Darkness Hide Not My Pain

Part III

by Vickey Brickle-Macky

 

     "Vincent are you sure you will be alright? I hate to leave you." Father asked, as he put the finishing touches on his
clothes for his journey Above.

     "I will be fine. You must be there for me to stand in my place. Catherine would want you to. If if were in my power she
would be buried here Below in the catacombs, where she would be near and among those that love her." Vincent said, his sadness apparent as he watched Father finishing straightening his tie.

     It was still a shock to see how different Father looked in a business suit instead of his usual attire. How easily he could
step unnoticed from this world into the world Above, and pass among the topsiders anonymous, and invisible. Alas, for himself
that was not possible--ever.

     He heard Father speaking to him, "Vincent, I wish it were possible for her to be buried here, but there would be questions,
and she does have friends Above that are not privy to the secrets of our world. It is for them, and for the world that Catherine
belonged to that we must allow her to remain there." Father explained patiently understanding all too well his son's request.

     "I do wish it were possible for you to go, but Mary will be close by, and the children wish to see you." Father reminded him.

     "I know. But I cannot not see anyone. Do the children understand this?" Vincent asked, his furred hand picking up a
chess piece and idly moving it between his thumb and forefinger as he stared off across the room.

     "They do, but they miss you and want to share in your grief. They loved Catherine too." Father reminding him as he rested his
hand on his son's shoulder.

     "Yes, I will try to see them. I promise."

     Father nodded, "Good. I have to go now. Elliot Burch is picking me up at the park entrance and we will go to the funeral
together."

     "Send my regards as well as my thanks for all of his help and Joe's." Vincent said turning around to look at him.

     "I will. It still amazes me how you two became such strong friends. One would have thought you would have been opposed to
helping one another," Father commented.

     "When it came to Catherine and her well being there was no room for animosity between us. At first he couldn't accept the
fact that she loved me over him, then he began to understand the depths of my love for her. Joe was a more difficult ally. I
suspect he loved her too, but he could never admit it to either Elliot or me. I sometimes wonder if he could even admit it to
himself. We worked well together over the months she was missing, but still--we could not reach her in time. . . could not save
her." Vincent replied, almost choking on the last words as his sorrow surfaced again.

     "Events happen as they must. some things happen for a higher purpose, a greater good than we can determine from the viewpoint of our loss. Catherine's death is a tragedy, but you must learn to rise above it, and let your sorrow wash over and through you. The pain will pass, have faith that it will and soon your life will begin again." Father said trying to comfort him.

     "I want to believe uou Father, that it will, but right now all I want to do is join Catherine. I have never known such pain.
It crushes me and I want nothing more than release from it." Vincent admitted, his red-rimmed eyes betraying the truth of his
words.

     Father came forward to stand before him, his hands resting lightly on his silver wolf's head cane. Father looked at Vincent
grimly, considering carefully his next words, he cleared his throat and then spoke carefully. "My son, you must not give in.
What you feel is normal. Release your grief, but do not let it sweep you away. You are needed here, your destiny is to live your
life for both Catherine and for your child. You have a responsibility and an obligation to find the child and to bring
him home safe to us."

     "I know. I will do what I have sworn to Catherine and now to you. I will not rest until I find him." Vincent said sincerely,
his determination plain in every line of his body.

     Father let the pronoun slip pass him as he saw his son begin to fight back his depression. He looked down at his watch and
frowned. He picked up his hat and made ready to leave, "Vincent, I hate to leave you, but I must."

     "I will be alright." he assurred, appearing more composed than he had early, "Safe journey."

     Father acknowledged his goodbye, and then walked quickly from the chamber, sparing one quick glance behind him only to see his son sink back into his heavy sorrow once again. He must be allowed his grief, Father told himself, forcing himself to go
forward. Already he was running late for his meeting with Elliot. Taking care of Vincent's pain had come first, all else could wait,
including Elliot, he decided. He would get there when he got there.

     Catherine's funeral was only a couple of hours away. Only for her would he make this sacrifice to go above ground. His
clothes were slightly outdated, but it could not be helped. He was going to represent his son and to pay his last respects to
the woman he had considered almost a daughter.

     Besides himself, many of the residents were also going. They had decided to stagger the leaving times so as not to call any
undue attention upon their home. That so many had requested to come was a testiment to how much Catherine had been an accepted member of the community. He had been truly touched by it all.

