Blunt Thou the Lion's Paw

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

Shakespeare's sonnet

Belgium, 1960's

"I don't see why you need to go so far Philippe. France is close. You will have no issues with the language. The Sorbonne is an excellent school. Their music programs are among the best and most comprehensive in the world. Ask your mother!'

'I am aware of all that, Papa. I have spoken with Maman. She agrees that I would benefit by going there to complete my musical education but no matter how hard I try, I feel it is necessary to travel to the birthplace of the music which draws my soul.'

'What nonsense! You know nothing of this place. It is uncivilized. No matter what music you play you must still begin with the classics.'

Philippe turned away. His father was getting angry. It was always the way. Father and son were two strong personalities clashing over parental rights versus a child's rights. As the oldest child in a family of four, he knew that expectations for his life and career were already imprinted deep in his psyche from the traditions of long dead ancestors. He also knew that he could not meet those expectations.

Camille, his mother, a brilliant concert pianist had bequeathed an abundance of talent and skill to her eldest son. He among all of his siblings showed the greatest promise. The demands of his heritage would supersede those of his heart's desire if Philippe Sr. had his way. The history of the Belgian family was rooted in the history of the country. It was expected that each generation would produce a male heir who would carry on the family business. To Philippe, the very idea of living his life in the staid environment of his ancestral home was stifling. He was his mother's child.

Philippe Jardiniere's beautiful and engaging mother had traveled extensively performing for the audiences of Europe using her unique talent. In a weak moment, she met a young Belgian nobleman following a concert in the capital city of Brussels. Impulsively, he followed her home to Ireland and begged and pleaded until she became his wife. Philippe Sr. understood that marriage and children could not interfere with her art. During the early years of her marriage, Camille had been away often, giving birth between her many engagements. Two strong sons were born on either side of twin girls. There were no more kids after that. Camille fulfilled her husband`s need to have an heir. The children were frequently cared for by nannies, but they all adored their mother and the excitement she brought to their lives with her talent and stories of her travels.

During one of her concerts in Paris, Camille was introduced to a sultry-voiced, sensuous American coloured woman who sang jazz and blues like nothing the strictly classical pianist had ever heard. Camille brought home the memories and the music. Only Philippe whose musical genius was barely superseded by his mother, showed any interest in the wildly different sound. He was unable to let go of the brilliance of the compositions. Without a doubt, he knew that his world would only be complete when he could live within the heart of the sounds of Jazz and blues generated in the heart of Dixieland located in southern United States. Lena Horne was forever etched in his mind as the perfection of style and performance. He moved heaven and earth to find out more about her. His journey led him to find many more performers. Philippe was hooked.

To overcome his father's resistance, the young musician worked out a plan of action. The autocratic Philippe Sr, who acceded reluctantly to the wishes and talent of his wife, refused to bend even a little for his equally gifted son. Junior decided that he would compromise. The jazz scene in Montreal Canada was not really a worthy music successor to the southern US but it did have a prestigious university, the language was French and access to the unique music of Lena Horne and others was just a border away.

Convinced that traveling away from his home as well as his language would be too much of a temptation to young Philippe, the father calculated that four years of speaking his language like bourgeoisie in the upstart French-Canadian province would soon send the young man home. Philippe knew it wasn't true. None of his father`s prejudices and elitism rubbed off on him. He loved the world and the things which made people different and yet the same. For the sake of peace, he agreed with his father, agreed to travel to Canada and promised to complete his degree there. Although it was vaguely understood that Philippe junior would return home at the end of the four years, it was never overtly stated as part of the promise.

With a clear conscience, Philippe set out from home at age seventeen, sailed in style aboard a ship bound for Halifax, then travel by train to Montreal and Mc Gill University where he would begin his music performance and appreciation studies.

At home in LA, Philippe Jardinière rolled over onto his back. He wondered why the beginning of his journey to the west should have come to him in such detail. He wondered if death was knocking on his doorstep. Beneath his urbane exterior he harboured many superstitions. A review of life surely presaged death. He had no wish to wake Vlad for reassurances. Since their return from New York, each had been lost in reflective thoughts. Little Laddie had gone back to his parents. His delightful energy was missed. The wedding had been a triumph for everyone. Perhaps it was just the letdown after an exciting time of planning and executing the celebration to perfection. Philippe knew he was proud of his stepson and daughter in law but a face haunted him constantly since his return. Cathy, with her vulnerable eyes and tough exterior had captured his heart. His feelings weren't sexual in nature but he longed to hold her in his arms and offer comfort, from what he didn`t know.

