherine smiled. "There are more things in heavenand earth, Father ..."

"Marriage to my son," Father laughed, "has certainlyincreased your repertoire of Shakespeare quotations."

"Only one of many gifts it's brought me," Catherinereplied as she looked fondly at her still-dazed husband.

Her equally dazed father-in-law gathered the shreds ofhis professional persona around him and attempted to soundbusinesslike. "Well, I'm sure that Peter and I shall have much todiscuss. Were you able to determine how far along you are?"

"I'm pretty sure it happened at Winterfest," Catherinereplied with a reminiscent smile. "Well, not at Winterfest, ofcourse; someone would have noticed. Afterwards." She ignored thestrangled sounds coming from Vincent's direction.

Father maintained his aplomb with difficulty. "That meansthe child is due in ... September. Catherine, I hope you intend to betested. Having your first baby at thirty-five ... "

"Father ... I need to think about that. Some of thosetests are risky, and I won't take any unecessary chances. Peter and Iare ... negotiating."

If Father had learned nothing else in the past six years,he learned when to retreat gracefully, if not permanently. "Well ...do you wish to make this common knowledge as yet? I know many of ourcommunity have prayed for this day for a long time."

"Even though it was impossible?" Catherine askedinnocently.

"Apparently my opinion is not as revered Below as I wouldwish. In this case, I am glad to have been proved wrong."

"Catherine is eager to tell everyone," Vincent offered."On the way down I had to restrain her from tapping out the newsherself. I finally convinced her it would break Pascal's heart."

Catherine pushed back her chair. "There are a few peopleVincent and I want to tell personally, then Pascal can put it on thepipes. I'm beginning to appreciate how the Princess of Wales musthave felt the first time she got pregnant."

The definition of "a few people" kept expanding as theprospective parents sought out their special friends Below. Catherineinsisted on telling Mary first--partly because of the unstated butpervasive feeling in the community that she was "Mother" to Jacob's"Father"; partly because she would be involved in this birth as muchas Jacob or Peter. Although she was loath to admit it to Vincent,Catherine was not totally fearless at the prospect of childbirth.Vincent would assume she feared bearing his child; Catherineknew she could never convince him that her trepidation would beneither more nor less if this baby's father were the most ordinaryman imaginable. It was just that this experience was as new to her asit was to her husband. Knowing that someone like Mary was around gaveCatherine considerable peace of mind. Not that she didn't havecomplete faith in Father and Peter as doctors--but past a certainpoint, their knowledge was necessarily only observational.

They found Jamie and Mouse together, an event becomingincreasingly common, to Catherine's delight. Vincent made no secretof his amusement at the way that marriage seemed to have turnedCatherine into an inveterate, if subtle, matchmaker. Underneath theamusement, it pleased him more than he would admit that she found herown married state so congenial she could hardly wait to usher alltheir friends into similar conditions of domestic bliss.

They were especially touched by Cullen's reaction. Forall the years Vincent and Catherine had been together, Cullen'spleasure at their happiness had been expressed obliquely, overlaid bythe protective coloration of dry wit and relentless teasing.Expecting more of the same, they were touched when he led them to acorner of his workshop and showed them some exceptionally fine piecesof oak.

"That's for the cradle," he said with a catch in hisvoice. "I've been hoping for years this day would come."

Lena was ecstatic, and confided that she hoped to havesimilar news herself before too long. She and Julio had decided thatit was about time four-year-old Cathy had a little brother or sister.With a reminiscent smile, she gave Vincent her highest recommendationas a childbirth assistant.

William tried to ply Catherine with food, reminded hershe was eating for two, and pointed out that "fancy Topsider food"wasn't adequate for a woman in her condition. Accepting half a dozenmuffins and a basket of fruit was the only way Catherine couldextricate herself. Judging by the grins directed their way as theycontinued on through the Tunnels, it became obvious to Catherine andVincent that if they didn't get to Pascal soon there'd be hardlyanyone left to tell. Laughing and eating muffins, they headed towardthe pipe chamber.

Much later, when they finally escaped to the quietprivacy of their bedchamber, Catherine flopped onto the bed with agroan of mock exhaustion.

"Good grief! I wasn't expecting such a major socialevent. I can't believe how fast news travels around here. Who needscommunications satellites when you've got pipes?"

Laughing, Vincent lay down beside her. "It did turn intoquite a community celebration," he admitted.

"I'll say! I thought at any minute somebody was going tosuggest we open up the Great Hall. And where on earth did William getchampagne, of all things?"

"I didn't dare ask. I was afraid it might have somethingto do with Mouse." Vincent propped himself up on one elbow to smileat Catherine. "It's too bad you couldn't drink any."

"Not good for Junior." She smiled back, playing with thegolden hair where it fell over his cheek. "It's a pretty goodfeeling," she told him softly "to know so many people are so happyfor us."

"It certainly is," he agreed, kissing her forehead.

"Mm. And we still have to tell Uncle Devin. And Jenny."Catherine laughed. "Although, knowing Jenny, there's probably amessage on my recorder right now telling me about this dream shehad..."

She broke off as Vincent began kissing her again, and noton the forehead. As his lips moved from her cheek down the side ofher neck, Catherine tilted her head back with a sigh, burying herhands in his hair. Just as she was about to move them to thefastenings of his vest, Vincent stiffened--not in the rightplace--and drew away from her.

"Vincent, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Catherine, I forgot..." He gestured vaguely in thedirection of her midsection. "I don't want to hurt you ..."

For a moment, Catherine was totally confused. Surely hehad gotten over those fears years ago! Then the truth suddenly cameto her and she sat up with a start.

"Vincent, are you worried about making love because I'mpregnant?" When he nodded, she dropped her head for a momentand took a deep breath. Much as Catherine loved her hyper-protectivehusband, there were times when she was hard put to decide whether sheshould laugh or give him a swift kick.

"Vincent, we made love this afternoon, didn't we?"

"Did you think I could possibly have forgotten?" hereplied softly.

"I should hope not, or I'm definitely losing my touch."Catherine leaned toward Vincent to look him directly in the eye. "I'monly a few hours more pregnant now than I was then."

"I didn't know you were pregnant then," he answeredreasonably.

"Argghh. Vincent, it didn't hurt me then, it's not goingto hurt me now or many months from now, although we'll have to startgetting creative about positions by then."

Vincent's thoughts about the implications of suchcreativity were all too plain on his face. He was weakening."Catherine, are you sure? I wouldn't want to risk ... "

"Dear heart, just because I've never been pregnant beforedoesn't mean I don't know anything about it. I have friends who'vehad babies. And besides, I've done quite a bit of reading on thesubject."

"When?" Vincent was surprised. "I thought you only foundout yesterday you were pregnant."

"Actually, the reading was a couple of years ago,"

Catherine replied quietly, unable to look at him when shesaw the quick comprehension in hiseyes.

When they first became lovers, Vincent had insisted thepossibility of a child, however remote, was too great a risk. It hadtaken almost a year for him to relent, and she was sure he only didso because he, like Father and Peter, didn't really believe it couldhappen. And because he eventually realized the depth of her pain andlonging, no matter how carefully she thought she had hidden it fromhim. Catherine had been elated when he first agreed they would nolonger take any steps to prevent her conceiving; she expected tobecome pregnant right away, as though the strength of her desirealone could make it happen. As the months and years went by, however,the books she had pored over so hopefully gathered dust in a remotecorner, and she almost began to accept that this was one dream thatwould never come true.

Wordlessly, Vincent drew her close and held her tightlyas she buried her head against his neck. After a long moment, hespoke again. "Catherine ... your longing is over. You are making thelast of my dreams come true." At his words, the sorrows of the pastdissipated like a mist, and the future held all her attention.

Pushing herself away to look at Vincent once more,Catherine returned to the subject at hand. "The dream does notinclude spending months with you afraid to touch me. Keeping my handsoff of you was hard enough when I could only fantasize what makinglove with you would be like. After three years of knowing howgood it is, I couldn't stand it. I'll dig out the books again and youcan read them too."

"Do they have pictures," he asked innocently, "in caseour creativity is lacking?"

Catherine began to laugh in astonished delight. "Will youlisten to us? For years we never said the word 'sex' in each other'spresence. If there'd been a National Euphemism Award we'd have won itthree years running. Now we're talking about creative positions andnaughty pictures without a blush."

"Well, Catherine, we have been lovers for over threeyears, after all, and married almost as long. That has a way ofchanging things."

"It certainly does," Catherine agreed with a fond smile."I like it a lot. How about you?"

"I like it very much."

With a sudden movement, Catherine flipped over to lie ontop of her husband. "And ..." Swiftly untying his vest, she slippedher hands underneath Vincent's shirt as she punctuated her words withkisses. "There'll be no more ... of this ... unneccesary reluctance... to make love ... to your ... perfectly healthy pregnant wife."

Since Catherine was also rubbing her body sensuously overVincent's as she kissed him, it was perhaps understandable that hisreply was largely unintelligible. Taking it as agreement, sheproceeded accordingly.

Much later, Catherine lay in a state of peacefulrelaxation while Vincent slept his well-earned sleep beside her. Shesmiled to herself as she stroked the furry arm that lay protectivelyacross her stomach. Given the excitement of this day, not to mentionthe recent exercise, she was surprised to find herself stillconscious. Something had been tugging at the back of her mind sinceyesterday--perhaps that was keeping her awake. She allowed herthoughts to drift, hoping the elusive memory would surface.

***

Almost six months ago, with New York at the humid heightof its summer discomfort, anyone who could had escaped the city forthe beaches or the country. Catherine's escape was vertical ratherthan lateral, into the cool depths of the lower Tunnels. Vincent wasleading one of his regular expeditions to the crystal cavern, andCatherine liked to accompany him on these trips whenever her scheduleallowed. The ethereal beauty of the place always moved her,especially since it was the source of the precious crystal that hungaround her neck.

Catherine was glad that Jenny had been able to come thistime. After two years of hearing about its wonders, Catherine wasafraid her friend had begun to suspect it was as mythical as KingSolomon's Mines. As Vincent made the way ahead, on the alert forloose rocks or other dangers, the two women brought up the rear,watchful for any straggling children.

"Wow, this is amazing," Jenny exclaimed. "I had no ideathese tunnels went so deep! I feel like we're going to stumble acrossPellucidar any minute."

"There are tunnels a lot deeper than where we're going,"Catherine replied. "But those are too dangerous to take the children.Some of the deep places not even Mouse has been to. Only Vincent."

Jenny was too intuitive, and too good a friend, to missthe undercurrent of pain in Catherine's voice. "Cathy, I know thatwas a terrible time for you, when Vincent almost lost himself downthere. I only wish I'd known then what was going on with you, so Icould've helped. But that was over three years ago. You brought himhome."

Catherine slipped an arm around Jenny's shoulder to givea quick hug. "Thanks for reminding me. It's hard not to think of itwhen we go on this expedition."

"Why? You didn't find him anywhere near here, did you?"

"No ... you see when Vincent was so ... sick, when hewasn't himself, Mary asked him to take some of the children to seethe cavern. His reaction then, and Father's, made her and othersrealize how seriously ill Vincent was."

"I get it. And knowing Vincent, I suppose he felt awfulabout disappointing the children." Jenny had known Vincent longenough by now to realize that would bother him most of all.

"He hated having them see his weakness, his lack ofcontrol." Catherine's eyes never the left her husband's graceful backas he walked before them. "Ever since then, he's made a point oftaking groups of the children to the crystal cavern when they get oldenough." Catherine turned to Jenny and smiled. "It's become somethingof a coming-of-age ritual."

"Well," Jenny grinned, "my bat mitzvah was a helluva longtime ago, but I'm glad I got to come anyway. Does Vincent usuallyhave you bring up the rear, or is this just husbandly thoughtfulnessso we can talk girl talk?"

"Mostly the latter," Catherine admitted, "but he's alwayscareful there's someone else along to make sure nobody wanders off.These passages are too deep to be used often, so there's always thepossibility of something hazardous that hasn't been found in aregular patrol. Usually one of the older children comes, someonewho's been on the trip before. It makes them feel so important andgrown up."

"Vincent is so terrific with kids," Jenny began,regretting the words too late to recall them. Glancing sidewise atCatherine's face, she winced at the pain her friend could not quitehide.

Oh, Cath," she said hopelessly, "I'm sorry. That was astupid thing to say. I just didn't think ..."

"Jenny, there's no reason for you to be sorry." Her voicewas controlled--too controlled. "It's absolutely true. He's wonderfulwith children. He'd make a perfect father. It seems so unfair wecan't ... oh, damn!" Catherine took a deep breath. "I can't give into this, he'll feel it."

"It's all my fault," Jenny said miserably. "You haven'tsaid anything about it in so long, I forgot for a moment how much ithurts you."

"Jenny, Jenny, stop blaming yourself! The world is fullof things that remind me of children. Most of the time I succeedpretty well in ignoring the pain, or suppressing it. If I didn't,Vincent would feel terrible. He'll blame himself for anything givenhalf a chance."

"Entropy?" Jenny tried to lighten the mood. "Thegreenhouse effect?"

"Pretty much," Catherine agreed with the hint of a smile."I don't mind it for myself that much. There's no guarantee I wouldhave had children even if I'd never heard of Vincent, although Ialways wanted them someday. After all, I was pretty close to thirtyand still single when I met him."

"Yeah. You might have been crazy enough to marry a jerklike Tom Gunther." Jenny's opinion of Catherine's former boyfriendhad never been high. "I can't imagine him letting kids mess up hisschedule."

"How true." Catherine shook her head in wonder. "Couldthat really have been me? Most of the time it seems my life beforeVincent happened to somebody else. Someone I barely recognize now."

Sensing that Jenny still felt guilty, Catherine took herarm as they walked along. "God, Jenny, what right have I to complain?I have Vincent, and he's a greater gift than anyone could hope todeserve. I have a whole loving community and family Below, andfriends like you and Joe and Peter Above. I should be ashamed ofmyself for not being content."

"It's not yourself that's the issue, though is it? Itwouldn't hurt so much if it were."

"Oh Jenny," Catherine sighed. "Sometimes I forget justhow well you know me. No, it hurts because I want it so badly forVincent. I've been able to give him all the other things he convincedhimself he could never have ... my love, marriage, a life together.Maybe I began to believe I could make anything happen. I've readenough of the classics to know what happens when you let thathubris get out of hand."

"Oh, bull!" Jenny sputtered. At Catherine's startledlook, Jenny continued. "The older I get, the less sympathy I have forthat attitude. Do you have any idea how many versions of the GreatAmerican Tragedy end up on my desk in the course of a year? If I wanttragedy, I'll read the newspaper. In a world like this, making upmore seems sadistic at worst and adolescent selfindulgence at best."

"Wow!" Catherine exclaimed. "Have I hit a nerve?"

"Just one of my pet peeves," Jenny admitted somewhatsheepishly. "Maybe it's my family history, but I've always had morerespect for people who dream about better things, especially if theywork to make them come true. Pain and angst and all that are tooeasy. Any idiot can destroy; creation is the real challenge."

Catherine regarded Jenny with astonishment. "I neverrealized you felt that strongly ..."

"Cath, it's one of the reasons I admire the people Belowso much, especially Father and the others who really built thisplace. And it's one of the reasons I admire you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I know the first year with Vincent was rough,everybody telling you all the time how impossible it was, till youhit bottom and escaped to Nancy's. But you came out the other sideand never looked back. You dusted yourself off and started makinggood things happen."

Catherine was lost in memories for a moment. "You make itsound a lot simpler than it was. Our second year was no bed of roses,either."

"I don't mean to imply it was. From what you've told me,I know it was a hard road." Jenny smiled. "With no road maps. Youwere on your own, but you got things figured out. You were determinedthat you and Vincent were going to be happy, dammit, and you made itreal."

"Dear Jenny, what would I do without you? You have such aunique way of looking at things."

"Well, you can take your hubris and shove it,"Jenny announced firmly. "I'll take eucatastrophe any day."

"What kind of catastrophe?" Catherine asked, puzzled."That sounds familiar but I can't place it."

"Tolkien, in his essay 'On Fairy-Stories.' A classic. Thesudden joyous turn that denies universal defeat; the Consolation ofthe Happy Ending; 'Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant asgrief.'" Jenny spoke earnestly. "Cathy, your life with Vincent hashad its share of eucatastrophes. Don't give up hope of one more."

"I'll never give up hope. Not with friends like you tokeep me on the right track." Suddenly Jenny's attention was on anarrow passage which branched off to the right. "What is it?"

Catherine asked, suddenly alert.

Jenny's face screwed up in puzzlement. "I could havesworn I saw somebody angle off into that tunnel, but it couldn't be.We would have heard if someone had been that close behind us."

For the first time since their conversation had become sointense, Catherine looked around to judge where they were. She hadbeen on this trip often enough that the route was somewhat familiar.When she figured out their location, Catherine began to have a prettygood idea who the elusive figure might have been. "Jenny, it wasprobably Narcissa. She's one of the few people who frequent this partof the Tunnels."

"Narcissa? Wasn't she at Winterfest? That strange oldblack woman who makes you feel like she could turn you into a toadanytime she wants?"

