APRIL 12th CHALLENGE

A GATHERING OF FAMILY

by J. L. Rowan

I stood before the mirror in my chamber and gazed at the reflection of someone I hardly recognized. A year, this very day. How had it already been a year? I smoothed the front of my patchwork dress and smiled, thinking of my Holly Hobbie doll from childhood. A year ago, I would never have thought to wear such a thing, and now, I was sewing these dresses by hand. And shirts and aprons and pants and cloaks—even undergarments. It seemed a small task, but it was useful and necessary to those of us who lived Below in the tunnels, and I enjoyed the work.        

Those of us. A year ago, I would never have thought to smile at that, either.        

“May I enter?” came a warm voice from the doorway.      

“Of course.” I caught Vincent’s reflection in the mirror and turned to face him. Before coming here, I couldn’t have imagined someone such as he existed. Sometimes, my life Above seemed more of a tale than the fairy stories he read to the children. I gathered the book that lay on the small table beside my bed and handed it to him with a smile. “I finished this last night. Thank you again for lending it to me.”   

“I thought you would enjoy it,” he said, turning the book over in his hands. “Rilke has such a beautiful way with words.”        

“Yes, he does.” I had been in the tunnels for three days before I was introduced to Vincent. Father and Mary had told me about him (to prepare me, I realized later), but I was still alarmed upon meeting him. He must have sensed it, because he stayed away and it was nearly a week before I saw him again. I had taken a wrong turn in the tunnels and ended up listening from the shadows as he read to the children. I realized in that moment that if the children trusted him, I had nothing to fear. And I hadn’t. It did not take long before I considered Vincent a friend. “Are we ready to go?”      

“Everyone has gathered to celebrate the anniversary of your arrival,” he said.    

I reached for my cloak, as it was a little chilly in the tunnels between the chambers. “Is this something I’m to expect every year?” I did not care to draw attention to myself. It was for that reason I was here in the first place.       

“No.” He helped me straighten my cloak. “Only the first year.”        

I eyed him sideways as I tied the cloak strings. “Are you sure it’s not just an excuse to eat some of William’s strawberry cakes?” It seemed a silly thing to celebrate, but the longer I remained, the more I came to understand and appreciate the simple, kind ways of those who lived here.        

He laughed. “Perhaps.”     

“Then shall we go?”

He gestured to the doorway. “After you. But Catherine would like to speak to you first. She’s waiting in one of the nearby tunnels.”

I nodded, sobering. “Of course.” If not for Cathy, I would have long since been killed. I stepped into the tunnel and waited for him to lead the way.        

She and I were dear friends. Our paths had first crossed at a fundraiser at the Morgan. I worked as an assistant to the manuscripts curator and she was an attorney in her father’s firm. By evening’s end, it was like we had known each other for years. Two years ago, she had gone missing for days, and when she returned, she was wiser, more thoughtful, more introspective. She quit the law firm and went to work for the D.A. I hadn’t known then what had happened to her, but when trouble came to me, I knew I could trust her to help me, and she had. She had done the only thing she could.        

She had brought me here.        

I followed Vincent in silence through the dimly-lit tunnels. I hoped she came bearing good news, but did not expect it. There was rarely good news where government agencies were concerned.        

I’d had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Returning a manuscript to the reading room, I’d happened upon two men in private conversation. The library had closed, and they weren’t staff, so I directed them to the nearest exit. I didn’t give them another thought, until a day or two later when I noticed one or the other watching me from across a street—not once, but several times.        

I knew the police would be no help, so I went to Cathy. She insisted I stay at her apartment for a few days, just to be safe. I don’t know how, but she discovered who the men were: government agents. I had unwittingly stumbled into something quite serious. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t overheard their conversation. My phone was tapped, my apartment bugged. I couldn’t go home.       

So Cathy brought me here. It had been a hard adjustment—no tv, no radio, no phone, no contact with friends and family. In the early days, I nearly gave up and left in spite of the danger. But after a few months, I started to get used to it. Cathy somehow managed to bring me some of my personal things, and even rescued my cat from the shelter where she had been sent once I was declared a missing person. Now, it felt more like home. But I wasn’t sure what the future held.       

The maze of tunnels soon ended and Cathy stood waiting near one of the exits—safely closed, I noted with relief. We smiled at each other at once and exchanged a hug and pleasantries.        

“Vincent said you had news.”       

She nodded. “You’ve been officially declared dead.” She handed me a death certificate.        

I scanned it and found the cause of death. Suicide. I shook my head and handed it back to her. “Of course. God forbid they make this easy on my family.” Angry tears stung my eyes, not for the first time. “How can they even prove that? They don’t have a body.”        

She sighed. “Actually, they do have a body, one pulled from the East River. Unrecognizable. They claim it’s you.”        

