Yes, but not like Helen, Jan. You're in love with Helen, Jan.
Nonsense! And what about Roald and
The Dance of the Dead
? What of Frank Malter and Barney Givens and Bob Story? The church leaders' ears would likely steam if they knew what was broiling here. They'd warned against the appearance of evilâthis madness with Helen would be nothing less.
And the movie dealâwhat would Hollywood care what he did? They weren't the most moral lot, those movie people. They wouldn't have any problems.
See now, the very fact that he thought in terms of Hollywood's lack of morality in connection with this Helen business proved that she had to go!
It was Karen who was being trampled on with this foolishness. This betrayal in his heart.
By the end of that first day Jan had managed maybe an hour's work. Ivena called him at four and informed him that she and Helen were concocting supper. At his place.
“What?” he stammered, leaping to his feet.
She hesitated. “There is a problem, Janjic? I'll pay for the groceries ifâ”
“No, no, no.” Pay for the groceries? What was she talking about? He proceeded to insist that in the wake of the big movie deal he had to work late. Go on without him. She reluctantly agreed, and Jan breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he didn't want to see Helen. Not that he did not want to sit across from her and look into those deep blue pools of love. In fact, the very thought of sitting under her spell made his palms break out in sweat. But he could not! Not with Ivena there! Not
without
Ivena there! Not until he made some sense of this madness.
When Jan drove up to the house at ten, Ivena's Bug sat on the street. He left the Cadillac on the front apron, careful not to alert them by opening the garage door. He peeked through the mail slot and saw that the lights had been turned down. If Helen was here, she had retreated to the basement suite. Unless she was waiting for him in the hall again. He wouldn't put it past her. The thought sent a chill down his spine and suddenly he hoped desperately that she'd done just that. He fumbled with the key and let himself in quietly.
But Helen wasn't in the hall tonight. In fact, he couldn't be sure that she was even in the house. And he wasn't about to go knocking on her door. He tiptoed down the hall, set the alarm for 5:00 A.M., and fell into bed.
Tuesday ended up being a mixed day. On one hand it was busy, which was good. On the other hand, he discovered that his little secret was not such a secret.
Lorna and John both came by his office and asked him if everything was all right, to which he answered, of course, and promptly steered the conversation to operational details.
But Betty was not so easily put off. She was concerned; he was not himself these days.
“Nonsense.”
“This wouldn't have anything to do with the girl, would it?”
“What girl?”
“The one you rescued in the park.”
He felt the blood leave his face.
“Oh, come on, Jan, everyone's whispering about it. They say that this girl stayed in your apartment for a few days.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it from John. Is it true, then?”
“Yes. Just for a few days. With Ivena, of course.”
“And what about you, Jan? What do you make of this girl?”
“Wha . . . Nothing. What do you mean? I'm just giving her a place to stay while this blows over. What do you mean?” It occurred to him that he might have given himself away with that delivery.
“You can't hide your feelings from me, Jan,” she said with a tilted head, her eyes fixed on his. “And what would Karen make of this?”
“Karen knows. Helen's a mess, for crying out loud. We can't throw her out on the street for the sake of appearances.”
“Maybe. I'm not judging you; I'm only asking. Someone needs to keep you in line. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there's some talkâyou know how these things go.”
“Well, kindly tell all the chatterboxes that I don't take kindly to their prying.”
Her eyebrow arched. “No one's accused you of anything. Karen's such a lovely lady, you can understand how she has the employees' sympathies.”
“That's absurd! There's nothing to sympathize about!”
“I didn't say I disapproved, Jan. I'm only advising you that others might.”
“What are they doing down there? Placing bets over the matter? This is ridiculous. Helen's just a woman, for heaven's sake. Just because she's using my flat doesn't mean I have any feelings for her.”
“Do you?”
“Of course not. As a person, yes, but . . . Please, Betty. It's been a very difficult day.”