Catherine laughed. "That's the kind of description Fatherwould use."

Jenny did not laugh. "Maybe, but Father wouldn't mean it.I do." She was thoughtful a moment. "Why didn't she say hello?Doesn't she like us Topsiders?"

"It has nothing to do with you," Catherine assured Jenny."She just likes her solitude. Some years she doesn't even come toWinterfest, although she's been doing that pretty regularly lately. Ithink she has a soft spot for Vincent and likes to make sure I'mtreating him right."

"Well, I hope she shows up again this year," Jenny spokequietly to Catherine, as if the elusive Narcissa weren't a long wayoff by now. "I'd sure like to talk to her more. She looks like she'sforgotten more than most of us will ever know."

Jenny shook herself. "Well, enough of this serious stuff.We need a new subject." With a wicked grin, she turned to Catherine."Have you ever noticed how sexy Vincent looks from this angle?"

Giggling like they were back in college, the two spoke nomore of serious things for the rest of the journey.

***

Smiling at the memory, Catherine was brought back to thepresent as Vincent stirred in his sleep. She watched him anxiouslyfor a moment, concerned that his movement might signal the beginningof a troubling dream. His nightmares came less frequently now thanwhen they first began sharing a bed, but they always had a vividnessthat made them seem terribly real to him. Catherine doubted thesevisions would ever leave Vincent completely; they were too closelyallied to that preternatural empathy of his which found its purestexpression in their bond.

Catherine relaxed as Vincent simply snuggled more closelyagainst her and quieted. Only one small candle near the door wasstill burning, but it gave enough illumination to highlight hisgolden fur as it followed the contours of the muscles beneath. Howbeautiful he was, how magical. Sometimes she could hardly believe hewas real, and really hers. What had she ever done to deserve suchgood fortune?

At first, Catherine had chastised herself for wanting achild of their own so much. After all, Vincent and Father were asperfect an illustration as anyone could wish that ties of love wereno less strong then those of biology. Stronger, sometimes, shethought, thinking of Devin. Catherine had considered adoption morethan once. The world being what it was, it was all too inevitablemore babies would be brought to the Tunnels in need of rearing. Butthe community as a whole did such a good job of that, and Catherineworried that selecting one or two children for special attention fromher and Vincent would hurt the others.

Part of her desire stemmed from loving Vincent so much,and wanting to give him everything she could. She knew that givinghim a child of his own would make him unbelievably happy, more thaneven he realized. Once the fear was gone, he would revel infatherhood ... and he would be so good at it.

There was yet another reason, one which she had alwayskept to herself. She had come to love Vincent's people and his worldalmost as much as she loved him. As she moved through her oftenfrustrating days above, the tide of cruelty and unhappiness she wadedthrough often threatened to engulf her. Knowing the Tunnels were safebelow her feet, that another and better way of being existed, oftengave her the strength to carry on.

Vincent was more than a much-loved and useful member ofthat unique community; he was its symbolic heart in a way she onlydimly understood. He was also its protector, like the King's Championof old. More than once he had been all that stood between thecommunity and its destruction--by Paracelsus, by Lin and Henry'spursuers, by so many others. Catherine fully intended that she andVincent would live a good long time, but even his exceptionalstrength would not last forever. Who would protect this place when heno longer could?

One of Vincent's greatest fears, she knew, was that hewould father a child like himself. It was Catherine's greatest hope.More than once she had resented the way everyone took Vincent'sprotection for granted, knowing the pain it caused him to unleash hiskilling power--no matter how just the cause or how necessary the act.Nonetheless, she was forced to admit how important his protectionwas, and how much he considered it his duty despite the undeniableemotional cost. If he had a son like himself-- possessing that power,but one who had no doubts about the circumstances of his birth, nodeep-seated fears of abandonment, who could be guided to adulthoodforewarned of the demons he might have to face ... then the King'sChampion would have a worthy successor, and need carry that burdenalone no longer.

Now hope and possibility was becoming reality with everybreath she took, every beat of her heart, as the child grew withinher. Unlike most of those Below, Father had been a bit ...restrained? ... in his enthusiasm. More than once she had seen himlooking at her with a worried frown; Peter had had the same look whenhe had confirmed the pregnancy. Catherine wondered if they knew howtransparent they both were. After years of suggesting to her, asgently as possible, the unlikelihood of her conceiving a child withVincent, the unlikely was now staring them in the face. Now theirhappiness for her was tempered by the fear that she would lose achild whose father's biochemistry was so different from her own. Thatwas, of course, a very realistic fear, given what they knew. Somehow,Catherine couldn't share that fear, sensible that it was. But then,she knew some things they didn't ...

***

Winterfest was Catherine's favorite day of the wholeyear. Even though this was her fifth one, it was as magical as thefirst--no, moreso, because she had so many wonderful memoriesassociated with it now. Leaning against the stair railing, shewatched Vincent lead Samantha around the floor in a waltz. He lookedso handsome in his holiday finery it was almost more than she coulddo to keep from dragging him off to continue their celebration inprivate. How grown-up Samantha looked now! Catherine hugged herselfin complete contentment. It felt wonderful to be so much a part ofthis community that she noticed these things. Many of the childrenshe knew from her earliest times Below were adolescents now, gettingever closer to adulthood. More and more she could understandVincent's pride at their blossoming. Lost in her thoughts, Catherinedidn't at first notice the figure that approached her slowly up thestairs, using the railing to guide her steps.

"Narcissa!" Catherine hastened to help the old woman."I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were there."

"Come, come child, I'm not as helpless as all that," shecackled. "Just stiffer than I was in my younger days. Ah!" Narcissalowered herself to sit on the top step with a grateful

sigh. "The way up from the deep places gets longer everyyear."

"Maybe you should move closer to the central chambers,"Catherine suggested, worried. "Everyone would be happy to have you."

"Even Father?" Narcissa asked.

"Even Father," Catherine insisted. "Besides, it would begood for him ... keep his adrenalin going. There's not as muchexcitement around here as there used to be. Thank God!"

Narcissa patted Catherine's knee. "No, child, I need thedeep places, the quiet places. They are my power."

"We all worry about you, alone down there." Catherine puther hand over Narcissa's. "What if something happened to you?"

"Someday it will, child, and I will become part of thestone and the darkness. But not for a long while yet." She smiled atCatherine. "I have too much yet to do, too many to watch over."

Catherine shivered, but not in fear. Father might makelight of Narcissa, call her a deluded old woman, but Catherine senseddepths in Narcissa that sometimes awed her, made her think of storiesof goddesses who disguised themselves as mortals to move among them,testing them, meting out whatever boon or doom they earned. Everyoneknew Vincent's role as protector of the Tunnels, but Catherine oftenwondered about Narcissa's. She had visions of magical wardssurrounding the world Below, conjured by this strange and disturbingcrone. Years ago, Catherine would have scoffed at magic, but herrecent life had made her reluctant to dismiss any possibility out ofhand.

"Our Vincent is very happy tonight, is he not?"

Narcissa's question brought Catherine's wanderingattention back to the scene below. "It looks that way." Catherinesmiled at the woman beside her. "I do my best."

"And from what I hear, child, that is very good indeed."Catherine wondered how someone who lived in such isolation asNarcissa did could know so much about the life of the Tunnels, butwas reluctant to ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.Catherine turned back to watch Vincent. "He deserves all thehappiness I can give him. More."

"Well, child, I must be on my way." Narcissa began torummage in the bag she carried. "But first, I have a gift for you andVincent."

Catherine was touched. "Narcissa, that's very sweet ofyou. Let me get Vincent, and ..."

"No, no, child, I have been away from my own places longenough." She drew a small pottery flask from the bag, carefullysealed with cork and wax, and handed it to Catherine. "Here. Both ofyou must drink this tonight before you go to bed. It will bring yougood fortune, and make wishes come true."

Catherine accepted with a dubious look at Narcissa, whoseface wore a strange smile. She sounded like something right out of afairy tale at times. Catherine often wondered if she did it onpurpose, just to get Father's goat. Playing along, she accepted theold woman's gift with gravity. "Thank you Narcissa, from both of us.I'm glad you care so much about us."

The old woman nodded. "You must promise to drink ittonight, at the turn of the year." Narcissa cackled again. "Youmusn't let anything make you forget."

Catherine ducked her head down as she felt a blush riseinto her cheeks. Surely Narcissa couldn't know how she and Vincentalways spent the night of Winterfest--could she? Unwilling to lookNarcissa in the eye, Catherine nodded. "I promise. Thank you forremembering us."

She watched Narcissa's shoulder shake with mirth as theold woman moved down the steps. Thinking of Vincent made Catherinerealize she'd been letting him dance with other women far too long.Tucking Narcissa's gift into a safe corner, Catherine entered thedance floor to retrieve her husband.

"I think this was the second-best Winterfest ever,"Catherine announced to Vincent as they reached the entrance to thechambers she always thought of as The Resort. What else would youcall a room with a deliciously large four-poster bed and its ownbathing pool right next door?

Vincent laughed at her emphatic tone. "You say that everyyear."

"Well, it's true. They keep getting better all the time."

"But not good enough to become first best?" Vincent askedher softly as he pushed the tapestry aside to allow Catherine toenter the room and light the candle near the door.

"Vincent, every Winterfest with you has been glorious,"she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "But how could any equalthe first one we spent in this room? That was the beginning of thebest time of my life." Catherine looked deep into his shadowed eyes."Every time we make love is wonderful," she told him with a catch inher voice. "But the rest wouldn't have happened if that first nighthere hadn't proved it was possible for us. That's why I'll alwaystreasure that memory as special."

Vincent buried his hands in Catherine's hair, looking atthe face between those hands as if he could never get enough of thesight. "Such a brave journey into the unknown that was for you. Howdid you ever find the courage?"

"Some risks are worth taking, Vincent," Catherinereminded him as their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss.

After several more, Vincent pulled back a little andsmiled. "Perhaps we should light the rest of the candles," hesuggested. "I love the sight of you as well as the feel of you."

The tone of his voice sent delicious shivers ofanticipation running through Catherine's nerves. "Good idea. Then whydon't we relax in the pool for awhile? It's the longest night of theyear, after all." Her voice was silk. "Let's make it last."

After the candles were lit, they undressed each otherslowly, savoring every touch and glimpse as each was revealed to theother. They tied up each other's hair in leather thongs to keep itfree of the water, then passed through a second doorway to the poolbeyond. Taking bathing supplies from a small cabinet near theentrance, they set them near the edge of the steaming water. Vincentnoticed that Catherine added an unfamiliar pottery vessel to thecollection.

"Catherine," he asked, "what is that? You've alreadygiven me my Winterfest present."

"That," Catherine replied, slipping into the water besidehim, "is a present to both of us from Narcissa. She made me promisewe'd drink it tonight before we got too... uh, distracted. Since weusually get distracted pretty quickly, I thought we'd better do it inshort order."

"Are you sure it's quite ... safe?" Vincent askeddubiously as he slit the wax seal with his claw and sniffed the cork.

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine laughed, "you sound like Father.You know Narcissa would never give us anything dangerous. She saidthis would bring us good luck and make our wishes come true."Catherine leaned over for a sniff of her own. "It could be a magicpotion, but it smells more like an herb cordial to me."

Catherine grinned lasciviously at her husband and wrappedher arms and legs around him in the water. "Maybe it's anaphrodisiac."

"Catherine," Vincent asked huskily as he held her closeagainst him, "are you familiar with the expression, 'coals toNewcastle?' "

Laughing, Catherine kissed him soundly before she slippedfrom his arms to pour the cordial into two small cups she hadabstracted from the festivities in the Great Hall. "Come on, Ipromised. Let's drink a toast to the new year, or the return of thesun, or something appropriate."

Vincent accepted the cup Catherine offered him, his facesuddenly serious. His eyes locked on hers, he raised the cup. "To onewho has been a light to all the shadowed places of my life, and atorch to lead my soul out of darkness. I would make your every wishcome true if I could."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears at the naked emotionin his voice. She was afraid her own would fail her as she raised hercup to him in turn. "To one who not only gave me back my life, but areason to live it. I only hope I can make you as happy as youdeserve."

The liquid slipped down their throats with a sinuouswarmth. It tasted of summer herbs and autumn spices; of springfreshness and winter cold. It was like life distilled; relaxing andinvigorating all at once. Its warmth seemed to flow to every cell oftheir bodies, leaving all the senses at their highest peak. With alook of surprised delight Vincent carefully set the cup down by theside of the pool. "A generous gift indeed," he said shakily.

Catherine laid her cup beside his. "A good beginning."

Without a word, they moved into each other's arms at thesame time. As they kissed, the taste of the cordial mingled in theirheightened senses with the familiar taste of each other. Catherineleaned her head against the side of the pool as Vincent's mouth lefthers to trail kisses down her neck and throat. When his tongue foundher breasts, the pleasure was almost too intense to bear. With awordless cry she wrapped her legs around him, needing to be so closethey ceased to be separate beings.

***

She never remembered later how many times they made lovethat night; it seemed like one fluid dance from pool to bed, oneseamless ebb and flow of pleasure and love, giving and receiving.After she came down to earth, Catherine had wondered if Narcissa'sgift hadn't been an aphrodisiac after all. Lying here now next toVincent, their child growing inside her--a child conceived atWinterfest, she was sure--Catherine thought she had her answer atlast.

The next morning, Catherine discovered that she had beenthe object of a conspiracy. She awoke alone, and much later than shenormally would have when Below. Reading the note from Vincent on thepillow beside her, she shook her head in dismay at the unnaturalquiet. This excessive coddling would have to be nipped in the bud.Throwing off the covers decisively, she jumped out of bed to beginher anti-fussing campaign, only to sit back down with a thump as awave of dizziness came over her. This might be a bit more of achallenge than it first appeared.

When she entered Father's study Vincent leaped up to takeher hand as she came down the stairs. Catherine decided a discussionof coddling could wait. Sitting down at the table with her twofavorite men, she eyed the food warily as Father offered her somebreakfast. "How about just some tea for now?" she suggested. "Mystomach has a way of taking irrational dislikes to all sorts ofthings these days."

Father poured her a steaming cup. "This is a verydelicate herb tea, my dear," he assured her. "And some dry toastshould be all right, if you eat just a little at a time."

"Maybe," Catherine agreed somewhat dubiously. "I willadmit that most of the stuff that passes for food around the officemade me nauseous even before I was pregnant. In the last week beingwithin ten feet of it sent me rushing for the nearest bathroom."

"Remember, Catherine, it usually goes away by thefourteenth week," Father reassured her.

"Usually?" Vincent asked in a concerned voice. "How longcould it last?"

"Well," Father replied vaguely, "some women neverexperience it, some have it longer ... "

"What is the longest?" Vincent demanded.

"Well, it has been known to last as long as ... ninemonths," Father mumbled. Unfortunately, Vincent's hearing was tooacute to miss anything. His face took on a stricken look.

Catherine took his hand, trying not to laugh. "Vincent,dear, I hope you're not going to expect the worst all the time, orthe next seven and a half months are going to be very trying." Sheturned to Father. "And that goes for you too!"

Father spoke earnestly. "Catherine, I have no desire toalarm you, and certainly not Vincent--not that he needs anyencouragement to worry about you. But you must admit there is reasonfor ... vigilance, at least. Vincent's biochemistry is unique; wehave no way of knowing how that will affect your pregnancy."

"You were sure Vincent's biochemistry was so unique we'dnever be able to conceive a child together in the first place.Doesn't the fact that we have tell you something?" Catherine reachedacross the table to touch the older man's hand. "Father, few womenhave as much attention and care during a pregnancy as I will, and I'mvery grateful. Just don't let worry spoil the joy of it. Everythingwill be all right, I promise."

Vincent touched Catherine's cheek gently. "You sound sopositive--I wish I could believe you."

Catherine captured his hand in her own and kissed hispalm. "Vincent, have I ever failed to keep a promise to you?"

"No," he whispered. "Never."

Catherine answered his slow smile with one of her own.She knew his doubts would return, but for now the fears had receded,leaving the happiness uppermost.

Father's indulgent contemplation of the parents of hisfuture grandchild was interrupted as Mouse burst in with his usualdisregard of etiquette.

"Mouse! In heaven's name, what--"

"Father, Narcissa's coming! Saw her in lowerTunnels-headed this way."

"Are you sure, Mouse?" At the young man's emphatic nod,Father's brow furrowed in perplexity. "How extraordinary. Narcissa soseldom comes near the central chambers anymore, and now less than sixweeks after Winterfest. Mouse, did there seem anything wrong? Did sheappear ill?"

"Nope. Humming to herself. Looked happy."

"Perhaps she heard the news on the pipes last night andcame to congratulate us," Vincent offered.

"Perhaps," Father agreed, "although she spends most ofher time below the level of the pipes."

A smile as enigmatic as Mona Lisa's spread overCatherine's face. "I'm sure she knows--even without the pipes."

"Now, Catherine," Father began to bluster, "you shouldn'tencourage her delusions of--"

Laughing, Catherine rose and tugged Vincent's hand. "Comeon, let's walk down to meet her. If nothing else, it'll keep Father'sblood pressure from the danger zone."

