WHERE IS THE WONDER

by Linda S Barth

Author’s Notes: Song choice: “Where is the Wonder?” with lyrics by Dion McGregor, music by Michael Barr, recorded by Barbra Streisand in 1965. The lyrics appear in italics.

“Where is the Wonder?” takes place just before the pilot episode. It explores the question ‘who was Catherine before we met her?’ I hope you’ll recognize her in this story as Vincent did on that life-changing night.

* * *

The doorman strode onto Fifth Avenue and whistled down a passing cab. He held its passenger door open, just as he did every morning…or early afternoon.

“Have a nice day, Miss Chandler.”

She forced a smile, imagining the way he must see her, the way everyone surely did. Spoiled, inconsiderate, useless. All the other residents of the luxurious Upper East Side apartment building probably managed to get to work and appointments on time. But not her. She had lingered yet again on the balcony, gazing out at an unobstructed view of the spring green, sun-dappled park, while sipping over-priced coffee from her latest Grace’s Marketplace delivery. Still clad in one of the many silk robes she’d pulled from an overstuffed closet, she’d felt a light breeze ruffle her Kenneth-cut hair as her manicured nails toyed with a gold bracelet circling her wrist. All of it hers for the taking. But none of it earned, nor, she suspected, deserved.

She sighed heavily as the cab cruised downtown. Who was this woman? It really wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. Yes, she was the beloved daughter of a wealthy, overly indulgent father, but somehow she hadn’t foreseen evolving into the role of a pampered, self-absorbed debutante. Yet whenever she looked into a mirror, she saw a perpetual Daddy’s little girl who had only to ask for whatever she wanted, knowing her every request would be granted without question.

Even as an adolescent, she had disdained such a lifestyle and the people who embraced it, had never wanted it for herself. But it had happened anyway. And now her life was filled with little more than endless evenings making meaningless small talk with people who only saw her as a valuable, pretty pawn. And fragmented days of monotonous toil enabling those same people to dodge taxes, ignore unscrupulous labor practices, and legally channel obscene amounts of money into their private offshore accounts.

Was this what she’d dreamed of as a child? Her laugh was bitter. Of course not! She’d never even imagined such a world existed. How could she have known, innocently cushioned and contained in her princess castle, that all those lovely, shimmering lights would someday illuminate a pathway to such a soul-smothering future? And how had she walked willingly along it, eyes closed, for so long?

She felt familiar tears blur her vision. It hadn’t always been this way. Once there had been joy and truth and courage. An endless open horizon of possibility that was nothing at all like this stunted, repugnant reality. It wasn’t so long ago when she’d hoped, she’d imagined, she’d believed…

How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

Where is the wonder that I once felt
Watching snowflakes melt as a child?
Where is the wonder that I once knew
When the sky of blue turned wild?

She shook her head hard and listened to a voice she’d prefer to ignore. Pull yourself together, Cathy, you’re not a child anymore. This is real life. You’ve made your choices, so deal with them.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Not anymore.

The pounding in her head built until it felt as if her skull might crack and shatter. She stared unseeingly from the window of the cab as it jerked to a halt in the traffic backed up at Fifty-Ninth Street. Her heart beat erratically. She couldn’t breathe.

She pulled a twenty from her purse and thrust it at the driver. “I’m getting out here.” Without looking, she shoved open the door and flung herself out just as the traffic started to move.

“Jeez, lady, are you nuts?!”

She barely heard the cabbie’s voice or the blare of horns as cars slammed on their brakes. Leather briefcase clutched in her hand, she managed to make it to the sidewalk. Standing beneath newly leafing maples overhanging the stonewall barrier to Central Park, she glanced back, then shrugged off the potentially fatal outcome of her flight. With nothing more than a tiny frisson of fear, she realized she just didn’t care anymore.

After all, it wasn’t as if she were making any valuable contributions to the world. Who, other than her father and maybe one or two actual friends, would truly miss her if she were gone, if she just disappeared from their lives and from her own?

