A Picture Worth a Thousand Secrets

a Beauty and the Beast, Season 3 Round Robin

 

Chapter One

By Mel

 

The pipes overhead tapped in a familiar rhythm as Diana Bennettt Wells drew closer to the community tunnels, her head bent in concentration, the realities of life unescapable even underground.

Bill, bill…ad, another bill…why do I even keep the loft? Nothing but freaking bills…oh!

Diana paused her perusal upon seeing her Great Aunt Helen’s handwriting scrawled across an envelope. Was it that time already? Stuffing the other pieces of mail in her bag, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a green invitation card.

 

 

Nice alliteration. Vincent would like that. Diana stared at the invitation to the annual Bennett clan or this year’s brood reunion. Her Great Aunt Helen, with help from her cousin Beth, had outdone themselves this time with the new card design.

Over the years, the challenges of hunting down the darkest criminal minds for work in the 210 unit had kept her from attending to the point that the invitation seemed more a matter of politeness or obligation than of desire or expectation.

But now her captain had given her a decent amount of time off. And DA Joe Maxwell had been silent in requesting her help, for which she was grateful. The latest case of a psychopath abusing kids had taken her Above for four months away from the tunnels she now called home.

Holding the invite in her hand, she allowed happier memories of fall festivities to run through her mind, from curving pumpkins to bobbing for apples. Her great-aunt Helen was now the keeper of the old family stories and folklore from the Emerald Isle, since her maternal grandmother had passed two years ago. Stories, she was certain her ten-year-old stepson, Jacob, the child of her heart if not her womb, would love to hear if Vincent would let him travel all the way to New Jersey for a weekend.

Diana frowned. Yeah, right, Bennett, when pigs fly… the kid hasn’t even left Manhattan.

She never blamed Vincent for his overprotectiveness of his son, the living embodiment of the love he once shared with Jacob’s beloved birth mother, Catherine Chandler. The woman whose tragic murder and the torture he himself endured at the hands of the madman Gabriel had left permanent, if invisible scars within Vincent’s soul. Thus, even a decade later, Vincent was more cautious about where his son could go.

Her blue gaze shifted to the claddagh ring set upon her left hand. The small silver heart pointed inwards to symbolize the love and loyalty of marriage. While she had brought some of her stuff from the loft over the years, the ring was the only real memento of the wider Bennett clan within the tunnels. Her heart swelled in a mixture of pain and joy. Unlike the beautiful only child Catherine Chandler, Diana had more family she wished could know, if not the whole truth, then as much as possible.

Ten total years of friendship, officially meeting on October 13th, its own anniversary of sorts, but two years this June, and they only know I’m married… a quick, no-fuss civil ceremony with a new stepson.  Her older sister, Susan, had suspicions, but Diana kept her at a distance.

She could easily explain her husband’s absence, but her stepson deserved to know the other side of his family and all the cousins, aunts, and uncles that came with it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the running of feet drew her attention as the young Jacob Wells rounded the corner. The now familiar camera bounced against his chest as he stumbled to a stop in front of her.

“Hey there, buddy,” Diana cried, catching him. “What’s the rush?”

The boy had the grace to look at least momentarily ashamed. “Sorry, Mom… and hi. Are you back home for a bit? You caught the bad guy then? Will you tell me about it?”

“One thing at a time. Yes, we caught the bad guy, maybe I’ll tell you later, and yes, I’m home for a while.” Diana eyed the bag. “But it looks like you’re not. Where are you going?”

His blue eyes, like Vincent’s, brightened. “More pictures for Jessica to develop.”

Diana laughed. “Ah. How many this time?”

Jake peered into the bag. “Um…five rolls.”

“That many…. All full?”

The boy grinned again. Despite his human features, he reminded her of his father.

“You know, Jake, your dad, Jessica, and I aren’t made of money. We might need to talk about cutting back on the number of pictures you can take.”

“But I’m giving Elizabeth some new stuff to paint for the tunnels. The photos help her.” He shifted restlessly, anxious to be going. “Jessica’s gonna meet me.”

Diana shook her head fondly. “Fine, get going then. But I’ll be talking to your dad later.” She reached out and paused. “Are you too old for a hug yet? I’ve missed you.”

Jake smiled and gave her a big hug. “Thanks, Mom.” 

A second later, the kid was off running.

“Hey, Jake,” Diana called. “Don’t make Jessica develop all those pictures. Six max.” 

“Can’t hear you,” Jake called back with a laugh.

Diana’s laugh melted into a sigh of affection. No doubt Jessica would develop the various shots of Central Park as she always did. Her niece Alex would surely like to see those pictures and enjoy her little cousin. 

Her eyes briefly rose to the pipes as another message went out; no doubt they had signaled her arrival. If Vincent was available, he would find her, but the various tasks and repairs in the tunnels kept him busy.  And after months on one ugly hunt, she didn’t wish to venture into an unneeded one.

With a sigh, she smoothed out the invite she had accidentally crumpled when she saw Jake, the date catching her eye again.

October 13th was only a week away. In her mind’s eye, she could see her side of the family and Jake getting along.

Those are pictures you could show Elizabeth, Diana mused.

Taking a deep breath, Diana resumed her walk to the chamber she shared with Vincent from his childhood.

XxX

A sob caught Vincent’s attention as he rounded the corner to the music chamber. His sharp, blue eyes fell on a teenage Samantha, huddled in the corner; her violin case propped against the wall. The teenager spotted him a moment later, rubbing a hand across her eyes.

“Samantha, what’s troubling you?” Vincent asked.

“It’s nothing… it’s…” Her gaze fell to the violin case. “It’s this new music, it’s too hard.”

Vincent’s fingers grazed the top of the case. “I’m sure you’ll get it. New pieces are always hard to learn, you know that. It just takes practice.”  

“Rolley doesn’t, he’s perfect. And he yelled at us. We’re not getting it fast enough.”

Vincent frowned. His old friend, the tunnels' music teacher, despite his former addiction, hadn’t lost his skill to recall and play anything he heard. Such a skill made him a tough instructor, but never cruel. What was going on with him?

“I shall speak to him. No one should ever make students cry.”

Samantha dabbed at her eyes once again with her sleeve. “Thank you, Vincent…. how goes the construct…”

Vincent held a finger to his lips and pointed up toward the pipes. His voice lowered to a whisper. “She can sniff things out from up in her loft. No more talk.”

Samantha giggled and put her index finger to her lips in camaraderie. Everyone knew of Diana Bennett Wells’ almost otherworldly abilities to figure out surprises.

“Now go then. I’m sure William has some leftovers from lunch.”

“Okay.” Samantha gave a tentative smile and picked up the violin case. “Thanks, Vincent.”

Vincent nodded as the teen turned and hurried off down the tunnel. With a sigh, Vincent turned his focus to finding his old friend. The music he had requested might not be the typical classical pieces the children normally played, but that didn’t mean Rolley could be a diva about it. 

XxX

Above in the city of New York, Alan Johnson, a photographer of models, knocked on the darkroom door. “Hey, anybody in there?”

“Yeah… one second, Al,” Jessica Webb called.

A moment later, the door opened to a wall of red light. Slipping inside quickly, Alan saw an array of pictures of Central Park across various seasons and times of day hung along the wall.  His old friend scurried around the room, dressed in a cobalt-blue dress with a drab brown apron thrown over it, matching gloves on her hands. Her faded red hair was pulled back into a bun to keep it out of her face.

Alan gave a smirk. Finally, you don’t blend into the red light. “Huh, I thought camels lived in the desert, not the middle of the city.”

“Ha, ha, very funny, Al,” Jessica said as she began to take down the dried photos.  “I already sent those pictures in to the boss.”

“You know the gallery’s not gonna like you using up the space like this.”