They met the old woman by the Mirror Pool. Vincentgreeted her first in his usual affectionate way. Then she turned toCatherine. For a moment, the women stood looking at each other in asilence so charged it was almost tangible. Then Narcissa askedsoftly, "Something you have long wished for has come to pass, has itnot?"

Catherine stepped forward into Narcissa's arms with aninarticulate cry and hugged her fiercely. "Oh Narcissa," she cried,her voice breaking, "I am so happy! No one ever had such a gift."

"Not a gift, child," the old woman replied softly as shestroked Catherine's hair. "Something you have earned. Something thatwas meant to be."

After a moment, the two broke the embrace and Narcissalooked Catherine over with a critical eye. "You look well, child."Narcissa spread her gnarled hand over Catherine's abdomen. Heralmost-sightless eyes seemed to look inward. Then she began to laugh."My, my, I do my work well! Better than I think, sometimes."

Catherine put her hand on Narcissa's arm. "What is it?What do you see?" she asked anxiously.

Narcissa picked up her basket and shook her head, stillchuckling. "You'll know in good time, children. You musn't let theOld Man worry you. He has his ways of knowing, and I have mine. Heworries about what could happen, what might happen, what will neverhappen."

Narcissa turned to Vincent. "You were always my specialone. Such a loving child, but so much pain held inside. Her loveheals you more every day." Vincent looked at Catherine. "A child'slove will heal you too. Enjoy this time, Vincent, it is like noother."

The old woman resumed her walk toward the centralchambers. "Come along. We shall have a little visit. I have somethings Catherine can use to help her."

Catherine pitied her poor husband. He didn't seem to knowquite what to make of this unexpected and cryptic encounter.Catherine tucked her arm in his and urged him to follow. Perhapssomeday she'd tell him what she knew. Perhaps.

Vincent was just pouring Catherine's tea as he heard hersteps coming down from the bedroom. The attractive and businesslikeAssistant District Attorney who entered the kitchen was in markedcontrast to the considerably less kempt woman who had chased him outof the bathroom earlier to have morning sickness in privacy.

"How do you feel, Catherine?" He asked with concern as hehanded her the tea. "You should have let me help you."

Catherine kissed her husband on the cheek as shegratefully accepted the cup. "Vincent, you've seen me bruised,bleeding, filthy, beaten up, shot, and more than half drowned--butthere's a limit. I am not at my best while retching, and it's betterfor my image to do it in private. Besides, I've had so much practiceI've gotten it down to an exact science."

Vincent looked pained. "I wish you didn't have to gothrough this..."

Catherine sat down at the kitchen table and patted thechair beside her. "It's all part of the job, Vincent. If I could putup with up getting beaten up, shot, etc. for the DA's office, I cancertainly put up with a little nausea as part of this Mom thing."Vincent still looked morose. "Actually, I think it's harder on Dad."

Vincent's eyes widened at her last word. "Dad?" herepeated wonderingly. "It sounds so strange."

Catherine smiled. "You'll get used to it fast enough,love. Actually," she said thoughtfully, "Father fits you better, butthat could get awfully confusing Below."

"You don't think Father would accept Grandfather afterall these years?"

Catherine gingerly attempted a piece of toast. "I don'tknow--we'd have to have retraining sessions for everyone orsomething." She looked up at Vincent. "You really don't have to waituntil I leave to eat breakfast."

Vincent sipped his tea. "Catherine, I have no wish torisk making you ill. I can wait."

Checking her watch, Catherine rose. "That tea thatNarcissa gave me really helps; it's only bad first thing in themorning now. Thank God I can take the stuff to work." Vincent handedher a thermos. "It's kept Joe from tracking me every time I goanywhere near the Ladies' Room."

Vincent followed Catherine as she moved to the fronthall, and helped her on with her coat. "But the respite is over," shesighed. Today was the day she told Joe she needed a leave of absence.In another six weeks or so, her condition was going to become prettyobvious, and she wanted to give her beleaguered boss plenty of timeto find a replacement. Catherine knew he wouldn't be at all happy ather leaving, and wanted to make it as easy on him as possible.

"Catherine--this will be difficult for you," Vincent saidunhappily. "If only--"

"Vincent--don't worry. We've talked about this so much, Ipractically have my speech memorized, with half a dozen variations."

"Catherine, if you wish to tell him everything, if thatwould make it easier, I'm willing to take the risk."

Catherine took Vincent's hands in hers. "Darling, Joe'ssuspected for a long time I have a hidden side to my life. My guessis that anything he's thought of is probably much more lurid thanreality."

"Then tell him the truth, Catherine," Vincent suggested."He is a good man, and he cares for you. I'm sure he would keep oursecret. We should have let you tell Jenny much earlier than we did."

"Vincent, it wouldn't be fair to Joe to give him suchdivided loyalties."

"My love, you have been in that position for years,"Vincent reminded her.

"Mine aren't really very divided any more," Catherinecountered. "Besides, if it became absolutely impossible forme-ethically, emotionally, however--I could quit in a minute. Thereare lots of other ways I could use my training to help people. Joedoesn't have that freedom."

Vincent released her hands to pull her close. "Would itreally be so easy to leave?" Vincent asked, unbelieving.

"It wouldn't be easy," Catherine admitted. "Joe and Imake a good team. I like working with him, and I know--on good days,anyway--that I make a difference. But I don't have to prove myselfanymore." Catherine rubbed her cheek against Vincent's chest. "Joedidn't have the kind of advantages I did. He came up the hard way.I'm not sure if he really has political ambitions--I don't think heknows for sure--but I don't want to limit his options by saddling himwith the burden of our secret."

"Then you'll tell him what we decided?" Vincent asked.

"Mm-hm. Only as much as I have to." She pulled back tolook at her husband's face. "A kiss for luck?"

Vincent complied eagerly. Sighing, Catherine picked upbriefcase and thermos, steeling herself to face a difficult day.

She smiled. "Now, how about a nice husbandly goodbyekiss?"

Laughing, Vincent took her face in his hands and kissedher thoroughly. "What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"I was just thinking how many people do something likethat out of habit, without thinking about it. I can't imagine us evertaking this for granted."

"No," Vincent agreed softly. "Not after what we've gonethrough to earn this, how many obstacles we had to overcome."

"How hard we work every day to preserve it," Catherineadded.

"How close we came to losing it." His voice was roughwith remembered pain.

Catherine's eyes were moist. "Vincent, I love you somuch." She laid her cheek for a moment against his chest. "I can faceanything as long as I have you to come home to."

"I'll be waiting," he promised, as he moved away from thedoor. Catherine gave him a last loving look as she slipped throughand closed it behind her.

Catherine fidgeted. Her attempts to bury herself in workto avoid thinking about her upcoming appointment with Joe weresingularly unsuccessful. Every time she had convinced herself an hourhad passed, her watch would insist it had only been fifteen minutes.She drank so much of Narcissa's tea she was afraid she'd float intoJoe's office when the time finally came, but it seemed her flutteringstomach couldn't be blamed on pregnancy this time. At last the hourarrived. Taking deep breaths and willing herself to relax, she walkedup to Joe's office door, squared her shoulders, and knocked.

"Well, Radcliffe," he greeted her. "You actually made anappointment to see me. This must be serious." His tone waslight, but the undertone of uncertainty was all too obvious.

Catherine sat down carefully and screwed up her courageto look him in the eye. "I wanted to make sure we weren'tinterrupted. It is pretty important."

"Cathy, is something wrong?" Joe asked worriedly.

She smiled. "Oh no, something is very right. It's justthat ..." Here goes, Chandler. "I need to take a year's leave ofabsence, starting at the beginning of April. I wanted to give you asmuch time as possible to find a good replacement."

Joe looked as if whatever he had expected her to say,that wasn't it. "Cathy, you're not sick, are you? I knew it, thatwasn't just flu you had! Look, don't try to keep it from--"

"Joe, Joe, calm down," Catherine reassured him. "I'm notsick, I promise you. It's not that. Let's just call it ... personalreasons."

Joe got up abruptly and began pulling darts out of hisboard with a vengeance. "Look if it's the job, we can work somethingout. I told you you don't have to prove anything to anybody. If allthat domestic violence work is getting to you we can find yousomething else. Or ... " He turned suddenly to face her, dartsclutched in his hand. "Cathy, you're not in trouble, are you?"

For a moment Catherine was taken aback at thetime-honored euphemism. Technically speaking ... but that wasn't whatJoe meant.

Misreading her temporary silence, Joe's face becameconcerned. "Cathy that's it, isn't it? Kiddo, I wish you'd trust me.I told you years ago, we could get you out of it-- whatever it is."He looked hurt. "Cath, I know I'm your boss, and you must think I'vegot no business butting into your private life, but it's only becauseI care about you."

Catherine put her head in her hands and sighed. Oh, damn.

She raised her head again and looked Joe's face. Shecouldn't put him through this any more.

"Joe, please, sit down and put the darts on the deskbefore you hurt yourself. I'll tell you why I need to leave."

Joe did as she asked and looked at her expectantly.

Catherine couldn't help but smile as she said the words."Joe, I'm pregnant."

As long as she lived, Catherine would always treasure thelook on his face at that moment. At first he seemed to believe hecouldn't possibly have heard her correctly; when it sank in,astonishment was quickly followed by total confusion at how torespond.

"Pregnant? But Cathy you're not ... I mean I didn'tthink... I mean, if you got married how come you never ... but ifyou're not it doesn't ... oh, shit." His face was a startling shadeof pink, and articulate speech seemed to have deserted him.

Catherine took pity on him. "Joe, it's awfully hard toexplain. I'll tell you as much as I can, but I can't tell youeverything."

Not trusting himself to speak, Joe waved a hand toencourage her to continue.

Catherine absently began twisting the silver ring on herleft hand as she spoke. "In every way that counts, I've been marriedfor almost three years. Just not in any way the State of New Yorkwould absolutely recognize as legal."

"Cathy, I don't understand--why not?"

"Because legally, my husband doesn't exist ... and he hasto stay that way."

"Look, if he's in some sort of trouble--"

"Joe, do you remember the accounts of my assault sixyears ago? God knows the papers had a field day with it, althoughthey could only speculate."

"Yeah, but the police reports--" Joe suddenly clamped hismouth shut.

Catherine smiled at him. "It hardly surprises me that youlooked up the reports, boss. It would have surprised me more if youhadn't. There were a lot of gaps, weren't there?"

"You never said where you were for those ten days."

"Those animals just dumped me in the park like a piece ofgarbage; it didn't matter to them whether I lived or died. Vincentfound me there and took care of me. He saved my life."

"Vincent?"

"My husband. The father of this child. The man I've lovedmore than my life for five years."

"My God, Cathy, I've never heard you talk about anybodylike that before. How could you keep this a secret for so long? Andwhy?"

"Vincent brought me to his home," Catherine continued."His father is a doctor, and the two of them treated me and took careof me until I was ready to face the world." Catherine appeared tochange the subject suddenly. "Joe, you've been part of this systemlong enough to know how often we don't win. How often we make thingsworse when we try to help. How often people don't get enough help, orfall between the cracks and get none at all."

"Cathy, we do the best we can. I know the bureaucracysometimes seems like it's only there to get in the way, but we try."He seemed confused at this unexpected direction.

"Vincent and his father are part of a community of peoplewho have their own way of helping each other, outside thatbureaucracy. It works, but they don't always follow the letter of thelaw, our law, anyway. They've given new lives to people that oursystem ignored. I don't want that system to crush them."

"So what has all this got to do with Vincent?" Joe asked."Why does he have to be such a mystery?"

"Vincent was abandoned on the day he was born," Catherinereplied softly. "He was brought to these people and raised by them;he's lived with them all his life. He was educated by them, and hespends his life helping them. He teaches the children, he fixes andbuilds things, he --"

"OK, Cathy, he sounds like a paragon. But I still don'tunderstand why he has to be such a big secret. Nobody's going to careat this late date that he played hooky from the public schools. Is heso dead set against 'the system' that he won't be a part of it evento marry you? Especially now? I know you think I'm old-fashionedsometimes, but after all--"

"No, Joe, you've got it all wrong! Oh damn, I'm just notexplaining this as well as I thought." Suddenly unable to sit still,Catherine rose from the chair and walked to the window. She staredunseeing at the city for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

"Vincent doesn't set himself apart from our world out ofsome arrogant fanaticism. It breaks his heart that I have to keep ourlove a secret." She turned to Joe. "It would be dangerous for Vincentif his existence became known. At worst, it could mean his death. Atbest, his life would be made a living hell. You see, Vincent's ...different."

"What do you mean, different?" Joe demanded. "Howdifferent can a guy--" He stopped suddenly, then continued in achanged voice. "You mean different as in, well, 'special'?"

Never was that euphemism more apt, Catherine thought."Yes, Joe. He's very special."

"You said he was an abandoned baby. Was he ... well ...deformed in some way?"

Catherine returned to the chair and sat down heavily. "Inever quite know how to answer that," Catherine sighed. "Some peoplewould say so. Some have called him a monster. I don't want to makemyself out to be some saint, loving this poor, hideous creaturebecause I can see the beautiful soul underneath. I think he's themost beautiful man I've ever seen, outside and inside--and I'm notthe only one who does."

Joe was still a little stunned at Catherine's revelation.Would there ever come a time when she couldn't surprise him? "If he'sthat afraid of showing his face, it sounds like you expect the firstgroup would be in the majority."

Catherine nodded. "Most people are afraid of anyonedifferent," she said unhappily. "They'd rather destroy than try tounderstand. Vincent's not a small man, Joe. He could be veryintimidating to someone like that--someone who might shoot first andask questions later." Her face darkened with anger. "Even if hedidn't get killed, the world is full of leeches like those tabloidreporters who'd treat him like a freak. Vincent is such a sensitiveperson--sometimes I think that would be worse than death to him."

Joe was appalled to see her eyes fill with moisture. Hegrabbed a box of tissues and hurried to put an arm around hershoulders as he sat on the arm of her chair. Catherine accepted hisfistful of tissues gratefully, smiling through her tears.

After a moment, she continued. "Not only would peoplelike that make Vincent's life miserable, they wouldn't rest untilthey found out where he came from. If that happened, a lot of goodpeople would lose the only safety they've ever known, their refuge."

"Cathy, why were you so afraid to tell me all this? Icould have helped you."

Catherine shook her head emphatically. "Joe, the less youknow, the better. You're supposed to uphold the letter of law.Vincent and his people don't always do that, although they're some ofthe most ethical people I know. I won't put you in a position likethat."

"Cath, it doesn't matter ... "

"Yes it does," Catherine insisted. "Joe, I've told you asmuch as I'm going to. Now you know that I'm happy, and loved, and youcan stop worrying about my lonely workaholic future."

"God, was I that obvious?" He asked sheepishly.

Catherine's raised eyebrows were answer enough.

"Well," he said, walking back to his desk, "about thisleave."

"You can understand why I can't take a regular pregnancyleave, and why I need to be out of here no later than the beginningof April. Things are going to start getting obvious before too long,and I don't want the office gossip mill to find out about this."

"Cathy," Joe asked with concern, "you can't keep this asecret from everybody--it's not like you can leave town, if thingsare like that for Vincent."

"Believe me, Joe, most people will think that's just whatI've done. I'll be spending most of my time with Vincent's people, orin our house."

"You know, Cath, celebrities have babies without beingmarried all the time, it's hardly news anymore. You don't have toshut yourself up if you're worried what people will think."

It's not that, Joe," Catherine replied seriously. "Yousee, since we don't know what caused Vincent to be they way he is--well, the baby could look like his father. If that's the case, he'llneed to be protected too. The fewer people that know about this, thefewer people to wonder why there's no baby in evidence later."

"Geez, Cathy, I never thought." Joe looked at her withundisguised admiration. "You've got a hell of a lot of guts, you knowthat?"

"Joe, I warned you, don't act like I'm Mother Teresa orsomething." She smiled. "I wish you could meet Vincent, then you'drealize I'm the lucky one. But it's better if you don't, so justtrust me, OK?"

"OK," he capitulated, laughing. "If he can put a looklike that on your face, he must be something. Kid, you'll get yourleave. If Moreno gives me any trouble I'll remind him he still owesyou one from the time he used you to get at Elliot Burch."

Catherine moved to the door and opened it. Just beforeslipping out she turned to her boss with a grin. "Thanks, Uncle Joe."

Catherine laughed to herself in delight. She could hardlywait to tell Vincent about Joe's expression at that parting shot.

"Peter, we've been through all this before. I see noreason to change my mind." Catherine folded her arms decisively andgave him a look that would discourage further argument in the mostcontentious criminal. Peter Alcott, however, didn't give up quite soeasily.

"Catherine, we're dealing with an unknown situation here,that neither my training nor Jacob's could have prepared us for. Themore information we have to go on the better."

"Peter, I won't risk this child. Amniocentesis can causea miscarriage, you know that's true. I won't take that chance."

"Catherine, the likelihood of a spontaneous abortionbecause of this test is so small ..."

