CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday January 2, 1995.
"Hi, Josephine, now that's what I like to see! Punctual and raring to go ...." Andrew McNeal ushered Josephine Grayson into his office, running an approving eye over her immaculate appearance.
She was wearing a very demure navy suit and a crisp white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, soft black leather shoes with a sensible heel, little jewellery, save for her pretty gold wedding band and a slim line gold wristwatch, and a pair of pearl studs in her ears.
She had on just enough makeup to add a little color to her cheeks, and her hair was neatly styled in a chignon in the nape of her neck.
She had her new F.B.I. identification badge pinned to the lapel of her jacket, and to finish off the very professional and businesslike effect, she carried an expensive black leather briefcase in her left hand, her right hand extended toward him as she rose to greet him, and followed him inside his office.
Josephine was a little nervous, naturally, but reminded herself that this was no different from any other first day in a new job.
She accepted Special Agent In Charge, McNeal's offer to take a seat, set down her briefcase on the floor beside her chair, and sat with her legs crossed, and her hands folded demurely in her lap.
She listened politely as McNeal went over her duties, and responsibilities within the department that she was joining, and his welcome was warm enough, although, Josephine grew more and more suspicious as the meeting went on, that Agent McNeal had something on his mind, and was just biding his time.
As it turned out, Josephine did not have to wait very long to discover what that was.
"Josephine ...." McNeal eyed her from across his wide, dark oak wood desk, covered in family photographs, a very masculine silver writing set, which comprised of leather blotter, silver pen holder and inkwell, and several silver pens and pencils, a paper weight with the F.B.I. seal on it, and several official looking files. "Tell me ...." He leaned forward slightly. "Exactly how long have you known the D.A.?"
"The D.A.?" Josephine frowned in genuine puzzlement.
"Joe Maxwell," McNeal prompted.
"Ah ...." Her cheeks were suddenly suffused with color, which McNeal found most becoming.
"I see you've heard of him," he sighed softly. "He was on the telephone to me here at seven thirty this morning, checking into your credentials," McNeal explained, his expression puzzled as he scrutinized Josephine's face and waited for her reaction.
"I have known Mr Maxwell for all of about thirty seconds," Josephine confessed, feeling the heat in her cheeks, under his watchful gaze.
"That must have been quite a first impression you made. So tell me, how did you meet him?"
"It's a personal matter. To do with my half brother ...."
"Maxwell was pretty cagey too, most unusual for him ...." McNeal pointed out. "But I kinda got the impression that you stepped on his toes, just a little ...."
"My sudden appearance on the scene came as something of a surprise to Mr Maxwell, and he was somewhat suspicious of me .... so ...."
"So you flashed your F.B.I. appointment in his face ...." McNeal sighed heavily. "And then he set about rattling my cage ...."
"I am most sincerely sorry, Sir. It was the only way that I could think of to get Mr Maxwell to accept me, and it was very important to me that he do just that," Josephine explained swiftly. "And not for one moment did I think that he would involve you, in what is, strictly speaking, a private and personal matter. I did not want any trouble ...."
"Fortunately for you, Maxwell is a reasonable guy. He and I have worked together in the past, and the minute that your story checked out, he changed his attitude, pronto. I don't think you'll be having any problems from him from now on."
"Thank you, Sir ...."
"Forget it. Just don't get on the wrong side of the guy. You never know when we may need him on our side."
"Sir ...."
"Okay, let's get you settled in, and meet the rest of the gang. You'll probably remember most of them ...."
/a\
"What? I .... er .... I don't understand ...." Jenny Maxwell regarded Dr Eckhart with big, dark eyes, in a pale face, wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to catch her breath, and comprehend what the Consultant in charge of Catherine Chandler's case was trying to tell her.
She felt dizzy and breathless, as though her feet had not touched the ground since she had stepped off the elevator a little over thirty minutes before.
Sensitive to the subtle changes in the way that people behave, and the atmosphere of a room, Jenny had immediately sensed that something was different, the whole floor had a strange, highly charged atmosphere, and the staff looked at her, differently.
As if she wasn't disquieted enough as it was, after the very strange dream that she had had last night.
