The phone rang on Catherine’s desk and as she reached across to lift the receiver to her ear she glanced at the calendar and smiled – January 12th.

“Yes?  Catherine Chandler.”

“Cathy, it’s Devin.”

“Hi Devin.   What’s happening?”

“It’s all set.  We’ll meet you at the park entrance at ten thirty.”

“Both of you?”

“Sure.  Unless you’d rather it was just the two of us.”

Catherine chuckled, imagining the mischievous brown eyes as Devin adopted his most charming expression. “Thanks Devin. I do need you tonight, but I need your brother even more, okay?”

There was an exaggerated sigh at the other end. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“There’s no problem then?  With Father?”

“No more than usual. You know the routine. But don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

“Okay. See you later. ‘Bye now.”

“’Bye.”

Catherine replaced the receiver and sat back in her chair. Tonight would be another first for Vincent. She was so determined that he should experience as much of life as she could possibly arrange for him that on this very special evening, his birthday, she had a surprise for him. One she hoped he would remember always.

* * *

“What should I wear for this mysterious outing, Devin?” Vincent could not suppress a faint feeling of apprehension mingled with excitement at the prospect of an evening Above with Catherine; and the knowledge that wherever they were going, Devin’s expertise and assistance was needed to ensure a successful night, was even more intriguing.

“It’ll be cold, and there’s quite a wind up there so make sure you’re warm,” Devin replied. “And don’t wear your cloak.” 

Vincent looked up, faintly alarmed. “I always wear my cloak…it is especially necessary Above.  You know that, Devin.”

“Vincent, I promise you you’ll be safe without it. With Catherine in charge of this expedition you know there’s no need to worry. No one will see you. I guarantee it.”

“I don’t know. Father has already voiced his usual fears and anger at the prospect of my going Above. If I do not have even the protection of my cloak to shield my face, it will cause him even greater anguish. I cannot be a party to that, Devin.”

“Okay, okay. But we leave it in the car. You won’t need it. Trust me.”

Vincent’s slanted eyebrows raised slightly. There had been several occasions in their childhood when he had found reason to doubt those words, usually resulting in a flight of panic from the park as an unexpected danger presented itself…and Father’s wrath…which neither had enjoyed.

As if on cue, the old man appeared in the doorway.  He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. Almost ten-twenty. He glared at Vincent and took a deep breath. “You’re still determined to go then?”

“Yes, Father. Catherine has planned a surprise for me. I have to go. I want to go.”

“And if, by some tragic misfortune you are caught Above?  Then what?”

Devin interrupted before Vincent could reply. “That’s not gonna happen, Father.  You know Catherine would never let Vincent walk into danger. She’s gone over and over every detail of this evening. In any case, I’ll be there, too, remember?”  

Father’s brow creased even deeper. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that piece of information particularly reassuring, Devin,” he replied gruffly.

“Thanks a bunch. That’s pretty much what I should have expected I guess.” 

Vincent held out his hands in a plea to both of them. “Father…Devin, please.  We will all take the greatest possible care and return later to tell you all about it.  Now, we must go. Catherine will be waiting.” He picked up his cloak and swept out of the chamber, pausing only to squeeze Father’s shoulder reassuringly as he passed. Jacob could still be heard muttering as they began the journey to the drainage culvert and the sprint to where Catherine waited with the rental car.

She was dressed in jeans, deck shoes, and a dark, padded jacket as she stamped her feet and leaned against the car, waiting for them. Her face lit up as she spotted them running towards her, and she opened the passenger door for Vincent to leap through. Once they were all safely settled inside, she switched on the engine and the car sped away.

“Happy Birthday, Vincent.” She beamed, glancing briefly at him and giving his thigh a squeeze.  “Have you had a happy day?”

“Thank you, Catherine. I have had an extremely pleasant day. William cooked my favourite lunch…of which I confess I ate far too much. And, naturally, it has been enjoyable speculating on this evening. When am I to be told where we are going…and why it is necessary for Devin to accompany us? Not that I don’t always enjoy being with you, Devin,” he added over his shoulder, not wishing to offend his brother.

