Love…is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever.  
    ~ Rumi

“I have something for you from Brigit O’Donnell.” Catherine handed the unopened package to him.

Vincent didn’t need their Bond to tell him that she was intensely curious about what his reaction would be to its contents. “Shall I open it now?”

She shrugged, acting nonchalant. “If you want to.” Then her eyes flashed with humor. “If you don’t want to…change your mind right now!”

He smiled. “I believe I want to.”

“Good choice.” She located his scissors and handed them to him. “Here.”

“I don’t need that.” He demonstrated why, easily slitting the tape with one sharp fingernail.

Nodding, she held up the scissors. “One wonders why you have this then.”

Sheepish now, he admitted, “When Father is here and something needs…cutting, it’s best to use an implement rather than my nails. It makes him uncomfortable to see me do it this way.”

She wondered – not for the first time – how Vincent survived an upbringing that included a father who was still so uneasy about his differences.

A voice called out from the tunnel. Cullen’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“Yes!” Catherine replied before Vincent suggested he come back later…if, indeed, he’d ever do that.

“Me, too!” Elizabeth didn’t wait for an invitation; she merely walked in on Cullen’s arm.

Mouse didn’t bother to ask. He just followed in their wake.

Vincent, suspicious now, glanced at Catherine, who was placidly ignoring his questioning look.

“Are we awaiting any further guests?” he inquired archly, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Perhaps one or two.” Still innocently gazing at him, Catherine refused to be lured into a confession.

Everyone made themselves comfortable as Rebecca and Winslow rushed in together, a bit out of breath. “Almost forgot the time!” Winslow was panting. Rebecca, her face flushed, lowered her gaze but couldn’t control her smile. She nodded at Catherine.

“I believe we’re all assembled.” Catherine pointed to the package. “Please continue.”

Vincent carefully unwrapped Brigit’s parcel. Inside was a book. Handmade, from the look of it. He gazed at it in awe. Elizabeth clearly had created the cover. Iron rings – Winslow’s work, undoubtedly – bound it. Carefully, he opened the book.

Brigit’s handwriting, as beautiful and delicate as she was, graced the first page, with a dedication to him that brought tears to his eyes. He held the book at arm’s length until he had control of his emotions again.

Catherine, sensing his dilemma, stepped forward to brush the tears from his eyelashes, his cheeks, his chin.

He sighed with pleasure and more emotion as he turned the page to discover that the book contained a new story by Brigit, one featuring a man with unusual features and the intrepid woman he loved. The story was hand-written in calligraphy – this must have been Catherine’s and Rebecca’s contributions, as he could tell two hands were involved. More art by Elizabeth graced the interior.

The paper throughout the book was handmade. Now he understood what Mouse’s “secret project” had been a few weeks ago. And the book’s covers…they were of some light but sturdy wood, something a craftsman of Cullen’s experience could design.

He would read the full story later, once he was alone and could truly relish the experience. For now, he had to find the words of gratitude that overflowed in his heart. But when he looked up at them, he was unable to speak.

“It was Brigit’s idea.” Catherine put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “She wrote this incredible story but didn’t want to send it to a publisher for the kind of binding and artwork that would have rendered it appealing to many readers. She wanted it to be special, only for you. When she contacted me about it, I came Below to talk to your friends, and each one contributed a perfect idea for making this book for you.”

“It’s unique. One of a kind,” Winslow said.

“Like you,” Mouse added.

“I will treasure it always.”

A new voice was heard. “As we treasure you.” Brigit entered his chamber with a smile and open arms.

“It’s a day like any other – why now?” He enveloped her in his arms, savoring her warmth of body and heart.

Brigit shook her head. “We needed no reason. It’s a gift of love, from those whose lives you’ve touched and changed in ways you may never know.”

“You all are lights in my life,” he responded. “Gifts beyond measure.”

Brigit stepped back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I cannot stay. I came Below just to tell you that even when I am not here with you…” she placed her hand on his chest, “I am with you in spirit. Love transcends distance, transcends death even.”

She kissed his cheek. “Know how loved you are, my dear Vincent. Goodbye.”

Mouse went out with her to guide her back Above.

He turned to Catherine. “She’s ill, isn’t she.” It was more statement than question.

Eyes filling with tears, she nodded. “Very. She doesn’t have much time. But as she said, love lives on…in our memories, in our hearts.”

“I will never, ever forget her.” He reached for Catherine.

As they embraced, the others quietly left his chamber, each with their own thoughts of fleeting life and love transcendent.

Rebecca found out the next day that she and Winslow were having a child. When their beautiful babe came into the world, they named her Brigit.