Chapter 9
Barbara Anderson
(scroll down for previous chapters)
Tony
laid the enlarged photograph and the now useless negative on the table between
them.
Having
nursed more than his share of the scotch while waiting for Tony to verify the
negative, Alan gulped down what was left in his shot glass and slammed it down
on the coffee table. “You idiot!” he screamed as he lunged across the table, intending
to wring Tony’s neck.
“Whoa,
Al… calm down,” Mike said, jumping between the two men. “It was an accident.”
“That
picture was my ticket, you moron…” Alan insisted. “It was no accident!”
“Your
ticket?” Mike asked. “What does that even mean?”
“My
TICKET… MY TICKET!!!… Don’t you get it? It was my ticket to get
my life back on track! …To get back into journalism… back into the photography
world… to gain back the respect I’ve lost… and this dinlo gypsy
destroyed it on purpose! You told me he would verify the picture was real, and
he was too stupid to even do that.”
“I
did verify it, you gadjo[1]
jerk,” Tony said, responding in kind to the ethnic slur Alan had used. “I verified
that the guy is wearing make-up. If you don’t like the answer, that’s your problem.”
Then,
picking up the bottle of scotch, Alan said, “I wasted 260 bucks on this so you
would tell me the photo was real, and you couldn’t even do that. As far as I’m
concerned, this is mine.”
“You
said you wanted to know if it was real or not. Apparently, you didn’t
understand the answer, so I’ll say it again… IT… IS… NOT… REAL!”
Tony enunciated every word loudly, as if Alan was hard of hearing.
“I’ve
wasted an entire day of my life studying that picture, so this is
definitely mine,” Tony declared as he wrenched the scotch out of Alan’s hands.
Then, holding up the nearly empty bottle and grimaced. “But since you already
drank most of it, I guess you didn’t pay me after all.”
“Come
on, Al,” Mike said, urging Alan to back down. “I told you Tony was the best
there is. If he says it isn’t real… it isn’t real.”
Alan
backed up a little in dismay. “You’re taking his side?” he asked
incredulously. “What is this?” he demanded. “Why are you both protecting this
woman… and her freak husband? What does she have on you?”
“Listen
to yourself, Al…” Mike tried to reason with him. “You’re drunk… you’re not
making any sense.”
“I’m
making perfect sense.” Alan laughed bitterly. “It doesn't matter if the
negative is ruined… I still have that picture,” he said, pointing to the photo
lying on the coffee table. “I’ll find someone else to verify it.”
“I
don’t think so,” Tony said, pouring the last of the scotch over the only
remaining evidence of Vincent’s existence and placing the bottle on top of it.
“NOOOOO!!!”
Alan howled. Then, picking up the bottle by the neck, he smashed it across the
table. “You’re gonna pay for that, you stinking, lying, gyp.” He held the
jagged remains of the bottle threateningly, as he moved toward Tony.
“Al!”
Mike yelled, stepping in front of Tony. “This is crazy! Do you want to spend
the rest of your life in prison?”
“Get
out of my way!” Al snarled, swinging the broken glass menacingly.
When
Mike moved to take the weapon, Alan slashed the jagged glass across Mike’s face
and then plunged it into his stomach.
The
room went deathly silent as Alan realized what he had done. He stepped back in
horror and dropped the now blood-covered glass on the floor.
“Whaddya
do that for?” Mike asked. “Help me,” he begged, as he dropped to his knees,
holding his stomach.
“Now
look what you made me do,” Al said accusingly. “Look what you made me do!!!”
He frantically pushed past Tony and fled the scene, leaving a bloody handprint
on the door as he went.
Tony
heard the tires squeal as Alan sped away.
****
It
was well past midnight when Tony entered a manhole in an alley near his
grandfather’s old car repair garage in Queens. He felt he needed to find
Vincent and tell him what had happened.