"I don't care how small it is." Catherine leaned forwardand gripped the edge of Peter's desk. "We're talking about Vincent'schild. A child no one believed we could even conceive. Well, by somemiracle, we've done that--but I doubt we'll get a second chance.Any risk is unacceptable."

Peter Alcott sighed. "Catherine, it's because this isVincent's child that I'm concerned. We have no idea what effect hisgenes might have. This pregnancy and birth could be very dangerousfor you; we need to be prepared."

Catherine rose and began to pace in frustration. "IfVincent is such an unknown quantity, what good would the test resultsbe? You wouldn't know how to interpret them anyway."

Peter shifted uncomfortably. "We don't know that ... "

"Besides," Catherine interrupted, "what's the point? Itwould only tell me things there's no point in knowing. Do youseriously think I'd consider aborting this child even you diddiscover a problem? Do you think we'd love this child any less if ithad Down's syndrome, for instance? Knowing Vincent, he'd only love itmore." Her voice softened at the thought.

Seeing the look on her face, Peter capitulated. "Allright, Catherine, you win. But what about a simple blood test thatcannot possibly harm the fetus?"

"What kind of test? What does it do?" Catherine askedsuspiciously.

"It will help determine your due date, for one thing," hereplied. "Although you insist this child was conceived at Winterfest,you seem further along than that to me, based on your size and weightgain."

"Thanks a lot," Catherine told him sarcastically.

"Catherine, we all know you can't possibly have thischild in a hospital, in case it resembles Vincent. I want to estimateyour date as accurately as possible so we can be prepared." He roseand walked toward Catherine, taking her hand. "I promise you, there'sno danger in this test."

"Is that all the test does?" Catherine askedsuspiciously? "Tell you how far along I am?"

"Well", Peter admitted, "an elevated level of the proteincould be caused by other things--placental bleeding, for example, or..."

"Or what?" Catherine got the impression he didn't want togo further.

"It could also suggest neural tube defects in the fetus."

"I don't like the sound of that, Peter." Catherineshivered. "What does that mean?"

"Defects in the development of the brain and nervoussystem," Peter explained uncomfortably. "Spina bifida is probably thebest known."

Catherine was silent a moment, considering. "All right,Peter, do the test." She touched his arm. "I'm not trying to makeyour life more difficult, or Father's. I understand that you're onlyconcerned for me and the baby. But I'm having this baby, no matterwhat. If I can tell you something that will help you without riskingit, I will. But that's as far as I'm willing to go."

Peter raised his hands in capitulation. "I'll take what Ican get, my dear." He pretended to scowl at her. "You're a verydifficult patient, do you know that?"

Catherine smiled sweetly at him. "Just think of it as apayback for all those bad jokes about seeing me naked."

A week later Catherine was wading her way through salesbrochures for law databases. She didn't want her legal skills to rustduring her leave, and decided doing research and consulting forvarious legal aid and public interest law organizations would be justthe ticket--not only could she make a real contribution, but it wouldbe interesting and different from what she'd done before. Althoughshe expected to spend much more time Below now that she wasn'tworking, she was afraid Vincent would never be able to concentrate onthe children's classes with her around. Several of them had alreadymade their amusement at their favorite teacher's recent air ofdistraction all too clear.

The ring of the doorbell startled her. Looking throughthe peephole, she was surprised to see Peter Alcott on the stoop.Catherine moved quickly to let him in. The weather was having troublemaking up its mind between winter and spring; right now winter seemedto be winning.

"Peter, I'm amazed," Catherine joked as she took hiscoat. "Aren't you afraid this will ruin your medical reputation?People might get the idea you make house calls."

"You should be concerned about your own reputation, mydear," he replied. "Having such a handsome and distinguished man asmyself visit you will no doubt cause the neighbors to assume theworst."

The tone of his voice jarred with the bantering words.Catherine was suddenly suspicious, and a little afraid. "Peter,something's wrong, isn't it? Tell me."

"Now, Catherine," he reassured her, "there's no reason toassume anything's wrong. Your test results came in, and the FAP iselevated ... "

"Oh, God," Catherine whispered, "you don't think ... "

"Catherine!" Peter said sharply. "What I think, what I'vethought all along, is that you conceived earlier than you said.There's absolutely no reason to assume anything more serious."

"How can you tell for sure?" Catherine asked worriedly."What do we do now?"

"Can you come to the office with me? I'd like to do anultrasound--you have no objections to that, do you?"

"No," Catherine admitted. "You mean we can do it rightnow?"

"I'd like to set your mind at rest as soon as possible,"he replied. "I'd also like to keep Vincent from having a fit, sincehe has such a tendency to assume the worst. I was hoping he wouldn'tbe with you. We can have this all settled before you have a chance totell him about it."

"Let me send a message Below," Catherine asked. "Iplanned to meet him there when he's through teaching. I want him toknow I might be late, and tell him not to worry."

While Peter waited, Catherine went down into the basementto tap out a message on the pipes. She was sure Vincent had felt hermomentary fear, and didn't want him abandon his duties Below to cometo her. Concentrating on staying calm herself, she prayed that Peterwas right, and there really was no cause for concern.

Only Vincent's overdeveloped sense of responsibility kepthim from going to Catherine when he felt that moment of fear anddoubt, fleeting though it was. Her message failed to reassure him,but he realized there was nothing he could do until she came to him.When he finally felt her presence in the Tunnels, it was all he coulddo not to rush away to meet her. Perversely, the class had lastedlonger than usual, and he could not bear to cut short the children'senthusiastic questions. He detected no fear in her now, but it washard to concentrate on the bond and pay attention to the children atthe same time. He hoped Catherine was not blocking her emotions againto spare him pain.

He arrived at Father's study only minutes after Catherinedid, hardly noticing that Father and Mary were also there. SeeingCatherine with Peter Alcott, Vincent felt the fears he had pushedinto the depths of his mind rise again with paralyzing suddenness.Lost in his familiar terror, he was astonished when Catherine ran tohim, laughing, and threw her arms around his neck before proceedingto kiss him soundly.

"Oh, Vincent," she cried in delight, "you clever,wonderful man!"

Expecting bad news, he was unprepared for this reaction.Catherine had no qualms about expressing her affection for him infront of others, but usually in a much more restrained fashion. Helooked at her beaming face in utter confusion, and then looked atPeter. "I don't understand," he said helplessly. "I was afraid ..."

"I think it would be an excellent idea if we all sat downnow," Peter suggested. They proceeded to do so. Catherine was in nomood to be separated from her husband even by the width of a chairarm, and settled herself firmly on Vincent's lap.

"Will someone please explain what is going on?" Fatherdemanded with impatience. Peter looked at Catherine, who turned toVincent with a loving look.

"Dear heart," she announced happily, "we are not going tohave a baby. We are going to have babies. Twins."

Vincent stared at Catherine's grinning face in stunnedsilence. The two of them were an island of stillness in the midst ofsudden pandemonium, as everyone else began talking at once. Thehubbub died down when the others realized Vincent and Catherine werepaying them no attention whatsoever.

"Oh, Vincent," Catherine was saying happily, "not onlywill our children have two parents who adore them, they'll have eachother ... and I get two babies for the price of one--so to speak."Laughing, she hugged Vincent.

"Catherine ... " Vincent could not for the life of himthink of anything else to say. After three months, he had barelymanaged to assimilate the idea of becoming a father afterthirty-seven years of believing it impossible. He had thought hisremarkable wife had run out of major surprises, but apparently hisassumption was a bit premature.

"Catherine," Father said in a very different tone ofvoice, "this is a serious matter. Has Peter explained that a multiplepregnancy is, by definition, high-risk? There's a greatly increasedchance of premature labor--"

"I told her," Peter asserted firmly. "Also, I pointed outshe was under increased risk for hypertention, anemia,infection ..."

"Dear God," Father exclaimed, "the possible complicationsof delivery, and postpartum bleeding ..."

"Stop it! Will you listen to yourselves--and look at whatyou're doing to poor Vincent!"

Everyone, even the increasingly terrified Vincent, staredat Mary. Father and Peter huffed in embarrassment and were silentbefore her implacable gaze. This was not the Mary they were used to.

"Not only have I delivered more babies than Father," sheannounced, "I've also had them, which is more than either ofyou can say. You make it sound much worse than it is. There areplenty of women who have twins without any great problem, especiallywhen they know they're carrying them this early in the pregancy."

"Now, Mary," Father insisted, "you can't deny there aremore possibilities of ... "

"Possibilities only," Mary interrupted firmly. "Catherineis an extremely healthy and strong young woman, and her pregnancy hasgone quite well so far. Don't frighten her and Vincent by talkinglike doctors instead of people."

"Mary," Catherine congratulated the older woman, "Icouldn't have put it better myself! In fact, I don't think I couldhave put it as well." She turned to Vincent and stroked his cheek inreassurance. "Please don't be afraid, dearest," she begged him.

"I promise everything will be all right."

"Well," Father began placatingly, "it is true thatforewarned is forearmed. We'll have to watch your progress veryclosely. But one thing is clear--you cannot have these childrenBelow; the danger of complications is too great."

"No!" Catherine wailed. "You're all my family, I want tohave my babies down here."

Peter, Father and Mary answered Catherine all at once,and battle was joined again.

***

"Wow," Jenny exclaimed, "what happened then? What did youfinally decide?" She and Catherine were sitting comfortably aroundCatherine's kitchen table a week later, demolishing an enormouslunch. Actually, Catherine was demolishing most of it, in betweengiving Jenny a lively account of the events following her startlingannouncement.

"I had to give in on that," Catherine sighed. "They'reright, I can't take the risk in case there are problems. I don'tthink there will be, but if I absolutely had to be rushed to ahospital ... Vincent would never forgive himself if anything happenedto me."

"So Father and Peter finally got you to agree with themon something."

"Well, not quite," Catherine corrected her. "Vincentasked me to do it. He worries so about me, Jenny. I couldn't bear togive him anything more to worry about." Catherine gave herself athird helping of bulgur pilaf.

"God," Jenny said enviously, "I'm tempted to get pregnantjust for the experience of being able to eat like that just once. Ican't believe how much you're putting away these days."

"Hey," Catherine reminded her, "I'm not just eating fortwo, you know, I'm eating for three."

"So, come on," Jenny prompted, "what are you planning todo? You can't possibly risk having the babies in a hospital, can you?Not unless your life was in danger."

"No," Catherine said with conviction. "Not withoutknowing whether the babies will take after Vincent. There's no way tokeep our secret if that happened. I'm having the baby at home, withall the high-tech equipment money can buy standing around just incase. Thank God I've got plenty--of money, I mean."

"And all you spend it on is books, CDs, videotapes, andanything you can get for Vincent's folks without triggering the pridereflex."

Catherine smiled. "Funny you should mention that. Guesswhere all the medical equipment's going after I'm through with it?"

"Let me guess," Jenny played along. "Tunnel General?"

"Well, I can't keep it here," she countered. "It doesn'tgo with the decor. Besides, the room we're setting up as a deliveryroom is supposed to be the nursery eventually. We won't need it forawhile, since I plan to stay Below most of the time after the babiesare born, and we'll keep them in our bedroom at first when we stay uphere. Want some ice cream?" Catherine tossed over her shoulder on herway to the refrigerator.

"Have mercy," Jenny moaned. "I'll have to eat celerysticks for the rest of the week at this rate."

"No problem," Catherine reassured her, "it's really onlyice milk. I'm behaving myself."

"Actually, you've been a saint ever since you convincedVincent to risk having kids," Jenny said in admiration.

"I've almost forgotten what alcohol and caffeine tastelike," Catherine sighed. "I'm sure some of my colleagues thought I'djoined some strict religious sect. It paid off, though. It helped meconvince Father I've never been in better shape than I am now.Between my sterling diet habits and all the exercise I get--"

"I didn't think sex counted as aerobic exercise,"Jenny interrupted.

"Jenny!" Catherine threw a roll at her friend's head. "Ifyou ever say anything like that in front of Vincent, I'll pitch youinto the Abyss. I was referring to things like walking and stairclimbing and stuff like that."

"Right," Jenny grinned.

Catherine tried to glare at her, but couldn't keep astraight face. "Our latest argument is how much time I'm supposed tospend in bed," Catherine continued.

"Oh?" Jenny asked archly.

"You have a one-track mind," Catherine laughed. "Bed restis supposed to reduce the risk of premature labor, and I thinkthere's also something about improving blood supply to the fetus, orsomething. I have to read up on it."

"I can just see you," Jenny said, "quoting medical booksat Father. How's his blood pressure?"

"Rising, I'm sure," Catherine admitted. "Sometimes heforgets his daughter-in-law is a lawyer who's done her share ofgrilling expert witnesses. Father wanted me to plop myself into bedimmediately, from what I could gather, and stay there for the nextfour months. Peter suggested four hours a day plus lots of sleep, andMary said there's no actual proof it works. I don't think Fatherrealizes how much of his medical library she's been through."

"I'm amazed at Mary," Jenny said. "I never thought she'dsay boo to the proverbial goose."

"Everybody's amazed at Mary," Catherine agreed. "I thinkthere's something about Vincent and me that brings out the unexpectedin people. But wait till I tell you about the Great StairControversy."

"Do go on," Jenny encouraged, fascinated.

"Well, Father didn't think I should come Below at alluntil the babies are born, because of all the stairs I have to climb.I really hated the idea of that," Catherine said emphatically. "Somany people down there care so much about us--Mouse, Jamie, William,Cullen, Samantha--our love has always been something special to them.So many people were so happy for us when they first found out Vincentand I were having a baby; it would break my heart not to share itwith them as much as I could. But I didn't want to do anything toendanger these little ones." Catherine patted her stomachprotectively.

"So how did it come out?" Jenny demanded.

"Father was pointing out in his most authoritative mannerthat I was going to have to give in on this one, since there was noway to get Below and back without climbing more than was good for me,and I was getting more and more morose."

"Cath, I can't stand the suspense," Jenny almost shouted."how did you finally convince him?"

"I didn't," Catherine smiled. "Vincent suddenly stood upright in the middle of Father's lecture, picked me up and carried meup the stairs and out of Father's study. When Father tracked us downin our chamber, I was still giggling and Vincent was lookinginsufferably smug."

Jenny laughed uproariously. "Oh, I wish I'd been there tosee it! I wish you had it on videotape."

"Me too," Catherine agreed, joining her laughter. "I'dlike to replay it--it was wonderful. Father's face was a sight tobehold."

Catherine was appalled to discover she had fallen asleepyet again. This bed rest thing had a tendency to turn into naps alltoo often. Such behavior was not calculated to show Father how littlethis pregnancy was affecting her. Of course, the truth was she feltmuch more tired than she ever expected to. Nancy hadn't been likethis; she looked like she could have had her babies in the proverbialfield and gone right back to harvesting. Of course, Nancy'd had thesense to have her kids one at a time.

Still an overachiever, Chandler, she kiddedherself. A soft rustle in the corner caused her to turn her head.Vincent sat in a chair, a book open but ignored on his lap. Clearlywatching her had been more interesting to him than the written word.Catherine smiled. Feeling like a laudanum addict was a small price topay to put a look like that on her husband's face. "Hello, love," shegreeted him. "How long have you been there? How long have I beenasleep?"

He moved to sit on the bed beside her. "Almost two hours,to answer both questions. How do you feel?" He gently stroked thesleep-tousled hair away from her face.

"I feel disgustingly self-indulgent," she answered. "Theold Cathy Chandler would have put up with this much better. CatherineChandler-Wells, crusading ADA, longtime Helper, is used to a moreactive life."

Vincent bent to kiss her soundly. "CatherineChandler-Wells must realize," he told her, "that her friends andfamily are enjoying the opportunity to take care of her, all the morebecause they will probably not get another chance. Think of how happyyou're making Father."

"That's what bothers me. If it were up to him, I'd be inbed all day, and I was hoping to show him I didn't need it at all."She pouted. "This compromise was only because I absolutely refused toconsider drugs if premature labor threatened."

"Are you sure ..." Vincent began.

"Absolutely," Catherine cut him off firmly. "Yourreaction to drugs is too unpredictable--what if that's something thebabies inherit? Too big a chance to take, so here I lie. If only Iwouldn't fall asleep so much!"

"My love, I think letting yourself be taken care of isthe hardest part of all this for you."

Catherine sighed. "You're right. I thought I hadreformed; ever since we've been married I've tried not to overdo itat work, but old habits are dying harder than I thought. It's allyour fault, you know."

Vincent caressed her swollen belly lovingly. "Catherine,you can't claim this is all my fault."

"Not that! You can bet I'm taking my share of the creditfor Junior & Junior." Catherine attempted to scowl convincinglyat her husband. "I mean six years ago, when you started me on theroad from Ms. Fashion Law to what I am now."

Vincent raised his eyebrows at her. "And what might thatbe?"

The scowl dissolved into a beatific smile. "The happiestwoman on earth," Catherine admitted as she wound her arms aroundVincent's neck.

Some time later, a combination of hunger and the desireto show Father she wasn't a total slug drove Catherine out of theirchamber on Vincent's arm. Intending only to cut through Father'sstudy on their way to the kitchen, they were surprised to find himthere talking with Peter Alcott.

"Well, how's my most challenging patient?" the latterasked with unconcealed amusement.

