The Most Magical Night of All by Clarsah Journal entry Tonight, Samhian, and winter approaches. The coldness of the upcoming season has begun to settle here, in the depths of the tunnels. We wrap ourselves against the oncoming cold. A protection against the outer chill. But, it is the coldness within that I can not escape. Samhian when even I can walk in the world of men without fear. On this night the walls between the worlds grow thin. And those of other worlds may walk safely in the world Above. Samhian night when I once walked with Catherine. Together we strolled the streets of her world, the world Above hand in hand. We walked until dawn and watched the sun rise together. But now I walk the worlds alone. - vincent The world Below prepared for winter. For many weeks, the community within the tunnels gathered and stored supplies needed to get through the cold months. There would be days, maybe even weeks, when supplies from the world Above would be difficult to obtain. Even with the assistance of the Helpers, winter was a time of austerity in the tunnels. An early frost promised the beginning of an unusually cold winter. But then, autumn had already proven itself an unusual season. Beginning with the day Jacob was lost in the world Above. Vincent shook his rough blonde hair as he thought of the vision in the candlelight. If Jacob had not continually talked about the woman who had found him Above, Vincent would have believed he had dreamed the whole thing. Still, he wasn't sure if she was real, or the woodland spite she seemed to be that day in the park, when she brought Jacob home. But now, more serious matter needed to be dealt with. Several of the boys, including Jacob, Vincent seven-year-old son, had gone to the caverns below the serpentine, in search of ghosts. It wasn't a serious infraction. The children of the tunnels had been ghosts hunting below the serpentine for generations. And the adults of the tunnels had tried to discourage their quest for just as long. Vincent heard Father lecturing as he approached Father's study. One of the larger chambers in the subterranean community, the study was often a gathering place. Many important decision had been made in that room. Many lectures, as now, had been given to recalcitrant children. Vincent had received his share of lectures from Father there. He and his brother, Devin. "... now I assume that you all realize the grievousness of your behavior," A wave of nostalgia passed over Vincent as he heard Father's words. How many times had he been the focus of that severe, yet loving tone? " I hold you older boys responsible. You know the dangers of going below the serpentine". Nearly those exact words had been spoken to Devin. Only that time had been over some misadventure at the Merry-Go- Round. Vincent suppressed a smile as he ducked into Father's study. Father, the patriarch of the community, was an older man in his sixties. His thick wavy hair and beard were almost completely gray. He walked back and forth in front of the boys as he lectured. He waved his reading glasses, in a gloved hand, to add emphasis to the more important points. "Ah, Vincent there you are." Father acknowledged Vincent as he entered the room. "I take it that you've heard what these boys have done?" "Yes, Father, Mary spoke with me on the way." Vincent's voice, as always, rumbled softly through the room. Vincent would celebrate his fortieth birthday next Yule season. A tall man with unusually broad shoulders, the cuffs of Vincent's muslin shirt showed beneath the heavy knitted sweater he wore for additional warmth. "All right boys, you may go." Father dismissed the youths with a decisive wave of his glasses. All the boys took advantage of the dismissal to remove themselves from the critical eye of the tunnel's patriarch. All, except Jacob. "Grandfather, we..." Jacob's voice trailed off as his grandfather turned a stern look toward him. "We..." His valiant effort to defend his friends ended in the face of Father's stare. If anyone could influence Father it would be Jacob. But the steely look on Father face silenced his grandson. Unwilling to challenge his Grandfather's further, Jacob lowered his gaze to the floor. Vincent sensed his son's discomfort and waved for Jacob to stop. The boy turned from his Grandfather and went to his father's side. Jacob was visibly upset, but Vincent knew now was not the time or place to discuss the day' misadventures. The discussion between father and son would have to wait. "Jacob, we will speak later." Vincent said gently as he smoothed the ruffled hair on his son's head. " Go and do as Father said." Jacob left the room before either man spoke again. "Father, you mustn't be too hard on the boys. After all Halloween has always been an exciting time. A magical time. A time were the children can explore the worlds both here and Above." Vincent doubted his effort on the boys behalf would meet with much more success than his son. In his effort to protect the members of the tunnel community, Father could sometimes be rather harsh. But for Jacob's sake Vincent would try. "I seen to remember some other boys braving the ghosts that live in the caverns below the serpentine." Father's voice now held a bemused tone. "Yes, Devin and I and some of the others..." Vincent joined the older