“Then I will pray for you, Jan. We certainly can't have our movie star falling apart at the seams on us, now can we?” She winked at him and then left.
Jan spent the next half-hour trying desperately to dismiss the revelation that he'd become a walking wager. Was his insanity that obvious?
Roald called at ten and wanted Jan to meet the director of Amnesty International, Tom Jameson, who was flying in to Atlanta at noon. Jan spent three hours with the man and eagerly agreed to meet him for dinner at seven. By four that afternoon, he'd recaptured a semblance of reason, he thought.
He called Ivena at five and informed her that he would not be joining them for dinner again. She did not object. In fact she seemed distracted.
“Is everything okay, Ivena?”
“Yes, of course. It could not be better.”
“You heard me then; I won't be home until late tonight. Please don't wait up for me.”
“Something is happening, Janjic.” She sounded eager. Even excited.
“Meaning what? Helen has done something?”
“No. But I feel it in my bones. Something very unique is going on, don't you feel it? The sky seems brighter, my feet feel lighter. My garden is in full bloom.”
“I thought Nadia's rosebush was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Well, you sound in good spirits. That's good. Just don't leave her alone too much.”
“Helen? She's fine, Janjic.”
“Yes, but it's still my house. We can't have a stranger just wandering around all alone.”
“She's not a stranger. Let go, Janjic.”
Let go?
He wasn't sure he'd heard right. “What?”
“You must relax, Janjic. Something is happening.”
“Of course something's happening. I'm getting married. We're making a movie.”
“Much more, I think.”
“And I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Silence settled between them for a few moments. She wasn't telling him everything, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear everything right now.
“Has she seen a counselor?” Jan asked.
“She saw Father Stevens this afternoon. She liked him.”
“Good. That's good. Maybe he can find her new accommodations.”
“Perhaps.”
They left it at that, and Jan spent the next two hours shaking the conversation from his head.
Let go. Something is up, Janjic.
The dinner with Tom Jameson was a welcome distraction. The man's enthusiasm for the movie deal and its possibilities dwarfed this Helen business. By eleven that night, Jan had recovered himself sufficiently to whistle lightheartedly as he drove himself home. The madness had left him.
But that all changed on Wednesday.
He rose at five and showered, thinking about the conference call Nicki had arranged between him, Roald, and Karen at nine. Karen had some news she wanted to share with both of them.
Only when he left his room dressed and ready for the office did he once again think of Helen, sleeping in the suite below. Butterflies lifted his stomach. He rounded the corner for the kitchen and stopped mid-stride.
Suddenly those butterflies were huge and monstrous and doing backflips, because suddenly she was there, leaning over the coffeepot, dressed in an oversize white shirt that hung to her knees.
Jan took one step back on the chance she had not seen him.
“Morning, Jan.”
He swallowed, replaced his foot and walked in. “Morning, Helen.” She had not looked up at him yet. “Where's Ivena?”
“She's still in bed. Sleep well?” she asked, and now she turned her head, still fiddling with the coffee machine.
“Yes,” he thought he said, but he couldn't be sure with all the commotion streaming through his head. He said it again, just to be sure. “Yes.” She was looking at him with those blue eyes, smiling innocently. Nothing more; he could see that.
But he
did
see more. She was throwing her magic at him. His knees felt weak and his breathing stopped. Waves of heat washed down his back. He instinctively reached a hand to the refrigerator to steady himself.
You are in love with her.
“I can't seem to get the water . . . Do you know how this thing works?”
“Yes.”
She waited for him to say more. But he just stood there stupidly. He wasn't thinking so quickly. “Could you show me how?” she prompted.
“Yes.” He walked over to her and bent over the coffee maker, absolutely clueless as to what she wanted him to do. She moved over a foot maybe, certainly no more. Not beyond the reach of his elbow, which bumped up against her stomach. The touch sent a wave of hot air through his mind and he lost what little concentration he'd had.
You are in love with her, Jan.