“I provide more money to this gallery than you,” Jessica said with a light smile. “Besides, it’s only a couple of pictures, and I ran out of the stuff to do it at home.”

“A couple?” Alan laughed. “Last month, it was what, twelve… twenty pictures you developed for this kid. And you’re sure he isn’t related to you?”

Jessica shook her head with a smile. “No, his family and mine are just old friends.”

Alan again found his eyes drawn to the few pictures still hung up. Over the past few months, he had gotten a glimpse of the various photos of the Central Park landscapes this mini modern Picasso photographer had taken.

“Well, kid’s certainly got talent.”

“Ah, is someone jealous?” Jessica asked with a grin. “You’re a true artist Al.”

Alan ran his hand through his curly brown hair. “Bah… not all that great. Haven’t had a real job in months. And I certainly don’t look like one now.”

In the past few months, he had taken to wearing just casual shirts and jeans, no brand names or anything, as he would have done in his youth. Though he had never been as fancy as Jessica Webb. Today, he had opted for a purple long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans.

“You’ll find something. What are you doing here then?” Jessica asked, sliding the photos and case into her bag.

“I have some old family photos my niece wanted.” Alan held up his own bag as he mimicked a teenage girl’s voice. “’Done proper… no homemade stuff.’”

“I’m not sure I could tell the difference now. Alexandra must be wiser than all of us. And you say I misuse… ah,” Jessica covered a yawn.

“How long you been here, Jess?”

Jessica glanced over at the clock. “Hm…six hours, I think.”

“You should go get some rest. It looks like you’re done,” Alan said, handing over the last picture to her.

“Yeah… (another yawn) thanks, Al,” Jessica said, tucking the photos into her bag.

Alan handed the older woman her jacket and bid her a goodnight. As he began his own work, he noticed another bag set on the counter. Curious, he moved over and peeked inside.

A forgotten film roll lay within.

Alan dashed over to the door and into the hall, waving.

“Hey, Jess, you forgot- Jessica… Bah.” Alan huffed a sigh of frustration as the older woman disappeared around the corner.

Half an hour later, the film container that had a dab of white tape dated two years ago rolled in his hands with indecision. Everything in him as a follow photographer told him to just leave it be. Jessica would surely remember and come back for it tomorrow. But the fatigue in her eyes made him pray she got some much-needed sleep.

You can develop them and drop them off tomorrow. No harm done.

Peering closer, it looked like there were just five pictures.

Over the next few hours, Alan had the last few pictures. Four of them were from various parts of Central Park at different times of day as he expected. But the last one that gave him pause as he hung it up to dry.

It was shot at a Dutch angle and slightly blurry, as if the camera were unfocused. Maybe the kid got bumped when he was trying to take it.

Despite its awkward or accidental creation, there was still a remarkable artistic skill to it. Though it was the actual subjects that gave him pause. In the center of what appeared to be a stone wall a… medieval or Renaissance bride and groom set at the head table gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, sharing some silent communication. The bride’s red curls were half hidden by an off-white veil. Even in profile, her pale, porcelain skin glowed under the candlelight set around them, bouncing off the solid stone wall behind them.

That kid’s a master... His hand hovered over the bride’s smiling face. So beautiful… and huh!

His eyes shifted to the… groom. Dressed in a medieval vest, he looked like the perfect picture of a knight or prince from those stories.

Except that his face and indeed body seemed to be that of a lion.

Hm… Jess, what’s this? Some Shakespeare in the park thing? Alan mused. …a new Beauty and the Beast?

 

 

Chapter Two

By Jessica Webb

 

The tunnels were quieter than usual as Diana made her way to the chamber she shared with Vincent when she was Below. The familiar tapping on pipes and distant laughter echoed through the stone corridors, but tonight, a gentle anticipation seemed to hang in the air. She paused at the entrance, looking for any sign of Vincent; it was quiet.

Inside, the chamber was warm and softly lit. Candles flickered on the shelves, casting golden halos over the books and keepsakes that made this underground home feel lived in. It was as if time stood still here. Not much ever changed. A few of Jake’s toys were on the floor, and books were moved, but it all still matched the mental picture she’d taken before she left four months ago. 

Diana set her bag down and pulled the invitation from her pocket, smoothing the creases with careful fingers. The green card caught the candlelight, its embossed letters a reminder of the world Above—and the family she seldom saw.

She was still lost in thought when Vincent entered, his presence filling the room with quiet strength. He moved with the grace of someone used to shadows, his blue eyes gentle as he regarded her.

“You’re home,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

Diana smiled, holding up the invitation. “Aunt Helen’s at it again. The Bennett clan reunion. She wants us there—well, me, at least. But I was thinking… maybe Jacob could come too this year. He deserves to know the rest of his family.”

Vincent’s expression softened, but a shadow flickered across his features. “The world Above is not always kind, Diana. You know that.”

She nodded, understanding the weight of his caution. “I do. But he’s growing up, Vincent. He’s curious. He wants to belong—to both sides of his family.”

Before Vincent could answer, Jacob burst into the chamber, cheeks flushed from running. He held up his camera triumphantly.

“Jessica says she’ll have the pictures ready soon! And Elizabeth wants to paint one on the dining chamber wall.”

Diana ruffled his hair. “That’s wonderful, Jake. But how would you feel about meeting some of your cousins? Maybe going to New Jersey for a weekend?”

Jacob’s eyes widened. “Really? I’ve never been out of the city. Will Dad come too?”

Vincent hesitated, then knelt beside his son. “It would be… a big step. But perhaps it is time.”

Jacob grinned, hugging his father. “I want to hear all the stories Aunt Helen tells! And maybe take pictures of everyone. I can show you, and you won’t feel left out.”

Diana exchanged a hopeful glance with Vincent. “We’ll talk about it as a family. No promises yet, but… maybe.”

As Jacob darted off to tell his friends, Vincent stood, his hand resting on Diana’s shoulder. “You’re right. He deserves to know more of the world. But we must be careful.”

Diana squeezed his hand. “We will be. Together.”

Outside, the pipes tapped out a new message—news of Diana’s return spreading through the tunnels. Somewhere, William was preparing dinner, and Samantha’s violin echoed faintly from the music chamber. Life continued, Above and Below, but for the first time in a long while, Diana felt a sense of peace, and some hope. Maybe, just maybe, this year the family gathering would be different.

XxX

Alan sat at his kitchen table, staring at the pictures spread out before him. He’d taken the chance to get back in touch with his brother and sister-in-law when he’d returned to New York. His niece had found out that he was a photographer and hadn’t hesitated to ask a favor. He was happy to grant it. The photos he’d printed for her had turned out well. She would be pleased. He’d be seeing her at a family thing in a few days, and he’d give them to her then. He put the photos on the corner of the table.

His eyes strayed to the other photos on the table. They were the prints from the roll Jessica had left behind.

He picked the photos up and looked at them

“The kid really has talent,” he said aloud to no one in particular, as he studied the shots of the park. The angles were good, and the lighting was perfect.

The photo at the bottom of the stack was the one of the bride and groom. This time, he picked up a magnifying glass and studied the man in the photo.

“Good makeup,” he commented before picking up the negative and studying it with his film loupe. “Not doctored,” he concluded. “Could be the Beast from the Broadway play, but where are the horns? This guy looks more feline.”

He studied the photo for a little longer before putting it and the park pictures on top of the stack for his niece.

“And I’ve got to stop talking to myself,” he added with a chuckle.

XxX

Jacob was doing his best to sit still as he and his stepmom rode the train to New Jersey. She told him that someone would meet them at the station. It was going to be a day of firsts for him: first train ride, first time out of Manhattan, first time to New Jersey, first ride in a car, and the first time he would meet the relatives that Diana had told him so much about. He felt like he was walking on clouds.

“Come on, Jake,” Diana said, taking his hand. “This is our stop.” As the train rolled to a stop, they made their way to the door and were the first to step out when the door was opened.

