THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

CHAPTER 9

by JoAnn Baca

Catherine was greeted with condescension by Con Ed officials and skepticism by Elliot…until the latter studied the information she’d brought with her. At a word from him, suddenly everyone was in motion, phone calls were placed, and the mood changed from growing frustration to decisive action.

Amidst all the bustle, Catherine determined that she had delivered what was necessary and could make a quiet exit back to the Tunnels. After all, much work remained to be done Below, some of it before Con Ed got its crews in position.

As she was about to enter the elevator, Elliot caught up to her.

“Sorry you were shoved aside so abruptly.”

Catherine smiled. “One might even say rudely! I noticed your gal pal was quick to claim credit with her supervisor for finding the schematics.”

He nodded. “She’s a go-getter, for sure. Had her eyes on my job when she worked for me, before she switched over to the city.” Smiling down at her, he added, “They may forget to, but I want to thank you for finding those old diagrams. They were having no luck digging through dusty old file cabinets looking for the right maps.” He shook his head. “I won’t ask how you got your hands on two obscure publications that just happened to point us in exactly the right direction.”

She shrugged. “Let’s call it serendipity. I’m just glad they will save the city time and money.”

“And make my project for the city go much easier! For that, I owe you a dinner,” he said, before kissing her cheek and rushing back into the meeting room.

 * * *

The Tunnels were alive with action as every able-bodied worker toiled through the night to create the false walls Cullen had designed. It was grueling labor, but those Below were up to the task. The children brought food and water, Mouse and his crew ensured enough “found” materials were at hand for the task, and by early the next morning, Father declared the completed project more than sufficient to protect the Tunnels.

The crews had little rest, however. They went from the emergency work to prevent discovery from Above to the emergency work to prevent cracked and leaking pipes from causing more damage Below. It was backbreaking, filthy, meticulous and time-consuming…as so much of the work Below tended to be. But with the combined efforts of the community and able-bodied Helpers who could take time from their jobs, it got done.

Devin was in the midst of it. Working hard every day. Familiarizing himself with the unrelenting efforts of everyone Below. Coming to understand his place in the community.

And sleeping.

He wasn’t tormented by terrifying but unremembered dreams any longer.

Eventually, when the guest chamber where he’d been staying when he first came Below was rehabilitated, he moved back into it and claimed it as his own. And he began to see himself as just another adult in the Tunnels, the way the entire community did…not as Father’s wayward son.

* * *

“Pops, I need to have a word with you.”

Father looked up from his notes on the new class he was developing, slightly irritated by the interruption. “I happen to be busy with this lesson plan and…”

Devin leaned over and gently shut the notebook Father was writing in. “You’ve been teaching the same classes for decades. I think you can get by one more day using your old plan.”

Astonished at both the intrusion and the rudeness, Father opened his mouth to chide his eldest. But one look at the younger man’s scowl made him think twice. He capped his fountain pen and said, “Please. Sit. Tell me.”

Devin took the chair beside the desk. “It’s about Vincent. I told him I’d think of a good gift for him to give to Catherine and…well…you gave me the perfect idea but…” He leaned forward. “It depends on how much you really meant it when we talked a while back.”

Father’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I had the perfect idea for a gift?”

His son nodded.

“I can’t for the life of me recall what I suggested. What is it?”

Devin took a deep breath. He mentally crossed his fingers that this wouldn’t lead to yet another blow-up, with the Old Man accusing him of being ridiculous and irresponsible and… Oh, hell…

“Urge him to go to Connecticut with her. That trip she had planned that you…and others…talked him out of. The trip you told me you had regrets about tanking.”

“Ah.” Father sat back in his chair, his hands clasped under his chin. He was quiet for a time, and Devin sat uneasily, wondering if the confession had been just a momentary weakness, preparing himself for the inevitable argument.

Finally, the older man said, “Perhaps my perspective, like my glasses, just needed a good polish. Yes. I think that’s a fine gift…for both of them.”

Unsure he’d heard his parent correctly, he blinked twice before asking, “You…think so?”

Sitting forward again and uncapping his fountain pen, he nodded. “Yes. Now, if you will excuse me…”

Devin got out of Dodge while the getting was good.

* * *

Kristopher strolled through the silent tunnels, hands in his pockets, lips pursed in a soft whistle. He gazed into the former guest chamber that now housed a deeply sleeping Devin. He couldn’t resist moving the man’s boots to just outside his chamber entrance, one final prank on the man he admired in the Tunnels almost as much as Vincent. What a friend he could have been, had things worked out better in his own life.

His wandering took him inevitably to Vincent’s chamber. He would have liked a chat with the man, but wasn’t too sad about not getting to have it, considering Vincent was finally off in Connecticut enjoying time with his lady love.

His gaze lingered on the painting he had done.

He had surprised himself…from creating the painting to putting those books in Catherine’s hands to warning Jamie to…all of this.

He hadn’t intended to adopt this place. But his kinship with these outcasts had resonated strongly. If he had only known about this place when he was in desperate need of shelter… But then he wouldn’t have been able to help them now – at least, not in the same ways. And preserving this sanctuary for others who needed it was a worthy thing…a way to gain his wings, so to speak. He smiled. As if such a thing was possible.

A shuffling footfall behind him caused him to turn. It was the old Haitian woman. She didn’t often venture into the Hub. She was closing the distance between them, and he figured she’d pass by in a moment. After all, a blind woman couldn’t see him. But then she reached out and took his hand.

“You are finished now, young one. You have earned your reward,” she said in her lilting accent. “Come…”

They walked far, and farther still, until they both disappeared into a place where no torches burned.