“Don’t worry, little brother. Once we’re on our way, I’ll leave you and Cathy alone. I’m only here to do the driving.”  

Vincent was puzzled. “But Catherine is driving.” 

She laughed and raised her voice to Devin in the rear. “Shall we tell him?”

“No, not yet. Practise what you preach, Vincent;  patience.”  

Vincent shook his head in bewilderment. “I cannot imagine where we are bound.” He glanced into the back and spotted a picnic hamper beside Devin.  “Well, at least I know you don’t intend to take me to dinner in a restaurant,” he added in wry amusement.

He never knew quite what to expect from Catherine and just how far she would go to give him something she thought would bring him pleasure or that he needed to experience. Money was no object for her. She could have hired an entire restaurant for the evening if she’d wanted to, and brought William there to cook for them.

Eventually Catherine slowed the car and drew smoothly onto a wharf, alongside a line of boats which bobbed up and down on the black water, illuminated only by dull lamps placed at intervals around the edge. 

Vincent looked out of the window. “A boat trip?” he asked. 

Catherine nodded vigorously.  

“But how did you…”       

“Don’t worry, Vincent. When I told the owners I’d pay anything they asked, they were only too happy to let me have it all night. And when I said my husband…” she gestured to Devin, “…was an experienced sailor, well, they seemed quite happy.” 

Vincent shook his head in disbelief. “You are remarkable, Catherine.”

Devin sprang out of the car and loaded the picnic basket onto the four-berth cabin cruiser. Pulling his jacket more tightly around him, he glanced up at the wild night sky, rubbed his hands together and ran back to the car. Looking up and down the deserted wharf, he opened the door and beckoned to Vincent.

“Okay, all clear. Only crazy people go out in a boat at night in the middle of January. You saw which one it is, Vincent. Go for it.”

Vincent shook off his cloak, leapt out of the car and sprinted for the boat, followed closely by Catherine. Once aboard, Devin switched on the ignition, cast off, and manoeuvred the boat out into the blackness of the open water.  He clapped Vincent on the arm. “This is your night, little brother. I’m only here to pilot this thing, so you and Cathy can spend some time alone together.”

“Thank you, Devin. I shall always be grateful to you. But will you be all right up here? The night is cold and there is a bitter wind.”

“I’m fine. Just make sure you save me a chicken leg from that basket.” 

Vincent smiled gratefully and took Catherine’s hand. “Shall we go below?”

She nodded happily and followed him down the few stairs to the galley and living accommodation, where she switched on two soft lamps. Opening the picnic basket, she drew out a bottle of champagne and handed it to Vincent. He twisted the wire firmly and the stopper flew off, hitting the floor somewhere.  With linked arms, they sipped from each other’s glass.

“Happy Birthday, Vincent,” whispered Catherine.

“How could it be otherwise with you beside me. I dream, but you make those dreams come true, Catherine,” he murmured. “If Father could see me now. All those stories I read as a child…of men who sailed galleons in search of buried treasure…battles that raged with pirates who would rob them of that treasure.  Should I dare to believe I am actually here with you on a sailing vessel, Catherine?”  

She smiled up at him, her eyes full of love and anticipation. “Believe it, Vincent, and enjoy it. I just wanted you to experience something new, something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

The boat had been sailing for about twenty minutes when suddenly it lurched to one side, and Catherine was thrown into Vincent’s arms, their champagne overflowing the glasses and splashing onto their clothes.

“Sorry!” Devin shouted. “The wind has really come up. Hope it didn’t interrupt anything,” he added mischievously. 

Catherine laughed, still leaning against Vincent, where she had fallen. “Mind your own business…but it was kind of nice.”