“Lord, have mercy,” I whispered. I paced the small confines of the entrance. “They think of everything, don’t they?”        

“By pretending this body is yours,” Vincent murmured, “they also deny another family closure.”        

“They don’t care.” I didn’t try to disguise my bitterness. I spun on my heel and pointed to the death certificate. “Cathy, you and I both know that document is meaningless. I can never again show my face on the streets of New York—or any street for that matter where they might have a presence.”        

“I know,” she murmured. “Not now.”       

“Not ever,” I countered. “They have a long memory. And for all I know, declaring me dead is their attempt to draw me out.”       

She exchanged a glance with Vincent then met my gaze. “There is an option. Plastic surgery.” 

I stopped pacing. “I—I hadn’t thought of that.” A change of face—of body, perhaps—of identity. “How? Who?”        

“I have a friend,” Cathy said. “He’s very good. And I can help you get new identification.” She smiled at me. “You don’t have to decide now. Think about it.”        

I nodded and looked up at Vincent. “Will I be forced to leave here?” Now that I didn’t have to stay, would I have to go?        

“Of course not,” he said. “This is your home.” He smiled. “And right now, there’s a celebration we must attend.”        

I smiled as he took Catherine’s hand and started down one of the tunnels. Watching their love grow had helped ground and settle me in those early months. I followed them, deep in thought. Should I stay? Should I go—and if so, where? Do I leave New York forever? The thought hit me like a blow. I loved New York, and even more so for having lived Below. Would I have to give all that up? Leave completely? Not even be a Helper? Furthermore, if I left the tunnels, if I changed my face, would I be able to contact my family and friends? What if the government was trying to lure me out of hiding? I certainly couldn’t reveal myself to anyone who knew me.        

I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what was wise. I didn’t know what to do.        

I decided not to think about it, not today. Today was a day of celebration. And for all that I didn’t know, I did know this: I had survived, and that was what mattered.        

The tunnel opened before us into a large chamber full of familiar, smiling faces, those who had been kind enough to shelter and care for me for the past year. They had each, all of them, saved my life in their own way, and were as dear to me as anyone I’d ever known. Their love wrapped around me, welcoming me in a way I had not expected, even after a year.        

“This is your family, Kaileigh,” Vincent said. “All of us. Always. And we are very glad you came to us.”        

I couldn’t speak. With a smile, I brushed away new tears—happy tears—and stepped into the gathering with an open heart.

A GATHERING OF FAMILY

by J. L. Rowan

I stood before the mirror in my chamber and gazed at the reflection of someone I hardly recognized. A year, this very day. How had it already been a year? I smoothed the front of my patchwork dress and smiled, thinking of my Holly Hobbie doll from childhood. A year ago, I would never have thought to wear such a thing, and now, I was sewing these dresses by hand. And shirts and aprons and pants and cloaks—even undergarments. It seemed a small task, but it was useful and necessary to those of us who lived Below in the tunnels, and I enjoyed the work.

Those of us. A year ago, I would never have thought to smile at that, either.

“May I enter?” came a warm voice from the doorway.

“Of course.” I caught Vincent’s reflection in the mirror and turned to face him. Before coming here, I couldn’t have imagined someone such as he existed. Sometimes, my life Above seemed more of a tale than the fairy stories he read to the children. I gathered the book that lay on the small table beside my bed and handed it to him with a smile. “I finished this last night. Thank you again for lending it to me.”

“I thought you would enjoy it,” he said, turning the book over in his hands. “Rilke has such a beautiful way with words.”

“Yes, he does.” I had been in the tunnels for three days before I was introduced to Vincent. Father and Mary had told me about him (to prepare me, I realized later), but I was still alarmed upon meeting him. He must have sensed it, because he stayed away and it was nearly a week before I saw him again. I had taken a wrong turn in the tunnels and ended up listening from the shadows as he read to the children. I realized in that moment that if the children trusted him, I had nothing to fear. And I hadn’t. It did not take long before I considered Vincent a friend. “Are we ready to go?”

“Everyone has gathered to celebrate the anniversary of your arrival,” he said.

I reached for my cloak, as it was a little chilly in the tunnels between the chambers. “Is this something I’m to expect every year?” I did not care to draw attention to myself. It was for that reason I was here in the first place.

“No.” He helped me straighten my cloak. “Only the first year.”

I eyed him sideways as I tied the cloak strings. “Are you sure it’s not just an excuse to eat some of William’s strawberry cakes?” It seemed a silly thing to celebrate, but the longer I remained, the more I came to understand and appreciate the simple, kind ways of those who lived here.

He laughed. “Perhaps.”

“Then shall we go?”

He gestured to the doorway. “After you. But Catherine would like to speak to you first. She’s waiting in one of the nearby tunnels.”

