Gab spoke soothing words, assuring her all was well, touching her hair and caressing her face. For warmth, she pressed her body against the child's, praying things would settle down as she felt her daughter's tiny, rapid heartbeat.
After fixing Heaven warm milk and getting her into her pajamas and tucked into bed, Gab called Katrina.
"
Gnelfs
again."
"Didn't you say she watched them at what's 'is name's?"
"Yes. She seemed fine over there. Then tonight she blew up."
"She didn't want to watch the
Gnelfs
when she was over here," Katrina said. “I figured it was because of the dream, and I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you."
"That means it's not just that she's feeling threatened by me seeing Jake. I mean, it crossed my mind."
"Could be she saw the attention she got when she had a bad dream, got worried about this guy, and played on it. Kids can be sneaky, even if they don't know they are."
"What about at your house?"
"Don't get angry, but it could have been for attention there too. I mean later she watched the shows because she didn't want you getting aggravated. Now, she's thinking, Mommy has a new man, will she forget about me? Then she dozes off or whatever, and maybe her subconscious reminds her you paid her a lot of mind when she had a nightmare. So she has another one."
"But, Katrina, she was scared to death."
"The fear is real … maybe. She could be scared of losing your love. Hell, I'm not a child psychiatrist. Could be something she ate again if she watched them last night without any problems and the dreams kicked in again today."
"What should I do?"
Katrina paused a moment. "Do you have a pastor?"
"No. We were married in the Episcopal church, but we haven't been participating members."
"Let me call my pastor. He can probably recommend somebody you can take her to see. That kind of referral is easiest."
"A psychologist?"
"Possibly. No big deal. But it'll give you peace of mind, won't it?"
"It just feels funny to think about taking her to see a shrink. It's like admitting your child is crazy."
"Not crazy," Katrina said. "Her world has been shaken up. That's a strain. There are things going on in her head she probably isn't even fully aware of. Maybe it's best to have someone help sort them out."
Gabrielle ran a hand through her hair. "I guess one visit can't hurt. They'll give me time off at the office for that, won't they?"
"They'd better," Katrina said. She was accustomed to standing up for rights against bosses.
"I guess I'll give it a try," Gab said finally. "Maybe it'll head off trouble."
Although she was wrong, the statement gave her a feeling of optimism.
Chapter 4
The coins fell like raindrops, a shower of glistening metal that tumbled through darkness in a steady stream. They twirled and turned, end over end, and jangling as they touched, finally clattering into the palms of two outstretched hands, pooling, cold and hard, the smell of metal mingling with perspiration to create a sick, stagnant smell.
He sat up abruptly, hands at his sides, staring at the gray wall, confused and disoriented. Then, slowly, he stopped shaking, and, with one hand, wiped perspiration from the portions of his cheeks not covered by his thick red beard.
The sheet over him was damp from the sweat that always covered him when he awoke from the dreams. He threw it aside and climbed from the bed, walking naked to the window.
With a tug of the cord, he opened the blinds slightly so he might look out on the city. It was raining, and the clouds had smeared a grimy gray haze across the sky. Like tears, raindrops spattered against the glass and trickled along its cold surface in erratic networks which cast shadows back onto his face and chest. Against his skin they appeared black. Shadows of black teardrops, he thought.
He looked down toward the street, at the rainbow of umbrellas which bobbed along, people in raincoats. Some of those below attempted to cover their heads with newspapers, which quickly became soaked and looked like wet leaves.
He would not miss the city. Turning, he walked back across the creaking floor of the hotel room and sat on the mattress. The springs protested his weight as he settled himself and sipped from the water glass on the night table.
The water was room temperature and had a stale taste, but it soothed some of the rot off his tongue. Placing the glass back on the tabletop, he picked up folded, brittle pages.
They had found him again, now that they needed him. He never knew how. Not how they found him or how they knew where or when he should go. It didn't really matter. He was ready.
He would not argue. He looked down at the carefully lettered address on the envelope. It was almost like calligraphy, his name being the single word above the general delivery instruction: DANUBE.
How long had that served as his term of recognition? His name? Names didn't matter anymore. Danube was enough, and it carried as much meaning as a name. The Danube wandered, twisting through many lands. His path had done the same, carrying him around the world so many times. Too many to count, but enough, more than enough.
He was a vagabond. It was a role he had accepted, a role he could not have refused even if he had wanted. He thought often of destiny, of the unfairness of it all, but he did not complain. It could serve no purpose if he did.
He walked into the dingy bathroom, where he showered and performed his toilet in a quick, efficient fashion. Then he threw his few belongings into the battered black suitcase, saving only the clothes he would wear before throwing the catches into place.
He slipped on the black pants and shirt quickly, took only a moment to dust off the jacket before sliding it over his shoulders. The raincoat crinkled as he put it on, but the wrinkles quickly fell off. Last of all, he walked to the mirror and slipped the Roman collar into place.
~*~
The minister's office was small with dark carpeting and a Van Gogh reproduction on one wall, plaques and civic honors on the wall behind the metal desk. The Reverend Richard Marley seemed a bit uncomfortable. In his late thirties he might have looked better in a sweat shirt and jeans than he did in the plaid sports shirt and blazer he wore along with a tie.
Was it in Updike or Cheever Gabrielle had read of a staid old minister who would have looked like he was wearing a tight collar and suit even in his undershirt? She couldn't recall, but Marley was the opposite.