Vincent was less enthusiastic. As Catherine reached up to pull his head down to kiss him, he became uncomfortably aware of how the diesel fumes and the rolling motion of the boat were affecting him. In an effort to dismiss the feeling, he tried to surrender himself completely to Catherine, closing his eyes and holding her tightly. He knew she had planned a romantic evening, that despite Devin’s presence, the occasion had been planned exclusively for his happiness.  To celebrate his birthday in a totally different and private environment, one which would bring him joy, peace, and an intimacy they both longed for.

Vincent realised, however, with a growing horror, that things were not going to turn out quite as Catherine had planned. Unable any longer to ignore the way his stomach lurched and churned with every movement of the boat, he eased away from her. At first she didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and made a dive for the picnic basket.

“I bet I know what you’d enjoy, Vincent,” she cried, “look…”  Catherine shoved a large slice of Brie under his nose. It was perfect; the rind white and powdery;  the soft middle bulging outwards from the wedge to ooze down onto the china plate.

“No!” He closed his eyes and fought the queasiness with every fibre of his being. He had to control it.

“Oh…I thought you loved Brie. Well, never mind. There’s goose liver pate with lashings of garlic if you prefer…and double chocolate fudge cake for dessert.”

Vincent strode to the doorway of the galley, rested an arm against the wall and leaned his head against it, absorbing the sheen of perspiration which had appeared on his brow. His heart started to pound and the boat continued rolling back and forth, its engine drumming in Vincent’s ears, its nauseating fumes overpowering his delicate senses. 

Suddenly Catherine was beside him stroking his back. “Vincent, what is it?  Aren’t you feeling well?” 

He didn’t dare move a muscle. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you got seasick!”

“Neither did I.”

“And I was going on about food. What an idiot. Vincent, come and sit down.”

“No, I need some air. I have to go above.”

Before Catherine could say any more, Vincent bounded up the steps, ignoring Devin’s questioning look, and made his way around the deck to the bow of the cruiser. Keeping one hand on the chrome rail to steady himself against the movement, he began to pace backwards and forwards, taking in huge gulps of the cold night air in an attempt to control his heaving stomach. He heard Catherine say something to Devin, and after a moment she was at his side, looking up worriedly into his face.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Vincent?” 

Sensing that there was only so much that positive thinking could achieve, and that it was now only a matter of seconds before he lost the battle with his stomach, he shook his head anxiously. “No, Catherine, I need to be alone. Leave me, please!”

“Okay. I’ll come back in a little while to see how you’re doing.” 

He didn’t answer;  just prayed she’d be out of sight and earshot for however long it took to deliver the ultimate insult to William’s birthday lunch.

* * *

Catherine returned to Devin.  He looked up as she stood beside him at the wheel.

“What is it?  Don’t tell me you guys have had a fight…not tonight when you planned the big seduction scene.” 

She shook her head sadly. “No, of course not. But I think my plans will have to wait. Vincent got sick.”

“What! You mean seasick?” 

Catherine shrugged. “Apparently. He seemed just fine until a few minutes ago.  Oh, Devin, this was something we never figured on when we were planning this…” 

Suddenly Devin was laughing.  

“Devin!”

“I’m sorry, Cathy! Really. It’s just that Vincent spends half his life worrying about the fact he’s not completely human, and now he’s suffering from an all too human condition that I never even knew about!”  He was shaking with laughter and Catherine wanted to hit him.

“How can you! Your own brother! Don’t you have any little weaknesses, Devin?”

“Sure. I hate heights…and cockroaches.”

“Well, there you are. What gives you the right to laugh at Vincent? He’s never been on a boat before. I should have got some pills just in case. It just never occurred to me.”

“How come you’re such a good sailor?”

“My father had a boat…well, it was kind of obvious with a name like ‘Chandler’.  When I was little, we used to go on sailing trips all the time. Boats never worried me. I hate buses though.”  

Devin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes, renewing Catherine’s anger at his insensitivity.  She whirled away angrily.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Where do you think! To see how Vincent is!”  

“No…don’t. He won’t want you to see him like that.”

