The Heaven Trilogy (81 page)

He imagined telling Karen about this.
Oh, Karen. This woman is so wounded. She's in such need of love. The love of God. Christ's love
.

Helen, sweet Helen, was no ordinary woman, he knew that now. And the realization began to soak the back of his shirt with sweat.

“. . . will I stay?” Helen asked.

She had asked the question of him. “What? I'm sorry, what?”

“What do we do now? Have you been listening, Jan? Because you do look distracted. Doesn't he look distracted, Ivena?”

“Of course, I've been listening,” he said and blushed. Helen was smiling slyly as if she'd caught him, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious.
She is beautiful,
he thought.
Wrinkled pink dress, scraggly blond hair and all. Quite beautiful. Stunning actually. Even with her bare feet. They are tender feet.

Stop it, Jan! Stop it! This is absurd! You are nearly married and here you are ogling a young woman.

He faced Ivena and heard his voice as if at a distance. “What would you say, Ivena?”

She had lowered her head and was looking at him past her eyebrows. “I would say that I detect a
pitter
, Janjic.”

She was referring to his heart! Good heavens, she was accusing him right here before Helen! “Good enough. You will stay the night then. It could be dangerous to return to your house alone. Use the apartment.”

“Apartment?” Helen asked.

“There's a fully equipped suite in the basement. Old guest quarters. Actually no one's used it since Ivena occupied it for a few weeks while we found her house. It has its own entrance but it's well locked. Ivena knows the ropes.”

Jan glanced at Ivena and saw that she held a raised eyebrow.

The shrill ring of the phone saved Jan from any further comment. He stood quickly and strode for the kitchen. Ivena had gone too far this time. He would speak to her about this
pitter
nonsense.

But she is right, Janjic.

He grabbed the receiver from the wall. “Hello.”
She could not be right
.

“Jan Jovic?” a low voice asked.

“Yes?”

The man on the phone took a deep breath, but did not speak. Jan's heart spiked. “May I help you?”

“Listen to me, you little punk. You think you can keep her?” A few pulls of heavy breathing filled the receiver and Jan spun away from the women. A small strobe ignited in his mind and suddenly he was there, again. Facing Karadzic's venomous stare in a distant landscape.

“She's a dog in heat. You know how to keep other dogs away from a dog in heat?” It was Karadzic! It was him!

“You kill them,” the voice said. “Now you've been warned, preacher pimp. If she's not back in her kennel within forty-eight hours you'll pray to God that you never laid eyes on her.” Heavy breathing again.

Jan's mind spun, gripped by panic.

A soft click sounded. And a dial tone.

For a moment Jan could not move. Had he just been threatened? Of course he had! But it was not Karadzic, was it? It was Glenn Lutz.

He breathed deliberately and blinked several times to regain clear vision. The women had stopped talking. He forced the phone back onto its hook.

“Is there a problem, Janjic?” Ivena called.

“No,” he said, and immediately thought,
That was a lie.
But what else could he say?
Don't mind me, I'm just losing my mind over here. I do that once a month. Helps me stay in touch with my past.

Jan considered excusing himself and walking for the bedroom. Instead he opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents for a few moments. He reached for the pitcher of tea with a shaking hand, thought better of it and grabbed a small bottle of soda water instead. Slowly the tremble worked its way out of his limbs.

This was all far too much. He had a life to attend to, for heaven's sake. He was bound for New York in the morning. With Karen! His fiancée! He really should walk in there and tell Ivena that she should take Helen to a church shelter or another place properly staffed to help women in need. This was his home, not some church. And now his life was being threatened by her crazed lover!

But when he entered the room and saw Helen sitting on the couch, his heart swelled once again, despite the odd look she cast his way. His stomach hovered for a moment.

Dear God, this was madness!

Perhaps, but Jan knew then for the first time, looking at the young woman on his couch, that he did not
want
her to leave. In fact, the thought of her leaving brought a feeling not unlike panic to his chest.