"Absolutely fine," Catherine replied loftily, "as if youdidn't know. With all the poking and prodding I get all the time fromyou two, I can't sneeze without you knowing about before I do."

"How's the bed rest working out?" Father questioned.

Catherine wondered how often he might have peeked in andcaught her sleeping. She decided to brazen it out. "Driving me crazywith boredom, actually, but I'm trying to be cooperative." Vincentdidn't say a word, she noted. Wise of him--three years of marriagehad taught him the virtue of silence in appropriate situations.

"We didn't expect to see you today, Peter," Vincentoffered. "Does your visit have something to do with Catherine?"

"Only indirectly," he replied. "Why don't you join us andI'll tell you what it's all about."

Vincent insisted they all wait until he brought food forCatherine. While they waited for his return, Catherine talked aboutinconsequential things with her her two doctors. Despite the overtlycasual air, she felt like something in a petri dish. Whenever she wasin the same room with either one of them these days, Catherine wassure sure they were watching her like hawks for the least suggestionof complications. She sighed. Only a little past the halfway point.Catherine hoped she could get through the rest of this pregnancywithout throwing things. Knowing them, they'd only tut-tut knowinglyand blame it on her hormones.

Only after Vincent returned with enough food for severalmothers-to-be and assured himself there was nothing else his wifecould possibly want did Peter begin his explanation. "I said this wasindirectly related to your condition, Catherine," he began. "This issomething that has been imminent for some time, but your pregnancyhas convinced me that now is the time to bring our plans tofruition."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked--as well as she couldwith her mouth full. "What plans?"

Father took over. "For some time Peter and I have beenconcerned that those Below have only us to depend on for medicalhelp. Mary is the best nurse and midwife I've ever known, and most ofthe community are well trained in first aid and other basictechniques. But it has caused us concern that we have access to nodoctors younger than us."

"In Jacob's case," Peter continued, "he can onlycontribute his considerable skills. I'm the only one with connectionsAbove, the only one who can legally obtain medical equipment anddrugs, for instance. If anything happened to me, the situation Belowcould become very serious."

Father took up the explanation again. "Many of our peoplecould go Above to use medical facilities if it became absolutelynecessary, and it weren't an emergency. But that only applies tothose who had some prior existence Above. There are others ... "

"Such as I?" Vincent interrupted unhappily.

"Not only you, Vincent," Father continued. "There arethose like Pascal, who were born down here--or those like Mouse, whohave been here almost all their lives. Can you imagine what wouldhappen to Mouse if he had to go to a hospital up top?"

Catherine shuddered. Any encounter with the vast andimpersonal social service bureaucracy would be unpleasant anddangerous for those who had been Below for all or most of theirlives. Aside from the possibility of difficult questions, people whohad no legal existence had little protection against the enforcedcare of the monolithic agencies that so often did more harm thangood. Catherine feared that her legal skills wouldn't be enough tokeep Mouse out of the permanent clutches of well-meaning bureaucratsbent on keeping him "for his own good"--and destroying him in theprocess. As for Vincent--

"What can you do?" Catherine asked sharply. As Vincentreached for her hand, she knew that her fear for him had been all tooobvious.

"I had hoped," Father sighed, "that one of our childrenwho went back to the world Above might choose a medical career, andbe available to help us. So far that hasn't happened, although Erichas been considering it. Even if he does follow through, it would bemany years before he were in a position to be of use to us."

"For some time," Peter said, "I've been keeping my eyesopen for a possible Helper who was a physician. There is a woman--aresident at St. Vincent's, appropriately enough--who I believe wouldbe perfect. I think now is the time."

"Why now?" Catherine asked suspiciously. "This hassomething to do with me, doesn't it? I don't want you to take anyrisks on my account."

"I don't believe there is any risk," Peter insisted. "Ihave every confidence that Dr. Robinson will make an enthusiastic andtrustworthy Helper. Jacob has merely been procrastinating."

"Procrastinating!" Father exclaimed indignantly. "I wasmerely being cautious. It is difficult to predict who will make agood Helper."

"Especially for you, Jacob," Peter retorted. "As Irecall, you didn't think Catherine was Helper material at first, letalone--"

"Let alone a potential daughter-in-law," Vincent brokein, "and mother of your future grandchildren." He turned to Peter togive Father a chance to recover his aplomb. "Are you sure of thiswoman, Peter? Your judgment has never failed us before."

"Very sure," Peter insisted, "and I'm confident theCouncil will agree."

"You still haven't explained how this relates to me,"Catherine reminded him.

"Cathy, I admit your pregnancy has been going well sofar, although it's early days yet. Your mother had an easy pregnancyand delivery with you, and I'm hoping you take after her in that.Mary is right, many women deliver twins without any problem ...but wehave to be prepared for any eventuality." He leaned forward to speakdirectly to Catherine. "If everthing goes well, and you can have anatural vaginal delivery, no one will be more pleased than I. Idelivered you thirty-five years ago, and I consider it a greatprivilege to be able to do the same for your children."

Catherine looked at Peter with new eyes. She had been sofocused on his professional concern for her she had almost forgottenwhat a dear friend he was. "Peter, I'm glad you're going to be therefor me. I'm sure Mom and Dad are happy about it too."

Peter continued in a suspiciously husky voice. "Withtwins, there's a better-than-usual chance that an emergency Caesarianwill be needed. Jacob or I are capable of doing that if necessary,but I'm concerned that neither of us is an expert in anesthesia.Twins are very vulnerable to oxygen deprivation, and with thepossibility of unusual drug reactions--I would feel a lot morecomfortable with an expert anesthesiologist around. Even if you havea normal delivery, another physician will make me feel better." Petersmiled. "I'm not sure we can count on Jacob's equilibrium when hisfirst grandchildren are being born."

"Are you impugning my professional objectivity?" Fatherasked in mock indignation. He turned to Catherine. "Peter'sprotegé did a residency as an anesthesiologist for a yearbefore switching to emergency medicine. I am forced to admit, herbackground is ideal for our needs."

"Not only is she an excellent physician," Peter asserted,"but a very likable woman. I think she and Catherine will get alongsplendidly."

"Well," Father agreed, "you can put your recommendationbefore the Council tonight. If it's accepted, we shall all lookforward to meeting her."

Almost a week later, Catherine found herself back inFather's study, no more able to sit still than most of the Counciland other members of the community who had gathered to meet the newHelper. Peter's advocacy had been eloquent and convincing, and nonecould deny how important another doctor would be to everyone in theTunnels. Catherine was more nervous than most, since it seemed shewas going to be the still mysterious Dr. Robinson's first patient.Everyone else involved in her pregnancy and delivery was an oldfriend, and she definitely had mixed feelings about letting astranger into that select group at this late date. If it weren't forVincent ...

An excited murmur rippled through the group as Pascalentered the room to report that Peter and his friend would be therein a matter of moments. Catherine clutched Vincent's hand tightly andtried not to look as nervous as she felt. Vincent lifted her hand tohis lips and kissed it reassuringly--but Catherine had her suspicionsthat he was as nervous as she.

Just then, Peter Alcott stepped through the door. Asecond later, he was followed by a tall black woman with the longest,most graceful neck Catherine had ever seen and a head as exquisitelyshaped as a Benin bronze. She was dressed in attractive but casualclothes--not unlike the sort of thing ADA Catherine Chandler was wontto wear during everyday time spent in the Tunnels--although CatherineChandler never looked like a Vogue model in them, she thoughtruefully. Even less now. A twinge of distress attacked Catherine asshe gazed ruefully at her fast-expanding front.

Peter was busily making introductions--to Father, wholooked rather bowled over by the impressive Dr. Robinson, and Mary,who had admitted to Catherine she was looking forward to working witha doctor whose knowledge of female innards was not just theoretical.As they moved through the room, the new Helper was introduced to theCouncil and all the other members of the community who had managed tosqueeze into Father's chambers. Even Jamie looked impressed by thenew arrival, and Catherine knew Jamie was not easily impressed.

Catherine had deliberately chosen a remote corner to giveherself a chance to look over this stranger as much as possiblebefore the inevitable meeting. Vincent always hung back when someonenew was introduced, anyway. He usually gave new residents severaldays to get used to the Tunnels before showing himself. New Helperswere different. In some ways, their reaction to him was the finaltest before their full acceptance. Even though Helpers were wellprepared before finally being introduced to the Tunnels, no one couldbe completely prepared for Vincent.

Finally they reached the corner where Vincent andCatherine waited. As Dr. Robinson turned away from her greeting toSarah, only a slight widening of her dark eyes betrayed surprise.Without the slightest hesitation she extended her hand. "And you,"she said evenly, have got to be Vincent. May I say that Peter'srather ambiguous hints didn't do you justice?"

Vincent relaxed as he took her hand in turn. "If you'llallow me to say the same about you," he smiled.

"The legacy of many generations of Masai and Somaligenes," she admitted. She turned a little.

"I know you're Catherine Chandler," she said warmly."I've been eager to meet you. I've heard so many good things aboutyour work with battered women and abused children. I see all too muchof that in the emergency room, you know, and your name has come upmany times. I think we have quite a few professional contacts incommon."

Catherine shook her hand warmly, all nervousness gone."It never occurred to me that we would," she admitted, "although itmakes sense. I'm afraid I've been thinking of you mainly inobstetrical terms."

"I'm hardly an expert," the black woman laughed,"although I've delivered a few babies in my time, including once on aBoeing 747. That's not an experience I care to repeat, so I hopeyou're not planning on any plane trips."

"Not a chance," Catherine laughed. "Vincent would be anervous wreck."

"Since you're my first patient in this new job, I hopewe'll have time for a good long talk soon. It doesn't look like it'llbe tonight, does it?"

"Not considering how early my bedtime is these days,"Catherine agreed. "You're going to be a nine-day wonder, anyway, Dr.Robinson."

"Oh, good grief, call me Helen, please." She smiled atboth Catherine and Vincent. "Why do I have the feeling that my lifeis going to be a lot more interesting from now on?"

A few days later, on a glorious May afternoon that madeCatherine remember why she loved New York, she opened the door of thehouse to admit Helen Robinson.

"What a wonderful house!" Helen exclaimed in unfeigneddelight. "Peter told me there was an interesting story behind it--didyou inherit the place?"

As they settled in the light-filled living room with tallglasses of iced tea, Catherine explained about her late grandmother'sold friend Edna, who had offered to sell her the house when shedecided to leave New York to live with her son's family. Theopportunity had come at the perfect time, only a month afterCatherine and Vincent had become lovers, when Catherine was becomingincreasingly concerned about the danger Vincent faced whenever hecame to see her. The house would have been a godsend even without itsspecial features.

"Did Edna know about you and Vincent?" Helen asked.

"No, although I know she suspected I was involved withsomebody not quite acceptable in my former social circle,"Catherinesmiled ruefully. "I often wonder just who she thinks it is--I've beenafraid to ask. Next time she comes to New York for a visit, I'm goingto ask if she can meet Vincent. I trust her to keep a secret, and Ithink she'd be delighted. Her own family always considered her quitethe rebel. When she married an actor, of all things, it wasconsidered quite shocking. Of course, that was over fifty years ago."

"Peter said this house was pretty special--I take it hemeant something more than Tunnel access. From what I gather,Manhattan is full of Tunnel entrances." Helen shook her head inwonder. "I still haven't quite gotten used to the idea of a wholedifferent world beneath my feet."

"That's how I felt six years ago, and look at me now,"Catherine grinned. "Actually, this house has a juicy secret passagethat goes along one side from basement to roof. It seems Edna'sstuffy family had a long history of smuggling, illegal booze duringProhibition, you name it."

Helen laughed uproariously. "That's fantastic! Whathypocrites!"

"That's much more polite than what Edna called them,"Catherine assured her. "Whatever its shady history, it's perfect forVincent and me. It means a lot to me," Catherine continued in asuspiciously husky voice, "to give Vincent as close to a normal homelife as possible. It's something he convinced himself he'd neverhave."

"You've really worked miracles," Helen said admiringly."He's pretty special, isn't he?"

"In more ways than one," Catherine agreed. She looked atHelen, considering, before she continued. "I was impressed with yourreaction when you met him," Catherine continued. "It's not exactlytypical, as you can imagine."

"Blame it on my heritage," Ellen told her. "He looks likesomething my ancestors might have worshipped. And the scientist in mefinds him utterly fascinating." Noticing a strange look onCatherine's face, she became concerned. "Catherine, does it botheryou to talk about Vincent this way? Peter told me about Hughes--Idon't want to stir up unpleasant memories."

Catherine shook her head. "I'm sorry, just a flash of howhe looked in that cage--it still gets to me sometimes. I know it'simportant to talk about it, especially with the babies and all.Frankly, I'm glad to have someone to talk to that can be moreobjective--it's hard to talk to Father or even Peter about it, letalone Vincent."

"Peter said you managed to--shall we say, 'liberate'Hughes' records on Vincent when you rescued him. Do you mind if I seethem?"

"Please, go ahead--you deserve to know as much as you canabout what you're getting into. But they won't help you much, Hughesdidn't have very sophisticated equipment available to him. They onlytold us that Vincent is a remarkable physical specimen," Catherinesmiled, "and I already knew that. Besides," she continued, her smilegone, "they had him drugged almost the whole time, that must havemessed up some of the results."

"I wish we could get a DNA scan on him," Helen sighed,"but there's no way we could get that kind of equipment andexpertise-unless you happen to have a Helper who's a researchbiologist with some heavy grant funding?"

Catherine's only reponse was a rueful laugh.

"Well," Helen went on, "the fact that you're pregnant atall suggests that Vincent isn't that different, although, frankly, ifI didn't have the evidence before my eyes I would have agreed withPeter and Father that it wasn't possible." Catherine smiled but saidnothing. "Did either of them discuss the possibilities with you,genetically speaking?" Helen continued.

"On a basic level," Catherine replied. "I kept thinkingof Gregor Mendel and his pea plants."

Helen smiled. "Well, if whatever genes give Vincent hisunique characteristics are dominant, the children could look likehim. If they're recessive, they could be quite normal. They'd carrythe genes, of course, but since the likelihood of them havingchildren with someone who carried the same recessive genes isvirtually zero, your descendants could carry those genes forgenerations and they'd never be expressed. What is it?"

Catherine started. "I'm sorry--I'm just getting used tothe idea of being a mother. The idea of being a grandmother and anancestor, even ... it's a bit much to take in."

"Sorry, I guess I'd better stick just to the nextgeneration," Helen laughed. "It's also possible Vincent's genes areneither dominant nor recessive, and your children could be a blend ofboth your characteristics."

"Gregor's pink pea plants," Catherine replied.

"In a manner of speaking," Helen agreed with a smile.

"Then there's the last possibility."

"Another one?" Catherine asked curiously. "Father didn'tmention anything else."

"Since we don't know how many genes are involved ingiving Vincent his unique characteristics, or where they are ... theycould all be on the Y chromosome. If that's the case, a son couldtake after him but a daughter show none of those traits whatever."

Catherine sighed. "I was hoping our children wouldinherit his hair ... it's so much more beautiful than mine ... andhis eyes ..." She suddenly became aware of the tone of her voice andblushed. "Oops. Do I sound like someone who's got it bad?"

"In my professional opinion, you're an incurable case,"Helen grinned. "But it does bring up another point. We really don'tknow which characteristics belong to the human side of Vincent andwhich to ... well, to whatever else he is. Since I haven't had thechance to examine him, can I ask you a question at the risk of makingyou blush even more?"

"What?" Catherine asked dubiously.

"Just how different is he from other men? All I've hadthe chance to see is his face and hands. I'm sorry if it embarrassesyou, but it would really be useful."

"Oh God," Catherine replied helplessly. "Part of me wantsto crawl under the rug, and part of me is thrilled to have anotherwoman besides my friend Jenny to talk with about this."

She took a deep breath. "OK. Other than what anyone cansee, there isn't that much. He'd have claws on his feet if he letthem grow, but he keeps them trimmed so he doesn't have to wear steelsocks. He's awfully furry, but it follows the same distributionpattern as any man, it's just thicker, and softer-more like fur thanhair. It's especially thick on his chest, and lower arms andlegs--like you've seen on his hands. But on his sides you can see hisskin through it, and you can see there's none on his neck and throat.He's heavy for his size because he's so muscular."

Helen looked not only fascinated but impressed. "Hmm.Those are all relatively superficial differences. What about thisexceptional strength I've heard about?"

"He's amazingly strong, but he's not Superman. I once sawhim fight another man who was unusually strong, and it was a nearthing. His claws really saved him, and the fact that he was fightingfor my life at the time. He's got an amazing constitution; I've seenhim able to fight or run with injuries that would have most menunconscious. He can see in the dark better than anyone, and hishearing is very acute; his stamina is remarkable."

"A lot of what you describe is a difference in degree,not in kind. I've seen what medical records Peter and Father have onhim, and in many ways he's not that far from the upper range of humanabilities. Some things--his strength, his heart rate--are within theupper limits of the range. You may discover that many of thosecharacteristics belong to his human part, which is probably a largerpercentage of the total than most people think, including him."