When they entered the lobby, Diana spotted her sister, Susan, near the door and waved. Susan rushed over, and the two women hugged.

“Who’s this?” Susan asked, stepping back to look down at Jacob with a smile.

“This is Jacob,” Diana said, smiling as she pulled Jake forward. “Jake, this is my sister, Susan. She has a daughter, Alexandra, who is a few years older than you.”

“She’s fourteen,” Susan said with a laugh. “And she won’t let you forget it. And you thought the terrible twos were bad.” She leaned down and hugged Jake. “I’m glad to finally get to meet you, Jake.”

XxX

Jake would be the first to admit that he was more than a little overwhelmed by the exuberance of Diana’s relatives. He’d been hugged and welcomed more times than he could count, and he knew that he’d never be able to keep track of all the names.

But there were a lot of kids, most of them older than him, and they were all nice and included him when they played games.

He had his camera on its strap around his neck, and when Aunt Helen greeted him, he asked permission to take pictures.

“As many as you want,” she told him with a smile. “Just make sure that your mom sends a set to me.”

He learned there would be dinner that night, nothing fancy. As far as he could tell, it was a lot like how William served meals: the food was set out on tables, and everyone helped themselves and ate wherever they could find room.

“Are we going home after this?” he asked Diana as they ate.

“I’m sorry. I thought I told you. My sister lives nearby, and we are staying with her tonight. We will be back here tomorrow, and there will be a big sit-down meal in the afternoon, then everyone will head home after dinner.”

Jake had just finished playing a card game with some of the children when a man approached the table. He said hello and handed Alexandra a large manila envelope.

“The pictures I asked for?” she asked, as the other children left and the man sat down across from them.

“They are, Princess,” he answered with a grin.

Alex started to open the envelope, then remembered her manners.

“Sorry, this is my cousin, Jake. Jake, this is my Uncle Alan, my dad’s brother.”

Alan extended his hand across to shake Jake’s.

“I see you are a photographer,” said Alan, nodding at the camera. “How long have you been at it?”

“Since I was about six,” Jake answered. “A friend of my grandfather’s gave me one of her old cameras.”

While they were talking, Alex pulled the stack of photos from the envelope and looked through them.

“What are these?” she asked. “These aren’t pictures of people… except for this last one. The woman in it looks like Aunt Di.”

Jake looked over her arm at the pictures she was holding and recognized his photos.

“Where did those come from?” he asked. “Those look like an old roll that Jessica was developing for me.”

Alan looked from Alex to Jacob.

“You’re the child prodigy with the camera that Jess was telling me about?”

It was at that moment that Diana walked up and saw the picture that Alex was holding.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she all but snatched the photo out of Alex’s hands.

“Uncle Alan had some pictures for me,” Alex started to explain.

Alan recognized the woman before him as the one in the photo.

“I had some photos that a friend accidentally left behind. I meant to give them back to her, but accidentally mixed them up with Alex's prints.  I forgot all about them.”

Diana was holding the wedding photo of her and Vincent, and Alex handed the pictures of the park to Jake.

Alex was exclaiming over the other photos in the envelope as Jake put his into his camera bag. He noticed that Diana had put the one she had into her bag. 

Susan came up and greeted Alan with a hug.

“After all these years of Aunt Helen inviting you to these things, you’ve finally decided to come. It’s good to see you.”

“I wasn’t working this year and decided that a Bennett-style party would be just the thing,” Alan told her. He was talking to Susan but looking over her shoulder at Diana. 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Angie

The party was going well, and Diana didn’t feel out of place, which she thought remarkable given how she had rarely met most of these people.

She had decided to keep it casual and was wearing a pair of CK’s she had found in a discount store on one of the rare occasions when she had shopped for clothing. With a slightly dressy top and jacket, she fit right in – what was it called? Dressy casual? Luckily, the weather was fine and warm.

She mingled and moved around, talking to people she had met, and reconnecting with her great aunt. All the time, she tried to avoid Alan for long enough to put together an explanation, and she thought of it just in time. He approached her near the end of the party, with Jacob holding onto her hand. The boy had been somewhat overwhelmed, and she guessed he was looking forward to not having so many strangers around at her sister’s.

 Give him a chance to wind down, she thought.

“Hi… Uncle Alan?” Jacob greeted him, uncertain.

Alan smiled. “Just Alan is fine, Kiddo.”

Jacob nodded. “Thanks for the photos.” He was not happy that a wedding photo of his father and Diana had been included in the bunch, but said nothing.

“Hi kiddo, nice wedding photo,” Alan commented, getting right to the point.

“It is,” Diana agreed. “We wanted to make our wedding special, so we dressed up.” 

Sometimes she amazed herself at how glibly she could lie – but that too was part of her profession, along with being cool under stress. She didn’t really remember Alan; she had been to too few functions, although she had seen him at her sister’s wedding. Just someone else she had lost track of over the years. Unfortunately, it seemed he also had an inconvenient curiosity about her.

“Why those costumes?” Alan asked, his curiosity now buzzing in his head.

“We both like old legends and myths – my heritage, you know – and we decided to pay them homage.”

“Your costume is interesting – definitely mythical - but where did you get the inspiration for your groom’s?”

“Oh, that was just chance. We love the Beauty and the Beast legend, but that Beast was too scary for a wedding, so we chose a different figure. We remembered reading about the now-famous lion man figurine found in Stadel, Germany, and looked it up. It was made 40,000 years ago of mammoth ivory. It was certainly made with skill.

“My husband loved the idea of it, suggested that the image must have been of someone the people revered, perhaps a storyteller, and our ideas ran from there. He tried to duplicate what he thought was the costume – with considerable artistic license. As to his face, we have occasion in the 210 to use the skills of certain anatomy and facial experts - you don’t want to know – and they told me about a makeup artist who could do the job.”

“Fantastic,” was Alan’s response to this, and he relaxed. There was always an easy explanation, so why was he so surprised?

“Thanks for the photo,” Diana said. “Jessica must have forgotten that roll. Not like her, but Jacob here has been very busy with his camera, and we’ve had to reduce the number of photos she’s developing. What do you think of his work?”

“It’s terrific,” Alan admitted with a smile. “He has talent - and an eye for scene, lighting, and context.”

Diana nodded.

“Are you planning to be a professional?” Alan asked Jacob, looking down at him.

Jacob hoped Alan accepted the explanation. He was glad to speak about his photography instead.

“I love seeing the world through a camera lens,” he told Alan. “I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but maybe something that uses photography.” He shrugged.

Any talk like that was not likely to be important for some years, so he wasn’t worried. His father always told him not to rush things. Much could change; he was told. Enjoy what you do now and let the future take care of itself. So, he was. He would have to be more careful with his photos, and film rolls - and so would Jessica. The wedding photo should not have been on a roll with other work. He had taken a lot of photos that day – so how had that happened?

While he was talking, Diana made a mental reminder to tell Jessica to recover the negatives and any other prints made. She would be distraught that Alan had let his curiosity win over his morality. She suspected there would be words. Jessica did not take kindly to being put on the spot. Perhaps Jacob would have to find another pursuit for a while too. They had been taking advantage of Jessica’s talent and access to a photo lab far too often. A break would be good for everyone and give Alan time to forget the photo.

“Well, we must go,” Diana told Alan at last, as Jacob stopped talking and Alan seemed at a loss as to what to say next. “Susan is waiting, and we promised we would have dinner with her.”

“See you tomorrow then,” Alan said, smiling.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Diana lied again.

