Doris and Elena just looked at each other. Then both spoke simultaneously.
"How–"
They stopped. Then Doris said, "You've been here less than a week. How did you find out about him?"
"The pull that brought me to New York came from him. I followed it and found the tunnels. What about you?"
"Although some of those who live in the tunnels spend their days above, working or going to school, or whatever, they can't provide for the entire community. There are people called helpers who assist those who live below by getting them necessities they can't obtain otherwise. Patrick is one of them. I found out shortly after we were married, and I became one, too. But why would you – oh my God! You and Vincent?"
"I believe – no, I'm convinced that we're related. Because of this pull, and my discovery, I've begun to remember certain things about my past."
"You have? That's wonderful!"
"Well, some of it is wonderful, but a lot is very painful, physically and emotionally."
Patrick walked back into the living room. "Honey, can you two postpone the rest of this conversation till later? Dinner's ready and the kids are hungry. So am I, for that matter."
Doris glanced up at her husband mischievously. "When aren't you hungry?" she asked. "But I think we'd better eat. We want to be finished before Mr. Perlman arrives."
They went into the dining room, where Elena was introduced to the children, Pat Jr., who was 8, and Marie, who was 5. "We call this guy Cruiser, because he's been doing just that since he was able to crawl," Patrick said, ruffling his son's hair.
"Dad!" the boy protested, then turned to Elena and said. "I'm sorry I didn't say hello before. And I just blurted out what I said before I checked to see if anyone else was around."
"That's okay, Pat," Elena replied with a smile. "I think you were meant to. See, I have been in the tunnels, too, but didn't know that your parents had. So that's turned out to be a good thing. Now I have someone I can talk to about all this. And she's my best friend, as well."
Patrick looked at his mother, then back at Elena. "Cool!"
The tension broken, everyone sat down and had an enjoyable meal. Both Doris and Patrick enjoyed cooking, and were good at it, but were careful to make sure it was always healthy as well as tasty. Elena grew more comfortable as the evening wore on and was able to retire to the living room afterwards to await the arrival of her publisher without any trepidation.
Doris and Patrick refused to let her help clear the table; they sent her away and Doris took Marie to her room to get her ready for bed. Pat helped his father in the dining room, then went to his own room to finish his homework before bedtime.
The female contingent was the first to join Elena, Marie looking appropriately adorable in her nightgown and fuzzy slippers. She climbed up on the sofa next to Elena and knelt on the seat, facing her. "You don't look like Vincent," she said. "Are you really related?"
"I believe we are," Elena replied. "And no, I don't look like him at all. But if I get scared or angry, or feel that I'm threatened, then I start to, a little bit."
"Do you know why?"
"Why what?"
"Why Vincent looks the way he does and why you sometimes do?"
"No, I don't. You see, I didn't remember anything about my life before I was fourteen, and I only remember a little tiny bit now."
"Why don't you remember?"
"I don't know. That's something I'm trying to find out."
"Why didn't you try to find out before?"
"Marie!""
Elena chuckled. "It's all right, Doris." She turned back to the girl. "I'd like to try to answer that. At first, I was trying to get better, after I was found. Then I was trying to fit in. And I had a lot of learning to do. After that, I was trying to find a place to live and work, so I could earn some money. During that time, I really wasn't wondering who I really was; I was too busy."
"Then what happened?"
"Well, I couldn't remember where I'd been before I was found, and when someone suggested that I should go to New York City, I became very afraid and didn't know why. When I thought about trying to find out, I became too afraid to try. About a year or so ago, I felt a pull to come here, and only recently did it become strong enough to overcome my fear. So now I'm here, to try to get answers to all my questions."
"Okay. I hope it doesn't hurt Vincent, though. I like him; he's cuddly." Marie giggled, then yawned.
"Looks like it's someone's bedtime," Elena said, smiling at the little girl. Patrick, who had come into the room earlier and was sitting in an armchair, listening to their conversation, now stood up.
"I'll take her, honey. It sounds like your boss just arrived." He moved to the couch and picked his daughter up, carrying her out of the room. She sleepily waved at Elena as they left.
"G'nite, 'lena."
"Goodnight, honey. Sweet dreams." Elena turned to her friend. "Cuddly?"
Doris laughed. "Whenever we take the kids with us and Vincent has been there, Marie likes to cuddle with him. He's wonderful with children."
As father and daughter disappeared down the hall, the doorbell rang. Doris signaled her to stay put and went to answer it. Elena could hear voices coming from the foyer and moments later, Doris walked back in, followed by an attractive older man. He was tall, slim and well dressed.
"Elena Kingston, I'd like you to meet Edward Perlman. Edward, this is Elena."
As Elena stood up, the man moved closer and held out his hand. She took it, and was startled to hear him say, "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, now. Welcome to New York City. And what's this I've been hearing about you doing some personal research? When can we expect you to submit a story or a book about it?"