I know it’s a long shot, he thought, but this is the last place I ever saw the man who
helped me all those years ago.[2]
Wandering
through the tunnels, poignant memories swirled around him. A time of grief and
desperate loneliness. The beautiful woman he’d stolen from and then conned into
helping him. The unique lion-faced man who had run through the tunnels carrying
Tony on his back to the Kris his grandfather had called for him.
As
he advanced into the underground labyrinth, Tony had the distinct impression
that he was being watched but couldn’t see or hear anyone. The tunnels were
quiet except for the sound of occasional clanging of the pipes that lined the
tunnel. Arriving at a junction where several tunnels diverged, he turned
around, this way then that, not knowing which way to go.
“Is
anyone there?” he called out to the silence, realizing he might be lost. “I’m
looking for a man named Vincent.”
There
was no answer.
“Can
you tell him Tony Ramos is looking for him?”
In
the silence, he called out again. “I need to tell Vincent something. It’s
important,” he said, hoping that someone heard him. “I’ll wait for him right
here.”
As
Tony waited, the only sound he heard was more banging on the pipes. Just as he
was about to give up hope, a voice spoke from the shadows.
“Who
are you?”
Tony
snapped to attention, unsure where the voice had come from. “My name is Tony…”
he answered, “…Tony Ramos. A guy named Vincent and a pretty lady named
Catherine Chandler helped me a long time ago.”
Tony
heard a deep sigh in the darkness.
After
a long moment, Vincent said, “Yes, I recall a desperate, young boy named Tony
Ramos, who captured a piece of Catherine’s heart. Over the years, I’ve wondered
what became of him. Catherine is not here anymore. She… she is…”
Even
after all these years, he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“Yeah…
I know… she’s dead…” Tony said, finishing Vincent’s sentence. “Her picture was
in all the papers back then. Life sure ain’t fair, is it?”
They
were both silent for a few moments, as if to honor Catherine’s memory.
After
a while, Tony broke the silence. “I swiped a bunch a flowers once and left ‘em
on her grave,” he admitted. “I thought that would make her laugh.”
Vincent
chuckled. “Yes. I think it would have,” he said, finally stepping out of the
shadows to face the boy who was now a grown man.
Tony
took in the sight of the unique man he had only met once. “I’ve still never
seen anyone else like you.”
Vincent
shrugged a little and grinned. “That’s because there has never been anyone else
like me.”
“Ya
know… over the years…” Tony began. “I thought maybe I only dreamed you… that it
was just my crazy imagination. But it was real. YOU… are… real.”
Vincent
nodded. “Yes, I am very real,” he whispered. “Tell me… what brings you here
now, Tony? Do you need help?”
“No,”
Tony replied. “But I think maybe I can help you. After all, I do owe ya one.”
“You
owe me nothing,” Vincent assured him.
“I
sure do,” Tony insisted. “You and Catherine helped me back then… maybe even
saved my life. I don’t know what woulda happened to me if it wasn’t for you.
And like I told Catherine back then… a gypsy never forgets.”
“And
just how do you think you can help me?” Vincent wondered aloud.
“I’m
a photographer now,” the young man explained. “…for actors, makeup artists…
plays on Broadway, off Broadway… off, off Broadway, off, off, off Broadway… if
ya get my drift? Anyway, I’m the best at what I do, even if I do say so
myself.”
Vincent
smiled, remembering there had been a certain bravado about Tony, even as a boy.
“Well,
my friend Mike, he’s a big-time makeup artist…” Tony explained. “He brought a
man to my house yesterday. He had a negative. Wanted me to tell ‘im if the
picture was real or a just someone with a really good makeup job. Right off, I
could tell this guy was up to no good.”
“How
could you tell?” Vincent asked.
“I’m
a gypsy,” Tony said simply. He smiled wryly and shrugged. “We have a sixth
sense about that kind a thing. Ya know… ya can’t con a con, and all that.”
Vincent
smiled and nodded.
“Well,
imagine my surprise…” Tony continued. “…when I looked at the negative and saw
it was a picture uh you… Looked like a wedding picture or sumthin’.”
