When Heaven Weeps (27 page)

“Is it warm in here, or is it just me?” she said softly.

“Perhaps it's just us,” he said, and he knew that later he would regret saying that. Complimenting someone for their beauty was one thing. Telling a woman that she was making you warm was another matter altogether. But the moment demanded it, he thought. Absolutely demanded it.

“Yes, maybe,” she said, and she smiled.

Jan broke off and took up his water glass. He drank quickly, suddenly feeling panic biting at his mind. What was he doing? What in God's name did he think he was doing?

“I have a confession to make,” Helen said. “I lied. Ivena didn't say a word about you taking us to dinner. I made that up.”

He set the glass down. “You did?”

“I wanted to be alone with you.”

“She's not coming?”

“No. I didn't call her.”

He began to shovel salad into his mouth, acutely aware of the heat that flushed his face. But it wasn't anger.

She followed his lead and picked at her own salad. They ate in silence for a full minute, pondering the exchange. It did Jan very little good—his mind had ceased to function with any meaning. Something had happened to him, and he couldn't corner it with any understanding. First the vision and now this.

“What about Glenn?” he asked. The question sounded like something an adolescent might ask in a state of hurt jealousy. Jan shoveled the salad quickly.

Helen shifted her eyes. “I told you, we're through.”

“Yes, but you did return to him after saying that. And he's quite obsessive, isn't he? He may not be through with
you
.”

“Yeah well, I
am
through with him. And he may be obsessive, but it cuts both ways. If I leave, it's over. It was stupid of me to go back, but I hardly knew you then, you know.”

Jan lost his focus on the line of questioning and went back to his salad. He'd said enough already.

Helen shifted the topic by talking about the book again. Asking him questions about what Serbian prison was like. It was a welcome segue and Jan plunged after it. Anything to distract him from the madness. But there was a twinkle in her eye from that moment—one that told him she'd seen his heart. One he feared was flashing in his own eye as well. It didn't matter, he was powerless to change it.

They sat at the table for another hour, talking of their pasts and staying away from the present. After all, the present had already done a fine job of presenting itself.

Jan took Helen home, to Ivena's. She would stay with her at least for the night, until they developed a more adequate plan. Like what? she asked. Like he didn't know. Maybe Ivena had some ideas. But he couldn't go in and talk to Ivena now. No, horrors no! It was too late. He should really get to bed.

Jan left Helen at the curb, watched her walk to the door, and left without looking back to see how Ivena might react. His palms were wet, his shirt was sticky, and his mind felt as though a blender had made a pass or two while he was busy fighting off the butterflies with Helen.

He cried out to God then, in the silence of the car.
Father, you have created me, but have you created me to feel this? What kind of emotions are these running through my heart? And for whom? This woman I hardly know? Please, I beg you, possess my spirit! I am feeling undone.

And what of Karen. Oh, dear God, what of Karen?

Jan no longer held the presence of mind to pray. He just drove home and slowly shut down.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KAREN HAD been scheduled to fly to Hollywood at ten on Monday morning. Jan didn't come in until ten-thirty. For starters, his sleep had been interrupted by the dream again. The encounter with Helen hadn't helped his sleep either. But in all honesty, his coming late was as much motivated by Karen's schedule as his sleeping habits. He was certainly in no condition to look Karen in the eye, much less explain the rings under his own. To his relief she'd departed on time. Appointments with a dozen contacts would keep her tied up for three days. He would not see her until Thursday, which was fine by him. He needed to clear the voices that ran circles through his head.

He sauntered in, determined to return his mind to a semblance of reason. Billy Jenkins, a skinny mailroom clerk, congratulated him in the elevator. “Boy, Mr. Jovic. It's really cool about the movie, huh?”

Jan mumbled an awkward, “Uh-huh,” and smiled as best he could. But his heart was not well.

All hope for a clear head disappeared at eleven, while Jan sat at his desk, feet propped on the writing surface. Because that was when Ivena called him and told him of her idea. She had seen some car loitering on her street and she didn't feel Helen was safe in her little cottage. So she and Helen would stay in Janjic's basement suite for a few more days. That was her idea. There were no other alternatives. They would be safe in that huge apartment under Janjic's house; God knew that security system he'd gotten was useful for something.

“What?”

“It's either that or send her to a shelter, and you know very well that sending her to a shelter would be no better than cutting her loose on the street. She would be back in that beast's hands by nightfall. And we can't have that.”

Jan didn't respond.

“Janjic? Did you hear me?”

“She can't stay at my place, Ivena.”

“Nonsense, dear. I will be there.” She paused. “And there is something strange going on at my house, Janjic.”

“She's acting strange?”

“No, no. Nadia's rosebush has died.”

“Please, Ivena. Forgive me for sounding uncaring, but there's more at stake here than your garden. She can't stay at my house.”

Ivena exhaled into the phone. “Janjic, please now. Think beyond yourself. It's not only about you this time. You'll hardly be aware of us.”

He wanted to tell her some things. Like the fact that he was quite sure he would hardly be aware of anything
but
them. Like the fact that the little
pitter
she'd detected had now grown to a steady
thump
.

But he didn't. And she was right, he thought; this was more than just himself. Sweat broke from his brow. He knew Ivena sensed his heart already. And yet she suggested this? What was she plotting?

“Anyway, you don't mind us. Now I must leave; we have some shopping to do.”

“More shopping?”

“Food. Your selection is quite dreadful. Good-bye, Janjic.”

“Good-bye, Ivena.”

She had not asked about the previous night, and Jan hadn't offered any details. But surely she knew that something was up.

And what
was
up? His heart was up. Unless he was sorely mistaken, his heart had attached itself to her. To Helen. Every cell of gray matter objected with vigor, of course, but it seemed to have little impact on the emotions that ran through his veins.

He spent a good portion of the day arguing with himself. Telling himself that he'd been a fool for taking her to dinner. For allowing himself to even look at such a young woman.

On the other hand, she was only nine years younger than him. And she was a woman. An unmarried woman. And he an unmarried man.

But you are engaged, Janjic! You've made a promise!

But I am not married. And I've done nothing to betray Karen. Can I help this madness? Did I ask for it?

You're in love with her, Jan.

He was no longer arguing so strenuously against that voice. It had repeated itself a dozen times, and he'd been unable to persuade it differently. He could only spin through all the reasons why he should not love her—at least not love her in
that
way. Reasons such as the fact that she was a junkie, for heaven's sake! Or like the fact that she was another man's lover. This madman Glenn's lover. Or had been. Goodness, what was he thinking? Karen was perfect in every respect, and she too made his heart beat with a steady rhythm.

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 evil—this madness with Helen would be nothing less.

And the movie deal—what 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 if—”

“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 talk—you 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.”