Where she and Catherine had been sitting together, in a strange, magical place, that had an aura of love and a very soothing effect on both of them, shrouded in a warm, golden luminescence.
Sitting side by side, at the top of a high cliff, watching water tumble down into a bottomless cavern, cold spray kissing their faces and teasing at their hair.
Sitting together. Talking. Easily. Happily. With the familiarity of long friendship.
It had seemed so .... real ....
Catherine ....
So beautiful. Funny. Warm. Vibrant ....
Cathy ....
Telling her friend that she was finally where she wanted to be. With the man that she loved.
Men that she loved.
With Vincent, and her son, Jacob.
And that here, in this special, mysterious place, she would have all the love and healing that she would need, always.
Always ....
She was finally home.
And Jenny had actually been able to feel the love and happiness radiating from her friend.
Jenny had awoken, still feeling the warmth and contentedness she had felt from Catherine in the dream, but, as she had lay there, watching Joe just beginning to come awake, reaching out for her as he always did, she had, inexplicably, begun to cry, sobbing brokenly against Joe's chest, choking out incoherent details of the dream, and her fear that Catherine had died during the night.
It had taken Joe ages to console her, and then a quick call to the hospital had been the only thing to reassure Jenny that all was well, a bored young voice telling her that "Miss Chandler has had a comfortable night."
Jenny had hung up abruptly, and had put on a brave face for her husband throughout breakfast, scolding him for actually having the audacity to call the F.B.I. and check that Josephine Grayson was who she had said she was, and reading in his big, dark eyes, that he blamed the mysterious appearance of the English woman for upsetting his wife.
Jenny had finally managed to convince her husband that she had recovered her wits, by the time he had left for the office, that it had just been one of those dreams, but, although there had been nothing sinister or frightening about the dream, it had, nonetheless, been startlingly real and vivid, and had left a deep impression on Jenny Maxwell.
Like it was some kind of omen.
And now, she still had not changed her mind about that dream.
In the light of what Dr Eckhart had just told her.
That Catherine might possibly be coming out of the coma.
That the miracle that they had all been hoping for was finally about to happen.
Eckhart had used a lot of technical mumbo jumbo about SMART tests and measuring Catherine's awareness of herself, and her surroundings, and that there seemed to be some indication that she was not in such a deep level of coma as she had been just yesterday.
But poor Jenny was simply too shocked to take it all in.
She simply burst into tears.
Dr Eckhart discreetly took his leave then, and sent Senior Nurse, Maggie Connors in to comfort Jenny.
Maggie spent a good deal of time going over it all again with her, in terms that Jenny could better understand, but although she took it all in, Jenny was simply too overwhelmed with joy and astonishment to do anything but laugh and cry and hug Maggie Connors.
When Jenny eventually calmed down, she sat dabbing at her tears, grinning like a fool, and sipping a cup of strong black coffee, and she begged Maggie Connors to tell her again.
"Seems the F.B.I. lady was right ...." Maggie Connors sighed softly, reaching out to pat Jenny Maxwell's hand.
"F.B.I. lady?" Jenny frowned.
"The doctor who was here yesterday. The boyfriend's sister?"
"Josephine Grayson?"
"That's the one ...."
"What about her, Maggie?" Jenny quizzed.
"Well, I thought it was just the machine, on the fritz again, like the other day ...." Jenny nodded mutely, remembering her own brief excitement at the flashing alarm, and Maggie's confident assurances that it was nothing to worry about.
"I remember ...." She said in a weak voice.
"Well, this doctor woman said, what if it's not the machine? What if it's Catherine?" Maggie explained softly. "So, I say to myself .... She knows the score .... she's obviously been around .... knows that sometimes the machines go haywire .... So I think to myself .... I'll show you .... and I hit the reset button .... and whamo ...."
"Whamo?"
"The same reading flashes up, so, then I think to myself, better not take any chances, and I fetch a new machine, hook Cathy up to it, and wadda ya know? Still the same reading." She let out a deep sigh, lowering her head briefly. "Cathy. Not the machine. Well, then I mentioned it to Dr E this morning when he started his rounds. He checked the chart, checked the machine, and checked the chart again, his face was a picture, let me tell you, and then, all hell breaks loose around here!" Maggie chuckled now, but there were tears in her eyes now too. "And all Dr E could do was walk around muttering "Well I'll be damned .... I'll be damned ...." She grinned now. "It's amazing ...."