     Only Mary had elected to stay Below, mainly to care for the children who for safety sake could not go. Too many questions
could be raised. Some of the children were orphans, but many had just been abandoned, or had run away from abusive situations, or in some cases from state or local insitutions. Many of the children had protested over not being allowed to go but when it
was explained that they might be recognized and taken away to foster homes or worse, they quickly stopped their protests. Then
too, he did not believe that children should attend topside funerals. It was best that they remember her as she had been and
not as a empty shell in a box.

     For himself he wanted to remember her sitting in the common chamber reading a book or watching him and Vincent play chess. He remembered their conversations, both serious and not, her laughter, her smiles, her being part of them in all ways but one. And if her death had not come so soon he had hoped that evenually she would move Below, marry his son and have the life they had all dreamed of.

     He could also remember with some remorse now, hating her, distrusting her because she was an outsider, wealthy and spoiled
to a great extent. He feared her influence on his very vulnerable son who was falling deeply in love with her, not fully
understanding about their bond and how it linked the two of them. He began to concede that they were soul-mates even as mixmatched as they might appear to be.

     Still at the time, he could not keep from getting angry or frightened when time after time his son would run, bolting out
of his chamber to go rescue Catherine from some dangerous situation she had gotten herself into. Vincent had always been
willing to place himself at risk to see her at her apartment, or to take walks with her in the park. He was always there to fight
her battles. The one time he wasn't able to reach her in time before their bond was broken his son was heartbroken, and swore
he would never let her down again. Nothing he could say would deter his son, no logic, no pleas, no threats. Catherine was his
life, and if Father didn't accept her then he would end up losing him. He quit fighting it for a while.

     When she thought she had fallen in love with Elliot Burch he thought that would end it and Vincent would be free. But no, it
only brought them closer together when she exposed Elliot and told him to vanish from her life. He never really did, and he
fell more deeply in love with her and asked her to marry him. She rejected him, but still he remained in love with her. Even now he
loved her. Here was a man that could have given her anything she wanted, loved her as much as his son did, but she only had eyes
for Vincent. His son who could give her nothing but his love. For both of them that had been enough.

     Over the long months of their early courtship Father had acquired a growing respect for this intelligent, warm, and loving
young woman. He began to see their relationship as something real, tangible and lasting. A relationship that was vital to them
both. The only thing that he had feared was their love escalating to a physical level. That did not occur until after Vincent's
breakdown. The news that Catherine had had a child confirmed his fears. It had happened. In one way now, he was glad that it had. Now his son had known at least one night of intimacy with his beloved. And from this love had come a child, so that a part of
Catherine was left behind besides the memories.

     Memories were all he had left of his life with Margaret. Memories of their brief marriage and the seven days she had spent
below with him before she died. He had tried to love again in the long interval after their annulment. With Grace he had tried, she
had known that he didn't really love her. She tried to make it up by presenting him with a child. She died giving birth to Devon, his
true son, the son he could never accept or love. He tried not to think of the grief and the pain he caused Devon over the years.
Rejecting him in favor of Vincent, but it had happened, it could not be changed.

     Then there was Mary, he had known her now for how many years? between them. There never had been any sort of physical intimacy between them, just a deep friendship and trust. Mary was his right hand, always helping, doing for others, for him. She helped hold the community together. She was practical, dependable, patient, and most of all caring. Mary loved everyone, and always tried to find the good in everyone. They had become a couple in a way over the years without either one of them realizing it. She understood him like no other woman in his life had. Strange he hadn't thought about their even having a relationship until now.

     It was Catherine's death triggering all these thoughts, making him face his own morality and limitations. She was so young
with her life just begining to open up. Here he was an old man, his life was nearing a close and he took so much for granted
sometimes. Catherine had saved his life, saved Vincent's, and saved their fragile home many times. Why couldn't they all have
done more to save hers? The only reason he could lean back on was that her death was meant to be for a higher purpose than any of them could see now.

     Maybe that higher purpose was the fate of the child. History was repeating itself in a strange perverse way. He had raised
Vincent alone, now his son would raise his own child alone. At least now there were blood ties. He would be able to see in
the child reflections of Catherine.

     It wouldn't be like his own relationship with Devon. Grace's pregnancy had been mistake, an accident. He had never wanted to father a child on her, and when she died there had been so much guilt and pain. He tried to make it up to the boy but he never could. Father didn't think that this would be the situation with Vincent and his own child.

     The news that his son was a father was shocking still. He was a grandfather. Something that he had half hoped would happen
but it had seemed more likely from Devon than from Vincent. And where was Devon? One of the helpers had volunteered to see if she could locate him and Charles. That had been right after Cathy's disappearance and still there was no word of him. Where
was he? Would he ever see him again?