Which was a problem, wasn't it? A very big problem.

JAN BARELY slept that night. He mumbled prayers to his Father, begging for understanding, but no understanding came. If God had indeed ignited his heart for this woman, what kind of switch had he thrown? And why? And what would Karen make of Ivena's
pitter
? Which was maybe more than a
pitter
.

She would never understand. Neither would Roald. How could they?
Jan
didn't even understand!

He rose half a dozen times and peeked through the windows for any sign of intruders, then finally drifted off near 3:00 A.M.

He left the house at six, before either Ivena or Helen had emerged from their rooms. They'd agreed that if anyone needed to leave the house, it would be Ivena, alone. Helen would not leave for any reason. And under no condition were they to open the door for a stranger. There was easily enough food in the icebox to tide them over. He would think things through and come back from New York with a plan, he promised.

Karen gave him several strange looks during their drive to the airport. “What?” he asked once.

“Nothing. You just seem distracted,” she replied.

He almost told her about the crazy threat, but decided she didn't need the worry hanging over her.

“I have a lot on my mind,” he told her with a smile. It seemed to satisfy her. An hour later the jet leveled off at thirty thousand feet. Slowly the images that had kept him awake during the night began to fade.

They sat side by side in the first-class cabin, fingers intertwined, talking of everything and nothing, flying high in their own private world. The musky perfume she wore smelled delicate and womanly, like Karen herself, he thought. Dinner was served: lobster tails with buttered potatoes and a red wine sauce he'd never tasted before—certainly not with lobster. It was heavenly. Although, Karen did advise the stewardess that the beans hadn't been properly stringed and Jan felt awkward for her saying it.

Roald had arranged to meet them with an entourage of Christian leaders and human rights activists who strongly supported the making of the movie. Some of Delmont's people would be there as well, Karen told him. They wanted to make an event out of the occasion. Trust Roald and Karen to come up with any excuse to publicize. He told her as much and she giggled, biting her tongue between her front teeth. She didn't laugh—that would have been expected. But she giggled like a little girl and she bit her tongue and she squinted her eyes as if she'd done something especially tricky, although they both knew it was nothing unusual at all. She did that because she was with him. She did that because she was in love.

Jan leaned back and smiled.
This is where you belong, Janjic
. “You know, it's amazing to consider God's faithfulness,” he said.

“How so?”

“Look at me. What do you see?”

“I see a strong man on top of the world.”

He tried not to blush. “I'm a boy who grew up in the slums of Sarajevo and who lost his family to war and illness. A young man who roamed Bosnia, killing along with the rest. And then once, in a small village I did something decent; something right. I stood up for the truth. I defended one of God's children and was immediately thrown into prison for five years. But now look at me, Karen. Now God has granted me this incredible blessing of living.” He grinned with her. “Now I'm flying in first class, eating lobster with my wife to be. Wouldn't you say that God is faithful?”

“Yes. And that faithfulness is now in my favor,” she said, smiling. “Because I'm seated next to you.” She took his hand and kissed it gently. He looked at her and his desire surged. It was a mad moment; one in which he thought they should move the wedding up. December felt like another lifetime
. Let's elope, Karen.

And why not?

“Do you love me, Jan?”

The question sent a ball of heat down his spine. “How could I not love you, Karen? You're brilliant, you're ravishing, and, yes, I love you.”

She smiled at the words. “Fine. I'll settle for that.”

Jan kissed her to seal the words. He needed the reassurance more than she, he thought.

When they landed in New York, a long white car took them to the downtown Hilton where they were ushered into the main reception room. A gathering of thirty or so waited under a huge crystal chandelier with Roald at their center. Frank and Barney stood by his side, both grinning wide—they must have come up from Dallas with him.

Karen turned him to her just inside the entrance and she quickly tightened his tie. “What would you do without me, huh? Remember to smile for the cameras. Not too big. Be confident. Remember, they pay for confidence.”

He felt too awkward to respond, so he just cleared his throat.