Catherine impulsively reached out to take Helen's hand."Do you think you could get him to believe that?"

"I promise I'll suggest it at every opportunity. I knowI'm pretty new to all this, and I don't want to sound like somearrogant young whippersnapper, but I think there's a good possibilityVincent's differences are not so great as he's been led to believe."

"An ally at last!" Catherine rejoiced. "What about hisstrange reactions to drugs? And the lab that thought we sent animalblood?"

"I'm not saying he doesn't have biochemical differences,"Helen warned her, "he clearly does. But people have unusual drugreactions who don't look like Vincent. And the lab--well, they dealwith pretty high volume. If they found anything in the leastanomalous they'd just bounce it back to get it out of the way. I'dlike to study it more. What this means for you," Helen said, "is thatmany of his characteristics could be perfectly human ones heritableby a child of either sex. So you may get those beautiful blond babiesafter all."

Catherine beamed. "Doctor, has anyone told you yourcouchside manner is terrific?"

Catherine and Helen got along so well they were still inthe living room talking up a storm when Vincent arrived. Catherinewas astonished to realize it was almost dinnertime.

"Helen, would you like to stay?" She asked. "Can you?I've been talking so much about myself I don't even know if you havea family I'm keeping you away from."

"I'd love to stay, actually, if it's not too muchtrouble. My husband's out of town right now, and I'm on themidnight-to-dawn shift in ER these days. Can I help with dinner?"

Vincent insisted he was perfectly capable of turning outa passable dinner, and proceeded to do so while Catherine and Helencontinued their animated conversation in the living room.

After a meal that was much more than passable, Catherinebrought up something that had been puzzling her ever since Peter hadfirst told her about the potential new Helper.

"Helen," Catherine began tentatively, "Peter seemedawfully certain that you and I would hit it off. Somehow I got theimpression there was more to it than the fact you're an extremelynice person."

"I got the same idea from him," Helen admitted, "andafter hearing the story of your life today I think I've got itfigured out. We actually have a lot in common."

"Like what?" Catherine asked. "Certainly not our height."

"Or our color, I notice you didn't mention." Helen becameserious. "I had a very privileged and insulated background, Cathy. Myparents were both upper middle class--my mother grew up in Atlanta,my father in New England. I was born there, but we moved to Hawaiiwhen I was very small; I lived there until college."

"What do your parents do?" Vincent asked, curious.

"My dad's a biologist; mom's an anthropologist. Theystill teach in Hawaii. Between our money, and growing up in a placewhere a racial and cultural mix was a fact of life, I was spared alot of the bad experiences I might have had elsewhere."

"How did you end up in New York?" Catherine wondered.

"By way of Stanford, where I met my husband. I camepartly because he wanted to go to law school here, and partly becauseI was beginning to feel unhappy at the kind of privileged life I wasleading."

"I think I'm beginning to get the picture," Catherinesaid.

Helen nodded. "I had no experience as dramatic as yours,Cathy, it was more a gradually increasing dissatisfaction. And Danielhad something to do with it, too."

"Daniel?" Vincent asked. "Is that your husband?"

Helen nodded. "He always had a strongly developed socialconscience. He's a terrific lawyer and could make a fortune at thekind of firm Cathy started out in--but he's never wanted to doanything but public-interest law."

"Peter said you planned to specialize in anesthesiology,"Vincent said, "which makes you extremely valuable to us if Catherineneeds that. Was the change to emergency medicine part of your desireto be of more help to others?"

"Very perceptive," Helen nodded. "For many of the poor,the emergency room is the only medical care they ever get. Besides,"she confided, "I discovered that other MDs think anesthesiologistsare weird."

"I can see now why Peter was so sure we'd like eachother," Catherine told her. "I guess we've followed a similar path inmany ways."

"More than you think," Helen replied softly. "You see, Ican also sympathize with what it means to have a love that'snot-socially acceptable, shall we say."

"Your husband--" Vincent began.

"Is white," Helen concluded. "Very white--mostly Irish,with a touch of French and Swedish. I know it's hardly in the

same category as the problem you and Cathy have--butthere are plenty of places in this world even now where our marriagewould be viewed as a capital offense. It's more hidden these days,but it's still there."

"I hope we get to meet him," Catherine said warmly.

"You certainly will, Cathy," Helen agreed. "I think itmight take a while to convince those Below that he should be let onthe Big Secret over there." Helen waved her hand in Vincent'sdirection. "You know, Daniel loves to play chess," she saidthoughtfully. "Maybe the possibility of a new partner would influenceFather favorably."

"Does your husband play chess well?" Vincentasked.

"He's a terrific player!" Helen replied enthusiastically.

Catherine laughed and shook her head. "Then believe me,you'd be better off not to mention it at all."

Even as Vincent felt himself waking, he wondered ifCatherine's distress had disturbed his sleep again. For only twobabies, they seemed at least four times as active as one. Theirvigorous movement often kept Catherine awake; sometimes she wouldspend many of the night hours in the rocking chair, trying to quietthem. As he became gradually more alert, Vincent knew Catherine wasbeside him, but something seemed wrong. He usually woke quickly, butthis time he seemed to be clawing his way to consciousness from thebottom of a deep pit. And that smell in the air--something all toofamiliar to him, he knew, but not pleasant ... that coppery tang of... blood.

Suddenly awake, the sound of screaming assaulted him.Turning to Catherine in blind panic, he saw the agony on her face asthe horrible lake of red poured from her belly to stain the sheetsaround them. When he saw the small clawed hands emerging from thewound, he tried to hold her torn flesh together with his own hands.As the blood matted his fur, he heard hideous roaring screams of painand fear, only dimly realizing they came from himself. Despairovercame him as he saw all his dreams shattering around him. All hehad ever wanted to give her was love, and he had brought her onlydeath...

"Vincent! My God, Darling, wake up, please! VINCENT!"

It took a while for Vincent to turn from the hideousvision inside himself and focus on his surroundings. The first thingthat penetrated was Catherine's face, filled not with pain but fearand confusion. Blindly he reached out to touch the smooth,unblemished skin over her rounded belly. The sheets, thoughhopelessly tangled around them, were unstained.

As Vincent's pounding heart gradually subsided, thetapestry covering the door was flung aside and Father rushed into theroom carrying his medical bag, followed closely by Mary. Only thesurety of a dire medical emergency would have caused him to ignoretheir privacy, but the screams that tore the night apart were likenothing ever heard Below, even from Vincent. Catherine was tooconcerned for Vincent to care about, or even notice, their nakedness.The look of terror on Vincent's face frightened her even more thanthe pounding of his heart and the deep, rasping breaths that swelledhis chest. His panicked eyes kept moving from her face to her belly,where his hand still rested.

Her hands moved incessantly, sweeping the wild tangle ofhair from his face; caressing his cheeks, his chest, his back-tryingto wipe away that horrible look of fear. "Vincent, dearest, it wasonly a dream. Everything's all right."

With an inarticulate cry, Vincent took her in his armsand buried his face against her neck. Holding him, Catherine lookedhelplessly at Father over his shoulder. Father shook his head. Hisexperience of Vincent's dreams was several decades beyondCatherine's, but he remembered none so terrifying as this one seemedto be.

Eventually, Catherine's caresses seemed to calm himenough that he pulled away from her toward the concerned faces aroundhim. Mary tucked a comforter around them both, more concerned aboutpossible shock than modesty. "What did you dream, Vincent?" Catherineasked him gently. "Please tell us, love--don't hold it in."

Haltingly, he began to describe the dream, his head bowedso his face was hidden by a curtain of gold. Telling it was almost aspainful as experiencing it, but he knew the wisdom of doing so,rather than leaving the hideous images to fester inside him. When hefinally raised a tear-streaked face to his wife, he was pained to seethe tears that covered hers. As he watched, her look of pain turnedto one of anger, and she pounded one small fist against the mattress."Damn Paracelsus! Damn him to Hell!"

Father sighed and sank heavily into a chair by the bed."An understandable sentiment, Catherine," he said wearily, "Butprobably unnecessary. I'm sure he did that quite effectively byhimself." He looked at his son. "Vincent, I thought you had conqueredyour fears about this pregnancy. You seemed happy about it."

"I thought I had conquered them as well," he saidmiserably. "It seems I was wrong."

"Vincent," Father began unhappily, "I know I seem todwell on possible complications; I'm afraid it's my fault that you..."

"Father, no!" Vincent interrupted. "You have onlyexpressed reasonable caution. I have no one to blame but myself."

Mary's soft voice pulled Vincent's attention from his ownmisery. "Vincent, in six months Catherine has shown no evidence ofany problems other than tiredness and mild anemia. Neither of thoseare at all unusual in any woman carrying twins. She's doingbeautifully, Vincent, really. We wouldn't lie to you if there wereany cause for worry; believe me, there isn't."

Vincent looked at her with gratitude, but lowered hishead again without replying.

Father rose and picked up his bag. "Well, it appears thatmy medical assistance won't be needed. I imagine the best we can dois leave you two alone so you can try to sleep." Neither looked athim as he ushered Mary out the door--Catherine's eyes were onVincent, and Vincent's eyes were on his lap. With a shake of thehead, Father left, letting the tapestry curtain fall behind him tocover the door.

Catherine slept most of the next day, exhausted by herworry for her husband as well as lack of sleep. Vincent hoveredaround her all morning in mute misery, then disappeared soon afterlunch when she fell asleep again. An hour after that, Mary went indetermined search of him, finally tracking him down in the Chamber ofthe Falls. He sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, chin restingon drawn-up knees, the very picture of depression andself-recrimination. Mary watched him quietly for several minutes,then squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and went forward tobeard the lion in his den.

"Vincent, may I talk with you?"

The fact that he hadn't heard Mary approach told hervolumes about the depth of his brooding. After his initial startledresponse, Vincent motioned her to sit beside him, but kept his eyesfixed on the waterfall.

"Vincent," Mary began in a businesslike fashion, "youknow Catherine is determined to have the twins without anymedication." This statement didn't seem to call for a response, soVincent made none. "That's quite wise of her," Mary continued, "sinceanalgesics are discouraged in a twin birth."

Vincent remained silent. Mary plunged ahead. "With onlythree months left--possibly less, since twins are often early--it'stime to begin serious preparation for that birth. It's quite possibleto bear a child with little or no pain--or at least none that can'tbe managed--if a woman has been trained in what to do, and isproperly motivated. Catherine is as motivated as any woman I've everseen. But Vincent, you have an important decision to make."

"Me?" Vincent finally turned his head to face Mary.

"Vincent, the most important factor in controlling painin childbirth is being able to relax."

"Catherine has been doing the relaxation exercises youshowed her," Vincent insisted. "You said she was making excellentprogress."

"And she is," Mary agreed. "But there's more to it thanthat. Being able to relax one's muscles so completely is not easy,Vincent. Emotional tension can cause muscle tension, and that leadsto pain. If you aren't able to overcome your fears, we had bettermake some decisions now about other ways to handle this birth."

"What do you mean?" Vincent demanded.

"Vincent, the husband doesn't have to be the laborcoach, you know, even though it's preferred. You would have beenideal, because of that wonderful voice of yours--sometimes a woman insecond-stage labor gets so relaxed between contractions not even thedoctor's voice will penetrate, only her husband's. Catherine will bedisappointed, I'm sure, but she's a sensible young woman and will seethe wisdom of it. I'm sure Jenny would be happy to do it, she andCatherine are very close ... of course, it might be difficult for herto get the time off work ... but then there's Jamie, of course!Jamie's so fond of Catherine, and she's such a strong, intelligentgirl--yes, Jamie would be an excellent choice ... or perhaps--"

Mary had been surreptitiously observing Vincent'sincreasing agitation out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly, he roseto his feet in one swift movement, hair and cape swirling with theforce of it.

"NO!"

"Why Vincent, dear, what's wrong?"

"Catherine is my wife, bearing my children!Do you think I would let anyone else guide her through this? My placeis by her side."

"Well, ideally, yes, of course, dear," Mary soothed him,"but if you aren't able to do it I'm sure Catherine willunderstand--"

"I can do it," Vincent almost shouted, "and I will!"

"Now really, Vincent, after last night--" Marytut-tutted. "There's no reason to be ashamed. More than one husbandhas been unable to put aside his own fear in a situation like this;why, I remember one poor young man who was such a phobia aboutdoctors... "

"Mary," Vincent said in a voice that would brook nodisagreement, "there will be no repeats of last night. You are not tosuggest or even consider that anyone else do this for my wife."Turning on his heel, Vincent stormed out of the Chamber of the Fallstoward the home chambers and Catherine.

Mary watched him go. Not until he turned around the benddid she allow her self-satisfied smile free rein. Rising to her feet,she dusted off her hands in the gesture of a job well done, andfollowed.

His duties Below finished for the moment, Vincent madehis way through the Tunnels towards the entrance to the house that heand Catherine shared Above. As her time grew closer, she spent moretime there than Below, at the insistence of her extensive medicalteam. Vincent seemed to have little to do these days, aside from histeaching. Construction and repair crews never included him anymore,and all the many small tasks he had been accustomed to perform, frommoving heavy furniture to reading sick children to sleep, wereapparently not required or being taken on by someone else. What acoincidence that his workload had suddenly become so light just whenCatherine began spending most of her time Above. Vincent smiledgratefully. He knew a conspiracy when he saw one.

Since Catherine could not now go Below as much, the wholecommunity seemed to have decided to bring Below to her. She wasseldom alone when he wasn't with her. Jamie, Mouse, Rebecca,Samantha, Eric, Mary, Father and countless others took turns atCatherine- watch. Although it was unlikely anything would happen sosuddenly to Catherine Vincent wouldn't feel it, he was grateful forhis friends' concern. If nothing else, it kept Catherine from beinglonely and bored. In fact, she had laughingly confessed to him justlast night that the Chandler-Wells residence was beginning toresemble Grand Central Station.

Mouse was having a wonderful time inventing elaboratedevices to make Catherine's life easier. His pride and joy was achair with a tray attached to hold her computer keyboard, wide enoughso she could sit Indian-style and "stretch the baby door," as Maryput it. He had gleefully planned an elaborate system of pulleys andropes so Catherine wouldn't have to climb stairs, and abandoned itwith great reluctance when Catherine hastened to tell him the housepossessed a tiny elevator, installed during the last illness ofEdna's late husband.

As Vincent reached the hidden stairway, he sensed thatCatherine was on the top floor. Opening the wall panel to enter thesolarium, he noticed with surprise that the shoji screen whichusually sat in a corner of the room was under the skylight, blockinghis view as well as that from the room's more conventional door.Suddenly Jamie's head popped out from behind the screen andimmediately popped back again.

"It's OK, it's Vincent," Jamie said to someone behind thescreen--presumably Catherine. His wife's reply was not quiteintelligible, but it resulted in a giggle from Jamie, who emergedfrom behind the screen again and moved toward Vincent.

"Hi," she greeted him cheerfully. "As long as you'rehere, I guess I'll make myself scarce."

"You needn't leave, Jamie," Vincent assured her."Catherine enjoys your company."

"Oh, I've been here for hours," Jamie replied breezily."We've been talking up a storm."

"About what?" Vincent asked suspiciously.

"Oh, all sorts of things. Being older than me, and a wifeand mother (almost, anyway) and all that--Catherine's got lots ofgood advice. Say, did you just come from Below? Do you know whereMouse is now?"

"He was helping Cullen with the cradle. Having to redo itto fit twins has put things behind schedule."

"Thanks." Jamie grinned. "Well, have a nice afternoon."

Vincent shook his head in amusement at her rathertransparent train of thought. Poor Mouse didn't have a chance.Instead of leaving by way of the secret panel, Jamie chose to exit bythe door into the hall. Curious. As he turned toward the screen,Vincent heard her lock the door behind her.

Stepping behind the screen, Vincent stopped in histracks. Catherine was sitting on a blanket placed on the floor,leaning comfortably against a backrest. The filtered sunlightspilling through the frosted glass made her skin glow. This was quitenoticeable, since she wore tiny gold earrings, her crystal necklace,and nothing else.

"Catherine!" he sputtered. "What--"

"Sit down, dear," she replied, patting the blanket besideher and looking up at him with a langorous smile. "I'm doing this onmedical advice. Why don't you take off that cape first? It's much toowarm in here for that."

"Helen and Mary," Catherine explained, "have been tellingme that in benighted cultures such as ours, where people run aroundwith lots of clothes on all the time, it's a good idea to--well,toughen up the lunch counter, so to speak."

Vincent looked hopelessly confused for a moment, thenlight dawned. "You mean this has something to do with breastfeeding?"

"You clever man," Catherine congratulated him. "With twobabies--especially if they inherit their father's appetite--I'dbetter be good and prepared. Actually, I should be sitting in directsunlight, but I'm not about to go onto the roof like this; with myluck there's sure to be some weirdo out there with binoculars. Ithought I might as well sit under the skylight at least--maybe it'llhave a placebo effect."

"How often are you supposed to do this?" Vincent asked.

"Actually, it would be great if I just walked aroundtopless all day from now on," Catherine replied sweetly. "But Ithoughtthat might be upsetting to Mouse and Eric and Fa--"

"Not to mention me," Vincent interrupted in a strangledvoice.