His brown hair was neatly trimmed yet tousled in a boyish fashion, and his eyes were clear blue and piercing. He seemed charming, although Katrina had warned he could go a little toward the deep end if you let him start talking about spiritual matters. He wasn't a fundamentalist, but he tended to take a lot of things literally. On the positive side, however, he had a way of pinpointing kids' problems. That had led to the recommendation by Katrina's pastor.
"So you've been having trouble with
Gnelfs
?" he asked.
“They keep scaring me," Heaven said meekly, a little intimidated. Here was another new man being introduced into her life to add to the confusion. Gab was wondering if this was such a good idea.
Marley smiled. "A big girl like you, afraid?"
Heaven nodded. Although Gabrielle had dressed her in pale blue slacks and a brightly colored blouse, her mood remained somber. "They say bad things," the child explained. "They want to hurt me."
The minister remained jovial. "Now, Heaven, you know they can't hurt you.”
"They come in my dreams." She went on to tell him how they had marched through her thoughts carrying pitchforks and other weapons.
"Why do you think the
Gnelfs
would want to hurt you?" Marley asked.
"They're mad at Mommy for some reason, and they know how much Mommy loves me."
Marley chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking that over. "They think it would upset Mommy if they bother you?"
Heaven nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, sir," she said, remembering her mother was beside her.
Marley frowned. "How do you know that, Heaven?”
“They said so. Some of them. Others made fun of me. Like the kids at school sort of. Only meaner.”
“They make fun of you at school?"
Gab started to answer, but Marley cocked an eyebrow to silence her. He wanted Heaven's answer.
"Sometimes. They pick on me and stuff."
"Does that bother you?"
"Yes. Yes, sir."
"Do any of the
Gnelfs
look like the kids at school?”
“No."
With his eyes, Marley indicated to Gabrielle he thought he'd found something but that the line of questioning hadn't paid off.
"Did the
Gnelfs
say why they're mad at Mommy?”
“No."
"You haven't been mad at Mommy, have you?"
"No!"
"Not even deep down?"
Heaven twisted her head from side to side.
"All right. Do they mention your daddy?"
Again she shook her head, then: "No, sir."
Marley leaned back in his chair. "Are you a good girl?"
"Yes, sir. Always."
"You haven't done anything wrong that you want to tell us about?"
"No. I'm good."
He folded his arms. "All right then, Heaven. Let me tell you. The Good Lord looks after his children, and I know he's not going to let the
Gnelfs
hurt you. You just trust in that. I don't want you to be afraid anymore.”
Bowing her head slightly, almost sullenly, Heaven nodded. "Okay."
"Good girl. Now why don't you sit outside with Mrs. Simmons while I talk to your mommy?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've never thought the show was frightening or anything," Gabrielle said, once the door had closed. "I am careful about what I let her watch."
The pastor steepled his fingers and considered the dilemma silently. "It's hard to say what will scare kids," he said. "Their imaginations are quite active, and they haven't developed the ability to distinguish between the real and the imagined as you and I have. When I was little I remember being scared by the witch in
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
or was it
Sleeping Beauty
? What was her name?"
Gabrielle smiled. "For me it was a movie called
Two on a Guillotine
. Dean Jones was the hero, to give you an idea of how really scary it was."
"I remember it. Cesar Romero is a magician."
"And they bury him in a glass coffin." Gab mocked a shiver. "
Oooo
, it got to me."
They laughed. “I don't think such things are really damaging," Marley said.
"Have you ever dealt with any similar problems?"
"People are always concerned about children's programs. They do tend to inject them with New Age philosophies these days, and that concerns some people. Once in a while the ideas reflect concepts from Eastern religions. Symbols turn up that are rather esoteric." He shook his head. "You can never tell what someone is going to protest. I'm very cautious, myself. In spiritual matters it's never good to jump the gun."
"I was just afraid this might be a symptom of something caused by the divorce," Gabrielle confessed.
"Maybe it is," Marley said, shaking his head again. "I can't really get at anything, but I'm not a child psychologist. I can recommend a counselor who is pretty good with kids if it keeps up, but I would say give it a couple of days to see if it’s just a temporary thing. No need to put her through a lot of trauma needlessly."
"I suppose you're right.”
"You're welcome to visit us on Sunday morning."
Gab smiled and nodded, making her way to the door as politely as possible. She collected Heaven in the outer office and took her home.
~ * ~
After dinner they sat in the living room, and Gabrielle read some of
Anne of Green Gables
. She'd found it in a box in the storage room, a dog-eared copy she'd had for years. It was something of a compromise. She hoped it wouldn't have elements that proved disturbing. She'd expected it to generate protest, but Heaven was listening without showing discontent or boredom. L. M. Montgomery's story of an orphan held her interest as well as any of the less imaginative modern stories that came her way.
Around seven-thirty, Gab said it was bedtime, and Heaven was bathed and in her pajamas by eight. Gab was sitting in the living room reading the latest Dean Koontz, which she'd borrowed from Katrina, when the phone rang.
It was Tanner.
"What's going on?" he asked.
A simple enough question, so why did it send that little bolt of fear through her?
The reasons were multiple. That inbred schoolgirl fear was there. After all, he was a man who interested her. What should she say? What should she do? Then there were the more complex underlying reasons. His call was a threat to her routine. He was change. He was moving her back into a realm from which she had shut herself away. It was easy not to have to worry about a relationship, easy to get through day-to-day living without tension. It could be boring, but it was also comfortable.