     Father stopped his thinking about past and present problems as he neared the outer door. He pulled the lever up releasing the
locking mechanism and the door slid back. He noted that it needed oiling and made a mental note to have Mouse check it out. The lock on the iron gate was released and he swung it forward easily and stepped forward into the drainage tunnel. He closed the gate back and worked the locking mechanism from this side. The door slid shut presenting a solid front, a dead end to any outsider who may have chanced to come this far.

     He adjusted his hat, and pulled from an inner pocket a pair of sunglasses that one of the helpers had sent down for him. The
day was going to be bright and sunny. Too many years in the dark had made his eyes very light sensitive. As he neared the park
entrance he slipped them on. Checking to see that the coast was clear he left the safety of his home and walked briskly across
the park for his rendezvous with Elliot Burch.

     Elliot shook his head as he checked his watch again. His nervousiness was growing with each passing second as he waited
impatiently by the parked limo. His driver glanced over, and decided not to say anything. He had seen his boss in this mood
before. The only thing the driver knew was that they were there to pick up someone for the Chandler funeral, that's probably all
he needed to know. He glanced back, his boss had stopped pacing and was staring off towards a group of trees. A lone figure
dressed in black was heading their way, evidently the person they were supposed to meet. When the distinquished looking older
gentleman got closer Elliot walked over to meet him.

     "Father, I had almost given up." Elliot admitted as he got within speaking range.

     "Sorry for the delay," he apologized, "it was Vincent. He has me worried--the grief--it is so overwhelming for him. Mary is
watching over him this day."

     "I know." Elliot said simply. His own pain was intense, but he kept his expression neutral, so that he could get through the
day's events. His mind wandered for a moment thinking on what was ahead as well as on the older man before him.

     The arrangements for her funeral had been made by her friends. There were no relatives left, or any that they could
remember or locate. She would be buried next to her parents. Even though they all wished that somehow she could be taken Below and buried in the catacombs. If she had not been a kidnap and murder victim it might have been possible to move her, but they dared not risk it. Not with the murder investigation wide open and prying eyes that could harm everyone involved.

     Then too, was the question of what would happen to her estate. Right now it was anyone's guess. Between her mother's
legacy, and her father's, plus her own investments Catherine Chandler had been a very wealthy woman. A large portion of her
money had been going to charities for the homeless, abused children, and battered women. But Catherine had also been helping
Father's community. Not directly, mind you, Father would have been offended and refused the help, but through the network of
helpers she had set up a system whereby the tunnel community would never lack for anything.

     Even Elliot had begun to do the same. He saw what Catherine had seen, the good it had done for the people it now sheltered.
It was a shame that the social services could not duplicate what Father had created. He wished he could do more but he too knew Father's pride and his fierce need for independence from the world.

     There may have been a counsel below to rule on community matters, but in fact the community was ruled by one man--Father.
The man Jacob Wells did not exist anymore, hadn't for over thirty years now. His vision and ideals dicated what was or was not to be. He was not a dicator but his words were law. No one disagreed with Father--at least not willingly--except Vincent--only he had the strength and the will to do so, and even he would bend to the older man's desires at times.

     Elliot admired the seeming frail man. Street clothes did not make him as imposing as he appeared in his own layered clothes
and robes. He found it strange how fate had led the scientist- doctor to the underground world where he now ruled. Fate had led
this man to be all he could and to give him the opportunity to affect the lives of others in ways he could not have if he had
remained Above. They were both men of power. Elliot just hoped he could use his as well as Father did.

     He heard Father speaking to him breaking his train of thought. "The others of the community will meet us there. All the
arrangements have been made?" Father inquired polietly as they neared the black limo and the driver opened the door.

     "Yes, they have all been made." Elliot acknowledged and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet trying to hide his nervousness.
"It is regretable that Vincent could not attend."

     "Yes, it is, but we both know how impossible. . . ." Father interupted, his grey eyes flashed pain and deep saddness as he
looked backward at Elliot from underneath his hat as he climbed into the back seat and sat down resting his silver headed cane
between his legs. He fingered the head of it nervously.

     Elliot nodded in agreement as he too stepped inside the car and sat down. The driver closed the door and went to take his
place behind the wheel. His curousity was aroused, but he was paid good money to keep his eyes and ears closed as well as his
mouth. Mr. Burch's private life was just that private, but still the odd fragments of the conversation and previous ones made him
wonder.

     Elliot tapped on the glass separating the compartments and the window slid down. "Wayne, take us to the cemetary. You have
the directions?"