man's reminiscing. "And I don't remember any of you suffering unduly from the punishment you received". Father waved his glasses pointedly in Vincent's direction. Father's words were said half in jest, as he sat down in his favorite chair. Vincent did not respond with his usual gentle laughter to the chiding jest. Father's words had awakened memories of the past. A companionable silence fell between the two men. "Vincent" Father said softly, not wanting to disturb his son's reveilles to suddenly. " What are you thinking of?" Vincent slowly walked around the table near Father before he answered. "Catherine." The answer came as a surprised neither men." I was remembering another Samhian night. A night when Catherine and I walked the world Above until dawn. We watched the sun rise together. How beautiful it was. " The softly spoken words were edged with sadness. "I'm sorry, Vincent." Father said with regret." I did not mean to bring back such painful memories" Father reached over to place a comforting hand on Vincent's arm. "Its as Briget said 'tis such a sweet pain.'" Vincent repeated the words of Briget O'Donnell. Spoken on that night, nine years ago. ******************************************* Vincent left Father's study with the intent of searching for Jacob. He remembered the sting of Father's lectures and the times when he and Devin were in trouble. They would hide in one of the smaller satellite chambers, talk about the repugnant nature of being an adult and vowing to never grow up. Usually this promise lasted until the next meal. Then the growl of empty stomachs would silence their complains and convince them to return home. Father had given the boys extra duties that were to be completed before participating in the Halloween festivities that evening. Jacob had been sent to assist William in the kitchen. But, that was sometime ago and the additional kitchen duties should be completed by now. ************************************************** The phone rang as Claire handed a customer a bag. She signed. She had planned to close the store early for Samhian. But, the way things were going, it no longer seemed likely. "Oh well." she thought, "The best laid plans of mice and men." She quoted Steinbeck, as she reached for this latest interruption, the phone. "Mystic Herb and Bookshop. This is Claire, how can I help you?" She recited the sing-songy response she always gave to the demanding ring of the phone. There was silence at the other end of the line. "Hello" she repeated, annoyance in her voice. A child came over the line. "Come get me." "What? Jacob?" He was the only child Claire could think of that would be calling with such a request. "Claire, please come get me." The voice on the phone sounded tearful. "Jacob, where are you?" Claire knew for now that she was talking to the child she had found on her doorstep over a month ago. She could hear Jacob repeat her question to someone in the background and the mumbled reply. "Fifth and Lexington." Jacob repeated the answer clearly to Claire. "Okay, I'll come get you , just stay where you are." Claire hung up the phone, once she had Jacob's assurance that he wouldn't move. She locked up the store then got into her car. she consulted a map before heading for the corner Jacob had described. She soon realized that the corner was near the park . Jacob should be able to find his way home from there. He could almost see the park from that street corner. Something was up. Well, she would have to sort it out when she got there. Jacob was sitting on the curb at the corner when Claire arrived. She eased the car over and opened the door for him. "Seat belt and lock the door." Claire remembered the last and only time Jacob had been in the car before. She could see the tear stains on Jacob's face as he got into the car and complied with her instructions. She made no comment about the small backpack that he placed on the floor at his feet. Although it gave her a pretty good idea of what was going on. Claire pulled away for the curb and headed to the park. She and Jacob would sort things out over hot chocolate. Then she would send him home. ************************************************************* The search for Jacob was unnecessary and Vincent was unconcerned when he did not find Jacob immediately. The close knit nature of the tunnel community meant that someone knew of Jacob's whereabouts. Vincent could sense that Jacob was still upset, but not in danger. Instead, Vincent wandered directionlessly through the tunnels as the memories of the past crowded in upon the present. Some memories were too painful to dwell on. Some were best left to the dusty recesses of the mind. Still others were inescapable. Vincent quickened his pace, in an effort to leave behind the sorrow that remembering brought. He careened the off uneven rocks that made up the tunnel walls. The pain of the bittersweet memories of Catherine, made Vincent oblivious to the bruises sustained in the narrow turns and corners of the tunnels. Eventually, Vincent's flight carried him to the seldom-used chambers below the serpentine and past the chamber of the winds. Few lived in that region of the tunnels and those that did seldom stayed long. The only permanent inhabitant at that depth was Narcissa. Narcissa was an enigmatic woman, in