“Did
he say where he got this negative?” Vincent asked, holding his breath.
“Said
he got it off some kid… the stepson of his brother’s sister-in-law or sumthin’
crazy like that.”
“And
what did you tell him… about the picture?” Vincent asked, with his heart in his
throat.
“Come
on… What do ya think I told ‘im? I told ‘im it was a great make-up job. I told
‘im it wasn’t real.”
“Soooo…
you told an untruth,” Vincent observed.
Tony
laughed softly. “Untruth?” He weighed the word in his mind for a moment. “I like
that: untruth… Well, you know us gypsies… let’s just say… sometimes we have a
loose relationship with the truth… Anyway… like I said… I knew he was up to no
good… and I didn’t think it would be good for your picture to get plastered all
over the news.”
“No...
I don’t suppose it would.” Vincent agreed. Then, knowing the photograph could
still pose a danger not only to himself but to the entire community, he asked,
“Do you know where the negative is now?”
“Aahhh…
I might’ve… ‘accidentally’ destroyed it,” Tony said.
“Accidentally?”
Vincent wondered.
“Okay,
okay… ‘accidentally on purpose,’” the young man admitted without displaying a
shred of regret.
Vincent
let out a sigh of relief, believing the danger had passed. “Is that the
important thing you came to tell me?” he asked.
“No,”
Tony answered quickly. “I came here to tell ya… this guy’s a crazy, whack job.
He was so mad when I ruined his picture, he tried to cut me with a broken
whiskey bottle. He ended up cutting my friend, Mike, and stabbing him in the
gut. Then he took off… left a bloody handprint on my front door. Mike's in the
hospital… he’s hurt real bad. The police are looking for the guy who did
it. I’m scared he might come after you… or the lady in the picture. He might
even try ta do somethin’ to the kid he got the negative off of.”
“Do
you know this man’s name?” Vincent asked as he began guiding Tony to the
nearest tunnel exit.
“Al
or Alan…” Tony said. “I can’t remember if he ever said his last name.”
“Here
we are,” Vincent said as they arrived at the right manhole. “This is where you
go out.”
“Thanks,”
Tony said, “I’m not sure I woulda been able to find my way outta here on my
own.”
“Thank
you, for your help,” Vincent said. “You have no idea how grateful… and
relieved, I am for what you did.”
“Nah…
it was nuthin.” Tony said, waving off Vincent’s words of appreciation. He
reached into the back pocket of his slacks and produced a business card. “If ya
ever need my services for anything, feel free to call this number. After all, I
owe ya.”
“No,
Tony.” Vincent shook his head. “Your debt is paid. You owe me nothing.”
“Well,”
Tony smiled. “…friends help friends… don’t they?”
Vincent
chuffed softly and nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “Friends do help friends.”
He gratefully accepted the business card, then watched as Tony left the
tunnels.
*****
It
was nearly 2 am when Vincent reached the home Tunnels.
Entering
his chamber, he was met with a welcome sight. He could see Diana lying in their
shared bed with her back to him. Her glorious red hair was luminous in the
candlelight as it was sprawled across the pillows.
“Are
you awake?” Vincent whispered.
“Yes.”
She rolled toward him, her eyes wide with worry. “I haven’t been able to
sleep.”
“I’ve
been to the east tunnels in Queens,” he said. “A young man named Tony… a boy
Catherine and I helped years ago, had some information for me. Information
about Alan and the photograph.”
“What?!?!”
She sat up and reached for a sweater. “Tell me,” she begged, with a hint of
desperation in her voice. “What did he say?”
“Tony
is a photographer and apparently somewhat of an expert regarding stage makeup.
Someone brought Alan to his home and asked him to look at the negative of
Jacob’s photograph. He wanted to know if it was real or just a good makeup
job.”
Diana
closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst. “Tell me
what happened.”
“When
Tony realized it was a picture of me, he told Alan that it wasn’t real… that it
was merely a good makeup job.”
“What
did Alan do when he heard that?” she asked.