For several moments she stood still, watching passersby break and flow around her as if she were nothing more than another insignificant obstacle to avoid and immediately forget. With nothing better to do, she joined them, blending into the blur of motion, moving forward but going nowhere. For where was she to go? To her office and more mind-numbing work leading to a pointless end? Back to her apartment, a fusion of impersonal designer décor with the few personal touches she’d managed to add?

It hurt to realize her only option was to choose between those two facades, luxuriously beautiful masks hiding worthless lies. But why bother to look further when this was all there was? Select one or the other. It no longer mattered.

When had it vanished, the hope, the promise she’d once known, once believed in? And was there still any possibility at all that she might find it again, that it was not too late? It had been hers once. She hadn’t forgotten.

Where is the magic that thrilled me so
Watching flowers grow in the spring?

She shivered in the swirl of a cool April breeze as she continued to wander, passing the kiosks and tables filled with books from the Strand, moving toward the entrance to the park. A small boy ran past her, calling to his father, “Can we get a new book – one about dinosaurs?”

She faltered and turned back as a vision nearly broke what was left of her heart.

A tug on the warm, gentle hand enclosing hers.

Mommy, can we look at the books? I think I need a new one.

A loving laugh, a stroke of silky caramel-colored hair tied back with a pink ribbon.

I think we can spare a few minutes, Cathy. Let’s see what we can find.

Carefully turning the pages together. Smiling at fanciful illustrations of cloud-floating cats and rainbow-prancing ponies, swirling satin princesses and fierce but loyal dragons.

Do you see something you’d like to have, sweetie?

A careful consideration, a small hand hovering over one book and then another.

This one, please, Mommy! Will you read it to me tonight at bedtime?

Of course, I will. Our stories are my favorite part of the day.

Loving smiles shared and savored.

Mine, too, Mommy!

Tears blurred her vision as the beloved mother and child faded, returning to her wounded heart, the only place where they could live forever.

She drifted toward the tables and ran a hand over a stack of fairytale books just like the ones she remembered. There was nothing in her life she wouldn’t willingly sacrifice to feel so safe and loved again. Her sigh was bitter and harsh. That part of her existence seemed like a dream now. And it was over, never to return. Best not to think of it.

Oh, where is the wonder of long ago
That I’ll never know again?

She glanced at her watch. It was already well after two. She made her way to the bank of phone booths near the Pulitzer Fountain. An uncomfortable rush of guilt clogged her throat. It wasn’t as if anyone still would be expecting her to arrive at the office today, but it would soothe her conscience to at least make a show of doing the right thing.

Her call to her secretary was quickly transferred to her father.

“Cathy, I was worried about you.”

She winced at his words. “I’m sorry, Dad. I – I –” She’d run out of fresh excuses a long time ago and fell back on a reliable old favorite, vacuous, meaningless, and perfectly apt. “I had some things I had to do.”

His sigh was almost imperceptible. “Well, as long as you’re all right.”

She forced a lightness to her voice as she lied to him. “I’m fine.”

“And you haven’t forgotten about tonight, have you?”

She hadn’t forgotten, although she had tried to, had desperately wanted to. “No. Tom’s picking me up at seven, so we’ll be there on time. I know how important this event is for him.”

“For you, too. This could make Tom’s career. And if things work out, it looks like we could be planning another special event very soon! I’ve heard from a reliable source that Tom has been looking at engagement rings.”

The overwhelming sensation of suffocation smothered her again. How had she walked into this trap with arms and eyes wide open? And how had she let her imprisonment go on and on and on?

She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue listening to her father’s voice.

“So, if I can get away, I’ll see you tonight. And, Cathy, I haven’t forgotten you said there’s something you want to talk to me about – oh, sorry, honey, there’s another call I have to take. We’ll talk later.”

The line clicked and went dead.

She replaced the receiver and drifted toward the park, images of Tom Gunther’s face forcing their way into her mind. A self-serving smile summoned whenever he thought it would help get what he wanted; a deliberate narrowing of eyes and tightening of jaw when someone dared question him; a sneer of undisguised disdain when forced to deal with those he considered beneath him.