"Really?" Catherine asked innocently. "Well, there's lotsof other things that help ... massage, for instance, like this ...see?"

Vincent saw. He couldn't take his eyes away. Catherinewas right--it was very warm in here.

"Of course," Catherine went on, "it gets pretty boringafter a while to do this all by yourself. And there are other reallyuseful things that just can't be done without help."

"Such as?" Vincent's voice was getting very gravelly.

"Well, think about what the babies are going to do tothese poor, delicate little--well, not as little as they used to be,I admit--breasts of mine ... " Catherine sighed. "The more trialruns,so to speak, the better off I'll be later." The look of wide-eyedinnocence was belied by the flicker in those eyes.

Vincent looked into their green depths for a long momentas a slow smile transformed his features. Father did not raise stupidsons. As his hand reached toward one breast and his mouth loweredtoward the other, he felt Catherine's contented sigh as her handsburied themselves in his hair. So this was why Jamie locked the door.

When Vincent came to bed that night, Catherine wassitting up with one end of a stethoscope in her ears and the otheragainst her belly. She grabbed her husband's hand excitedly as soonas he got close enough. "Oh Vincent, this is wonderful! Father wasright, I can hear their heartbeats! They're so strong, just like yousaid."

Vincent's own ears were so sensitive he had noticed therhythmic sounds when he laid his head against her, which he seemed tolove doing at every opportunity. When Catherine confided herdisappointment that she couldn't--even if her ears had been goodenough her bending ability certainly wasn't these days--Father hadlaughed and told her it was time she might be able to hear themherself with a little help.

When Vincent slipped into bed beside her, Catherine putthe stethoscope on the nightstand and turned to give him a resoundingkiss. That horrible dream he'd had a month ago apparently had acathartic effect. Ever since then, Vincent seemed to be lookingforward to the birth as much as she. His arm slid around her asshesnuggled her head against his shoulder. Catherine was sure that hestill had some fears buried deep; they wouldn't leave him completelyuntil he held his children in his arms. She was equally sure that allwould be well. Giving birth would be a lot less trying than beingpregnant; at least she'd get to do something other than liearound becoming an increasingly more accurate imitation of theGoodyear blimp.

Vincent rubbed his cheek against her hair and kissed thetop of her head. "I wish you weren't so uncomfortable at night," hesighed. "It worries me that you get so little sleep."

Catherine patted his hand reassuringly. "It'll get worsebefore it gets better, love, but don't worry about it. I make up forsome of it during the day."

"What do you mean, it'll get worse?" he asked, anythingbut reassured.

"Well, those contractions Father warned me about havestarted, and they'll get more frequent as time goes on. The bigger Iget, the harder it is to find a comfortable position. And afterthey're born, I'll be feeding them all the time. I figure I can sleepwhen they're weaned." Catherine raised herhead from Vincent'sshoulder and laughed at the morose look on his face.

"Why the sudden concern?" she asked. "You've been messingup my sleep for six years now."

"What do you mean?" he demanded indignantly.

"Well, to begin with, it was partly your fault that Ichanged from a nice underworked corporate lawyer in Daddy's firm toCatherine Chandler, Crimebuster. When I think of how many nights Ispent roaming around scummy parts of town, following up leads, not tomention wading through paperwork ... "

"Which you stopped doing when you believed it put me indanger," he said gently.

"Well, the paperwork didn't stop. And then, I'd come homefrom a long day at work and spend most of the night on my balconywith you instead of catching up on my sleep."

"I thought you didn't mind," Vincent replied with aguilty look.

"Of course I didn't mind!" Catherine exclaimed inexasperation. "You're the one who thinks sleep is so important, notme."

"What about after you bought the house? I don't have towait until darkness to see you anymore."

"Well, in the last three and a half years you've foundall sorts of delightful ways to interfere with my sleep," Catherinepurred. "Not every night, but often enough to make all my girlfriends madly jealous if they knew."

"Catherine!" Vincent laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"Don't blame me, you're the one who turned out to be sotalented. I wonder if the progeny will inherit that from you? If so,we'd better keep it quiet or we'll have to beat off an army ofsuitors when they reach puberty."

Vincent was suddenly very quiet, and the smile fled fromhis face. Catherine knew at once what was wrong; inevitably thedoubts would overwhelm him again as the birth approached. It was pasttime they talked about it once more.

"Vincent--dear heart--tell me what you're thinking."

"I was thinking," he admitted sadly, "that our childrenmay never forgive me for what they inherit."

"Vincent--we've talked about this before, years ago. Inever would have tried to have children, no matter how much I wantedto, if you hadn't agreed. You did agree," she reminded him.

"I agreed to a possibility, one that few believed couldever became actuality." He spread his large, furred hand over herstomach. "But now, that actuality is only two months away. What ifeither or both of these children is like me? Did I have the right toinflict that pain on anyone else?"

"Vincent," Catherine said gently. "Even if we have achild like you--and nothing would make me happier--it won't be you.Our children will have a different life." She put her hand on top ofhis, stroking the furred back lovingly. "Dearest, I know you'vealways believed you were abandoned because your parents, or yourmother at least, couldn't bear the sight of you. I don't think that'strue, I can think of lots of other explanations. But even if thatwere true in your case, it certainly won't be for our children.They'll have both parents with them from the minute they're born, andthey'll always know how loved and wanted they are."

"I never doubted Father loved me," Vincent replied. "Itdidn't take away the pain of being different."

"Vincent, much of your pain was not just because you weredifferent, but unique--utterly alone in that difference. Don't yousee, that's something a child of ours will never know. If they'reboth like you, they'll have each other." Catherine twined her fingersaround Vincent's and lifted his hand to rub it against her cheek."Even if only one takes after you, he, orshe, will still have you.And how could any intelligent child not be proud to take after such awonderful father?"

"Oh, Catherine." Vincent wrapped his arms around his wifeand held her as close as he could. She gently stroked his back as heheld her, knowing from the catch in his voice he was fighting backtears. After a long while, he pulled back and lay against thepillows, his eyes closed.

"Even with all that," he went on, "a child like me willbe confined to life Below. Will I ever be forgiven for that?"

"Look at me," Catherine commanded gently. As he openedhis eyes, she put her hand on his chest and looked directly intotheir beautiful blue depths. "There are people born in the Tunnelswho live their whole lives there, out of choice, like Pascal. Do youthink he feels trapped? And remember, plenty of children Above leadlives more miserable and restricted than anyone Below could dreamof--I know that only too well. Besides, you've done pretty welldespite restrictions, haven't you? Do you remember what thatirreverent brother of yours said to you just before our wedding?"

The pain in Vincent's eyes gradually gave way thefaintest beginnings of a smile. "I remember."

"Quote, please," Catherine insisted, doing her bestimitation of Father.

"Little brother," Vincent recited, "I've been all aroundthe world and here I am still single. You spend your whole life in ahole in the ground and snag the most eligible woman in New York."

Catherine turned out the lamp and snuggled into her mostcomfortable position, one leg draped over her husband's thigh. "Don'tyou ever forget it, buster," she laughed as they settled themselvesfor sleep.

Catherine stood in her dressing room without a stitch on,scowling glumly at the shirt which had managed to slip off its hangerand land on the floor. The prospect of trying to retrieve it was sodepressing she had just about decided to ignore it and wear somethingelse. Turning in disgust to rummage for an alternative, she caught asudden glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror and almost jumpedout of her skin. Dammit, had Vincent closed the bathroom door?Glumly, Catherine realized how assiduously she had been avoidingmirrors lately. She stared in growing dismay at the sight of hersuddenly unfamiliar body.

What had happened to the Catherine Chandler who was soproud of her small waist she wore all those wide belts to show itoff? The petite woman with long neck and exquisite bone structurethat Vincent loved to trace with his fingers? She had wished forbigger breasts since she was a teenager--now she had them, but theyfelt and looked like they belonged to someone else. God, her face wasso bloated, and her ankles looked more appropriatefor some poor baglady who had to wear slippers all the time because shoes wouldn't fitover the swelling. And everything stuck out so--nipples, navel, notto mention that huge bulge in front that made her look like a snakewho'd swallowed a wildebeest.

After weeks of avoiding this confrontation with herself,Catherine was horrified. It was worse than she thought, she wasgrotesque. How could Vincent stand to look at her? How grateful hemust be that her usually insatiable appetite for his lovemaking hadat last been reduced in the face of her increasing discomfort. Hestill seemed to want to touch and caress her at every opportunity,but he must be forcing himself so she wouldn't feel unloved.Catherine's lip began to tremble. The sight of her disgusted him, shewas sure of it, and he was hiding it from her.

Catherine almost jumped out of her skin when the lastperson on earth she wanted to see suddenly appeared in the doorway.She stood rooted to the spot in horror; there was no place to hide.The unexpected sight of her hadn't given him time to hide hisrevulsion--look at that strange look on his face! He couldn't standthe sight of her, he might as well admit it.

"What is it?" she heard herself ask accusingly. "What areyou thinking?"

"Catherine--" he stared. "I didn't expect ... "

"I'm sure you didn't," she said testily. "Answer myquestion!"

He spread his hands helplessly. "I was justthinking--I've never seen you look more beautiful."

If Vincent had been surprised at her question,Catherine's response to his heartfelt reply thoroughly disconcertedhim. She began to cry with great abandon, soaking the front of hisshirt when he reached out instinctively to hold her close--or asclose as was possible these days. Vincent had once feared the idea ofCatherine in childbirth, but he was beginning to look forward to itwith great eagerness all of a sudden.

***

Catherine began to blubber again in telling the story,but Jenny had the presence of mind to see it coming and keep her bestfriend well supplied with tissues. Catherine blew her nose andcontinued her narrative.

"God, Jenny, what poor Vincent must be going through.Feeling my emotions through the bond--by now he must think he's onthe world's biggest and most unpredictable roller-coaster."

"Look at it this way," Jenny suggested cheerfully, "it'llkeep him so discombobulated he'll forget to worry about B-day. Sohow've you been feeling, anyway?"

"As well as any woman can expect who weighs a thousandpounds," Catherine replied grumpily.

"Now, Cath, you're exaggerating, Jenny replied. "Youdon't look an ounce over five hundred."

Catherine began to laugh in spite of herself. "Well, Istill have those damn leg cramps, and if I take any more calcium I'llstart to solidify. Vincent's leg rubs work better anyway.

A full night's sleep is a distant memory. Not only do theChandler-Wells offspring spend most of the night wrestling or dancingthe fandango ... "

"Maybe you've got another Fred and Adelle in there,"Jenny interrupted.

"Or Hulk Hogan and--shoot, I don't know the names of anyother wrestlers. Anyway, I can't find a position that's comfortablefor more than half an hour. At least I don't have trouble breathingany more, and despite the way I look, I don't feel quite so heavy."

"Does this mean something?" Jenny asked.

"It usually means the baby's moved down, according to mysterling team of doctors," Catherine told her.

"Well, that sounds promising," Jenny said brightly."Maybe that means you'll be early."

"Ha!" Catherine replied. "If there's one thing I'velearned from all the reading and doctor-badgering I've done, it'sthat an 'average' pregnancy is a myth. Peter tells me it could meanonly two more weeks, or four more weeks. Great. No two books agree onwhat average is, but I guess it doesn't matter, since nobody has anaverage anything anyway."

"At least you don't have to stay in bed so much now,"Jenny reminded her.

"Right. That gives me more time to perfect my waddle,"Catherine retorted. "God, I wish this were over with! Everybody's asnervous as cats."

Jenny began to giggle helplessly. "What's so funny?"Catherine demanded.

"Speaking of Vincent," Jenny choked out.

"You rat!" Catherine couldn't help joining in herlaughter. "Having you for an honorary aunt is going to warp our kidsbeyond repair."

"Speaking as an honorary aunt," Jenny continued when shegot her breath back, "I'm reminding you I expect to be notified assoon as the blessed event is underway. I insist on being here tohelp."

"Jenny, I'd love to have you here, you know that--eventhough our biggest problem isn't going to be lack of help, butkeeping the crowds down. But how could you get off work on shortnotice? Fall is the biggest time for a publishing house."

"Listen," Jenny replied smugly, "I'm the fair-hairededitor around there ever since I discovered one of their best-sellingauthors. They're terrified I might go elsewhere and take thelucrative John Winslow with me."

"AKA Devin Wells," Catherine grinned. "So he's stillselling like hotcakes?"

"Better all the time--especially that space opera seriesof his; we can hardly print those fast enough. Boy, I owe you forthat one, Cathy."

"Owe me? You're the one who got him published."

"Sure, but you're the one who first got him thinkingabout trying a legal way of telling lies," Jenny reminded her.

"So he owes us both," Catherine grinned wickedly. "He canpay me back by babysitting whenever he sets foot in Manhattan."

She raised her glass of skim milk. "To fiction!"

"To fiction," Jenny echoed. "Say, the setup in the'birthing room' looks pretty impressive. I didn't know they madedouble hospital beds."

"I didn't either until Helen told me," Catherineadmitted. "She'd seen them in some birthing centers and thoughtsomething like that would be just the ticket for me and Vincent. Poordear, he'd have the babies for me if he could figure out a wayto do it; at least this will let him get as close as he can."

"Cathy ... " Jenny began.

"What?"

"Well, I was wondering--with this bond of yours, isn't itpossible that Vincent will get too involved--not be able to coach youlike he's supposed to?"

"He insists it won't be a problem. Remember, what hepicks up from me are emotions. Even if part of the labor is painful,he won't feel the pain, but my emotional reaction to it. And I'm suremy emotional reaction to that kind of pain will be--I don'tknow--determination, excitement, elation. Nothing negative."

"Should be pretty interesting for him, no matter what,"Jenny mused.

"Well, on the off chance it's so interesting he passesout or something, Jamie's been trained as a backup," Catherineconfided. "Vincent resisted that at first, but Mary insisted that itwas a reasonable precaution, since she'd be too busy midwifing. Jamiewas eager to learn, anyway--said it could come in handy in thefuture."

"You mean when other Tunnel women had babies."

"Sure," Catherine replied nonchalantly.

Jenny looked at Catherine suspiciously for a moment, thengrinned. "You've become such a yenta, you know that? Mouse isdoomed."

"Aaronson," Catherine warned, "shut up and drink yourmilk."

Vincent woke to discover Catherine sitting up beside him,leaning against the headboard. He frowned. Poor Catherine looked sotired these days; if only she didn't have such trouble sleeping.

"Catherine--how long have you been awake?"

"A couple of hours," she replied distractedly, looking atthe glowing face of the bedside clock.

"You should have wakened me, love," he chided gently."Shall I rub your back? Perhaps that will help you sleep."

She turned to him in the darkness. Only eyes like hiscould have seen the slow smile she gave. "Vincent, I don't thinkeither one of us will be sleeping for a good long time."

Suddenly the feelings of amusement and--excitement thatflowed through the bond made sense. "Catherine!" he grabbed hershoulders. "You don't mean ... "

"Nice regular contractions, every fifteen minutes, forover an hour." She took a deep breath. "I think this is it."

"But--it's too early! You're not due for three weeks!"

"Two and a half, actually. That doesn't really count asearly, especially with twins." Catherine touched her husband's cheekin reassurance. "It's OK."

Vincent turned on the bedside lamp so he could seeCatherine's face better. She looked excited, elated as she took hishands in hers. "Oh, Vincent, just think--by this time tomorrow we'llbe parents! Our children will actually be here!" She grinned evenwider. "They're probably early because they can't wait to meet theirwonderful daddy."

"Oh, Catherine--I love you so much." Vincent held her inhis arms a moment, then kissed her slowly, tenderly. Reluctantlyreleasing her, he drank in the sight of her glowing face. "Will yoube all right? I must notify Father."

"Go ahead, pound the pipes, I'll be fine." She shook herhead. "Poor Father; I hate to drag him out at four in the morning,but he'll have a fit if we wait. I'll call Peter." She took Vincent'sface in her hands and they kissed once more, very gently. "Don'tworry--believe me, we've got plenty of time."

As soon as Vincent received excited confirmation fromPascal that his message had been received and would be passed on, heran back up the stairs to rejoin Catherine. A tousled but no longersleepy Father, accompanied by Mary and Jamie, was the first toarrive, followed closely by Peter--who grumbled that Catherine seemedinordinately pleased that she had managed to wake him up in themiddle of the night. Catherine only grinned--she had rather enjoyedit. Helen, assured there was no reason for hurry, joined them shortlyafter her hospital shift ended at dawn. Catherine insisted there wasno need to drag Jenny out of bed until then, at least. Once herplethora of doctors had assured themselves that Catherine was,indeed, in labor, they retreated to the kitchen to stoke up on coffeeand leave Vincent and Catherine alone until called for.

They walked around the house at first, especially thelibrary; sometimes Vincent would pull a book from the shelves andsoftly read passages to Catherine--everything from Sonnets fromthe Portuguese to an ancient Aztec "Poem to Ease Birth."