her own way as different from the rest of the tunnel dwellers as Vincent himself. Narcissa practiced a curious blend of West Indies mysticism and voodoo. Father was often critical of Narcissa reliance on "superstition". But, Vincent often went to Narcissa when neither logic, reason nor science held the answers he sought. Vincent was only slightly surprised to find that his wanderings had brought him here. Narcissa knew the voices of the spirits. And Vincent needed her wisdom to help silence the spirits that troubled him. "Vincent, come in child." Narcissa said, when Vincent appeared at the entrance to her chamber. It might seem strange that this stooped, old, blind woman would address a man as large as Vincent as "child". But this was Narcissa's way. Anyone who sought her help or advice was always addressed as "child". Narcissa's chamber was filled with the light of what seemed to be hundreds of candles. Amongst the candles were trinkets and treasure from both the world Above and Below. Some of the items Narcissa had made, others she had found, still others had been given to her. Some of the things were recognizable, some were the trappings of her religion and still others were unrecognizable either in purpose or name. All of Narcissa's possessions were gathered on shelves and tables throughout the room, leaving only enough room the walk. Vincent never remembered Narcissa's chamber appearing any other way. It was a room filled with mysteries to spark a young boy's imagination. A place to dream dreams. Maybe this was why he sought her out. In her presence the worlds seemed different. The impossible became possible. "Narcissa," Vincent's deep voice rumbled through the cluttered chamber. "You should consider moving closer the main chambers." His voice expressed genuine concern. "I can not hear the spirits there, with so many voices." Narcissa replied. "You did not come to ask me to leave my home. You carry troubled thoughts today. The dead rest in peace, but your spirit does not. What disturbs you child?" Vincent didn't question how Narcissa knew the things she did. He had long since stopped questioning her unique abilities, as he had stopped questioning his own. Until they were gone. "I was searching for Jacob. My foot steps led me here." Vincent said. He knew Narcissa would not be fooled by this answer anymore than she had been fooled by his request.. "But it is not the child you seek. He is safe," Narcissa said. She reached for a bowl, which she placed on the table in the middle of the chamber and filled with water. She let wax from large candle dip into the water and stared with unseeing eyes at the swirls and shapes formed there. Vincent waited silently for Narcissa to speak. When she did, the words would be as obscure as the vision in her eyes. Their true meaning, Vincent knew, he would have to seek out himself. "A woman. She walks on the edges of the worlds, Vincent. She see what others fear. Go to her. Seek her help. She knows..." Narcissa's voice trailed into silence as if she had forgotten he was there. Narcissa spoke of things that few ever suspected existed. And even fewer still understood. Vincent pondered the word Narcissa had spoken. Words that held the answer to a question he did not know. Narcissa turned from the bowl and said no more. Vincent knew that it was useless to ask Narcissa to explain. She would say no more; hers was a world of vision. So, he kissed the old woman gently on the cheek, turned and left. Narcissa seemed unaware of his leaving. But a knowing smile on her face suggested she knew where he would go and what he would find there. Even though Vincent did not. Not yet. ********************************************** Vincent returned to the main tunnels while still pondering Narcissa's words. He met his son at the intersection of two main tunnels. Jacob's was head down and he dragged small backpack behind him. Jacob almost ran into his father. An air of disappointment surrounded him. From the looks of the pack Vincent suspected his son has been Above. Jacob stared at his father's boots before slowly raising his head to look up at his father's face. There were traces of tear on Jacob's face. "Jacob?" Vincent's voice was filled with concern at the disheveled appearance of his son. Vincent had known Jacob was upset, but the extent of his distress was surprising. Vincent wondered at the depths of his own distress, that he had not sensed that Jacob was be so upset. "She wouldn't let me stay." Jacob answered somewhat cryptically. "Who wouldn't let you stay?" Vincent could not image one of the tunnel dweller rejecting an upset child. "Claire." was Jacob's surprise answer. It took Vincent a moment to realize who his son was talking about. "The woman you met Above?" Vincent knelt next to his disappointed son, as tears threatened to once again spill from Jacob's eyes. Jacob nodded his head yes, but said no more. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled note. Vincent opened the letter. The handwriting was almost a childish scrawl. Penmanship had never been one of Claire's strong suits. To Jacob's Father: I understand that Jacob and some friend got into some trouble this morning. Although I have told Jacob I would help him, I explained that l would not help him runaway. Jacob is more than welcome to visit me, with your permission. Please feel free to contact me. Claire As Vincent read the letter, he at wondered at its appearance. Was the letter written by the same woman that Narcissa spoke of? Did its arrival, following so closely on the heels of Narcissa's divination, foretell of some prominence? Thoughts of Claire conjured up images of a image created by candle light and a forest spite in a dawn woods. The woman, Claire, definitely seemed to have gained a hold over Jacob. That his son would seek comfort from a stranger in the world Above, both disturbed and perplexed Vincent. Was it possible? Was she the mystical creature that he thought her to be that day in the park? Was he indeed hunting something and did the woman who wrote this letter hold the key? Vincent and Jacob returned to the inner chambers of the tunnels. They missed dinner. But, Vincent knew that William would have saved them each a plate. Indeed, there were two plates, still warm, in one of the smaller ovens. They ate quickly. Soon it would be time for Jacob to change into his Halloween costume. Father would tell his usually assortment of ghost stories. The children would beg to hear the "Tale of Icabod Crane and the Headless Horseman" as they did each year. Then they would go to the homes of the helpers Above for Trick-or-treat. Vincent did not punish Jacob for running away. Father would disapprove. But Claire insistence that Jacob return home probable taught his son more than anything that he could do or say. Vincent again wondered at the woman who was becoming such an important part of his son's life and by extenuation his own. *********************************************** "You can't seriously be considering going to see this woman" Father's voice was raised in concern and frustration. That Vincent would even consider the idea was unthinkable. Father thought they had gotten beyond this point after Catherine's death. Vincent's contact with the world Above, in the last seven years, had been limited. Occasionally Vincent still wandered the streets Above at night. His brief relationship with Diana had resulted in Jacob's recovery from Gabriel. Since then, Diana's involvement with Vincent and the world Below had dwindled to yearly visits at Winterfest. But now the note lay on the table between them. "How can I not?" Vincent replied forceful. He gestured to the note with his open hand. Then his hand fell to his side, a gesture of frustration that matched Father's. This argument seemed absurd. Father had learned to trust Catherine and then Diana's. Why was he unwilling to trust this woman who had already proven herself to be worthy of that trust? "We don't know this woman." Father countered. "Don't we. She has returned Jacob to us. Twice." Vincent's voice matched Fathers' in intensity. The argument was academic. Both men knew that. Ultimately neither man would give in. "So, you will encourage Jacob to continue relying on this stranger." Father opted for a change in tactics. "Am I suppose to ignore her kindness." Vincent's open hand slammed down over the note. Frustrated at Father's stubbornness in the face of the obvious, Vincent crumpled the note into his palm. "You trust her? Do you? What if she sees you? Then what? She might not return your son so readily the next time." Genuine fear entered Father's voice. "Yes, I trust her. And she need not see me. "Vincent forced a calm confidence into his voice that he hoped would ease Father's fears. "And if you're wrong?" Father never completely escaped his fear of the world Above. It was bad enough that Vincent's actions would endanger himself, but this time Jacob could be at risk too. "I'm not wrong. Jacob's not wrong. I know she can be trusted." Vincent's voice once more tightened frustration. Narcissa's words still rang in his head. She was not wrong either. But to bring Narcissa into this argument would increase Father's concerns. "So, you can sense this woman." A glimmer of hope broke through the frustration in Father's voice. A hope that Vincent's empathic abilities might be strengthening, even after all this time. "No" Vincent said softly, with a shake of his head. "So you're going." Father sat down defeated into the chair beside the table. "Yes, I'm going." Vincent replied resolutely as he retrieved his heavy black cloak from the back of another chair. " Father, try not to worry." He said gently as he kissed Father lightly on the head. "I'LL be back." Father did not reply. He just watched his son as he left the room. Vincent had never fully recovered his empathic abilities and that concerned Father. Without his abilities to protect him, Father prayed that Vincent would not walk in to trouble as he ventured Above. Father hoped that what limited abilities that remained would be enough to protect Vincent. ************************************** A cold misty rain fell as Vincent emerged from the world Below. The night was clouded by fog that parted silently as Vincent passed through it. It was as if the weather had conspired with the night to fill the world with magic. Claire returned home late from the Samhian ritual that she had attended. She started water for tea and the headed to the bedroom to change clothes. She returned to the kitchen as the pot started to whistle. Her ritual garb had been exchanged for an