Chapter Twenty: Tuesday, December 27, 2005, New York City

With the dishwasher humming, the leftovers in the fridge, and the pots and pans all put away, Matt suggested he and Simon walk down to the local pool hall, so Sarah could have some quiet time to study. Simon suspected it was also so his brother could grill him—but at least the snow had eased up a little. As they walked the five very long blocks, Simon had to admit that fresh fallen snow, before it had a chance to become thoroughly turned into grey, muddy slush, was rather pretty, and the kids playing in the park earlier in the afternoon had certainly enjoyed it. Walking through the falling snow on the way to Matt and Sarah's had filled Simon with a certain sense of wonder; the world seemed quieter. More beautiful. Even now, as the endless procession of taxi cabs, delivery trucks, and regular vehicles turned the snow on the streets to slush, there seemed to be a certain magic clinging in the form of glittering snow to barren tree branches and evergreen bushes.

The pool hall was similar to Eddy's, back home: a handful of tables, a long bar, six pool tables. Lively conversation and the scent of deep-fried everything filled the air.

"You want to split a pitcher of coke?" Matt asked.

"Sure. Sounds good." Simon went to scout out a table while Matt acquired their pop. By the time Matt found him, Simon had the table set up.

"Tell me the truth," Matt said, as he lined up his first shot, having won the coin toss to see who went first. "How serious are you and Caroline?"

"We haven't talked about it, if that's what you mean." Simon hadn't proposed. Technically, they weren't even dating, let alone going steady. But other than those disastrous couple of dates with Rose Taylor, the first of which he'd naïvely assumed was just two friends from school catching up over dinner, Simon hadn't been out with anyone. He knew that was bugging mom.

Lucy.

Rabbi and Mrs. Glass.

Even Dad had asked him a few times if he was seeing anybody, probably to gage his reaction, which had been the same, every time: "no". Because technically, he wasn't seeing anyone.

But even Simon knew you didn't get "just a friend" earrings like the ones he'd given Caroline last night. Her birthday gift was tucked into his suitcase, so he could give it to her before he left. It wasn't a gift for "just a friend", at least not a friend you hadn't even known a whole year, yet.

He watched Matt make a perfect shot and sink another ball.

"I'm sure you've heard about my lack of dating."

"Yeah, Mom mentioned it," Matt confirmed.

Simon shot him a look.

"Okay, maybe she more than 'mentioned' it. And I get it. Caroline is a nice girl. She's pretty."

"She's beautiful," Simon corrected. "And she's smart." She was funny, compassionate, considerate.

Way too good for me.

Except she never made Simon feel "less than". He took his next shot, made it, and stepped back.

Matt made his next shot as well. "She's still in high school. You're in college."

"She'll be in college, too, in a couple of years," Simon countered. He missed his shot and surrendered the table to his brother.

Matt was silent for far longer than it took to line up his next shot. Finally, "I know how old she is."

Simon should have known this was coming. If he was honest with himself, he had known. He'd just hoped to put it off for a while longer.

"I don't think Mom or Dad have done the math yet. And I haven't told them—neither has Lucy—"

"Lucy?"

"She got worried and asked Kevin look into Caroline's family—she was worried about you!" he repeated, when Simon's scowl deepened. "She's not the only one." Matt sank his shot easily.

"There's nothing to worry about."

"Do Caroline's parents know how old you are?"

"Yes." Simon walked around the pool table, looking for a good shot.

"You have to talk to Mom and Dad."

"Why?"

"Eventually they're going to sit down and figure it out. Lucy told them…I assume you know about all that stuff with Cathy?"

"I know what happened," Simon informed him. He knew she'd been attacked because she looked like some other woman who'd gotten herself into trouble. Caroline hadn't told him everything, because in her words, it wasn't her story to tell. But he knew how, just a couple of years later, some guy had kidnapped Cathy, held her hostage, nearly killed her. How he took off with Jake and left her for dead. He knew that it was during that very dark and frightening period of their lives, Joe Maxwell, Fin Tutuola, and Elliot Burch had come together, had become friends with Caroline's father, and how the four of them were nearly inseparable. "I wish Lucy would have left it alone. It's really none of anyone's business."

"It's not. Lucy just…." He shrugged.

"She's Lucy," Simon agreed, some of his anger draining. It wasn't such a bad thing to have people who cared about you, even if one of them was Lucy who, while a kind, wonderful woman, would probably always be a little high strung.

Maybe more than a little.

"In a few years it won't matter how much older I am or how much younger Caroline is." Simon lined up his next shot. "I know it's a big deal now. I know I'm too old for her. That's why we're taking everything so slow."

Simon's ball missed the pocket.

Matt took his next shot; it was sank easily.

"Setting aside the fact—the very big, important fact—that you are way too old for her, would you just think for a minute about what you're asking her to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's a junior this year, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Ignoring for a minute that isn't a big deal all on it's own, she'll be a senior next year. Are you really so selfish that you expect her to go through her senior year of high school without having a date to home coming, a date to prom, or to any of the other big important things….I know you missed all that." His tone softened. "But it's not fair for you to ask Caroline to miss it too, just because she's got a crush on you. Don't you think the best thing you could do—the right thing—would be to let her have this time with someone she can have all those things with? Then, if in a few years, you both still feel the same way about each other you can…you can see what happens."

"You're saying I should decide for her what's best?" He asked, his tone sharp, anger welling up all over again. "That the right thing to do is to ignore what she wants because…what, you know better? Mom? Dad? Allegedly me?"

"Simon—"

"Tell me, how do you think it would go over if you decided for Sarah what she should do with her life?"

"It's not the same."

"Why? Because you don't think Caroline is smart enough to think for herself? Because you don't think she the right to decide what she wants? Because you think that you and Mom and Dad—who don't even know her by the way—should decide for her? Or try to force me to?" He put his pool cue down on the table and grabbed his coat.

"I didn't say that! Simon—"

"You did say it Matt. And the thing is, I get it. I really do. I understand exactly where you're coming from."

"Then why aren't you listening?"

"Because you're not interested in listening to me. No one is."

….

The last person Simon expected to see when he got back to Cathy's apartment was Caroline; but there she was, waiting for him in the lobby, pacing as if…as if she somehow felt his tension. His anger. His frustration with his family. He loved them. He understood where they were coming from. He was Simon the screwup. He'd made nothing but mistakes for the past two years! He—

Caroline wrapped her arms around his waist. She held him. He held her. The rest of the world ceased to matter.

At length, Caroline stepped back; she took his hand. She led him up to her mother's apartment and made them a pot of tea. "It's one of Lin's grandfather's old recipes," she said softly, as she poured them each a cup from the teapot. It smelled of orange and flowers, something spicy.

Before joining him on the sofa, Caroline pulled a book down from her mother's bookshelf. They took turns reading until well past midnight.

What Simon didn't see (but Caroline was well aware of), was the shadow that stood on the balcony, a cloaked figure listening through the closed door, smiling quietly to himself as his daughter sat with the boy she'd fallen in love with, because in that moment, Vincent truly saw her for the woman she was becoming and he couldn't have been prouder.

…..

"You were spying on me," Caroline accused her father gently, when he met her at the threshold into the tunnels, just under the basement of Catherine's building.

Vincent smiled and drew her into his arms. "Do you think it is because I do not trust you?" he queried.

"I think it is because you are my father and you love me."

He held her close a long moment. "You felt him, didn't you? That is why you had to come to him tonight."

Caroline nodded against her father's strong, warm chest. He smelled of leather and sweet musk, of Victoria's new soap, of candle wax. Of home. "I wasn't sure until tonight that I wasn't imagining things, but whatever he and Matt argued about affected him so strongly…." Caroline looked up into her father's handsome face. She knew what the rest of the world would see if they saw him and it wouldn't be the gentle, loving father she had always known. Firm, but fair, wise and thoughtful, soft of voice—Caroline could count on one hand the number of times she'd witnessed her father lose his temper. Always it had been anger born of fear, when someone did something foolish, something that would endanger themselves or someone else—as long as that someone wasn't him. She'd never seen him get angry at someone when he was the one who was put in harm's way.

And he puts himself in harm's way so often for others….

Gentle hands brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. What she'd said to Simon that one time about trying to tie up her hair being a losing battle wasn't an exaggeration. She had hair much like her father's in color and texture, yet somehow wilder, curlier. Wherever it had come from, whatever ancestor had cursed her with it, they hadn't come from her mother's side of the family.

"I think you know what they argued about," his voice was soft.

Caroline nodded. Simon hadn't said, but she suspected. "I hope…." She bit her lower lip. She'd felt Simon's emotions. All of his emotions. His anger. His frustration. His fear. His powerlessness. The fleeting resolve to break things off with her, the sorrow it brought, the conflict. "I hope we can talk about it, later, after he's had some time to rest and reflect."

"You should get some sleep yourself."

Caroline nodded and allowed her father to escort her back to her bedchamber, where Beth was sound asleep, a book across her chest. Vincent chuckled and put it back on the shelf while Caroline pulled off the heavy sweater she'd thrown on over her night gown. She didn't argue that she was too old when her father tucked her into her bed on the other side of the chamber. He kissed her forehead, whispered good night and "I love you", then blew out the candles on his way out the door.

Caroline lay awake for a long while.

This was her home. This…hole in the ground, as Uncle Devin had once put it. Nearly all of the people she loved the most were here, in this secret, hidden community. It was safe. Everyone knew her. Who she was. What she was.

No one had asked the question, not yet, not even Grandfather (perhaps the greatest skeptic Caroline had ever met), but if this thing, this friendship, this…love?... with Simon was to persist, if it was to grow, if they were somehow going to be together, how much was she going to have to ask him to give up, to be a part of her world?