“He
was angry, to say the least.”
“But
he could still take it to someone else for a second opinion,” Diana pointed
out. “Couldn’t he?”
“No…”
Vincent shook his head. “Tony assured me that he destroyed the negative. I
believe, accidentally on purpose,” were the words he used.”
Diana
laughed at that.
“The
only thing is,” Vincent continued. “Alan was so angry that he attacked Tony and
his friend. Tony’s friend is seriously injured and in the hospital. The police
are searching for Alan.”
Diana
leaned into Vincent’s arms. “I feel like I can finally breathe again,” she
said. “I’m sorry he hurt someone, but knowing that the negative no longer
exists is a great relief.”
“Yes,”
Vincent whispered. “But this man, Alan, is not only angry right now… he’s
desperate. He might come after you or Jessica… even Jacob is in danger as
long as this man is free. We need to make sure he is apprehended, so we will
all be safe.”
“Yes,”
Diana agreed. “I have an idea how we can do that… but it’s too late tonight to
do anything. Let’s get some sleep, and I’ll go Above in the morning and set
things in motion.”
Diana
was right. They needed to rest after the stress of the last few days.
Vincent’s
last thought as he drifted off to sleep was of how good it felt to have Diana
sleeping safely in his arms. There had been precious little of that for the
last several months…
*****
Alan
spent a rough night sleeping in his car in an alley between warehouses in New
York’s garment district. It was an area he was familiar with because of his
days as a fashion photographer. He was sure the police were looking for him by
now, and his first priority was to lay low until he could find a way to escape.
I’m lucky it’s been warmer than usual, he assured himself as
he attempted to make himself comfortable. At least I won’t freeze.
Alan’s
first thought as the first light came through the rear window of his beat-up
Ford Pinto was, I’ve got to get out of the city as soon as possible,
“You’re
flat broke, Al,” he answered himself out loud. “If you want to put distance
between you and this city, you need money.”
Then
he had an inspirational idea. The negatives, he thought. I might not
have the negative that thieving gypsy ruined, but I do have the rest of them.
He
dug through the detritus remains of several takeout meals and found his
satchel. “Yes!” he said aloud, as he found the negatives from the film Jessica
had left in the gallery dark room.
Realizing
the police might be searching for his car, he decided, I better walk and
stick to the back alleys.
Nearly
an hour and a half later, he arrived at the Lewis Winham Gallery at 48 East 59th
Street. That’s when he discovered that he no longer had the key. He searched
every pocket in his satchel, and it was nowhere to be found. His heart dropped
when he realized that he could have lost anywhere from the Bennett family
reunion to Tony’s apartment or anywhere in between.
“Auuugh!”
he screamed, pounding on the glass door.
Then,
realizing that passersby were looking at him askance, he tried to get control
of himself. He laughed a little and sheepishly said, “Locked myself out.”
“Have
you ever had one of those days?” he asked a little old lady with a French
poodle.
She
walked away as quickly as she could.
As
the rest of the people went on their way, giving him a wide berth, Alan caught
the reflection of himself in the window of the gallery that was showcasing some
of Jessica Webb’s latest work. He barely recognized the man looking back at
him. His hair was greasy and disheveled, his face unshaven. And even worse,
there were streaks of dried blood across the front of his shirt.
I need to clean myself up, he realized. Then, ducking into the nearest alley, he searched
for the nearest water spigot. The cool water on his face and hair felt
surprisingly refreshing. Pulling a comb from his pocket, he opted for the
greased back look.
I have to ditch this shirt, he decided. I can explain the new
hairstyle and the stubble. I’m an artist after all, Lewis knows we are an
eccentric lot. But I won’t be able to explain away the blood.
He
was relieved to see that there was significantly less blood on his undershirt. This
will have to do, he surmised, tucking it in to appear a little less
disheveled. There was nothing more to do but stay out of sight behind a
dumpster until Mr. Winham arrived and opened the door.