"Amazing ...."
"Yeah, Jen. It's amazing what a fresh pair of eyes can see, and a different set of expectations can do," Maggie sighed deeply. "Makes me wonder how long we've all been looking .... and just not seeing ...."
"Maggie, you have all done a wonderful job ...." Jenny defended hastily. "Maybe this only just happened. Maybe hers was the one voice that managed to get through to Catherine ...."
"Maybe. None of that really matters anyway, love. The most important thing is that your friend is maybe coming back to you, Jenny, and I just can't wait to meet her ...."
/a\
"Dear God, Vincent!" Jacob Wells stared wide eyed and slack jawed at his son for a moment, then gathered his wits, and gathered his son into his arms in an affectionate hug. "This is wonderful news .... wonderful ...." He coughed softly to remove the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, and now his eyes were filling with tears. "Is it really true ...."
"Yes Father. It is true ...." Vincent spoke in a very low, intense voice.
"Catherine is coming out of the coma .... my boy .... that is ...."
"A miracle ...." Vincent smiled softly then.
"Yes .... yes .... a miracle ...." Jacob pulled the younger man closer for another affectionate hug, then drawing away, narrowed his eyes as he said. "How long have you known?"
"A few days ...." Vincent confessed softly.
"A few days?"
"Since New Years ...."
"New Years .... that was almost a week ago!" Jacob Wells tone was incredulous.
How had Vincent been able to keep such wonderful news to himself all this time?
But ....
Now, that he stopped and thought about it, it all became clear to Jacob Wells.
"I know. I am sorry Father. I hardly dared to believe ...."
So-o-o, that was why his son had been walking around like a lost soul, vacant and faraway.
"And," Vincent continued solemnly. "I did not want to tell anyone .... until I was sure," he added softly.
"And you are sure, now?" His father quizzed.
"Yes. I have just come from seeing Josephine, and she tells me that Catherine's vital signs and brain wave activity are getting stronger every day," Vincent explained patiently.
"And she does not think that it will be long?" Jacob Wells probed.
"There are no guarantees, Father, but the signs are there. All we can do is wait ...."
Jacob Wells regarded his son thoughtfully. He looked so much better these days. At peace with himself at last, if not exactly reconciled with Catherine's fate.
And young Jacob too. He had been even more full of excitement than usual.
And now his Grandfather understood why.
So ....
It was true then.
Catherine would be coming home.
And in a week, his precious son would turn forty.
Life begins at forty .... he had often heard it said.
And for Vincent, it seemed highly likely that that prophecy was about to come true.
"We have much to do. Plans to make ...." Jacob Wells squeezed his son's shoulder affectionately.
"No Father," This brought a frown to Jacob Wells' old brow.
"But Vincent, surely you will want Catherine to come Below, to be with you and young Jacob ...."
"Of course that is what I want, Father, but, it is what Catherine wants .... and needs .... that is most important."
"Vincent?"
"Father, Josephine has explained to me that there could be complications .... " His voice suddenly caught in his throat. "Amnesia. Paralysis ...." These words were forced out on a rough whisper.
"Oh God ...."
"Why did you not tell me, Father?" There was no reproach in his son's tone of voice, nor in his beautiful china blue eyes, but his father felt it nevertheless.
"I am no expert in these matters, Vincent, and there have been many advances since my day. Besides, I had no idea until today that Catherine was recovering, and I .... I .... I simply could not bear to see your pain, Vincent. How could I rob you of your final hopes? They were all that you had left ...."
"Yes ...."
"I'm sorry Vincent. In not wanting to hurt you .... I appear to have failed you ...."
"No Father. Never ...."
"Vincent, would you have listened to me, anyway?"
"Probably not, Father ...." Vincent sighed heavily. "My heart was set on Catherine recovering, and to think of anything else .... would have been .... torture .... That the fates could be so cruel as to return her to me, with no memory of our love, our life, our son, unable to move. No. Those were the very last things that I wanted to hear ...."