How had she ever convinced herself she might actually be in love with such a man? She shuddered. It was all so clear now, just as it would have been months ago if she hadn’t chosen to ignore the truth. The idea of spending her life with someone like Tom was far worse than any fears she had of being alone.

It had to end. She had promised to be there for him tonight, and she wouldn’t go back on her word. She would play her part and play it well, just as she’d always done, but this would be her final performance. After tonight, he would be out of her life forever.

She felt her heart begin to lighten at the thought of never seeing Tom again. Never again having to force herself to be the person he demanded her to be; never subjugating her thoughts and wishes and dreams for his; never becoming complicit in the way he led his life.

She almost felt like laughing as she pictured his face when she informed him of her decision. She would finally tell him the truth, and then she would walk away and never look back. He would fight her on it, but she would not yield. And she most certainly would not find herself waking up tomorrow morning in the bed of someone so repellent and reprehensible.

Never again.

It was a joy to finally realize she had the strength and courage to change her life. She could not lose sight of that, no matter how difficult the trials and challenges awaiting her. After breaking things off with Tom, she would follow up on her plan to tell her father she was considering leaving the practice in search of something more fulfilling, more noble. She could do it; she knew she could, just as she knew that someday she would meet a man who would love her for who she truly was, not someone she only pretended to be.

She wandered past the gilded Sherman statue and into the park, strolling along the curving sidewalk edging the lake, watching its water rippling gently in the sunlight. She smiled, feeling as if she were beginning to find her way again, no longer lost in familiar places that had become unrecognizable. Debilitating tension flowed away from her, leaving a burgeoning sense of peace in its wake. Still, she understood her newfound strength was still a fragile thing.

And she hoped it would last until it had a chance to grow.

As she walked through the park, the rest of the city seemed to recede. Its cacophonous noise and frenetic movement were slowly but surely muffled and diminished by the lilt of bird song and delighted pitch of children’s voices, by long reaches of leafy trees and spring-bright flowers in curving beds. A world within a world, a transcendent, pulsing rhythm of serenity and sensation that somehow flourished within a shell of unrelenting energy and unattainable expectations. This was the world where she wanted to be, where she needed to be.

Where is the magic that filled the sky?
How did robins fly and sing?

She chose a spot on an otherwise unoccupied bench, sinking onto its gently worn wooden seat and dropping her briefcase next to her. Why had it been so long since she’d sought sanctuary in the park? She sighed, remembering how she’d loved coming here as a child, exploring and playing and imagining all sorts of wonderful adventures. Images fluttered in her heart, like pages turning in a favorite book.

Giggling as a lamb nibbled hay from her hand at the petting zoo during her best friend’s birthday party.

Shrieking when her favorite dress was splashed as Uncle Peter taught her how to sail miniature boats on the pond.

Trying not to cry when the string of the sparkly purple balloon she’d chosen from the push-cart vendor slipped through her small fingers, letting the prize escape into the summer sky.

Terrifying her father when she climbed just a little bit higher – and then a bit more – while he gazed up at her from the base of her favorite tree, his smile wavering only slightly as she called down to him, promising she wouldn’t fall.

And the Alice in Wonderland statue…She smiled, remembering the first time she had seen it on a much-anticipated outing in the park. The images were still so clear, it was as if she had stepped through the looking glass to find them again.

Four-year-old Cathy had pulled free of her mother’s hand and raced forward onto the terrace, only to skitter to an abrupt stop. She stared up at Alice and her cat Dinah perched upon giant mushrooms. The Cheshire Cat hovered over Alice’s shoulder, while the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse, and the White Rabbit lolled nearby.

The child gasped and her lips trembled. The bronze figures were enormous, nothing like the doll-sized playthings she’d expected. How she longed to touch them, to climb up on them as the other children did, but their larger-than-life presence frightened her and she backed away.

She spun from the sight and clutched at her mother’s hand. “Too big” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. Then a gentle voice reminded her that in the story Alice had grown surprisingly large, and as she changed, she discovered wonderful things she had never known before. Maybe the statue was meant to show that very moment – an unexpected time of wonder and beginnings. Nothing to be afraid of after all.

Immediately the child’s tears were replaced by an eager smile. Her mommy always knew everything! She scampered forward and, with a helpful boost, found herself sitting atop a sun-warmed bronze mushroom, giggling in delight as she patted Dinah on the head and smiled up at Alice. It really was true. Anything was possible!

It had been such a special day, such a magical, precious moment, one of far too few the little girl would share with her beloved mother. Catherine sighed as the memory began to fade, and she closed her eyes as if to keep it safely locked within her.

Where are the marvels that I marveled at?
What changed the kitten to a cat?

“Are you a princess?”

At the sound of a voice just inches from her ear, Catherine’s eyes jolted open and her head swerved, barely avoiding a collision with the freckled face of a little girl kneeling on the bench next to her.

The child tilted her head as she stared straight at her. “Well, are you?”

She sat up and blinked hard. “Am I what?”

“A princess!” The cornflower blue eyes seemed to shine with hope. “You look like one, so I –”

“Jessica!”

The child swiveled in the direction of frantic yelping from a woman rushing toward the bench, a golden-haired cocker spaniel panting and pulling at the leash clutched in her hand.

“Uh-oh…”

“How many times have I told you not to wander off and never – never!! – talk to strangers in the park?!”

Auburn curls drooped as the child dipped her head. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I forgot.” She slowly slid from the bench and looked up at her mother.

“Well, you need to remember!” The woman shook her head, huffing an exasperated breath as she reeled in the bouncing dog – “Sit, Daisy!” – and glanced briefly at Catherine before returning her glare to her daughter. “And stop bothering this lady!”

“Oh, she’s not bothering me,” Catherine said quickly. “In fact, she did me a favor. I think I was falling asleep, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do here.” She smiled toward the little girl.

Jessica grinned. “See, Mommy, I was being a good helper! Just like Miss Deborah said!”

The woman looked carefully at Catherine, clearly assessing her character with a mother’s unerring eye. The tension eased from her face. “Her favorite teacher at preschool,” she explained. “They’re very big on helping one another, being cooperative, and also following rules. Something certain people need to do more often!” She looked pointedly at her daughter, but a smile softened her words.

“I promise, Mommy!” Jessica clambered back onto the bench next to Catherine. “Can we visit for a while?”

“Only for a few minutes and only if we’re not interfering. The lady might have work to do, and we don’t want to be in her way.”  She raised her eyebrows, letting Catherine make the call.

“You’re not — not at all!” Catherine scooted over to make room for them.

“Yay!” Jessica beamed up at Catherine. “Now we can be friends!”

The woman secured Daisy’s leash to the wrought iron arm of the bench, then collapsed onto the opposite end. “I’m Sharon, and of course you’ve already met your new friend Jessica.”

“I’m Catherine.” A fleeting thought – why didn’t I say Cathy? – flittered through her mind. “It’s lovely to meet both of you. I’m not actually working, so you aren’t bothering me a bit.” She glanced toward the nearby lake. “If fact, I’d love to just hurl my briefcase right into the water and watch it sink.”

Jessica’s eyes went wide. “Are you going to do it for real?!”

“As much as I’d like to, I guess not.” Catherine shook her head.

The movement seemed to divert the child’s attention back to her original quest. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you?”

Catherine frowned slightly. “I’m sorry but I don’t really remember what you said. Can you ask me again?”

Jessica peered over her shoulder to survey the area around the bench, before raising one small hand to the side of her mouth. She leaned closer to Catherine. “Are you a princess?” she whispered. She bit her lip as she settled back, awaiting a hoped-for “yes.”

Catherine’s smile was gentle. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not a princess.” Then she tilted her head at the child. “What made you think I might be?”

The little girl pointed toward the side of Catherine’s face. “Because of those!”

Completely confused, Catherine looked to Sharon for clarification. The young mother smiled. “Your earrings. The flowers look like buttercups.”

Catherine touched the oversized, gleaming gold earrings. “It’s such a beautiful spring day, I thought it would be nice to wear these.” She lowered her hand to her lap. “But I don’t understand. What do flower earrings have to do with being a princess?”