     "Yes, Mr. Burch." the man replied. Elliot nodded in satisfaction and the window slid back up terminating the
conversation. Elliot and Father were effectively alone now.

     "Vincent is alright, Father?" Elliot asked concerned.     "He is overwhelmed by his grief, but I have faith that he will
pull through this. He is strong. Then there is the child to think about." Father replied, appreciating Elliot's concern about
Vincent. "Has Joe been able to come up with any leads."

     "Not yet. However, he has contacted the special investigations unit. There is a woman called Diana Bennet who is
their crack invesigator. Joe is seeing if she can help us." Elliot replied, seeing Father raise a eyebrow at this bit of
news.

     "And how much will he tell her? Can she be kept from finding out about my community and Vincent?" He asked worriedly.

     "He will tell he as little as he can about Vincent and your world. But if she is as sharp as Joe says she is then she will
discover the existance of your world on her own." Elliot warned.

     "I see. Then you are suggesting that she be told everything? Can this woman be trusted to keep our secrets once she is made
aware of them?" Father asked seriously.

     "Joe is a pretty good judge of character, if he feels she is trustworthy then we should consider arranging a meeting between
all of us, including Vincent, so she can get all the information that we have on the kidnappers. It would save valuable time
and keep her from duplicating existing evidence, so that she could concentrate on new leads." Elliot cautiously suggested.

     But Father was skeptical. He shook his head, "It puts of us at risk, especially Vincent, to tell her everything. We must see
how trustworthy she is before we reveal all." Father demanded, holding firm on his position.

     "I tell Joe your feelings. He will find a way to explain the situation to her without revealing Vincent's or your world's
existance until it is time for her to know, if ever." Elliot agreed,

     Father nodded in satisfaction, "Good. Trust is a fragile and delicate thing, Elliot, as you well know. It has taken us all a
long time to reach where we are now. You and Joe have proved that you are my son's friends and men of character. Let us pray that this woman will one day prove her worthiness as well." Father commented as he allowed himself to sink back into the richly
uphostered cushions of the limo.

     God, how long has it been since he had sat in a car like this, thirty--nearly forty years, he thought to himself. The last
time was when he and Margaret had come home from some reception or benefit that her father had sponsered. He had lived as Elliot did now, but that was lifetimes ago when he was a different man before his downfall and his dropping out from the world. What would he had been now had he continued in that life? Different no doubt, probably not as caring or concerned about the plight of others. And what of Vincent if he had not been where he was to recieve the newborn babe that cold January night. He didn't want to even think of that. There are reasons for everything that happens even if we can't see them at the time.

     The two men rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The cityscape washed by the limo's window, neither paid
too much attention to the world outside. Then they were there at cemetary. The driver had been given his directions and soon they
pulled up to where the funeral would be. There was a sizeable gathering of people, for Catherine Chandler had made many friends
in her brief life.. Her friends had become her family because she had none left that any knew about. The limo parked and let Father and Elliot out, and the walked up the small hill to where the service was going to be held.

     Father looked around and saw the faces of many of his people in the large crowd. He greeted people and offered support and
sympathy as he followed Elliot to where their seats were by the casket. He sat down next to woman he knew to be called Jenny, one of Cathy's long time friends from college. Joe rushed up, out of wind and sat next to Elliot on the otherside. He was apoligizing for being late, he said he would explain later.

     The minister began the service, and Father's mind drifted off even though he had wanted to listen. The reality of Catherine's
death hit him full force as he looked up and really saw the casket there covered almost completely with flowers. She was
really gone with no hope of returning to her loved ones. Death had never touched him as much as it did that moment.

     He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief to stem the flood of tears that were begining to fall from his
eyes. He, who had remained strong for everyone during this crisis suddenly found himself weak and in need of comfort for himself.
He buried his face into the linen cloth, trying to maintain his control and failed. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder,
and then the touch of another. He was not sure whose hands they belonged to, but he welcomed their comforting presence as he let his grief flow unchecked with his tears. He was vaguely aware of the minister quitiing his sermon and the service nearing its
close. He was red-eyed and cried out when he looked up and the ceremony's end. He could accept the presence of the casket more than he had been able at the begining, but it was still hard for him to believe she was forever gone from their lives.

(This where I left off in 1990 and I'm not sure what direction I was going to go with this if any. As this was written shortly after Walk Slowly and this hit rather close to home after losing the father of my four younger kids in 1988. If there is a PartIV and beyond I'll let everyone know.)

 

 

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