He almost straightened and told the voice to shut up. But the thought of doing even that swam away with the rest of his reason. Instead he just fumbled cluelessly with the buttons and the pot and the plug, still wondering what he was supposed to do here.
She stood beside him, looking over his shoulder, her hot, sweet breath playing with the hairs on his neck. Or maybe not; maybe that was a breeze from the window. But it lifted the hairs on his neck just the same, and he was struck by a sudden panic that she might notice her effect on him.
Jan straightened, but too quickly and without aim; his head hit the cupboard above the counter.
Thump.
Helen giggled. “Are you okay? Actually, I just need it turned on.”
“On?” He bent over the machine. Maybe she hadn't noticed his stiffness. The power button was suddenly there, big and bold on the right and he wondered how she could have missed it. He pressed it, heard a soft hiss, and extracted himself from the workspace. “There.”
“Thank you, Jan.”
“Sure. No problem.” He backed away and took a banana from the fruit basket. “So everything's working for you downstairs?” he asked.
“Perfect. The television doesn't work but at least the coffee maker is a simple affair.” She smiled, and he laughed as if it were a truly humorous comment.
“Well, if there's anything you need, please let me know.”
“Jan?”
“Yes.” He took a bite from the banana.
“How long can I stay here?”
“Well, how long do you think you need to stay?”
“I think that depends on you.” Her eyes! Dear God, her eyes were drowning him!
Look away. Look away, Jan!
“You think?”
She nodded, not moving her eyes from his. “It
is
your house.”
“Yes, I guess it is that.” He took another bite from the banana. “Well, let's just say that you can stay until you need to go,” he said.
“Really?”
“How long are you thinking?” he asked.
“I don't know.” She smiled and he thought she might have winked, but he quickly decided she had not. “Like I said, that's up to you.”
“Okay.” For an impossible moment they held eye contact, and then he turned. “Well, I have to get to the office for a conference call.” Jan started for the front door, still gripping the banana in his right hand.
“Jan.”
He reached for the door with a sweaty palm and turned to face her.
“Maybe we could have dinner tonight,” she said.
His knees would not stay still. She stood there smiling at him, and every fiber in his body cried to run over there and fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness for even considering that she was anything less than an angel.
You are in love with her, Jan. You are hopelessly in love with her.
He didn't bother putting up a defense this time.
“Yes. I would like that,” he said. His voice wavered but he didn't try to steady it. “I would like that very much.”
Jan opened the door and walked out into the fresh morning air, barely able to breathe. He'd already made the turn down the sidewalk that paralleled the street when he remembered the car and turned back. It occurred to him that he had a half-eaten banana in his hand when he tried to open the car door. He hated bananas with a passion. Ivena must have bought them. He grunted and laid it in the flower bed, thinking to throw it away when he returned.
When he returned to take Helen to dinner.
GLENN LUTZ sat at his desk at a quarter to four that same afternoon, sweating profusely. He'd taken the last five impossible days without Helen as well as any sane man could. But what sanity he still possessed was wearing unbearably thin.
She'd come last Friday night, snorted a fistful of his drugs and then teased him the way only Helen could tease. She'd played cat and mouse with him for an hour, running and laughing hysterically, before he could finally take it no longer and broke his promise not to hit her. It had been a blow with his fist, on top of her head, and it had dropped her like a sack of potatoes. When she'd come around fifteen minutes later, she proved much more cooperative.
He had let her go as promised, swearing the blow to her head had been a mistake. When would she be back? Soon, she'd said. The next day? Maybe. But only if he promised not to hit her.
But she hadn't come back the next day. Or the next, or the next, or the next. And now Glenn knew that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to give her the freedom she demanded. He'd initially persuaded himself that going without would only elevate the pleasure when it did come. Like crossing a desert without water and then plunging into a pool at an oasis. Well, that was fine for a day or two, but now the desert was killing him and it was time to call in the marines. Either that or lie down and die.