“Do you think I care about that? I love him and he needs me!” Again she turned to stalk off, but Devin grabbed her sleeve.

“Trust me, he won’t want you with him just yet. Humour me, okay? I’ll go.  Here, take the wheel and just keep her steady.” 

Catherine hesitated. “You won’t make fun of him?”  

Devin’s eyes crinkled in amusement again. “I’ll try hard not to. But you gotta admit it is pretty funny. Okay, okay,” he sighed, raising his hands defensively.  “I’ll just check on him and make sure he hasn’t fallen overboard. That would really make Father’s day.”

* * *

Even during the Dark Times in Vincent’s life, he had never truly wanted to die…not until now. He had never felt so ill in his whole life. He had thought once he was sick he would start to feel better, but if anything it was worse. The incessant rolling of the cruiser continued to buffet his empty stomach around, and he wondered why any sane person would ever want to go on a boat for pleasure. As far as he was concerned, the first time was once too often.

“Vincent?” He looked up to see Devin. “How’re you doing little brother? You look kinda green.”

“I would be forever grateful if you would turn back, Devin. I wish to return home.” 

Devin threw his arms out. “What? And miss all this wonderful fresh air. Not to mention Cathy’s picnic basket. Did you see what she bought? There’s cheese and chocolate fudge…”

“DEVIN…” It was a growl. Vincent couldn’t help it; he had to stop his brother.  If there was one thing that could make him feel worse than he already did, it was a list of the contents of Catherine’s picnic basket. 

Devin stepped back and held up his hands. “Okay, sorry…bad joke. I promised Cathy I wouldn’t make fun of you. Can I get you anything?”

“Home. Just get me home.”

“Okay. What about Cathy? She wants to see you. What shall I tell her?”

“Not now. Not yet. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

“That’s what I figured.”

Suddenly both men looked towards the stern. The engine had stopped. “I’d better get back,” said Devin. “See what the problem is.”

A few moments later, he returned. “I, ah, I don’t know how to break this to you, Vincent, but we got problems with the engine and we can’t turn back till I get it fixed.”

“Oh no,” Vincent groaned. “What can I do to help?”  

Devin shrugged. “Not much in your condition. I can’t take the chance of you dropping the engine on me because you have to go and throw up.” He grinned.   “Don’t worry, I fixed engines for a living in Mexico. It shouldn’t take too long…unless it needs a spare part of course.”

Vincent knew his brother was teasing him, but the fact was, there was every likelihood a new part would be required. He groaned again, imagining the disabled boat being tossed about on the choppy water all night. And what would happen at dawn? Before he could speculate on the horror of such a situation, Vincent was again forced to make another dash to the railing where, uncharacteristically, all he could think of was his own misery.

When Catherine appeared a few moments later, he was sitting on the railing, his face upturned to the wind. He felt so ill he was almost past caring how he must seem to her. Almost, but not quite. Her expression held none of the barely suppressed laughter that Devin’s had. The green eyes were worried, loving…and wary…of upsetting him by her presence.

“Vincent?” she said gently, taking one of his hands in hers. “Still bad?” 

He found it difficult to look into her eyes. “Mmm.”

“I’m so sorry. It just never even occurred to me that you might not be able to travel on boats.” 

He bowed his head. “Why should it? The situation has never arisen before.  Catherine, I’m so ashamed. The humiliation…that you should see me this way.”

“Oh, Vincent,” she lay her palm against his cheek and he closed his eyes.  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sweetheart. Seasickness is very common; it affects thousands of people who never suffer from the usual motion sickness caused by cars and buses. In the Second World War, the soldiers were given seasickness pills, and they were used to travelling all over the world. So you see, Vincent, you have absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed about this.”

“Devin seems to find the situation amusing.”

“Well, that’s just Devin, isn’t it? I don’t think he’d be so amused if you were to make him climb up to my balcony with you one night.” 

Vincent opened his eyes. “Oh yes, I’d forgotten. He suffers from vertigo.”

“Forget him…Vincent, right now it’s you I’m worried about. You’re a terrible color, and your skin’s so cold and clammy.”

“Do not worry, Catherine. I shall be well again as soon as I get off this boat.”

“Let’s hope it won’t be long. Devin’s working on it. Vincent, it’s freezing up here. Wouldn’t you like to come below and lie down?” 

He nodded, tempted, but fearful of the waves of nausea which continued to rise inside him. “Yes, but I am uncertain if…” 

Catherine took his arm and gently pulled him to his feet. “I know, and I understand. Don’t worry about it. Come on.”

Putting her arm lightly around his waist, she led him back around the edge of the boat. As they descended into the cabin below, they heard Devin’s muttered curses and even Vincent tried to smile as an uncooperative wrench flew across the deck.

“I should be helping him,” Vincent muttered.

“You shouldn’t be doing anything but lying down and resting. Don’t worry, I’ll go and see what I can do in a moment.”

Vincent looked with distaste at the bucket she had placed beside one of the bunks. “I hope that will not be necessary, Catherine,” he murmured.

“So do I, but it’s there if you need it. I really don’t think you should go back on deck. Now, are you going to lie down?”

“Yes.”

Vincent felt as weak as if he’d lost his bones over the side of the boat as well as his lunch, and shakily stretched out on the bunk. Catherine sat beside him for a while, sponging his face and talking gently. He knew she understood that he didn’t feel like making conversation; that she was just trying to soothe him without touching him too much. He tried closing his eyes, but that only seemed to exacerbate the motion of the boat, so he settled for staring straight up at the ceiling and concentrating very hard on not being sick again. To have that happen in front of her would be the ultimate humiliation.

“Will you be okay for a while if I go and give Devin a hand?”

“Yes.”

Catherine stood up slowly, careful not to jolt him, and with a last gentle smile, left the cabin. She scrambled up to join a black-faced Devin who was not in the best of tempers.

“How’s it coming?”

“I think I’ve got it. Try the ignition. Come on, baby,” he coaxed, addressing the engine. “Come to papa. Come on!”

There was a deafening silence the first time Catherine turned the key, but the next time her heart leapt as the engine fired and began to thrum.

“There you go; am I a genius or what?” Devin grinned broadly, waiting for an accolade from Catherine before stowing all the tools away. She didn’t fail him.   Slipping off the stool, she hugged him hard and kissed his grease-smeared face.

“I would say you were…a genius.” They both laughed and hurriedly began to tidy the deck.

“How soon will we be able to leave, Devin?”

“Just as soon as I wash up.”

“Good.  I’ll tell Vincent.”

“How is he?”

Catherine pulled a face. “He feels terrible.”

“He told you that?”

“Not in so many words. I just know him.”

Within five minutes Devin was leaping lightly down the steps. He crossed to the galley sink and soaped his face, hands and forearms, removing as much of the grease as possible.  Catherine threw him a towel and, drying himself, he went through to see Vincent.

“How you doing, Fletcher Christian?” 

Vincent turned his head towards his brother. “Unfortunately, I believe this malady is not terminal…which elevates it considerably above your jokes.”

“That bad huh?” Devin moved closer and peered down at Vincent. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I don’t think I ever saw anyone quite that color before.”

“Thank you Devin. Am I correct in assuming the engine is fully operational now?”

“Sure is.”

“Then can we leave any further attempts at humour until later, and return home, Devin, please?”

“You got it little brother. Just as soon as I have some of that goose liver pate.”

“Devin!”

Catherine glared furiously, but the culprit had disappeared, grinning, and at Vincent’s groan, she flew to his side as he struggled to sit up. Grabbing the bucket she shoved it under his nose. “Do you need this?”

“No…yes…I’m not sure. No, I don’t think so.” He pushed it aside and leaned back against the wall, taking slow, deliberate breaths. 

Catherine clenched her fists. “I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him. How could he do that to you?”

“Devin was always known for his…unusual…sense of humour. Never his sensitivity.”

Suddenly the engine sound changed and both of them knew they were on their way home. Catherine saw a look of relief on Vincent’s face which reflected her own. The return trip wasn’t going to be easy for him, but it wasn’t far, and at least they were on their way. So much for my surprise for him, thought Catherine, holding one of his hands lightly between her own. He’ll certainly remember this birthday.

In less than half an hour, the boat was safely moored at the wharf, the picnic hamper stashed in the trunk of the car, and Catherine was driving as smoothly as possible back through the city streets toward Central Park.

“How are you feeling now, Vincent?”

“Very foolish…but better,” he replied. “Just to get away from that awful rolling motion and those diesel fumes. I shall never forget that smell as long as I live.”

“And I shall never forget that I’m starving,” remarked Devin. “Shall I tell you what would go down real well now…”

“NO!” chorused Vincent and Catherine.

* * *

Father, Mary, and Winslow were sitting at Father’s desk playing cards when the others returned. The old man looked up, the anxious expression on his face turning to horror at Vincent’s ravaged appearance.

“Dear God, what’s happened this time?” he breathed.  

Vincent walked slowly down the iron stairs and squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“Nothing of importance, Father. We went on a boat trip and broke down, that’s all.”

“And Vincent got seasick,” supplied Devin helpfully, ignoring his brother’s furious glare. 

Winslow’s eyes widened in amazement. “Seasick? Vincent? I don’t believe it.  You mean to tell me you can ride at 80 miles an hour on top of a subway train and yet you get sick on a boat?”

“Is this true, Vincent?” asked Father.

With a look that should have turned Devin to stone, Vincent turned back to Father with a shrug. “It would seem so. But it is over. I am quite well now. It is Devin you should be concerned about, since I am about to lose my temper with him.”  

Devin moved to the bottom of the steps and glanced upwards, as if assessing how quickly he could reach the top. “Say, Vincent, I have this great CD you can borrow. It’s Rod Stewart’s Greatest Hits and there’s this one great track…”  Grinning widely he began to sway slowly from side to side as he sang:  I am sailing, I am sailing, home again, ‘cross the sea…”

With a growl usually reserved for enemies of the Tunnel Community, Vincent whirled around and flew up the stairs two at a time at Devin’s heels, as the rest of the party looked at each other in amazement, unsure whether to laugh or scream.

* * *

When Vincent escorted Catherine to the basement entrance later that night, she leaned against him, her hands on his chest. “You do realise I had rather…special plans for us tonight?” 

He tilted his head slightly, a smile hovering behind his usual inscrutable expression. “What sort of plans, Catherine?” 

She moved her hands over the patterns of his quilted vest. “Plans that require you to be one hundred per cent fit.”

“I see. Well, I’m afraid I have no idea what you had in mind, Catherine, but…”

“Vincent!”

Suddenly he pulled her closer and, holding her firmly against him with one hand, the other crept upwards beneath her hair, and as his long fingers began stroking the back of her neck, she realised he had been teasing her. He knew exactly what her plans had been and was letting her know that he approved …finally.

“Since I managed to spoil my birthday surprise tonight, I believe I should make amends tomorrow evening…if you are free of course?”  

Catherine smiled up at him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his mouth. “Hmm. Well, I suppose I could clean out my kitchen cupboards another night.” She smiled. “If you have something better in mind.” 

He loved it when she teased him. And he had learned she enjoyed the same thing from him. It was something with which he had not at first been comfortable, but which now came quite easily. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“What you would consider ‘better’. Perhaps you would prefer to leave our meeting until next week.”

“You dare!” Catherine squealed, pummelling his chest with her fists. “Vincent, that was below the belt; I hate you!”  

But he only squeezed her harder and kissed her with the promise of the passion he would unleash the following evening. “I know,” he murmured, “I can feel how much you hate me.”