The pattering of hands echoed through the hall and for a moment the hotel's bustle seemed to stall. Jan was suddenly aware that every eye watched him.

He nodded politely and let the applause die. Roald held up his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to announce that we are entering into an agreement with Delmont Pictures to produce a movie of
The Dance of the Dead
for theatrical release.” Immediately the room filled with applause. It was all unnecessary, of course, but Roald had his ways.

He wasn't finished. “This is Jan Jovic's story; a story that reaches out to all those suffering for the sake of the Cross; a film that will take a message of hope to millions who need to hear of God's love and of those still suffering throughout the world.” Again they applauded. A TV camera caught the event on video. Jan dipped his head and they clapped yet again, beaming proudly at him. They had all gathered for their own causes; some for the sake of a profitable movie, others for amnesty groups, perhaps hoping to ride the coattails of this film to bolster their own coffers. Some for the church.

They wanted a word from Jan and he gave them a brief one, publicly thanking Roald and Karen for their undying support and service to which they all owed this opportunity. Then it was a mingling affair with all present taking turns shaking his hand and discussing their particular appreciation or concern. He took a dozen questions from reporters holding bulging microphones. He was well practiced with the media, of course, and he gave them all their time while the rest talked in small groups, eating cheese and shrimp and sipping beverages. Karen made the rounds, pitching the deal as only she could. Several times he caught her eye. Once she winked and he lost the question just asked of him by a reporter.

Night had fallen by the time the last guest left. Roald and Karen insisted that they go out to dinner, the finest. An hour later they sat around a table at Delmonico's on Broadway, reviewing the day. Everything was set for the meeting with Delmont in the morning. It would be nothing more than a formality—that and the collecting of a check, of course. One million at execution, four million within thirty days. They lifted their glasses and toasted their success. It seemed appropriate.

“So,” Roald said as they cut into their steaks. “Karen tells me that you ran into a drug addict the other day. She spent the night at Ivena's and then left with a thousand dollars from the ministry fund?”

Jan glanced at Karen. “Well no, she didn't actually take a thousand dollars. Ivena bought her some clothes on my suggestion.”

“That's good, Jan.” He smiled and Jan could not gauge the man's sincerity. “So somewhere there's a junkie wandering around wearing a mink coat and laughing about how she socked it to some sorry sucker.”

Jan recoiled at the cynicism. “No. No mink coat. And she left the clothes, except for a pink dress.”

“A pink dress?” Karen asked.

“It was one Ivena made her buy,” Jan said with a grin. She didn't return the smile.

Roald stuffed another bite of meat into his mouth. “Well, she's gone. After tomorrow a thousand dollars will seem like loose change.”

Jan dropped his eyes and sawed into his steak. “Actually, she's not gone,” he said. “She came back last night.”

Karen froze for a moment. “She's back?”

“Yes. She showed up at Ivena's house and I made them come to mine.”

Roald looked at Karen and then back. “You mean this woman is in
your
house? Now?”

“Yes, with Ivena. Is that a problem?”

“Why your house?” Karen asked. A cube of steak remained poised on her fork. Her eyes were wide.

“She's being chased. I didn't think she'd be safe at Ivena's.”

“So let me get this straight.” It was Roald's turn again. They were not taking this so well, Jan thought. “A female drug addict comes to you on the run, runs off with a thousand bucks, comes back the next day with a flock of mobsters on her tail and you take her into your house? You don't take her to the cops or the shelter, but you leave her in your house while you take off for New York? Is that it?”

“Maybe I should've called the police, but—”

“You didn't even
call
the cops?”

“She insisted that I not. Look, she was in danger, okay? So maybe I should've called the police. But I couldn't just tell her to get lost, now, could I? You forget that I run a ministry that stands for embracing those who suffer. It's not only in Bosnia that people suffer.”

The exchange left them silent for a moment. “We should watch
who
we embrace,” Roald said. “This is the exact sort of thing we talked about at—”