I nodded, sobering. “Of course.” If not for Cathy, I would have long since been killed. I stepped into the tunnel and waited for him to lead the way.

She and I were dear friends. Our paths had first crossed at a fundraiser at the Morgan. I worked as an assistant to the manuscripts curator and she was an attorney in her father’s firm. By evening’s end, it was like we had known each other for years. Two years ago, she had gone missing for days, and when she returned, she was wiser, more thoughtful, more introspective. She quit the law firm and went to work for the D.A. I hadn’t known then what had happened to her, but when trouble came to me, I knew I could trust her to help me, and she had. She had done the only thing she could.

She had brought me here.

I followed Vincent in silence through the dimly-lit tunnels. I hoped she came bearing good news, but did not expect it. There was rarely good news where government agencies were concerned.

I’d had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Returning a manuscript to the reading room, I’d happened upon two men in private conversation. The library had closed, and they weren’t staff, so I directed them to the nearest exit. I didn’t give them another thought, until a day or two later when I noticed one or the other watching me from across a street—not once, but several times.

I knew the police would be no help, so I went to Cathy. She insisted I stay at her apartment for a few days, just to be safe. I don’t know how, but she discovered who the men were: government agents. I had unwittingly stumbled into something quite serious. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t overheard their conversation. My phone was tapped, my apartment bugged. I couldn’t go home.

So Cathy brought me here. It had been a hard adjustment—no tv, no radio, no phone, no contact with friends and family. In the early days, I nearly gave up and left in spite of the danger. But after a few months, I started to get used to it. Cathy somehow managed to bring me some of my personal things, and even rescued my cat from the shelter where she had been sent once I was declared a missing person. Now, it felt more like home. But I wasn’t sure what the future held.

The maze of tunnels soon ended and Cathy stood waiting near one of the exits—safely closed, I noted with relief. We smiled at each other at once and exchanged a hug and pleasantries.

“Vincent said you had news.”

She nodded. “You’ve been officially declared dead.” She handed me a death certificate.

I scanned it and found the cause of death. Suicide. I shook my head and handed it back to her. “Of course. God forbid they make this easy on my family.” Angry tears stung my eyes, not for the first time. “How can they even prove that? They don’t have a body.”

She sighed. “Actually, they do have a body, one pulled from the East River. Unrecognizable. They claim it’s you.”

“Lord, have mercy,” I whispered. I paced the small confines of the entrance. “They think of everything, don’t they?”

“By pretending this body is yours,” Vincent murmured, “they also deny another family closure.”

“They don’t care.” I didn’t try to disguise my bitterness. I spun on my heel and pointed to the death certificate. “Cathy, you and I both know that document is meaningless. I can never again show my face on the streets of New York—or any street for that matter where they might have a presence.”

“I know,” she murmured. “Not now.”

“Not ever,” I countered. “They have a long memory. And for all I know, declaring me dead is their attempt to draw me out.”

She exchanged a glance with Vincent then met my gaze. “There is an option. Plastic surgery.”

I stopped pacing. “I—I hadn’t thought of that.” A change of face—of body, perhaps—of identity. “How? Who?”

“I have a friend,” Cathy said. “He’s very good. And I can help you get new identification.” She smiled at me. “You don’t have to decide now. Think about it.”

I nodded and looked up at Vincent. “Will I be forced to leave here?” Now that I didn’t have to stay, would I have to go?

“Of course not,” he said. “This is your home.” He smiled. “And right now, there’s a celebration we must attend.”

I smiled as he took Catherine’s hand and started down one of the tunnels. Watching their love grow had helped ground and settle me in those early months. I followed them, deep in thought. Should I stay? Should I go—and if so, where? Do I leave New York forever? The thought hit me like a blow. I loved New York, and even more so for having lived Below. Would I have to give all that up? Leave completely? Not even be a Helper? Furthermore, if I left the tunnels, if I changed my face, would I be able to contact my family and friends? What if the government was trying to lure me out of hiding? I certainly couldn’t reveal myself to anyone who knew me.

I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what was wise. I didn’t know what to do.

I decided not to think about it, not today. Today was a day of celebration. And for all that I didn’t know, I did know this: I had survived, and that was what mattered.

The tunnel opened before us into a large chamber full of familiar, smiling faces, those who had been kind enough to shelter and care for me for the past year. They had each, all of them, saved my life in their own way, and were as dear to me as anyone I’d ever known. Their love wrapped around me, welcoming me in a way I had not expected, even after a year.

“This is your family, Kaileigh,” Vincent said. “All of us. Always. And we are very glad you came to us.”

I couldn’t speak. With a smile, I brushed away new tears—happy tears—and stepped into the gathering with an open heart.