She decided she wanted no more conversations with this relative. It could only get worse from here on in, and she would never hint at her secret life. If it came to it, she and Jacob could just show up for the main meal. She had seen just about all she wanted to see of her extended family for some time. She was not a social animal herself, and she was almost as overwhelmed as Jacob at the flurry of talk, hugs, and questions. No one had pried too deeply and had accepted her somewhat bare-bones explanations in the ongoing fun, but families were nosy. She hoped she could deflect any overt questions at the dinner, so she and Jacob would have to come up with a story together tonight.

Much as she loved her family, she had not sufficiently considered how nosy they would be. She had a lot more sympathy for Catherine Chandler now. She had not had so many relatives, by all accounts, but she had many friends and a father, and from all Vincent said, she walked a tightrope too, often alone.

Of Catherine’s acquaintances she knew of, only Elliot Burch had met Vincent, and he’d had a terrible accident and was now very much less in the public view. He had recovered in the tunnels, after Vincent found him weeks later on the streets, almost unrecognizable and in hiding from the outcome of Gabriel’s attempts to ruin him financially – and the explosion on the Compass Rose. Elliot had recovered and returned to his company, his fortune largely intact, but now focused on small scale social housing projects instead of large urban renewal. A tribute, he had told her, to both Catherine and his tunnel friends. His friendship was valuable, but he was cautious of his interactions above and below, although he had formed a friendship with the tunnel dwellers and become a helper.

Her boss, Joe Maxwell, had not met Vincent, but had agreed not to meddle in her personal life. He respected her, and knew she was married, and that Catherine’s son was in her life, but that explanation had not had to be further explained – yet. He had met Jacob, some time ago, not long after he had been rescued, and was content to know the boy was being cared for and thriving. He had apparently twigged to the fact that getting more pointedly personal might lose him Diana’s friendship. Joe had confessed that he was partly responsible for Catherine’s abduction and death and would live with that guilt for the rest of his life. He gave Diana all the personal space she needed – something he belatedly wished he had given Catherine more often. He’d known she had a private life, even if she didn’t say much about it, but he had needed her to work, often long hours.

As Catherine had done, Diana often skirted the truth about Vincent with Joe and others, by saying he was often unavailable for public functions in the world above. That explanation would need to be adapted a little too, she thought, as she and Jacob got into the back seat of Susan’s car. She sighed silently as they drove back to her sister’s house and Jacob took her hand. She looked down at him, knowing he had been uncomfortable with Alan too. She nodded, not willing to say anything that Susan might question later.

“Too much?” Susan asked, after they all, wearily, got out of the car and went in the front door.

Diana heaved a large sigh and nodded. “I love you all, but you’re overwhelming, and Jake here is tired too. We’ll have an early night after dinner, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Susan agreed. “I have it all ready to go, and we can eat in half an hour or so.”

“Wonderful,” Diana told her. “We’ll go and tidy up and see you shortly.”

Susan nodded and headed for the kitchen.

 

 

Chapter 4

By (Cece)

 

Below, Vincent, preparing to leave for the music chamber, paused at a chest beside the bed in his chamber. A sudden sensation touched him from Jacob like a gentle nudge at the edge of his mind. Not fear or worry. A combination of concern mingled with a good helping of uncertainty reached out to him. Vincent cocked his head as though listening to a faint sound, familiar but distant. He sighed. Jacob, his son, could be, what was Diana’s expression? Oh yes, a firecracker. But he was also thoughtful. That sensation dominated his perception of Jacob. He sent sensations of confidence and support, knowing Jacob would perceive it. Breathing a soft sigh of understanding, Vincent waited. Then a sensation of calm acceptance reached him. He smiled before heading to the music chamber and an overdue conversation with Rolly.

****

Diana emerged from the bathroom, toweling her hair after a quick shower, and noticed Jacob seated on the edge of his bed, hands turning his camera over and over. Lost in thought.

“What’s up, kiddo? Something wrong with the camera?” She drew the towel down around her shoulders, cocking her head to examine her son more closely.

Jacob shrugged, looking into her eyes, the contemplative expression fading. A smile blossomed slowly, covering the uncertain expression. “No. I mean, not with the camera. What do you think about Alan?”

Diana shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. We spoke a little. Seemed interested in the wedding photo. Why?”

Jacob lifted his camera, wiped its lens, and sighed. “He asked a lot of questions about my photography.” Jacob paused, uncertain. “I don’t know why his questions made me… I don’t know… uneasy.”

Diana froze for an instant. In some ways, Jacob was as sensitive as his father. She lowered herself carefully to the bed, scooted his hips over sitting as close as possible. “What did he ask?” she inquired softly.

Jacob shook his head again, feeling silly. “Nothing really: Did I like photography, and where did I like to go to take pictures. Oh, and then Alex was going through an envelope of photos Al had given her when she found some of mine.” It was then that Jacob flushed, appearing sheepish. “I don’t know how they got there, Mom, really.”

She drew him into a comforting embrace. “Yeah, I believe you. We forgot about the wedding photos.” She paused. “I saw them and had to come up with the fairy tale wedding thing.” Diana sighed, struggling with the desire to roll her eyes. Romantic, she was up to a point. She loved her husband’s exotic features, but she was no ren-faire groupie! “Vincent’s tunnel garb fit the look so well,” Diana added. It hadn’t been intentional, and yet a beautiful wedding.

She continued, “We’ll put our heads together. This wasn’t your fault exactly. Depending on Jessica, who was using someone else to develop your negatives, maybe it wasn’t our best idea. Things happen in spite of our best intentions.”

“Dinner!” Diana’s sister Susan’s voice penetrated the room from the floor below.

 

Both sisters were seated on the sofa in the family room after dinner, when Susan confessed, “Sometimes the clan can be a bit much. In the words of our neighbor, ‘Oi vey!’ They give me such a headache!”

Jacob laughed. He blinked in surprise and guffawed, gasping for air and guffawing for nearly a minute, tears running from his eyes. Diana and Susan stared in equal quantities of merriment and genuine surprise.

“Aunt Susan, that did not sound like you at all. It was perfect.” Jacob declared.

Alex glanced up from her comic book for an instant, chortling, “That’s my mom.”

Susan gave a mock bow and dusted imaginary dust from her shoulders with a smug smile on her face. She winked at her sister before continuing, “I love the clan, but sometimes… we just need a little peace.” She concluded.

“By the way,” Susan added a few minutes later.  “Dan called and left a message on the machine. His plane is stuck in D.C. Something about a weather delay. He will officially see us tomorrow.”

“I think he’ll want to crash once his plane lands,” Alex added.

Diana blinked, unruffled. Her brother-in-law, an easy-going guy, liked his coffee and had a low threshold for drama. She smiled.

The sisters slouched quietly, half watching a movie, and the kids were by turns sharing Alex’s comic book. Jacob reading with interest. He didn’t have access to comic books, Below. The youngsters chuckled at something, and Alex nudged Jacob, who nodded in what had to be agreement.

Diana turned to her sister and said quietly, “I hadn’t met Alan before.”

Susan nodded, distracted. Half of her attention focused on the drama on the screen. “Yeah, hasn’t come around that much.” She turned back to the program again, murmuring, “Dan said he was too busy being ‘artsy-fartsy,’ his words, to come to our middle-class shindigs.” Susan shrugged then. “I don’t know. Maybe Dan’s not being fair. They were kind of at odds growing up. You know how annoying younger siblings can be?”

Diana laughed. She loved Susan, but when they were younger, they drove one another nuts. Fortunately, they grew up. Susan married. Diana joined the department. She couldn’t blame anyone for not keeping up with a relative who didn’t come around a lot.

Diana’s attention returned to the movie. In the back of her mind, she considered what to do about Jacob. Well, not about Jacob but for him. ‘Think Bennett, you’ve got to come up with something cause this guy…’ something about this Alan hinted at a kind of persistence. Persistence, as in stubborn or something else. Pleasantly relaxed in a way that didn’t happen too often away from Vincent, she decided to wait until morning.