*****
The
first thing Diana did when she went Above was find a pay phone and call
Jessica. She was afraid to use the phone in her loft, in case Alan had somehow
found out her address.
“C’mon,
Jessica,” she muttered under her breath. “Answer the phone.”
“Hello?”
Jessica said groggily.
“Thank
goodness you're home,” Diana said.
“It’s
7:45 in the morning, dear. I’m not known for being an early bird,” Jessica
replied, feeling a little cheeky. “After all, I never have been overly fond of
worms.”
Diana
couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m
sorry, Jessica, but this is urgent. Alan Johnson stabbed someone last night
over the negative you were looking for.”
“Oh
dear. Are you sure? I never would have thought him capable of such a thing.”
“I
have it on good authority that the police are looking for him. He put a guy in
the hospital.”
“My
stars and garters!” Jessica exclaimed. “Well, what do you want me to do?”
“Can
you meet me at the District Attorney’s office as soon as you can get down
there?” Diana asked. “I have an idea how we can help the police catch him.”
“I
can do that. As soon as I’m dressed, I’ll head down there.”
“Tell
them you have a meeting with Joe Maxwell and Diana Bennett,” Diana instructed.
“I’ll see you there.”
*****
Diana
arrived at the D.A.’s office at 8:30 am sharp. She knew Joe was never late, and
she wanted to catch him before he got too busy with his current caseload.
“Mr.
Maxwell, Diana Bennett is here to see you,” a voice came over the com.
Joe
had already been there for half an hour. He looked up from his current case
file. “Send her in,” he replied, grateful for the welcome break.” Then he
stepped from behind his desk to open the door.
“Did
I forget we had an appointment?” he asked as Diana swept into the room and
dropped into her favorite chair.
“No…
you didn’t forget,” was her reply. She made herself comfortable by throwing one
leg over the arm of the chair, letting it swing lazily.
“Make
yourself at home,” Joe said sarcastically.
“Can
you get Greg Hughs to come over here, Joe?”
“Do
you mind telling me why?”
Diana
pursed her lips and looked at the window.
Joe
leaned against his desk. “I’m all ears, Bennett,” he said, gesturing for her to
speak.
She
thought for a moment about how much information she should give him. “I
understand the police are looking for a guy named Alan Johnson for attacking
someone yesterday.”
Joe
was a little taken aback. “How do you know about that? It’s an open-and-shut
case… penny-ante stuff. Not really something we would call you in on.”
“Does
it matter how I know?” she asked. “Some information has dropped into my lap,
and I think I might know how the police can catch the guy.”
“I’m
confused, Bennett,” Joe began. “If you have information for the police, why
didn’t you go straight to Greg?”
“Because
I’d prefer not to be linked to this case, if I can help it. That’s all I
want to say for now.”
Joe
looked at her thoughtfully.
“Please,
Joe. Can you just humor me?” she pleaded.
Joe
picked up the phone and dialed. “This is Joe Maxwell at the D.A.’s office. Get
me Greg Hughs, please… Tell him it’s urgent.”
As
he waited, Joe cradled the receiver on his shoulders and looked at Diana. “Do
you care to elaborate?” he asked.
Then,
turning his attention to the phone, he said, “Yeah, Greg… I’ve got Diana
Bennett here, and she says she has information about the stabbing last night in
Queens. Yeah, Al Johnson… that’s the one. Can you get over here?... Yeah… sure…
see ya in a few.”
“Mr.
Maxwell, there’s a Jessica Webb here to see you,” The receptionist informed him
over the com.
“She’s
with me, Joe,” Diana offered.
“Send
her in,” Joe said with resignation. “My day is not going at all like I thought
it would,” he lamented as he opened his office door.
****
As
Joe leaned against his desk, he looked at Greg Hughs. Diana and Jessica, sitting
in front of him and asked, “Now that everyone has arrived, are you ready to
tell us what you have to do with Alan Johnson? Is he a friend of yours?”
“No…
definitely not a friend,” Diana assured them.