It was clear that Cathy had a loving family who adored her and a husband whose shining eyes lit up even more when they were watching her move around a room. And yet, beneath the surface of her open and honest energy lay a sadness he could not define. It tore at him. That her biological father had been a scoundrel was clear. He wondered about her mother. When she sang at the wedding he felt a kinship with her that he had not felt with anyone since...

Philippe closed his mind to the past. There were painful memories. The man at his side was worth everything he had given up. Philippe knew from very early on that he could not meet the expectations of his family, especially those of his father. Being disowned hurt so badly. The pain lay like a knot in his abdomen but he had to be true to only two things; his music and his nature. Vladimir, Jason, Terry and Laddie filled all other spaces except one. Feeling the beginnings of a depression which he knew would last for days, if not weeks, Philippe got up and padded barefoot to the living room. He sat carefully at the grand piano which dominated the living room. Earphones prevented any sound from waking his life partner and best friend. There in the early hours of the morning his fingers found the notes to Stormy Weather, a metaphor for his life.

"Jacob, what's up with your parents? They have been acting strange since the wedding.'

'I think KitCat that they have found their bliss.'

'Oh c'mon. They found their bliss in California.'

'Spiritually, maybe.'

'Are you serious?'

Jacob laughed with that full throated sound she loved. 'Just like we found ours,' he said grabbing her to tickle and tease.

'Jacob, be serious, please.'

'I am. Something happened to them. It's good to know that they are happy.'

'Just like you and me.' Cathy's face changed as if admitting happiness could be jinxed by acknowledging its sweetness.

'Don't! please KitCat?' he pleaded, hating to see the negative mobility of her features. Be happy with me tonight. There will always be something missing. We'll find it, but not this minute.'

`Ì know Jacob. I have every reason to be happy and I am.` As if needing a reminder, she stared at her lovely leaf ring, smiling at its beauty and the love behind it.

Jacob knew his wife was thinking about her past. He didn't want to end her process of learning by simply telling her the truth. He had to allow the discovery to happen as fate willed it. He hoped she could set her dreams and her fears aside. Big changes were coming into their lives. He wanted to see her happy and strong. He drew her close, kissing her full lips with a tenderness he was far from feeling. He waited, hoping her passion would match the simmer of desire percolating beneath his skin.

'Why are you afraid, Catherine?'

'Will I never be able to have a thought of my own?'

'Not while you are married to me!'

Catherine sighed and rolled over. Her relationship with Vincent had taken on a new dimension. It's intensity was delightful. She was grateful for his tender strength and understanding in the years since their renewal. They had really only skimmed the surface of what was possible between them until Terry's wedding day. Neither really had any sense of how much richer their lives would become. Catherine had no wish to turn away from the beauty of the soul to soul connection which was solidified with their love.

The lawyer she used to be, had, in a new found courage, decided to move back into the culture and excitement of New York. It wasn't an attempt to fit into the lifestyle she enjoyed before the reunion with Vincent. It was to renew her commitment to cleaning up the lives of the vulnerable and disadvantaged people living in the city she loved.

After the wedding, as promised, she had called the Governor's office. He had been only to eager to meet with her. The appointment was set for the following day when Howie would be in the city on business. As the hours drew near, the middle-aged woman, found her courage deserting her in waves.

She hated to admit to herself that stepping back into the public eye would render her anonymity a thing of the past. Catherine knew that danger was never far away but with her full healing, she also knew that sitting at home day in and day out would not be an option.

The girls were getting more and more involved in their lives with Erin and Holly. The transition was going smoothly. Neither Vincent nor Catherine could deny blood relatives the rightful opportunity to raise those girls. Only their biological father could prevent shared custody but Marcus was agreeable to anything which would help him get out of jail earlier.

With all those things coursing through the channels of her mind, it was no wonder that Vincent could pick up on her disquiet.

'I am not trying to control your life you know.'

'I know Vincent. I think I didn't want you to remind me that I am afraid.'

'Give your feelings a name. Then you can conquer them.'