Jessica started to roll her eyes, then stopped abruptly as if recalling a previous reprimand about such behavior. “Because it’s a princess name!”

Sharon laughed at what Catherine was sure was a very bewildered look on her face. “I take it you haven’t gone to the movies lately?”

She shook her head.

“My mother-in-law took her to see The Princess Bride a couple of days ago – without first checking with my husband or me – and now her princess obsession has kicked up several notches.”

“Princess Buttercup!” Jessica shrieked. “The best princess in the whole wide world!”

Sharon frowned. “We never would have permitted it – far too much violence for a four-year-old to see – but luckily she seems to have concentrated more on the princess aspect than anything else.”

“And the de-dyzes, Mommy, don’t forget about the de-dyzes! Princess Buttercup’s boyfriend had a de-dyze, but she knew it was him!”

“Disguises,” Sharon clarified. “Evidently, there were characters appearing to be someone other than who they really were, and that whole concept was very intriguing for Jessica. She loves costumes and masks, dressing up, that kind of thing.”

Catherine smiled at the little girl, so like herself at that age. “And I bet you like to dress up as a princess most of all.”

Jessica frowned, thinking carefully before replying. “Sometimes. But I like dragon de-dyzes, too, and ballerinas and kitties and fairies and –”

Sharon ruffled her daughter’s hair. “I think Catherine gets the idea, Jess.” She glanced at her watch. “We need to go pick up your brother at school.”  She untied the slumbering Daisy’s leash and rose to her feet. “Say good-bye to Catherine.”

Jessica slid off the bench. “Bye, Catherine. You’re a very nice lady.”

“Good-bye, Jessica. You’re very nice yourself.” Catherine smiled warmly. “I enjoyed talking with you.”

Jessica nodded, then tilted her head to look carefully at Catherine one last time. “I still think you’re a princess. A princess in de-dyze. But don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Catherine watched as they walked away, Jessica’s hand held tightly in her mother’s grasp. An image of her very young self skipping along at her mother’s side flickered across her vision and vanished. Once long ago she, too, had believed in the wonder of fairy tales, the kindness of mysterious strangers, the possibilities of a prince or princess in disguise. But those days were gone, and life had evolved into something so very different.

Where is the wonder that years conceal,
That a child can feel now and then?

She looked at her watch. It was time to go. She’d lingered far too long, but this was where she had needed to be. And now she must return to a world that was becoming increasingly meaningless when compared to her beloved memories, those moments of her life that reminded her of who she had been, who she still might be again.

As she retraced her steps toward the park entrance, she forced herself to consider the evening awaiting her. A contrived advance toward an unwanted future would end in just a few hours. And then her life would begin again, maybe with only the smallest of steps, but it would be enough to show her the way.

She felt her lips curve in a smile. Tom had specifically told her to wear her new black silk Chanel sheath, just another command with the sole purpose of flaunting the desired façade. But one of her favorite dresses recently had been delivered from the dry cleaner’s. Tonight, when Tom saw her clad instead in soft flowing burgundy velvet, he most certainly would not be happy. But she would be, especially knowing his happiness no longer would have anything to do with her.

Long shadows darkened the sidewalk outside the park as the late afternoon began to shiver into the chill of early evening. Catherine strode to the curb, gazing uptown in search of a cab. She would have to hurry now to be certain she was ready on time. But she didn’t mind. For once she was looking forward to yet another hideously interminable feeding frenzy of networking sharks, all disguised as jovial friends at a charming social event. Knowing it would be her last sent a surge of joy through her.

“Miss! Miss!”

She turned toward an insistent voice and saw a young woman smiling and waving to her from behind one of the Strand Bookshop tables. “Can you come over here for a minute? I need to ask you something. It’s important!”

Reluctant to miss an opportunity to catch a cab as rush hour approached, she nevertheless returned to the table to wait for an explanation.

The clerk reached into the pocket of her denim jacket and pulled out a thin gold bangle bracelet, its broken clasp glinting in the last lingering rays of sunlight. “Is this yours?”

Catherine pushed up the sleeve of her blazer, surprised to see bare skin where the bracelet typically encircled her wrist like an expensive manacle. “Yes, but how – oh, it must have fallen off when I was here earlier.”

The young woman nodded. “It was down between two stacks of books. I found it when I was straightening things up, but you had already left.” She smiled and held out the bracelet. “I was hoping you’d come back!”

She stared at the gift Tom had given her. Once it had seemed like such a romantic symbol of destined love and devotion. Now, she realized, it was nothing more than glittering proof of his perceived ownership of her.

Her decision was made in a heartbeat. “On second thought, I don’t think it’s my bracelet after all. In fact, I’m sure it isn’t.”  She set it on the nearest stack of books and began to turn away.

“Wait! You should take a better look at it. There’s an inscription on the inside.” The book clerk thrust it toward Catherine. “Maybe it is yours after all.”

She took the bracelet and pretended to read the engraved words. She could still hear Tom’s voice repeating the now abhorrent phrase. You’ll always be mine. Never again would she have to believe this was her future.

“No.” She shook her head and dropped the bracelet onto the table. “It’s definitely not mine.”

Disappointment and doubt clouded the young woman’s face. “It has to belong to someone. They’ll be so disappointed when they realize it’s lost. What should I do?”

Catherine smiled. “Hold onto it and see if someone comes back to look for it. If not,” she shrugged, “then maybe it was meant to be yours.”

The clerk frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right.”

Catherine tilted her head. “Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t easy, but it’s always worth it. You’ve been honest and you’re trying your best to do everything you possibly can, so really, you shouldn’t doubt yourself.”

The young woman nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right. You certainly sound like you know what you’re talking about!”

Catherine smiled. “I think I do.”

A light wind rustled the leaves of the trees above the tables and both women shivered slightly. “It’s getting late. I’d better get back to work. I need to close up for the day.” The clerk stood and began stacking books to be packed and stored for the night. “By the way, thanks for your honesty about the bracelet and for taking the time to help me.”

Catherine nodded. “Of course.” She turned away, only to be called back once again.

“Please let me give you something for being so nice.” The young woman swept her arm above the piles of children’s books on her table. “Do you have kids? Pick something they’d like.”

Images filled Catherine’s vision, of the children playing in the park, the little princess – or dragon — in disguise, the child she herself had once been, and children perhaps yet to be. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s not necessary. And besides, I don’t have any children.”

“Pick something out anyway!” The young woman grinned. “Come on, it’ll be one less book I have to pack up.” She pointed to a van pulling up at the curb. “That’s my boyfriend. Once I’m finished here, it’s Friday night and time to party!”

Catherine smiled and reached for the book closest to hand. “Okay, this was always one of my favorite stories when I was a little girl. I think I admired the way he learned to stand up for himself, to be his own person.”

“Then it’s yours. Just put it away until you need it someday.”

Catherine nodded. “Thanks, I will. And have fun tonight!”

“Thanks – you, too!”

Knowing by now it would be faster to walk than to wait for an elusive rush-hour cab, Catherine turned and strode northward, her pace steady and firm. Her heart was lighter than she would have believed possible. She had been wrong to think there was no way out, that she couldn’t enact the changes in her life that she’d longed for.

Where are the mysteries that I couldn’t solve?
What made the world revolve?

Another path had been there all along. She just hadn’t been able to see it. The world was still full of wonder, of magic and marvels and mysteries. She would need to move forward carefully and with purpose, but she wouldn’t stop until she reached her destination, the place she was meant to be.

She paused for a moment to tuck her new copy of The Elephant’s Child into her briefcase, pressing it down to cover the files and papers she knew she’d never read.

But maybe she would read this cherished story tomorrow morning, perhaps over a cup of tea on the balcony as the sun rose on the first day of her new life. Alone but not lonely. Somewhat scared, but still courageous and full of hope.

There was a better world, just waiting to be found and embraced. She believed it with all the rediscovered wonder in her heart. Something beautiful, something noble, something right. And it would not happen in some nebulous uncertain future, not in some frantic hopeless dream, but in reality, in truth, now.

April twelfth, the night her new life would begin.

Her pace quickened with each step toward endless possibilities.