Catherine was touched to think of him poring throughbooks Above and Below throughout the months of her pregnancy,choosing things to read to her during the long hours of waiting. Whena contraction came, she would bend over slightly, leaning againstVincent's body, breathing carefully until it passed. He held hergently as a flower, his hand on her abdomen, lips brushing her hair.At intervals, someone would peek in quietly to check on theparents-to-be. Sometimes Catherine would ask for ice to suck; most ofthe time she barely seemed to notice, concentrating on strange butexciting sensations inside her, and the reassuring presence ofVincent at her side.

***

"So how long is this likely to last?" Jenny asked, toonervous to sit still.

"Relax, Jenny," Peter encouraged. "It'll be hours yetbefore things get interesting."

"I'll bet they're pretty interesting for Catherine rightnow," Jamie retorted.

"Not to mention Vincent," Helen added.

"Anything is interesting to those two as long as they'retogether," Father laughed. "Even watching crystals grow." His faceclouded. "They look so happy, so excited. I pray nothing goes wrong."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mary exploded. "Everything seemsto be going quite well. The babies are in a good position, Catherineand Vincent have been well trained in what to do ..."

"By the best of teachers," Father conceded.

"Thank you," Mary replied primly.

"Sounds more like grandfather jitters than professionalconcern to me," Peter accused. "Calm down, Jacob, and let yourselfenjoy the process. Even Vincent's been able to do that, and he'srather more involved than you are."

Father subsided reluctantly under this multiple assault.He sighed. "I can hardly wait till it's over."

***

"I can hardly wait till it's over," Catherine admitted.

Vincent stopped his gentle caresses to look at her withconcern. "Is anything wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No, nothing like that," she reassured him. "I'm just soeager to see the babies, find out what they're like. Will they beidentical twins or not? Will we get two alike or one of each? Thispart just takes so long!"

Vincent held her close as he gently stroked her breast."I'm doing my best to help."

"Mmm. You can keep doing that whether it helps or not. Ican't believe you got Father to admit--mm, do that again--that it canhelp labor."

"One of the advantages of being well-read," Vincentreplied with amusement. "He couldn't deny it when I was able to quotechapter and verse."

"Did you ever tell him about those people in Polynesia orwherever who make love during labor to help things along?"

"No, I thought that would be too much for him--and thatreference was more dubious." Vincent almost purred as he kissed herneck. "Would you like to go suggest it to him now?"

Catherine gazed at him in mock horror, which soondegenerated into giggles. "Oh, it's so tempting, just to see the lookon his face! But somehow, I don't think it's a good idea at thisstage to give your doctor apoplexy--not to mention yourfather-in-law."

The medical crew was cleaning up after a scratch lunch intheir kitchen headquarters when Vincent and Catherine appeared in thedoorway. "Catherine thinks she'll be more comfortable in bed now,"Vincent announced.

"Catherine, do you feel all right?" Father askedimmediately. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Not exactly," Catherine said carefully. "But thecontractions are getting pretty close together and more--intense. Ithink it's time."

"Well, make sure you take the elevator upstairs," hecommanded, glaring at Vincent.

"Of course, Father," his son answered seriously. Heturned back just before they disappeared from the doorway. "Justremember," Vincent added as a parting shot, "no one ever gets stuckon the stairs." The look on Father's face sent everyone intoparoxysms of laughter as they prepared to follow.

As the contractions came ever closer together andintensified, Catherine found it harder and harder to avoid tensing;her eyes closed as she concentrated. Vincent's hand rested lightly onher abdomen, checking her breathing, as his voice flowed around herlike warm cream. It never stopped, conjuring pictures in her mind ofhappy, peaceful times they had spent together, telling over and overagain how precious she was to him, how much he loved her. Sometimeshe would recite poetry to her--the rhythmn of the words, spoken inthat beloved voice, relaxed her more effectively than anything elsepossibly could. Soon the contractions came so close together theyseemed almost constant; the feeling of pressure and fullnessincreased until a moan of pain escaped her.

"Catherine--what's wrong?" Vincent's voice was concerned,but he kept it calm by force of will.

"My back--" she breathed. "Vincent--help me."

Anticipating Peter's instructions, Vincent turnedCatherine on her side and pressed the heel of his large hand into herlower back. Catherine almost cried in relief as the pain lessened.Peter's voice, speaking softly, gradually penetrated herconsciousness.

"Cathy, I know this is the hardest part, butremember--it's the shortest. Just think of how soon you're going tosee those babies."

"Peter, I've got to push!"

"No, you don't, honey, not yet. I know it's hard torelax, now, Cathy," Peter reassured her, "But you can do it. Not muchlonger."

"My dear, brave Catherine," Vincent whispered softly, "Ilove you so--breathe gently now, my love--soon ... "

Suddenly, when she was sure it would go on forever, thebackache disappeared, and Catherine felt an overwhelming sense ofrelief. "Now?" She demanded? "Do I get to push now?"

"You bet!" Peter replied with feeling. "You're in thehomestretch."

Vincent helped her rise to a sitting position again asMary raised up the bed. Vincent kept his arm around her shoulders,lifting her forward with each contraction, his cheek against hers.Catherine held Vincent's hand on one side and Jamie's on the other,squeezing them each time she bore down. After awhile, the relaxationshe sank into between each one became so profound she was aware oflittle around her besides Vincent's voice in her ear or lips on herforehead. He seemed to know without her asking when to wipe her browwith a cool cloth, or when her lips were dry and needed the gentletouch of his finger smoothing something soothing on them. Catherinelost all track of time as she focused on the rhythm of rising,pushing, when to breathe and when not to. Her concentration wasbroken when she began to feel a burning, stretching sensation thatcaused a sudden flicker of fear.

"Oh God, I feel like I'm going to burst!"

"You're not, child," Mary said calmly. "Everyone saysthat and no one ever does. Give a good push at the next contraction,and then relax. You'll be seeing your baby very soon."

A little while later, Vincent almost lost hisconcentration when Catherine cried out his name and wrapped her armsaround his neck. Her cries, ecstatic tears, and the feelings thatflooded him through the bond were those he had only felt from herbefore during the climax of their lovemaking.

"The baby's crowned!" Peter announced exultantly."Breathe quickly now, don't push."

Vincent couldn't tell if the overwhelming sense ofexcitement and expectation he felt was his, Catherine's or both-andit didn't really matter, since he had no sense of where one left offand the other began.

"There's the head!" Mary cried. "Look at your firstborn."Mary gently rotated the baby's head until it faced the stunnedparents. "Come, now, help with the rest."

Tears were pouring unchecked down Catherine's face as shereached down to help bring their child into the world. As the tinyshoulders and torso emerged, Vincent reached out with one hand toplace it under the baby. Catherine knew as long as she lived, shewould never see anything more moving than the sight of that large,furred hand gently easing the small form from her body.

"Ah, Cathy," Peter whispered in a shaky voice, "she looksjust like you did all those years ago. Say hello to your daughter."

The baby announced her arrival loudly as Mary quicklycleaned her eyes and mouth and Peter just as quickly checked herover; then Mary lifted her to Catherine's breast and covered her witha blanket. With one arm still circling his wife, Vincent rested hisother hand on his daughter under the blanket.

Blinking his tears away to drink in the sight of the tinyface against Catherine's breast, he marveled at the perfection of it,overwhelmed by astonishment and relief. "Oh, Catherine," he breathedwhen he was finally able to speak, "she's more beautiful than I everdreamed possible."

Catherine's tears began again as the tiny mouth began tosuckle gently. "Oh Vincent--how could any child of yours not bebeautiful? Thank you for such a gift."

Vincent gathered mother and child more closely into hisarms. "Catherine, dearest, it is I who must thank you--for having thecourage to believe this dream could come true--and to make it cometrue." He kissed her hair, her forehead, the tracks of tears on herflushed cheeks. Lost in contemplation of a miracle, both parentsrealized only gradually that Father was standing beside them, lookingstunned. Catherine reached out her hand to draw him into theircircle.

"Meet Caroline," Catherine said softly.

Wonderingly, Father reached out to touch the downy headthat lay at Catherine's breast. He shook his head, unable to speak atfirst. "Ah, Catherine ... Vincent ... there are no words ..."Squaring his shoulders, Father brought himself back to the job athand.

"Your task isn't over yet, Catherine," he reminded her.

"But I'm an old hand at this now," Catherine grinned. Shefelt exalted, elated--invulnerable. A beaming Jamie gazed smugly uponthe whole family, proud of how well her first foray as assistantlabor coach had gone so far. Jenny and Helen emerged from the cornersof the room to congratulate the new parents and gaze in awe at thetiny replica of Catherine who suckled contentedly, unaware of themiracle of her existence.

Within minutes, labor started again. Father and Marymoved down to escort the second of the Chandler-Wells offspring intothe world, as Peter retired with Jenny to positions as observers. Thenew parents reluctantly allowed Helen to remove Caroline temporarilyso Catherine could concentrate on her sibling. The second labor waseasier for Catherine, now that she knew what to expect and was freshfrom the triumph of her daughter's birth. Once again, she experiencedthat moment of orgasmic pleasure as the baby's head crowned.

The second baby slipped out all at once, and as Catherineand Vincent reached for the tiny body to ease its passage Catherinegave a joyous cry. "Oh, Vincent, how wonderful! Isn't he beautiful?"Her happy tears began again as her finger traced the line of the tinymouth that led to the flat kitten-nose, already kissed with thefaintest line of golden down along its side. Mere ghosts of clawstipped the tiny fingers that clutched at Catherine's breast. Father'sface, too, was streaked with tears as he remembered that day so manyyears ago when a similar magical child was laid in his arms totransform his life. Not in his wildest imaginings had expected thatday would lead to this.

Vincent looked from Catherine's ecstatic face to Father'sand back to that of his son. Feelings of unalloyed joy washed overhim from Catherine through their bond. And strangely, for the firsttime, he sensed more than her presence. Though they were faint andstill unformed, two new flames of consciousness flicked at the edgesof his awareness. His awe at this realization was so great, for amoment he forget to breathe.

Then Helen brought Caroline back to lay her beside herbrother on Catherine's breast. Looking at his family--hisfamily--Vincent suddenly knew with total certainty there could be nodoubt about the rightness of such a miracle. He raised his eyes toscan the faces around him, that looked on them with joy, relief andunmistakable love. Gathering his wife and children into his arms, hekissed Catherine's forehead and rested his cheek against her tousledhair. "Oh, my love-- there is no magic greater than yours."

As he pulled back to see her face, Catherine looked intothe blue depths of his eyes, seeing his fears and doubts melt likesnow in the sun. "Dear, dear, Vincent," she whispered, "there is nogreater magic than love."

The soft light of lamps and candles washed over Vincentas he lay in bed, holding his sleeping daughter in his arms. Besidehim, Jacob stared enraptured at his mother's face as he still suckledenergetically at her breast. Catherine turned her gaze to herhusband. How peaceful he looked, how happy, now that his great fearhad been laid to rest at last. He was ecstatic at being a father, asshe knew he would be, but still not used to the daily wonder of it.She smiled. Perhaps he never would be.

Raising his head from his daughter's fascinating face, hecaught his wife watching him with unconcealed indulgence. "What areyou thinking?" He asked softly. Even though the bond sent himuninterrupted waves of happiness and contentment, it pleased him tohear the words as well.

"I was just thinking how happy you look," she saidsimply, "and how happy it makes me to see you that way."

"Catherine," Vincent replied unexpectedly, "do you knowone of things I love most about you?"

"What?"

"The fact that, in the entire month that has passed sinceour children were born, you never once said, 'I told you so.' "

Catherine smiled at him tenderly. "I didn't have to. Youget that message every time you hold these two, or look into theirfaces. I think I may have mentioned it to Father once or twice, I'mforced to admit."

Vincent laughed softly, shaking his head."Catherine--what made you so sure that all would be well?"

Her look was enigmatic. "Because I've come to believe inmagic, and fairy tales. Sometimes a happy ending is the only one thatfits. In fairy tales you have to earn that happiness, but you can besure it'll be waiting for you at the end."

"But this isn't the end," Vincent replied.

"No," Catherine agreed, stroking little Jacob'sincreasingly sleepy head. "Only the beginning of thehappily-ever-after part."

"That's the part the stories never tell," Vincent pointedout.

"Then I guess that means we'll have to write the bookourselves," Catherine replied firmly.

"Psst! Can we come in?" Two blond heads peered hopefullyaround the open doorway.

"Mouse, Jamie, of course," Catherine invited. "I thinkJacob's finally finishing his dinner."

"Eats lots." Mouse observed. "Like Vincent."

"Yes, he certainly takes after his father," Catherineagreed. "I wonder if it's the food or the container he finds soappetizing."

Jamie grinned at Vincent's discomfiture. Mouse screwed uphis face, for a moment, then began to blush.

"Well," Jamie began, taking pity on them both, "we justwanted to see how the babies were doing." Jamie had taken aproprietary interest in both children since helping escort them intolife.

Mouse adored them and found them fascinating, if a littlescary. He began to describe elaborate plans for a complicated playapparatus that sounded like some bizarre hybrid of an erector set andjungle gym.

"Mouse, they're awfully young yet," Catherine interruptedhastily.

"Any such plans would require very close supervision,"Vincent added, unwilling to discourage Mouse but equally unwilling totrust his precious children to one of that young man's more dubiousconstructions.

"Don't worry," Jamie reassured them, patting Mouse'sshoulder, "I'll take care of it." Catherine grinned openly and evenVincent couldn't hide the ghost of a smile. Mouse smiled happily too,not really sure what was going on but glad all his friends were insuch a good mood.

"Like the cradle?" he asked for about the fortieth time."Big enough? Babies comfortable?"

"They love it," Catherine replied warmly. "You and Cullendid a wonderful job."

"OK, good; OK fine!" Mouse exclaimed gleefully as theyheaded toward the door. At Vincent's request they lowered thetapestry behind them, the signal the room's occupants wanted privacy.Vincent rose to put Caroline into the cradle, then took thefinally-satiated Jacob from Catherine and laid him beside his sister.He stared at the two sleeping faces for a long time before rejoiningCatherine in their bed. He wrapped his arms around her as shesnuggled close.

"I keep remembering," Catherine said quietly, "how happyeveryone was on their naming day. Especially Father."

"He really had no idea we had picked out Jacob Charles."

"Mmm. I'm glad we decided on Caroline Mary. I just wish"Catherine sighed, "that Charles and Caroline Chandler had been thereto see it."

"Don't you think they were?" Vincent asked as he gentlypushed the shining hair away from her face.

Catherine hugged him gratefully. "Of course. I'm surethey were."

Settling back down, Catherine rubbed her cheek againstVincent's chest in sleepy contentment. "Are you very tired,Catherine?" he asked. "You seem to spend so much time feeding thesebabies--I worry that you don't get enough sleep."

He could feel her smile against his chest. "Dear heart,I've never been so indulged in my life. It seems all I have to do iseat, sleep, and feed babies." As if of its own volition, her handbegan to stroke the soft fur that her cheek rested on. Her voiceturned serious. "I'm so lucky to have such a loving group of friendsand family to help me, not to mention the world's most perfecthusband. So many people have none of that. I know how fortunate Iam."

"You have such a loving, generous spirit, Catherine,"Vincent whispered softly. "You bring out generosity in others." Theylay quietly for a long time, only the idle tracery of Catherine'shand on his chest telling Vincent she was still awake. Suddenly sheturned her head to kiss the spot where her cheek had rested, andtrail more kisses along his collarbone and throat until her lipsrested on his. After a long, slow kiss they broke apart to look ateach other's faces.

"Catherine," Vincent marveled, "I can still hardlybelieve it. You've made all of my dreams come true."

"Well," she replied seriously, "we'll have to get yousome new dreams. How about Caroline Chandler-Wells, President of theUnited States?" No ... " Catherine mused, "better she should dosomething honest--a crusading lawyer like mom, or a doctor likegrandpa, or maybe a writer like Uncle Devin, or an artist ... maybeshe'll decide to stay in the Tunnels, and everyone will be asking'Mother's' advice someday."

"What about Jacob?" Vincent asked carefully.

"Jacob," Catherine announced firmly, "is going to be justlike his father." She put her hand gently on Vincent's cheek."Teacher. Builder. Renaissance Man. Protector of the Innocent ..."

"Oh, Catherine ... " He put his hand over hers and turnedhis face to kiss her palm.

"Remember," Catherine continued, "they were born on aFriday. Loving and giving. Somewhere ... " Her eyes seemed fixed on afar horizon. "Somewhere, right now, or in the near future, are twopeople who'll bless the day those two were born-just as I bless theday you were. Then we can start having dreams for our grandchildren."

Vincent could hardly take in such a prospect. "Catherine,you amaze me--to have not only the courage to dream great dreams forus, but the determination to make them come true."

Catherine's only reply was a sleepy, contented smile.Vincent turned off the lamp, leaving just one small candle burning.As he turned back to her, she snuggled against him happily, restingher head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"You grow more beautiful every day," he whispered. Hegently stroked her breast with a touch that, for the moment at least,had more of reverence than passion in it. With a sense of peacegreater than any he had ever known, Vincent laid his golden headbeside hers. Soon, in the soft glow of a single candle, theyslept--to dream new dreams.