Jacob Wells let out a deep sigh, and gave his son's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
"And, of course, you are right. Catherine's immediate physical and emotional needs are of paramount importance now. When she is awake, there will be time enough to decide on what is best to do ...."
"Yes, Father ...."
"It will be all right, Vincent ...." Father assured.
"Will it, Father?"
"Yes. Catherine is young, strong, and she loves you, Vincent ...."
"Loved me, Father. Loved .... Five years ago."
Vincent hung his head briefly, his beautiful red/gold mane falling around his face like a silken curtain.
"What if ...." He raised his head then, and Jacob Wells could clearly see the anguish and the doubt in his son's expressive, tear filled cobalt blue eyes. "What if Catherine does not remember .... me .... us .... our love ...."
"Vincent .... when you were ill, when you came back from that dark cavern .... lost .... broken .... whilst you recovered physically, you could not always remember .... even the most simple things .... You could not even remember .... her name ...." Jacob Wells reminded softly.
"I know ...." Vincent spoke thickly, letting out a deep, shuddering sigh.
"But .... you did remember that you loved her, Vincent. You did remember that she was the woman that you loved .... who loved you, and that was all that you needed ...."
Father pulled Vincent back into his arms once more, cradling the back of his head with one gnarled old hand. "It will be the same for Catherine, Vincent. You'll see. That kind of love never dies, and the heart always recognizes where it's true home is, even if the eyes do not ...."
Father held his son close for a moment longer, then released him, brushing away his silky bangs from his rough cheek.
"Have faith for just a little longer, Vincent. All these years, you have never given up hope, never doubted, just keep that faith for a little longer, my boy, and soon it will be rewarded."
"Thank you, Father. I love you."
"I know it, Vincent. I have known it for forty years, and I love you too ...."
"Ah yes, my birthday. I should have known that you would get around to that, eventually."
"You can't blame an old man for trying ...." Jacob smiled softly then. "But I can understand why you want to keep it low key, Vincent, but, you know that when our fellow tunnel dwellers hear the good news about Catherine, they are going to want to throw the biggest party our world has ever known."
"Then perhaps we should keep it to ourselves, just for a little while longer, We will all want Catherine to be there to enjoy it with us, wont we, Father ...."
"Very well," Jacob said with a resigned air, and Vincent could not fail to notice the look of disappointment on his dear parent's face. He looked away, for just a moment, and when he turned back to face his son, Vincent could see his father's deep sapphire blue eyes bright with unshed tears.
"But that party .... for Catherine's homecoming ...." Jacob said in a low, shaky voice, and Vincent tilted his head slightly to one side, regarding his parent with curiosity. "Make it a wedding, shall we?"
Jacob Wells watched as his son's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed hard, and saw the look of rapture on his dear face, and knew that he had done the right thing.
"Father ...." Vincent's voice was low and husky, throbbing with emotion now. "Do you think that she will .... have me?"
"Can't see why, myself .... your loud .... opinionated .... moody ...."
"Father ...."
"Tall, handsome, brave, tender, loving .... Her knight in shining armor ...." Jacob grinned broadly then.
"Go on ...." Vincent invited, his face breaking into the most beautiful smile that his father had ever seen there.
"Get away with you .... before your head gets too big to fit through the tunnels ...." Father chuckled at the look of hurt outrage on his son's face now. "Vincent, if Catherine has any sense at all, she will frog march you down the aisle at break neck speed, and never be happier ...." He chuckled again. "And somehow, I don't think you will put up much of a struggle ...."
"No Father, I want nothing more than to have Catherine beside me .... as my wife .... forever. Then all of my dreams will have come true ...."
"With Catherine as your wife, my boy, you will learn to dream new dreams, together ...." Father and son smiled warmly at each other, and embraced each other once again.
"I will speak to the others about your birthday, something quiet and simple and tasteful, I think, that will leave you free to spend some time with your sister, who no doubt also has plans for your birthday, and give you time to visit with Catherine, as usual ...."
"Thank you, Father. For everything ...."
"I want only your happiness, Vincent. Yours and Catherine's. Now, run along and get some sleep, my boy. You need all of your strength now."
"Goodnight, Father ...."
"Goodnight, my son ...."