“He
is… or was, a friend of mine,” Jessica said. “At least he was before all
of this.”
“So
how do you know him?” Greg asked Diana.
“I
just met him for the first time a couple of days ago… at a party my family
throws once a year.”
“Are
you saying you’re related to this loser?” Greg asked.
“No,
not related… exactly,” she said. “Alan Johnson’s brother Dan is married to my
sister… and before you ask… Dan is NOTHING like his brother. Alan is
apparently the black sheep of his family. Anyway… Alan somehow got hold of one
of my wedding pictures… one I had no idea had ever even been taken.”
“It
was my fault,” Jessica said. “I forgot a roll of film in a dark room we were
sharing, and apparently, he developed it.”
“What’s
all this got to do with a stabbing in Queens?” Joe asked, trying to make some
sense of what he was hearing.
“I’m
getting to that,” Diana replied. “For some reason, Alan got some cockamamie
idea that the photo was evidence of some kind of scandal involving me and my
husband. He started offering money to anyone in the family who could give him
some dirt on me. Needless to say, it didn’t end well.”
“Whew...”
Greg whistled low. “I pity the fool who tangles with you, Bennett.”
Diana
laughed softly. “It was actually his brother, Dan, who gave him the boot before
I ever got the chance. Apparently, he’d been trying to get several members of
the family to invest in some shady business deals as well.”
“And
you believe this wedding picture has something to do with him attacking someone
yesterday?” Joe asked.
“I
can’t be sure that my brush with him is connected to yesterday’s attack, but I
have a feeling that it might… at least in some convoluted way.”
Greg
nodded. “The victim and the other witness did mention it had something to do
with a photograph or a negative. So, you might be right.”
“This
guy has probably gotten out of the city by now,” Joe speculated. “What makes
you think he’s still hanging around New York?”
“Because
he’s flat broke,” Jessica volunteered. “He borrowed $300 from me just last week
so he wouldn’t be evicted from his apartment… and he’s been looking pretty
rough around the edges lately.”
“I
don’t expect I’ll ever see that money again,” she mumbled under her breath.
Joe
turned to Diana. “Do you think he might hit up your brother-in-law for help?”
Diana
shook her head. “Not after what happened over the weekend… but I do have an
idea where he might go for money. That’s where Jessica comes in…”
****
“Lewis
Winham Gallery, may I help you?” Lewis
Winham said cheerfully into the phone.
“Hello,
Lewis, this is Jessica.”
“Jessica,
darling,” Lewis Winham greeted her warmly. After all, she was his best
photographer, and her work brought a lot of business his way. “What can I do
for you today?”
“I
have a favor to ask. Has Alan Johnson been around today? He’s gotten himself
into some trouble, and the police are looking for him. I thought he might come
by there to try and borrow some money from you or something.”
Lewis’
voice became quiet. “Actually, he’s here right now. He’s in the dark room
developing some pictures… He says they're great… he wants me to give him an
advance if I like them. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No.
Listen to me, Lewis, whatever you do, don’t tell him I called. Say whatever it
takes to keep him there. Can you do that?”
“Anything
for you, Darling,” Lewis said. “See you soon.”
*****
“What
do you think?” Alan asked as Lewis Winham studied the photographs in front of
him. “Pretty good, huh?”
Lewis
nodded slowly. “I must say, Alan, these are exceptional. The lighting…
your point of reference, and your framing are like nothing I’ve seen from you
before.”
“I
thought I might try something new. I’m pretty happy with how they turned out,”
Alan said with false modesty. “Soooo… do you think they’re worth giving me an—”
Just
then, someone entered the front door, and both men looked up.
“Jessica,
my darling,” Lewis said in feigned surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to come in
today,” he lied. “Come and look at the new photographs Alan has brought me?
They’re absolutely wonderful.”
Alan
wasn’t nearly as happy to see her. His heart sank at the sight of her, and the
color drained from his face.
Putting
her hand on Alan’s shoulder, Jessica expressed her concern. “Are you all right,
Alan dear? You look positively peaked.”
Turning
to Lewis, she said, “I’m sorry to show up unannounced, Lewis, but I’ve been
mentoring a budding young photographer, and I mistakenly left an undeveloped
roll of his film here last week. I came here to ask if you’ve seen it?”
Then,
looking down at the pictures on Lewis’s desk, she picked one up and studied it
curiously. “Oh… these must be them,” she asked. "You developed the film?”
“No…”
Lewis shook his head. “You must be mistaken, Jessica. Alan said these are—”
Before
either could say another word, Alan bolted for the front door. No sooner had he
stepped out onto the sidewalk than he was surrounded by police officers on
every side.
He
was apprehended with little incident.
“Alan
Johnson,” Greg Hughs said as he put the handcuffs on the prisoner. “You’re under arrest for attempted murder,
assault with a deadly weapon, and assault with the intent to cause bodily harm.
You have the right to remain silent—”
“I
didn’t mean to hurt Mike! I swear,” Alan protested. “It was that dirty gypsy I
was after. Mike just got in the way.”
“Mr.
Johnson! You have the right to remain silent,” Greg Hughs began again, before
Alan could say any more. “Anything you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t
afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these
rights?”
“Yeah,
yeah, I understand,” Alan replied as he was helped into a police car.
As
the squad car pulled away from the curb, Diana Bennett stepped out of the
gathering crowd in time for Alan to get a good look at her. His expression of
surprise was quickly transformed into seething hatred.
It
gave Diana a sense of great satisfaction to know he wouldn’t be a threat to her
or those she loved, for a very, very long time to come.
*****
Entering
their chamber several hours later, Diana found Vincent sitting in his reading
chair, with Jacob’s photograph in his hand. He looked up with troubled eyes.
“Did
you get my message?” she asked. “Alan Johnson has been arrested and booked,”
she informed him. “The danger has passed. He’ll be in prison for quite some
time.”
“Good,”
Vincent nodded and looked back at the photograph.
Approaching
him, she too looked at the picture. “Jacob captured us beautifully, didn’t he?
I can still remember exactly what I was feeling in that moment.”
“Yes,”
he answered simply. “But it’s just a moment. It captures our love… but it hides
the… complications.”
“Complications?”
Diana asked. “What complications?”
“The
complications of having me in your life, of loving me,” he said sadly. “I can’t
help but think everything that’s happened in the last several days… is because
of me… because of what I am. I complicate your life.”
Yes, she thought. It’s just like Vincent to find a way to blame
himself for something he had no control of.
Taking
the photograph from him, she placed it on his desk. Then, taking Vincent’s
hands in hers, she urged him to stand. Standing close, facing him, she said,
“Put your arms around me, Babe?”
He
obeyed silently.
“I
have something to say to you, and I need you to listen,” she said, locking her
eyes with his. “You, Vincent Wells, are not a complication. You
are the least complicated thing in my entire life. Don’t you understand that?”
He
shook his head, wondering how she could say such a thing.
“The
world… up there,” she said, looking at the ceiling. “That is
complicated. It’s filled with hate and greed, graft and corruption, and evil
beyond imagination. You and I both know that, don’t we?”
“Yes…
We do,” he agreed.
“But
when I’m here… in the Tunnels… here in your arms… all of those
complications disappear. You and Jacob keep me grounded when all the
complications of that world up there try to devour me.”
She
waited a moment, allowing her words to sink in.
“I…
love… you, Babe…” she said, taking his face in her hands. “... more than I
ever imagined anyone could love. I’ve spent the last four months drowning in
the complications of that world up there. Dreaming of this… the day I
would be back in your arms. It’s what kept me from losing my mind.”
She
stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. “You, Vincent Wells, do not
complicate my life. You simplify it. You put it into perspective,” she
whispered. “You are my heart, my lifeline… the anchor that keeps me sane.”
“Thank
you, Diana.” Vincent closed his eyes and pulled her closer. “Thank you for
loving me.”
Then
reaching for her left hand. He lifted it and kissed her fingers one by one,
allowing his lips to linger on the claddagh ring she wore there.
“Diana,
my love,” he began. “When we wed, I had no ring to offer you. So, this one,
from your family, was used to pledge
our love, our commitment. and our fidelity to each other. It also represents
the commitment, the love, and the fidelity of those who came before us. It
represents the world you came from, the world your family came from. It’s a
beautiful legacy.”
Diana
nodded. “Yes, it is.”
As he
kissed her hand again, she closed her eyes,
overwhelmed by his tenderness, only opening them when she felt him slip
something onto her index finger.
“I’ve been
working on this… I wanted to give it to you as a surprise for our
anniversary. But I am offering it to you
now,” he said. “…to represent something from this world… something of me to
carry with you when you go Above to the world so full of complications.”
Diana
was speechless as she beheld a beautiful Celtic ring with a sparkling red stone
setting.
“While
you were gone these last months,” he explained. “I went to the Crystal Cavern,
searching for a stone worthy of you… a stone that reminded me… of you. When I
found this garnet, I knew at once that this was the one. One of our helpers
offered to help me to make this ring. Working on it brought you close in my
heart. Now these two
rings will represent both our worlds combined in both of us and what we are
together.”
“Garnets
are sometimes referred to as ‘The Stone of Contentment’ in Celtic lore,” Diana
said, glowing with love for this incredible man she called her own.
“I’ve
been assured it is associated with love, devotion and commitment,” Vincent
added. It’s a stone from the deepest part of my world and I
give it to you from the deepest part of my heart… I believe it’s also supposed
to enhance passion,” he added.
“I
don’t think we have a problem in that department,” she whispered mischievously.
She drew even closer and kissed him with a passion that had not faded since the
first time they pledged themselves to each other.
At
the sound of a camera shutter and flash, they looked up.
“That
was great, you guys!” Jacob exclaimed. “Hey, Dad, can you kiss Mom
again, so I can make sure I got the shot?”
Diana
dropped her head on Vincent’s chest and laughed as the shutter on Jacob’s
camera clicked again.
Vincent
held out his arm to draw the boy into their embrace. He tousled his son’s hair
as he approached. “Jacob,” Vincent said, trying to sound stern. “You must learn
to alert people before you enter their chamber.”
“I
did, Dad,” Jacob argued. “But you and Mom were so lovey-dovey, you
didn’t hear me.”
They
all laughed at that, and Diana bent down to kiss the top of Jacob’s head.
“Is
it okay if I still take pictures, Mom?” Jacob asked, becoming serious again.
“Yes,
Jacob…” Vincent assured him, lowering himself to his son’s level. “It’s all
right, but your film must remain here in the Tunnels from now on. I’ll speak to
the council about arranging a place to create a dark room for you to use down
here. Perhaps near Mouse’s workroom.”
“Really?”
Jacob asked in disbelief. “That’ll be AWESOME!” He turned to run and tell his
friends. Then quickly turning back to his parents, he said, “Oh, yeah… William
says if you don’t come to dinner soon, there won’t be anything left.”
“Are
you hungry, Diana?” Vincent asked, as they found themselves alone once again.
“Not
for anything William’s got in the dining hall,” she said, smiling demurely.
“Me
either,” Vincent replied, lowering a repurposed stage curtain to cover the
entrance to their chamber.
*****
A week later, Vincent and Diana joined the
community as they gathered in the dining chamber for dinner. The low buzz of
daily conversation fell silent as everyone turned to the chamber entrance to
see Mouse pushing Rolley in a wheelchair.
His music
students ran to welcome him back home. Then, rolling him up to a free spot at
Vincent’s table, they ran to get him food.
“Welcome
home, Rolley,” Diana said warmly.
“Thank
you,” Rolley replied as he looked around at the people who had become his only
family over the last several years.
Then,
turning back to Vincent and Diana, he asked, “So…What did I miss?”
