Chapter 8

Janet Rivenbark

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The Bennett clan’s annual dinner was winding down, the last of the apple pie and coffee circulating as laughter and conversation ebbed and flowed through the house. Yet, beneath the surface, a current of unease lingered—one that Diana could feel in the set of her shoulders and see in the way Jacob hovered close, camera strap wound tightly around his hand.

She caught Susan’s eye across the room. Her sister gave a small, reassuring nod, but Diana knew they were both thinking of Alan, each for different reasons.

Diana was worried about the questions he’d raised and the secrets that had nearly been exposed. Susan at the fact that he’d tried to take advantage of the Bennetts, especially the oldest and the youngest. The relief at his abrupt departure was tempered by the knowledge that he was probably not finished, not yet.

Jacob slipped into the seat beside her, his voice low. “Mom, did you talk to Jessica?”

Diana nodded, keeping her tone light for the benefit of any listening relatives. “I did. She’s going to check the lab, just in case. But we’ve got the important photo safe, and Alan’s not coming back tonight.”

Jacob let out a breath he’d been holding. “I wish we could just tell everyone the truth. About Dad. About Below.”

Diana squeezed his hand. “I know, Hon. But not everyone would understand. Some things are best kept close, for now.”

Across the room, Aunt Helen was regaling a group of cousins with a story about their great-grandfather’s escapades in Éire. The children were rapt, and for a moment, Diana allowed herself to imagine a world where her own much smaller family’s story could be told so openly—where Vincent could sit beside her, his hand in hers, and Jacob could introduce his father without fear.

But that world was not this one. Not yet.

As the evening wore on, the family began to drift towards the porch, drawn by the cool autumn air and the promise of one last group photograph. Diana watched as Jacob lined up the younger cousins, giving instructions with the quiet authority he’d inherited from Vincent. She smiled, pride and sorrow mingling in her chest.

Susan sidled up beside her. “You all right?”

Diana nodded. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

Susan bumped her shoulder gently. “You handled Alan. And the rest of us. I’m proud of you, Di.”

“Thanks. I just hope he lets it go.”

Susan’s expression darkened. “If he doesn’t, you know you’ve got us. And Dan’s not above a bit of creative persuasion if Alan gets out of hand.”

Diana laughed, the tension easing a little. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The camera flashed, capturing the moment: children squinting in the porch light, adults clustered behind, Aunt Helen in the center, beaming. Jacob took several more, just to be safe, before releasing everyone.

Diana felt a surge of hope. Whatever Alan might do, whatever questions remained, this was her family—messy, nosy, overwhelming, but hers.

Later, after they were back at Susan’s, the house was quiet, and Jacob slept curled up with his camera beside him. Diana stepped out into the garden.

She wished she could call Vincent, if only to just hear his voice. She had suggested that she get him a Blackberry, but then “signal won’t go through solid rock,” as Mouse had been quick to point out.

She knew that he had probably sensed Jacob’s unease and wished she could explain, to set his mind at ease.

As she relaxed in the chilly night air, she felt the weight of the weekend begin to lift. Whatever came next—Alan’s schemes, the family’s curiosity, the delicate balance between Above and Below—they would face it as a family. And for the first time in a long while, Diana believed that might just be enough.

 

The morning after the reunion dawned crisp and clear, sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting patterns on the kitchen floor.

Diana was up early, the events of the weekend swirling in her mind. She listened to the gentle hum of voices.  Susan and Dan were on their way down.

For a moment, she savored the peace along with the coffee she’d poured herself earlier. The tension of Alan’s probing, the near-miss with the wedding photo, and the constant balancing act between Above and Below had left her weary, but also grateful. She had faced the worst and found her family—both chosen and blood—standing with her.

Jacob appeared at the doorway, camera in hand, his eyes bright. “Mom, can we go home soon? I miss Dad.”

Diana smiled, ruffling his hair. “Soon. We’ll say our goodbyes and catch the train. Your dad is probably counting the minutes, right along with us.”

 

Susan made breakfast almost as big an event as dinner had been the day before at Aunt Helen's. And later, as everyone gathered at the front door, ready to load up the car for the trip to the station, Susan handed Diana a white baker’s box. Diana snuck a quick look, it was full of chocolate chip cookies and her sister’s famous snickerdoodles. 

“Don’t eat them all before you get home. Save some for that mysterious husband of yours. Tell him he’s welcome anytime.”

Diana hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Susan. Maybe one day.”

Dan drove and parked in the station's lot. They all walked to the building, Alex and Jacob trailing behind. Jacob had made a friend, and Diana was sure that they would want to get together again.

The train ride back to Manhattan was quiet, Jacob gazing out the window, lost in thought. Diana watched him, wondering what stories he would tell Vincent, what questions he would ask, and what answers she could give.

When they reached the tunnels, the familiar rhythm of the pipes greeted them at the threshold. Vincent was waiting, his presence filling the small chamber with warmth and relief. Jacob ran to him, arms flung wide, and Diana felt the last of her anxiety melt away.

Vincent knelt, embracing his son. “Welcome home, Jacob. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Jacob nodded, launching into tales of cousins, games, and photographs. Diana watched them, her heart full. She knew there would be more questions—about Alan, about the photo, about the world Above—but for now, they were together, safe.

Later, as the family settled in for dinner in the dining chamber, Diana shared the highlights of the weekend. She told Vincent about Alan’s curiosity, the near-discovery, and the support of Susan and Dan. Vincent listened, his expression thoughtful.

“We will always have to be careful,” he said quietly. “But we are not alone. You have your family Above, and I have mine Below. Together, we are stronger. Maybe someday we can introduce your sister and her family to the tunnels.”

Diana reached for his hand, squeezing it. “We’ll face whatever comes. As a family.”

Jacob grinned, camera poised. “Can I take a picture? Just for us?”

Vincent smiled, pulling Diana close. “Of course.”

The shutter clicked, capturing the moment.

*****

Elsewhere in New York, Alan nursed his curiosity along with his drink. Tony was back in the darkroom, and Alan wondered what was taking so long. Did he really need that much time to analyze that photograph?

He was startled out of his thoughts when Tony came back into the room. He carried a piece of paper and what looked like a small piece of dark plastic.

“Well, I have good news, and I have bad news,” he told the two men.

“And?” Mike prompted.

“Well, I got a good, clear enlargement of the guy's head and shoulders.” He sat on the couch and put the photo on the coffee table. “And it’s easy to see that this is makeup.” He pointed at spots in the photo. “You can see the lace, it’s a kind of fine net that is used as the base of a good wig. The wig is good, but the makeup doesn’t blend real well at the edge. And down here on the neck, just below the ear…” He pointed at another spot, which he knew was actually a small scar on Vincent’s neck. “You can see the place where the prosthetic from the face meets the guy's neck. It looks like a little ridge.”

“So, what’s the good news?” Alan asked.

“That was the good news,” Tony told him, holding up the brown plastic. “The bad news is that I dropped the negative in a puddle of chemicals, and it was destroyed. Sorry.”

Tony had done all that he had just described, but had also been able to make a few subtle changes to the print he’d made. And the accidental destruction of the negative had been on purpose. A quick dip in one of the photo baths had taken care of it. He hoped Vincent and his wife had a copy of the photo for their own photo album.