overly large sweatshirt and sweat pants. A pair of wool socks would repeal the cold and dampness, allowing Claire to venture on the porch without shoes. Claire took the pot, a mug and herbs to the porch that led off the kitchen and placed them on a table there. She lit a small candle before pouring the hot liquid into the mug. The pungent smell of the herbs filled the air as steam liquid rose from the mug. The steam mixed with the cool mist of the night and swirled in to the darkness. Claire sat down, clutching the warm mug in her hands. She stared out into the night as she absorbed the sensations surrounding her. The night, the fog, the rain, the warmth of the cup in her hands, everything around her. She pulled it to her, becoming one with it. She heard a soft sound as Vincent landed on the porch above. She heard him quietly descend the stairs behind her. The muffled sound of his feet blending with the swish of his cloak added to the symphony of the night. Claire did not move. She gave no indication that she was aware of Vincent's presence. Instead she continued to gaze out into the darkness, letting the night and the rain become music in her mind. Samhian was a magical night. Claire sat silently, unmoving, she stared into the darkness before her. Vincent remained quite behind her, studying her. Not knowing what to do or say. Something about the woman in front of him seemed surreal, ethereal, someone imagined or dreamed. She seemed to be made of lines and shadows. Her pale skin looked like porcelain in the limited light of the candle. Smooth, flawless and fragile. Her dark hair was a dark shadow against the even darker night. Despite the misty image, the velvety sound of her breath let him know she was real. Although Claire did not respond to Vincent's presence, she could feel him there. Waiting. She felt everything, the rain and the cold, the warm cup in her hands, and Vincent. All of these were part of the deepening night that surrounded them. She sat in silence, unafraid, absorbing everything around her. Feeling it. Investigating it. Using all of her senses she explored the night and all that was within it. Even the man whose presence threatened to crowd out all the rest. "Are you going to just stand there or are you going to say something?" Claire's whisper abruptly broke the deepening silence between them. There was a gentle teasing to her voice. "I'm sorry, I did not want to disturb you." Vincent answered uncertain how to proceed, "You seemed so intent on the night...the rain" "You didn't disturb me. After all you are part of this night, like the rain, I can feel you in it." came Claire's strange, but strangely familiar, response. Vincent knew the feelings she spoke of, he had once been able to feel a presence of another in the dark. But still he could not escape the sense that some enchantment surrounded him. An enchantment that pulled him in. That carried him to a place both familiar and unexpectedly new. He wondered again if she real or some kind of a phantom that would disappear into the vapors of the rain and the night. But the words she spoke next seemed to fill night with magic. As if she cast a spell of shimmering lights into the fog. "The night wraps her arms around me. And encloses me in her quite familiarity. The night surrounds me in her silence. And draws me close to those who call her friend. The night welcomes me in to her warm embrace. And I am one her. One with all who know her name." "You speak the words beautifully" Vincent responded as much the meaning as to the actual words themselves. "Thank you, they are my words" Claire turned in her chair as she acknowledged Vincent's complement. "Please, don't turn around" Vincent cautioned. His voice too harsh for the night. His words stopped Claire's motion. "Why not?" came Claire simple, quite question. "My appearance." Vincent felt awkward for the first time in many years, not since the when Catherine had first seen his face. "I don't want to frighten you" "Should I be frightened?" Her voice whispered again. The question hung in the air between them. "Are you some aberration come from the underworld this Samhian night? Come to steal me away to the world below like some modern day Persephone." The teasing quality returned to Claire's voice. She hoped her words would ease the tension she felt in the man behind her.. Silence filled the air. Vincent began to question the wisdom of coming here. Maybe Father was right. Maybe this was a fool's errand, brought about by the ramblings of an old woman. Or maybe the woman before him truly was the fairy spirit he thought she was that day in the park. The silences deepened between them once again. Claire sensed the confusion and conflict within the man behind her. She waited patiently for Vincent to answer. "No" Vincent started awkwardly. Everything about the woman before him was a bit unnerving. It was as if she cast an enchantment the day she brought Jacob back. A spell that inexplicable pulled him toward her. Toward this moment. "Please, allow me to begin again. I don't wish to frighten you" Vincent said as he struggled to regain his composure." I am Jacob's father. My name is Vincent." "I know." Claire's whisper interrupted. Indeed she had known. Almost before he appeared on her porch, she knew he would be here, on this