Catherine felt under the sheet for her husband's warm hand. Its well defined character reassured her. She knew that it could fight for and protect her from almost anything but that wasn't the life she wanted. More than anything she hoped to live well, happily, enjoying the company of her family but the social conscience which was an innate part of her begged to be released. Catherine wondered about her ability to fight for the rights of those less fortunate. Being an anonymous agent was one thing. All the details involved in saving the girls was easy. People from social services came to her but going out to participate in meetings required something else.

'Catherine, at some time or another you will have to be ready but you won't know that until you take the first step.'

'I know, I know.'

Vincent sighed. He knew that his wife was ready. He understood that she would find her strength in the middle of the very activities which she now feared. He didn't know how to help her overcome the dread which held her hostage. Any offer to follow her or travel with her would be rebuffed. Rob, of course would take her anywhere she needed to go but he did not want their life to be as it was before her kidnapping.

'Are you nervous about me taking this step?'

Vincent didn't want to lie. 'I am. Probably as much as you but I expected that sooner or later you would need to take this step. I trusted you to know when it would not be right and when it would be time.'

'Thank you Vincent. It is right. I think I will make a few wardrobe changes before I step out.' Catherine turned to face her husband, touching his face. It was a quiet invitation to which her husband responded.

`Catherine, please come in. I thought you looked amazing at the wedding but each time I see you, your radiance comes through even more.`

`Thank you Howie. You are quite gracious.`

The old friends hugged before the governor guided Catherine to a chair. He ensured that she was seated comfortably before sitting in another chair facing her. He abandoned the idea of talking over the desk. Catherine was his friend before she was a constituent and he needed her services. He tried to make it personal rather than business like.

The old friends chatted for awhile. Catherine gave a brief account of her recovery. Howie`s eyes widened in surprise and concern, before praising Joe, Jacob and Vincent.

`And the young lady who was getting married?`

`She supervised my recovery before moving heaven and earth to find out where I belonged.`

`Very interesting dynamics. Do you now feel safe?`

`Not always Howie. There are still elements out there who seemed determined to punish me and my family.`

The Governor`s head tilt invited more confidence and Catherine, feeling safe with the old friend explained a little more about her incredible husband and their love story. She did not open up completely. At the back of Catherine`s mind was John Moreno, her former boss who was the architect of the kidnapping which cost her more than twenty years of her life. Only Vincent had her complete trust. Howie`s youthful intensity had dimmed a little and he listened carefully to the shared information, nodding often but saying nothing until he was ready to make his own case.

Ì read your back files Catherine. Some of your early cases had to do with children. I was impressed by the level of advocacy you displayed. I am aware of the powerful connections you have, including me and I want you to use them because in every way we have to rehabilitate this lost generation of children. Our social services, as they are currently run, are not meeting the needs of the community of children who are poor, in care and displaced. There is an oversight committee which is headed by a former judge and a well known child welfare advocate. Confidentially, they do not get along but they have skills and access to smaller community organizations.`

`Do you think they are dishonest in any way? I don`t want to be a buffer between two angry people looking out only for themselves.`

'I would never ask that of you Catherine. My wish is to make this committee work. The stakes for our future generations are high. Too many kids in this state suffer and drop out of sight, resurfacing in morgues and jails. I want better for them.`

'Am I to work or to be a watchdog?'

`Come to the meetings first and then decide what you will need to be. I need someone I can trust. There is a lot of support staff available. I can`t pay you but whatever help you need, just ask.`

Catherine nodded. She knew how important it was for those with financial security to volunteer on behalf of the disadvantaged. Money was not her issue. Being able to make a contribution was. She thought of all the children below who were lost in the system. She knew the children would have little chance at a decent life. Saving only two was admirable but hardly a drop in the well. Here was an opportunity to do more.

Although the offer was made with an opportunity to think it over, Catherine knew she didn`t have to. Her heart was in the opportunity. Howie did his homework and she told him so. The chuckle was quickly followed by a worried air.

`Don`t worry Howie. I`ll find my way, You have some paper work for me?`

Howie nodded clearly relieved that he had chosen well. As Catherine stood, Howie wondered what would have happened if he told Catherine how he longed to ask her out when they were young. She wouldn`t have given him a second thought and he had been scared of her doting father but she was as beautiful in her middle age as she had been as a teenager.

The old friends shared a hug. 'I'll see that the paper work is sent to your home. Come to me if you have any concerns.`

Catheirne didn't linger. She hurried down to the elevator where Rob was waiting. She wasn't scared but she knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy.