Beauty & the Beast 1987 Series Ch 8

The Lady of Shalott Chapter 8

While tension still remained from their confrontation, Jacob returned to his everyday life believing that the animosity between himself and John would eventually pass. Instead, less than two days later a tunnel collapsed on three men causing everyone to go into a state of emergency. Every able-bodied man and woman came out to dig through the rubble and pull the men out. There were numerous injuries, but they were alive and that was a relief to everyone. Jacob had his bag handy and was tending to the wounds as quickly and carefully as he could. The tunnel was known to be unsafe and no one could understand why they had ventured in there.

"John told us to go in and explore it. He thinks it could lead to the Cobble Hill tunnel. If it does then there is the possibility of finding artifacts and such." Jacob turned and looked up at John standing behind him a few feet away.

"Why would you send these men into a tunnel you knew was dangerous?"

"We are a small community looking to expand and in need of more resources..."

"At what cost? It was decided that until that tunnel could be secured, no one was to attempt to go in. NO ONE!" Jacob.

"The only known area that was critical was the entrance. They were instructed to go very slow and use caution..."

"Slow and use caution?! A mere exhale of breath could make it collapse and DID!"

"Vulcan has explored most of the tunnels, even this one and gave assurances that it was safe so long as they used their heads and paid attention." John argued, justifying his decision to send those men into danger.

"Vulcan is a craftsman, not a civil engineer."

"What does it matter now? These men are hurt and need help."

Jacob was about to clap back when a cry of pain brought him back to the men's side. Even so the two men glanced at one another with fiery eyes that looked as though they could burn through each other. For the first time since he had met John, Jacob felt the urge to punch the man, but tending to these men was more important. On one victim's leg was a large gash that was bleeding. Using cloth brought by Mary he began to apply pressure hoping to stem the blood. For a moment he looked up and his eyes met Grace's. Her gaze was sad and sympathetic. John saw it too.

Ultimately there were no major injuries and all that was needed was a few stitches and bandages, but it could have been far worse and they were in no position to handle a disaster of that magnitude. How could John have been so reckless and foolish? Why, because of some long imagined rumors of artifacts, and treasure. There was no need for those down here. Other's had also confronted John including Mary and Winslow, but he continued to deny any and all wrong doing.

When Grace showed up for their nightly game, he was busy reorganizing a stack of books rather forcefully. He had no idea she was there as he slammed down another leather bound volume and momentarily jumped when she asked if he would prefer to skip their game. No, he did not want to skip the game, it was a distraction he needed to take his mind off of things. Sitting down in their respective chairs, he looked over the board then finally made his move. Unfortunately it became a very short game when she beat him in five moves.

"You're too distracted." she commented. You need to calm yourself and clear your mind.

"I can't, not after what John pulled." he responded, becoming agitated again. "Those men could have been killed and his arrogance... his insistence that he wasn't to blame."

"And he will do it again. He will always be the victim, never the perpetrator," she answered with a shrug.

"How did you know? I have been friends with John for years and never noticed this side of him." Jacob commented, truly shaken by this revelation.

"You probably never saw him with any real position of power until now."

"But how did you know?"

"I've been around celebrities and politicians before. Narcissism is a trait they all share."

"Celebrities, politicians... chess since you were four... where exactly did you grow up?" He waited but she didn't answer right away. Instead she carefully placed the pieces back on their starting squares then sat back in her chair.

" On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot." she quoted with a smirk. He recognized Tennyson's poem, but didn't quite get the riddle of it. Nor did he understand why she was so hesitant to talk about where she came from. An abusive situation, perhaps, but her behavior did not seem to match. This vagueness and mystery about where she came from brought back to mind the warning John had given him. How she could never love a man like him.

Those words, coupled with his own feelings and the knowledge that she had said she wished she could call him more, made it all the more frustrating and confusing. Worse, he didn't know how to address it or if he even should. He wanted to just tell her, but the words didn't come and he was afraid it would not be reciprocated and he would look like the biggest fool. As it was, everything was silent and awkward with him sitting there unable to make eye contact and drumming his fingers on the table.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked.

"Yes, just a lot on my mind."

"Care to take a walk with me. It might help you clear it," she offered.

A walk seemed an excellent reprieve from his thoughts and feelings. He assumed they were going to the park above or the waterfall room. Wide open spaces, but instead she took him through a series of tunnels until they reached a small doorway. She led him inside and even with only the light of their two lanterns he found himself in awe. Everywhere he looked he saw walls covered in dark lines shaped into faux stained glass windows with images of creation, David and Goliath, Christ surrounded by children and another image of him emerging from the tomb. In the very center was the simple painting of a cross with a small wooden table before it and two brass candlesticks before it like an altar. Only half the images were painted and while they were not exact copies of the paintings in the book he had loaned her, they were not bad at all.

"What is this place?"

"I noticed this small room just off of my chamber and decided to make it a chapel. It's not very big or impressive but it's a good place for reflection and prayer." She pointed to the brass candlesticks and the table and smiled. "I noticed they were getting ready to tear down an old church and I managed to smuggle them out. I think they are beautiful. I also drug a small pew into one of the tunnels, but that was as far as I could get it. I'll need help to get it all the way down here.

"Where did you learn to paint like that?"

"Benefits of a classical education." She pointed to the book he had loaned laying open to a painting of Christ and the children next to all her paints and brushes. "Your book has helped immensely."

Jacob watched her as she went from art work to art work telling him everything she was planning. She was like a kid showing off a new toy and it both delighted him and scared him. The way she freely showed her emotions and the pure joy that seemed to emanate from her was infectious and intoxicating and he didn't want to ever lose that in his life. The way she spoke about having a classical education, knowing people in the upper echelons of society worried him. This world below New York might not be enough for her in the end and he didn't know if he could take another broken heart. He no sooner thought this than chided himself for once more assuming a relationship that wasn't even there. What he did know was that she was happy and having her around made his days and nights lighter and brighter than they had ever been. He needed to stop thinking and enjoy what he had.

"Art, chess, reading people. What can't you do?"

"Play an instrument."

"I thought that was part of a classical education?" he pointed out.

"It is, but despite excellent teachers, I have zero musical talent. Not to say that I don't appreciate all sorts of music, I do, I'm just terrible at playing it."

"There is a tunnel that is near the outdoor theater in the park." Talking about it he could almost hear the orchestra in his mind. "It's nice to go there and listen, clear your mind and feel the music flow through you and move you." As he talked, Grace walked towards him, entranced by the way he spoke of the symphony, almost able to hear it by his words. Lost in the memory of the music, Jacob had closed his eyes reliving every note. "A couple of years ago they played Mahler's 'Adagietto', from Symphony No. 5. It was written as a declaration of love for his wife Alma. You can feel all his longing and anguish poured out in the notes. It starts off tender and then the music begins to rise building until it reaches a passionate climax." he opened his eyes to find Grace standing before him, close, her dark eyes peering up at him in wonder. He saw her soft pink lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them and yet didn't dare move. He longed to touch her pale cheek or run a finger through her dark locks. "I... I suppose Mahler's wife had no doubt as to what his feelings were."

"I suppose not. Perhaps one day I can go with you and see and hear it for myself."

"I would like that." Jacob answered then quickly stepped away and wished her a good night before leaving the chamber and the temptation inside.