night. On Samhian Night. The night when the walls between the worlds grows thin. "I came to thank you for what you have done for my son." The mellow sound of Vincent's voice passed through Claire. "He is a remarkable child. I enjoyed the opportunities I've had to spent with him." Claire's voice was a silky whisper. "Yes he is, thank you." a sadness crept into Vincent's voice as he thought of Catherine. Catherine, who had spent only a few moments with Jacob before he was taken from her. Before she died. Something about the woman in front of him the made him feel Catherine's absence, suddenly, sharply. Claire sensed Vincent's sudden sadness. "What is it that makes you so sad?" Claire heard a faint sound as Vincent shook his head trying the clear the thoughts within. She felt the sadness and loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. "Catherine, Jacob's mother. She died when Jacob was born. She held him once, for a few moments and then..." Vincent's heart tightened in his broad chest as he spoke the words. Words he had spoken to few. Words he rarely spoke to anyone. Only Father knew all of it. The lose, the pain, the guilt, the anger, everything. His emotions crashed over Claire like a storm ravaged sea. "Then he must be a truly extraordinary child, to have exacted such a price." Claire whispered, as she tried to calm the storm within. Vincent stepped to the edge of the porch. He seemed not to hear her last words He leaned upon the porch rail, becoming lost in the deepening memories. Claire could see the silhouette of his profile clearly in the darkness. His face, she remembered from the candlelit image reflected in the bowl. The night surrounded them. Enclosed them in a protective circle that excluded all else. Even the rain was forgotten. Vincent gazed out into the night as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. He rarely spoke of his life with Catherine, even with those who had been part of it. It was as if to speak of their dream would in some way lessen its fragile, beautiful magic. But, something. Maybe the night. Maybe Samhian. Maybe it was the woman behind him. Something made the dream seem less delicate. Somehow the words came. "I found her on a night much like this, cold and raining. She was left in the park. Bleeding. Dying. I brought her to my world to save her life. She changed my life forever..." Vincent spoke into the night and silently Claire listened. To Vincent's story. To Catherine's story. The story of their love unfolded into the night. Claire felt the sorrow and the joy as Vincent spoke. She could feel the emotions inside this unique man change and shift with the words. To Claire every nuance of emotion was a palatable, living thing. The agonizing pain, the heady delight, and the clarity of their love as it coursed through Vincent's very soul. Claire had always been exceptionally perceptive. She had an ability to see and feel things other's did not. But, what she shared now, Vincent's story, tore at the very depth of her soul. She felt every word. Each one threatened to tear her apart. Rarely was she so helpless in the wake of another's emotions. Still, she took in every emotion, the anger and the love. Claire felt herself roll with one. Like a gale torn ship, she was rocked and crashed in the surf of emotions. She was tossed and bruised by the intensity of Vincent's feeling. None the less, she stood, unyielding, in the face of the storm. Unwilling to relinquish the gift of Vincent's words. For she knew what a precious gift they were. In the end the words came no more. The storm subsided. And the silence slowly surrounded them once more. Only the music of the gently rain could be heard. Claire rose from her chair and joined Vincent at the porch railing. For a moment they stood motionless beside each other, lost in thought, staring into the night. Then Claire turned to Vincent. When he did not turn to look at her , she reached up and took his chin gently in her small hand and turned his face to hers. Vincent tried to avoided her gaze hoping the shadows of his cloak would hide his face. But Claire strong fingers resisted his efforts to pull away. As she held his face to hers, Claire reached up and wiped the tears from his whiskered cheek. It was then that Vincent looked into her eyes. And there he found acceptance. Acceptance of all that was and all that is. "Claire" Vincent whispered her name like an offering to the night. Journal entry I spoke of Catherine as I have not spoken of her to anyone before. I poured out our story, my story, Catherine's story, to the night, to Claire. She listened silently. Treasuring each word. She took them in, change them and gave them back. The memories are no less brillent. Yet with each word, with each memory shared, the pain began to lessen. And the cold inside of me began to warm. By some magic Claire has taken away the pain and the sorrow. And left only the joy. The hope, The possibility. The dream of... Love - vincent ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ About the Author: The author is a resident of Central Virginia. Besides working on my third B&TB story, I'm enjoy the colors of fall. I have been a B&TB fan since its original showing. I really enjoy hearing your comments. I can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.