 

What a relief it would be to lie in bed the next morning, both Diana and Jacob sighed. No relatives to worry about saying the wrong thing to. No questions that turned into traps. Jacob didn’t have to think so hard before answering his questions. Diana could relax within the less cluttered atmosphere of Susan’s home.

 

The murmur of distant voices penetrated the fog of sleep. Diana had a good night’s sleep, stretched, and gazed around the room, remembering she was in her sister’s home. Then Diana sat erect like a band of steel in her spine snapped vertically. The voices murmured low, accompanied by the smell of coffee brewing. The sofa was empty of any other companions.

Entering the kitchen, she said, “Good morning.” Smiled at her brother-in-law before adding, “Hi, welcome home.”

Dan raised his steaming cup. “Morning. Were we talking too loudly?”

Diana stretched. “No. Really. I think the smell of coffee got to me.” Stocking feet moved across the floor to the cupboard where the cups were kept, then turned her toward the coffee maker. She poured a cup then sighed.

“Thanks. Um, this is good! Alex, did you make this?”

Her niece shook her head. “Uh, uh. Mom made it last night and set the timer.” She smiled.

“Someone mention me?” Susan swept into the room, spotted her spouse, and beamed. “The airlines actually left on time!” Susan and Dan hugged and kissed.

Alex reproved, “Yuk! Mom, Dad, in front of the kids!”

Jacob entered the kitchen in the next instant, watching the couple share a moment of reunion and joy, and thought about his mom and dad. They sent out the sensations whenever they came together after time apart. 

“Okay, you two. The rest of us are going to lose consciousness if you suck all of the air from the room. Good to see you, Dan,” Diana added, taking a sip of coffee.

Susan and Dan parted. Dan resumed drinking his coffee, and Susan turned to the cupboard to snag a bowl and cereal. Pouring a bowlful, snagging escaped kernels, popping them into her mouth, crunching happily.

“Hey, guess who came to Great Aunt Helen’s yesterday?”

Dan looked over his cup, a thoughtful expression on his face, brows raised. “No, who? Not Alyssa’s weird roommate?”

Susan and Alex winced. “Uh, no! They split a long time ago,” Alex said, lip curling in disgust.

Susan shook her head. “I forgot about him. No, your brother, Al. He came and stayed most of the evening.”

Dan lowered his cup. “Huh, well,” Dan muttered at a loss. “Good. Hope he shows up tonight. It will be good to see him and catch up. It’s been a while.”

Jacob studied his uncle’s expression with curiosity. Neutral. No joy, no disappointment, just neutral. Unlike the reunions between Jacob’s father and his Uncle Devin, all smiles and embraces, the release anticipation like fireworks around them. Uncle Dan and Al probably will not meet that way.

Diana studied her usually jovial, genial brother-in-law, knowing that something between the brothers had been festering within the family. Outsiders were better served by not interfering. However, she had a son and husband to protect; if protection was required, Diana would bear a lion in its den to protect her family.

 

Diana dressed for dinner, walked downstairs wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater that sparkled from tiny spangles woven into the threads. Smoothed her slacks, brushed her shoes on the back of her legs. Alex and Jacob were already dressed and ready, sitting in the kitchen.

“You kids, wow. You both look nice.”

Alex glanced at Jacob, who grinned.

“We raced,” Jacob admitted. “Alex bet me she could get ready before me.”

“Really?” Diaa asked.

“Yes, but I let her have the bath first,” Jacob admitted, looking toward the room entrance.

Susan and Dan entered the kitchen, arguing over tie or no tie, and sputtered to a halt.

“Wow, you two. Ready already.” Susan quipped.

Her nephew Jacob and daughter Alex grinned proudly. Dan gave them a wink and put the tie aside. Diana smiled as Susan threw up her hands.

“I knew you had it in you,” Diana whispered as they headed for the garage and Susan’s car. “Now, tell me why you don’t trust your brother.”

Dan stopped walking so abruptly that Diana almost stumbled into his back.

 

Chapter 5

by cb mcwhorter

 

Dan gave Diana a lop-sided smile. “It’s bad enough when your sister does that, you know?”

Diana snickered until Alex called over her shoulder, “Yeah, Aunt D has monetized it!”

“Monetized?” asked Jacob, following her into the back seat.

“Really?” Diana grumbled.

“You don’t really use that term about someone who makes an honest living, I think,” Susan said.

“Oh,” said Alex. “Good to know.”

Dan had backed the car out and turned down the street by the time Diana said, “So?”

“So, what?” said Susan.

“So, why don’t I trust Al?” said Dan.

“Ah,” Susan nodded.

Dan sighed. “My little brother has a real talent for photography. Kinda had it made in fashion photography until he got caught with his hand in some fashion house’s till.”

“More words I don’t know,” Jacob huffed. “Till?”

“He wasn’t arrested, but he was definitely blackballed from the industry,” Dan went on.

“Then he had a stint as a gossip columnist in L.A. Called himself a reporter,” said Susan. “As it turns out, there are actually rules for that job.”

“Like knowing the difference between slander and calumny?” Diana said. She ignored Jacob’s whine.

Dan laughed. “It wound up in court. Al won’t talk about it. And I don’t know where he’s been for the last several years. Maybe he’ll actually tell us.”

“Maybe he was in jail,” Susan muttered, barely audibly.

Diana felt a bit of chill run down her neck. This weekend was starting to look like a bad idea in many ways. She sighed. All they had to do was get through this afternoon, and they could go home. 

“You know, I can find out for you. All you have to do is ask,” Diana said.

*****

Vincent took his breakfast back to his chamber. He admitted to himself – and to Father – that he was out of sorts. It wasn’t unusual for Diana to be away, although long stints like that last one were becoming rare. But he’d never really been without Jacob, and certainly he’d never lacked both of them at the same time. He could feel Jacob as well as he could when the boy was in the school room, and there had been times of anxiety, but mostly, his mood had been happy. But that didn’t change the fact that Vincent missed them.

His conversation with Rolley hadn’t helped. Years of addiction, complicated by physical consequences of a hard life, were causing constant pain. His knees were especially bad. Because of his addiction, an entire class of medications was unavailable to him for any but the most emergent needs. Rolley admitted to being tempted to start using again. He felt guilty for taking his troubles out on the kids, and he apologized over and over. But that didn’t solve the underlying problem, did it?

They talked about the possibility of surgery. A knee replacement could make an enormous difference. Rolley was understandably afraid. Vincent couldn’t blame him.

Today, Rolley and Vincent would talk to Father about arranging for surgery. Peter was retired now, but he’d arranged for the Tunnel dwellers to have access to help Above when needed. Catherine had set up a medical trust for emergencies, and Rolley would have access to it for the operation. It wasn’t hopeless.

There was one truth Vincent had learned early: life is not fair. Rolley had weathered more hardship than most, and now it seemed he was being penalized for overcoming it all. That it wasn’t fair seemed a terrible understatement. Couldn’t the past just stay in the past every once in a while?

*****

As soon as they entered the house, two cousins raced up to Jacob, shouting about a great big toad in the pond, and all three boys raced away, followed by a chorus of “No running in the house!” and “No shouting in the house!”

Diana rolled her eyes and looked at her cousin Bridget, a mother of two boys.

“Tell me it gets better,” Diana begged.

“Sure,” chirped Bridget. “You bet.”

Diana cased the living room. “How can there be more people today than yesterday?”

“Yeah, Aunt Helen has the constitution of an ox,” Susan said.

The sisters moved into the crowd for greetings and hugs.

 

Outside, the toad had become bored with the loud boys and hopped into the water. Lizzie, Eddie’s sister, had joined them.

“So, Aunt Di is your stepmom?” she said.

“Yeah,” Jacob said, and tried to process why he just got goosebumps.

“How long has she been your stepmom?”

“They got married a couple of years ago. But she’s been there all my life.”

“What happened to your real mom?” Eddie asked.

“She died when I was a baby.”

Their eyes widened, and Lizzie hissed.

“If she’s been there all your life, how come we’re only meeting you now?” said Eddie.

What’s going on here? Jake thought. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“Silly!” Eddie laughed and shoved Jacob good-naturedly. Jake shoved back, and the boys started chasing each other around the yard.

“But wait!” Lizzie cried. “Uncle Alan said…”

I need to talk to Mom.

 

Diana and Susan had been pulled into the kitchen. “Aunt Helen?” Diana said. “Why am I here? You know I burn water.”

Helen laughed. “Maybe. But you can still peel potatoes.”

“Ah.” Diana picked up a potato and a peeler.

Alex and a cousin (who, again?) came in for sodas. “Hey, Aunt Di!” said the cousin.

“Hi, girls.”

“How come you won’t show us your wedding pictures?”

“Come again?”

“Uncle Alan said you hid your wedding picture.”

All three older women turned to stare at the girls.

“Alan,” Helen said. “Was that the pudgy man with the mullet who wanted me to invest in his new business this morning?”

Susan groaned. “He didn’t.” When Helen nodded, she groaned again. “He’s not a Bennett. He’s my brother-in-law. And why is he talking about Diana’s wedding when he hasn’t been around for years?”

“He’s been asking everyone if they were there and what was it was like, and who her husband is.”

“And why does he care?” Diana asked.

“He says he’s just curious. Reporter instincts, he says.” 

Alex chimed in. “He’s telling the little ones he’ll give them five bucks for more information.”

Aunt Helen gasped. “Get him in here,” she growled.

Diana threw up a hand. “Wait.” She pulled her Blackberry from her pocket. “I offered to check him out if you want,” she told Susan. “Now I’m the one who wants to know. But Alex, you might want to quietly get your dad.”

The girls left, and the kitchen was silent except for the tapping on Diana’s keyboard and a pot boiling on the stove.

Dan and Alex appeared. “What?” he said.

“Have you talked to Alan today?” Susan asked.

“He seems to be avoiding me. Spending a lot of time with the kids and a few of the older relatives.” He took in Aunt Helen’s thunderous face. “Oh, shit,” he sighed, and no one corrected him. “Why can’t he be the drunk uncle?”

“We have Seamus for that, dear,” said Helen.

“Finally got into the national database,” Diana huffed. All eyes were on her as she scrolled and pecked at tiny keys. “Whoa,” she finally said. “Well, sister, dear, he has been in jail.”

“Maybe Alex shouldn’t be here,” Helen said.

“Too late!” Alex said.

“Breaking and entering, trespassing, photographing the home’s resident without consent, five years,” Diana read off. “He was hoping to get pictures of the homeowner engaging in deviant acts.”

“Deviant?” said Alex.

“What counts for deviant in LA?” mused Aunt Helen.

“Oh, boy,” Diana made a strange face. “Well, for Rex Hardy, it’s homosexuality.”

Alex gasped. “Say it isn’t so!” she begged.

“No worries,” Diana said. “His visitor was his brother. Alan got pictures of them watching a game.”

“I can breathe again,” Alex grinned. “But I think I’d better head off the little ones. They’ve been bugging Jake.”

Now, Diana growled.

“And, Dan, he’s asking my generation for money,” Helen said.

Dan exchanged glances with his wife as he took a deep breath. “Well, Aunt Helen, it’s a shame he needs to leave before dinner.” And he stamped out of the room.

The ladies watched from the kitchen door as he marched over to Alan, who was talking to Uncle Seamus. Dan grabbed his brother by the back of his neck and hauled him to his feet. He said not a word as he dragged Alan, who squawked all the way, out the door. The gathered relatives watched this silently, then turned to Aunt Helen, who said, “Something came up. Dinner in about twenty.” And she returned to the kitchen. They watched out the front window as Dan spoke sternly to Alan. He didn’t seem to be giving Alan much chance to say anything. He opened the car door and shoved Alan into it, then watched as he drove away.

When Dan entered the house, he realized he had to say something. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m embarrassed to say that Alan is the black sheep of the family. If he offered you money, know that he was lying. If he asked for money, know it was for something illegitimate. If he shows back up, please call me.”

Uncle Seamus said, “He had a great business idea!”

“I’m sure he did,” said Dan. “But I promise it wasn’t the one he was telling you about. Really, I mean it, he contacts you, hang up, and call me.”

One of the kids piped up, “He said he’d pay us five dollars if we could find out why Aunt Di’s wedding was secret.”

“It wasn’t secret,” Dan said.

“But we weren’t invited,” a cousin said irritably.

“Sharon, that isn’t the definition of a secret. And it’s none of our business.” He sat down next to Diana and Susan’s brother to resume the sports talk he’d been taken away from.

Jacob crept into the kitchen. “Mom,” he said. “The kids are bugging me about Dad.”

Diana hugged him. “That’s Alan’s fault, sweetie.”

“Not to intrude,” said Helen, “but when do we meet him?”

Jake looked out from Diana’s arms. “Dad doesn’t go out in public,” he said, returning Diana’s warning squeeze. “’Cause of the burns he got when he was a baby. People don’t like his face.”

“Oh, the poor man!” said Helen.

“Hence the cat makeup,” said Susan. “I guess he didn’t want to get married in a balaclava.”

Diana laughed, and so did everyone else. This could still come back to haunt them, but she was going to enjoy her people now.

 

 

 

Chapter 6
by T'Mara

 

Even though Alan's removal from the reunion by his brother quickly became the main topic for discussion among the assembled Bennett clan, neither Diana nor Jake could shake the feeling that they were not entirely safe yet, that the question of her private and – given the picture – rather unusual wedding would surface again, if not this weekend, then certainly further down the road, and probably sooner rather than later.

Jake in particular seemed to become more and more restless; therefore, at one point, Diana quietly steered him away from his cousins.

“Don't worry too much, Jake,” she told him. “Relax. We are off the hook for the moment. If you appear so agitated, the others will suspect that something is wrong, that we are hiding something. You need to pretend that everything is fine. Then the others will hopefully forget about our situation and concentrate on other problems, like Uncle Seamus and his drinking or the fact that my cousin Lily once again has neither shown up nor bothered to send in a regret.”

Jake looked down, nervously playing with the strap of the camera around his neck.

“What if...?” he whispered.

Diana put her arms around him, squeezing the trembling boy close to her own body.

“Nothing will happen to our family,” she promised. “You and I will make certain of that. And the first step in order to achieve that is for you to be calm and relaxed, to play with the other kids, laugh, and enjoy yourself.” After a short pause, she added, “Also for your father's sake. You know he can pick up on your mood, sense when you are nervous. We wouldn't want him to get worried, would we? We'll tell him everything when we are back home, and then we'll decide together what to do about Alan and some of my relatives having seen the wedding picture. So, can you promise me not to worry for the time being and to pretend that everything is fine?”

Jake nodded. Now that his mom had explained the situation to him, he understood it was vital not to let the others know of his growing uneasiness.

“Good,” Diana smiled, hugging him once again. “Now that this is settled, I will take the next step and talk to Jessica.”

She pulled out her Blackberry and dialed Jessica's number.

Jessica was not too happy to interrupt the developing of some photos urgently needed by a customer, in order to answer Diana's phone call. But when she learned about the problem that had arisen at the Bennett family reunion, she immediately turned serious.

“Oh, Diana, I am so, so sorry!” she exclaimed. “This is all my fault. I was already exhausted after working in the dark room for hours when I got to develop Jake's pictures. I must have overlooked that particular film roll.”

Diana tried to calm her, explaining that they had the situation well under control for the time being.

“It's just,” Diana continued, “we have reason not to trust this, Alan. He was made to leave the family reunion a while ago - for totally unrelated reasons,” she hastily added. “But he is, of course, heading back to New York, and I am certain he will try to get some information about the wedding picture out of you. It will of course, take him some time till he gets there, which gives you a few hours. Could you please check if Jake's negatives are at the lab with you and remove them if so? I have managed to secure the wedding picture, but if this man is in possession of the negatives and/or has made more than this one print...”

Jessica gasped. “Oh dear, I hadn't even thought about that yet!” she cried, “of course I will look for the negatives at once.”

She hesitated. “Diana, what was Alan doing at your family reunion anyway? I didn't think he was related to you. And did you just say you do not trust him? Why? What makes you think so?”

Diana sighed. “He's my sister's brother-in-law, but obviously something like a black sheep. He's been in conflict with the law on occasion.” She told Jessica what she had learned from her research on the national database.

Jessica was devastated. “I had no idea!” she mumbled, “I knew him years ago, he was such a talented photographer, doing really well with pretty, artsy pictures. I thought he'd have a great future in that area. But then he moved to LA and we sort of lost contact for a few years. It was a mere coincidence that we ran into each other a couple of months ago and renewed our friendship. He seemed just the way I remembered him, friendly, charming, intent on working hard, and still completely fascinated by everything to do with photography. It would never have occurred to me that he might have developed some criminal interests...”

“You couldn't know,” Diana tried to console her. “Not even my sister and her husband knew, since he'd been out of touch with them for a few years as well, although I have a feeling that Dan might have had some suspicions. He most definitely discouraged everybody from investing in one of Alan's supposedly great business schemes.”

Diana then told Jessica how she had explained Vincent's looks in the wedding picture to Alan. “In case he asks you about it,” she added, “it's best our answers match.”

“Oh, I could also say that I have no idea what was in the picture,” Jessica replied, “since it was not me who developed it, and I therefore never saw it. Thus, I could also make Alan feel guilty for having done so unauthorized. And yes, I will immediately start looking for the negatives,” she promised. “It's just... this may take a while, since the situation here might be best described as creative chaos. I'll let you know as soon as I've searched the place.”

xxxx

“Stop pacing, Vincent,” Father admonished his son. “I know this is a new situation for you, being separated from Jake for so long, but the boy is with Diana, and I trust her completely to keep him safe.”

Vincent growled. “A short time ago, I felt that Jake was agitated, worried, and nervous. I can't shake the feeling of something potentially dangerous...” He shook his head. “That feeling is gone now, Jake seems calm, but...”

Father put a reassuring hand on Vincent's shoulder. “I would guess then, that at the moment everything is fine, that there is no immediate danger. Maybe the boy was just a bit overwhelmed by all the new impressions, the many new people he has met, and anyway, Diana and Jake will be back tomorrow. Then they will be able to tell us everything about the party, and you will know why Jake was so nervous.”

Vincent sighed. The few hours till their return would feel like an eternity to him, now that he feared that something might be threatening his family.

Father tried to change the topic to make Vincent stop brooding. “By the way, how is Rolley doing? Has everything been arranged for his surgery?” he asked.

Vincent nodded. “Everything should be fine,” he explained. “Peter has helped him with the necessary paperwork, application to the medical trust that Catherine has established. He will be admitted to the hospital next Monday.”

“Then I guess you should continue to work on your surprise for Diana,” Father smiled. “There is no better time for such things than when the person you want to surprise is away.”

xxxx

Alan seethed. What was Dan thinking, treating him like that? Who did Dan think he was? What gave his high-and-mighty elder brother the right to practically force him out of the premises in front of all the Bennett-clan and send him packing?

“He will pay for that,” he swore under his breath while driving back to New York. “He humiliated me, and for what? I wasn't doing anything wrong, just proposing some lucrative business to his wife's relatives and trying to get some information that might help me get back into journalism.”

He could not shake the feeling that he had inadvertently stumbled onto something great – the kind of story that could make him famous and finally get him the recognition – and the financial security – that had so far eluded him.

Sure, the explanation Diana had given him was not entirely unbelievable. He was well aware that some couples preferred to have a wedding theme of sorts, that was reflected in outfits, decoration, even food - after all, he had been hired as a photographer at one or two such events in the past, but...

“Normally, if there is a big dress-up for a wedding, they have dozens, if not hundreds of guests,” he mused. “But apparently not so at that specific event. None of the relatives seemed to have been present; nobody could tell me anything.”

Or had they just not wanted to tell him more about that wedding? He did not think so. He had expected that the adults would keep silent if there was something fishy or at least unusual, so he had talked to the children, tried to bribe them. That children could resist the promise of some additional pocket money surprised him; in his experience, that was unusual. But this failure to extract some information from them was, of course, easily explained if they knew nothing, thus he was pretty much convinced that the wedding had taken place without Diana's relatives. The question was: Why?

“No relatives at the wedding, the picture quickly put away safely in her purse,” Alan mumbled. “It is clear that there is some reason for this secretiveness. And I am sure it's got something to do with the groom. For some reason, nobody seems to have met that husband of hers...”

He wondered. What was that make-up hiding? Had Diana married some high-ranking politician or a celebrity who wanted the marriage to remain secret? But if so, where did Jake come in? Surely if his father wanted to keep his relationship with Diana a secret, the boy would not be allowed to be seen with her either. Or was her husband maybe a well-known criminal?

“I will find out what that broad is hiding,” he promised himself. “I just have to keep investigating. There must be somebody who knows more.”

He grinned. “Jessica!” he realized. The picture in question had been taken by that boy, Jake, a truly talented youngster. But Jake had brought the film roll to Jessica for development. He could therefore have had no problems with her seeing that particular picture, and Jessica had told him repeatedly that her family and Jake's were old friends.

“If anybody knows something about this mystery, it's Jessica,” he concluded. “I bet she has met that husband of my dear sister-in-law's sister, since he is a family friend. And she considers me a friend...”

xxx

The assembled members of the Bennett-clan were getting ready for their annual reunion's highlight, the dinner, when Dan approached Diana.

“I must apologize for my brother,” he told her. “Actually, not just to you but to everybody here, for it was not right how he tried to extort money from the adults and bribe the children. But the way he treated you was particularly bad. The way he made a big deal about your wedding based on a picture was uncalled for, as were whatever assumptions or conclusions he made based on that picture. Your marriage is your personal affair and none of his business. You can marry whoever you want to, wherever you want to, in whichever way it pleases you and your groom. You don't owe anyone an explanation and even less so a justification, not even for the fact that you did not invite any family.”

Diana blushed. “Thank you, Dan, it is sweet of you to say that.”

Dan smiled. “Susan agrees with me on everything I just said, but since the offender is my own brother, we both felt like the apology should come from me. And by the way, it is obvious that you are happy, your relationship with your stepson is very warm and loving, the boy has obviously been brought up well, which gives a lot of credit to his father, so... well... I guess what I want to say is, Susan and I think your husband must be a fine man, and even if you don't need it, we approve and give you our blessing.”

Diana had tears in her eyes as she thanked her brother-in-law for his kind words. She was about to approach Susan and tell her as well how much their support meant to her, when her Blackberry buzzed, signaling an incoming text. Diana grabbed the phone to read her message and paled. It read: “Sorry, could not find the negatives. Jessica.”

 

Chapter Seven

Allison

Alan arrived back at his New York flat an hour after he was forced to leave Dan’s house. “Now I know Diana is hiding something. I’ve got the negative, and I know someone who does prosthetic makeup for NBC/Universal who might be able to tell me definitively whether Diana’s husband’s makeup is real or fake.”  He chuckled to himself. “If Mike can say it isn’t prosthetic makeup, then I have a ‘real’ mystery to solve. And I know just how to do it.” This idea would be a major shift in any journalism project he had ever undertaken and could possibly land him in jail for a very long time. Just the thought of kidnapping, even for a short time, would be a pretty serious offense, and knowing Diana, she’d get her friend Joe Maxwell to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law if he were to pursue that train of thought. “But it ‘sure’ would be worth it.”

Alan crossed his living room with the negative in hand and called his friend Mike. He waited a couple of rings before Mike finally answered the phone.

“Hey Mike, it’s Alan. Are you busy?”

“Nah, we just wrapped season 8 of NYPD Blue. Season 9 isn’t scheduled to start till the new year. What’s up?”

“I have a negative of a guy supposedly wearing makeup, and I need to know if it’s real or not. You’re in the business, so I know you’d be able to tell.”

“Depends on the negative, it would be better to develop it and get a high-resolution picture for better clarity.”

“Can you develop it, or do you know someone who can do it, without asking a lot of questions?”

“I don’t have the equipment here, and I won’t take it to the studio. I know someone who can be discreet. What’s the deal?”

“My brother’s sister-in-law is a cop here in New York, and she’s hiding something, and I want to know what it is. I need to verify the picture is what I think it is in order to dig into it further.”

“What makes you think it’s real and not makeup?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“I did, and she gave me some lame story about having a Renaissance wedding. Thing is, none of the other relatives, including my brother and sister-in-law, were invited. I can’t get it out of my head that she’s hiding something.”

“I don’t know, man. If she’s a cop like you say she is, what’s to stop her from hauling your ass in jail for invasion of privacy or some horseshit like that? And my ass to boot once she finds out.”

“When you verify the picture, I have something in mind that will force her to talk to me.”

“You’re not planning something illegal, are you?”

“If push comes to shove, yeah. But it’s just one idea.”

“Alan, you’re crazy. Nothing is worth going to jail over.”

“If it’s newsworthy, it will be. So will you do this for me?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t want to go to jail, and I definitely don’t want to lose my job over this shit if NBC finds out I was involved in this.”

“If things go south, I will take full responsibility.”

“Man…”

“Look, just take a look at the negative, and if you still don’t want to get involved, send me to someone who can.”

“Bring me the negative, I’ll take a look, and we’ll go from there.”

“Thanks, Mike. I’ll be over shortly.”

“I think I’m going to regret this.”

**************

Alan arrived at Mike’s apartment half an hour after he called him. As soon as he rang the doorbell, Mike yanked the door open and pulled Alan into the apartment.

“You bring the negative?”

“Yeah, here. Tell me what you think.”

Mike took the negative over to his living room light to get a better look at it.

“Geez, Alan. That is really some get-up that guy is wearing. You’re sure you think it’s real and not makeup.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to tell me.”

“I can’t tell one way or another. I’ll call my friend, Tony. He’s the one who taught me all the tricks I know in the business.”

“I don’t want this picture spread all over town. If another reporter sees it and gets the same idea I have…”

“I promised I would call a friend of mine, and I will,” Mike told Alan as he handed back the negative. After handing him a beer, Mike called his friend Tony, praying he was home. The phone rang numerous times.

“Come on, Tony, pick up the damn phone!” Mike growled into the mouthpiece.

“Keep your pantyhose on, I’m here. I’m here. Hello,” Mike heard Tony say, sounding a little out of breath from running to the phone.

“Tony, it’s Mike.”

“Mike, how’s it hanging?”

“Tony, I got a little job for you, but it’s got to be kept on the QT.”

“Sure, Mike, sure. What’s the job?”

“A friend of mine has a negative with a guy wearing some kind of prosthetic makeup. I need you to tell him whether it ‘is’ makeup or not.”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Nah, there are no detectable seams to be seen anywhere. Even the so-called fake teeth look real.”

“If you can’t tell, what makes you think I can?”

“Tony, you’re the best in the business. You taught me, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. Likely story. Tell your friend to bring me the negative. I will blow up the picture so I can examine it more closely and tell you and him what’s what.”

“Thanks, Tony. I appreciate it.”

“Bring me some of the good stuff, and we’ll call it even.”

“I will ‘and’ my friend’s gonna be footing the bill for the booze.”

Mike hung up the phone and turned to Alan.

“We’re heading over to his place and ‘you’re’ bringing the good stuff as a present/bribe.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Mike and Alan left Mike’s apartment and went to the liquor store on the corner.

“What does your friend Tony drink? What type of ‘good’ stuff?”

“Aberlour 18 Year. One of the finest whiskys made in Speyside, Scotland. It’s made in a Double cask matured in Oloroso sherry and American oak casks.” Mike grabbed the bottle and handed it to Alan.

 Alan looked puzzled as he held the bottle. “Scotch?”

The clerk looked up at Alan’s question.

“One of the best Scotch whiskies out there,” the store clerk chimed in, seeing the expensive bottle in Alan’s hands.

“How much?” Alan asked.

“$249 plus tax,” the clerk answered.

“$249? You’re kidding, right?” Alan stammered.

“Nope,” Mike stated. “You want Tony’s help, that’s his fee,” Mike cut Alan off before he could complain further. “Pay the man, Alan.”

Alan reluctantly forked over $260, including tax, and carefully took the bottle from the clerk.

“This guy better be worth it.”

“He is, Alan. He is.”

They left the liquor store, and 10 minutes later, they were pulling into Tony’s driveway in the Upper West Side section of the city. Tony opened the door even before the car came to a full stop.

“Mike, good to see you, buddy.” Tony waved to him as he stepped out of the car.

“Tony, thanks for seeing us this quick.”

“Sounded like you have a real mystery on your hands. Did you bring my ‘fee’?”

“Right here.” Alan held up the cloth-covered bottle.

“Come on in and let me see this negative of yours.” Tony followed them into the house and led them to his basement, where his darkroom was located.

Alan handed Tony the bottle first, which he set on his basement bar, giving a low whistle as he pulled it out of the cloth bag.

“Mike, you sure know how to please a guy. Where’s the negative?”

Alan pulled the negative out of his pocket and handed it to Tony. As he looked at the negative while holding it up to the light, he did a quick double-take, which neither man had noticed.

“Let me develop this picture, and I can give you a better answer. The negative doesn’t give a clear picture. I can develop this with a high resolution to be sure of what I’m looking at.”

Tony took the negative into his darkroom and placed it on the table in front of him. He blew out a shuddering breath.

Where the hell did this guy get a picture of Vincent? Tony wondered to himself. What the hell am I going to tell them? I can’t tell them the truth. If I tell them it’s fake, they may not believe me. If I tell them, it’s not a mask, it’s gonna cause a world of hurt for the world Below.

Tony stepped out of the darkroom. “Where did you get this?”

“Off the stepson of my sister-in-law,” Alan told him. “It was mixed in with some pictures I developed for my niece. So, is it real or fake?”

“I can’t tell yet, the picture is still developing.” Tony was trying to stall. “What makes you think it’s real?”

“Just a gut feeling, I guess,” Alan explained.

“Well, it’s going to take a while, so why don’t we enjoy this good sipping whisky while we wait?” Tony grabbed three glasses from behind the bar, and they moved to the couch in the corner. Tony slowly, reverently opened the bottle. “We have to let it breathe first.” He said as he unwrapped the cap and slowly twisted it off. After 5 minutes, Tony poured each of them two fingers of the auburn gold liquid.

“To discovering new things,” Alan toasted.

“Salud. Bottoms up,” Tony and Mike said at the same time.

 

Chapter 8
Janet Rivenbark

 

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.

     

Chapter 9

Barbara Anderson

 

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 59^th 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?”

 

 

 

 

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[1] The term "gadjo" (masculine) or "gadji" (feminine) in Romani culture refers to a person who is an outsider and is not a member of the Romani community.

[2] This refers to the BATB episode, Everything is Everything. Season Season 1 Ep19