The Heaven Trilogy (84 page)

“Stop it, Janjic! Just stop this nonsense!” he said aloud. And then to himself,
Coming here was a terrible mistake, and now you're going to have to go out there and straighten this mess out. You've gone over the edge on this
.

“Excuse me.”

Jan spun around. A stranger stood by the door looking at him curiously. “Are you all right?”

Jan blinked. “Yes.” How long had the man watched him? “Yes, I'm fine.” He straightened his coat and hurried from the room.
You're losing it, Jan.

Jan walked back to the table on weak legs. He saw her when he was still twenty paces off, sitting frail and alone against the Orchid's twenty-story view of Atlanta's skyline. A tall white candle cast a yellow hue across her neck. She was looking away from him, at the city lights below. Her left hand was cocked delicately over her glass; she drew circles around its rim with her forefinger. Her hair rested delicately against her cheek, touching her silky skin.

It was details such as these that screamed out at him. And he wasn't seeing them because they were exceptional; he was seeing them because
she
was exceptional. She could be scraping the mud from her soles over there and his knees would go weak.

A tingle ran up Jan's spine and flared at the base of his neck. The air thickened about him, forcing him to pull at it deliberately in order to breathe. He pulled up behind the salad bar.

You're acting like a schoolboy, Jan. Control yourself !

He straightened his tie and walked on. Then he was there, and he slid into his chair. Actually, he
attempted
to slide into his chair; it came off more like a collapse.
Collect yourself, you oaf.

“Oh, hi. You're back.”

“Yes.”
Now, Janjic. You must tell her now that this has all been a terrible mistake and that you should leave immediately.

“I was just thinking about how wonderful you've been to me,” she said. He looked up and saw that she was innocently forking a piece of pink salmon into her mouth. Innocent because it didn't seem as though she was deliberately tempting him or intoxicating him or any such thing. She was simply eating a piece of fresh salmon. But it wasn't looking so innocent to him. It flooded him with a dizzying shower of images. Images that set off crazy vibrations in his bones.

She lifted her eyes and the candle's flame flickered in her pupils. “I can't remember anyone being so kind to me.”

“It's nothing, really,” he said. “You're a person who should be . . . that it is good to be kind to.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why am I a person who should be loved? That is what you meant, isn't it?”

Good God! Heaven help me!
“Yes. Everybody should be loved.”

“You're very kind.”

“Thank you. I try to be kind.”

“I read some of your book this afternoon. You had a tough time when you were a kid.”

“Not unlike you,” he said.
You are delaying, Janjic
. He cut into his own salmon and took a bite. The meat was tender and sweet. “Did you read about the village?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And what did you think?”

She shrugged. “It seemed . . .” She hesitated.

“Say what you like. It seemed what?”

“Well, it just seemed a bit, I'm not sure . . . crazy maybe. What Ivena's daughter did—what was her name?”

“Nadia.”

“That was crazy. I can't imagine anyone dying like that. Or the priest for that matter. Really, I could never do anything so dumb. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure it was hard for Ivena to see her girl killed. I just don't really understand how she could do something so pointless. Does that make sense?”

“And what would you have done?”

“I would have told them whatever they wanted to hear. Why die over a few words?”

Jan stared at her, struck at her lack of comprehension in the matter. She really didn't understand love, did she?
And do you, Jan?
More than she. Far more than she.

“Then you've never felt the kind of love that Nadia or the priest felt,” Jan said.

“I guess not. And have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think so.”

Jan went for another bite.
There you have it, Romeo. How many times have you asked that same question of yourself ? How many times has Ivena asked? And now it comes from Helen.

She said nothing. Her fork clinked on the china; her lips made a very soft popping sound as they took in another bite.

“You write very well, Jan,” she said in a soft voice. He looked up. She was throwing her magic at him again. Her eyes, her voice, her hair, her smile—it all smothered him and made his heart feel as though it were trying to beat in molasses.

“Thank you. I started writing when I was a boy.”

“Your words are very beautiful. The way you describe things.”

“And you are very beautiful,” he said.

Goodness, what had he just said?

His first instinct was to take it back. To beg insanity and tell her that they should leave now because he had just flown in from New York and was very tired. Tired enough to say that she was beautiful, which, although true enough—so very,
very
true—had no business coming from his mouth. He was engaged to another woman. Did she know that? Of course she knew that.

He ignored the impulse entirely.

“You know that, don't you? You are very beautiful, Helen. Not just in the way you look, but in your spirit. You. Helen. You're a beautiful person.”

She blinked slowly, as if caught in a surrealistic dream. Her eyes drifted for a moment, as if sheltering something, and then she gazed at him. “Thank you, Jan. And I think you're very handsome.”

Jan felt his hands go numb. They were staring at each other, locked in a visual embrace. Everything inside of him wanted to reach across the table and stroke her chin. To leap from his seat and take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her lips. He managed to find some deep reservoir of control and remain seated.

Please, Father! Why do I feel so strongly? These are new feelings.

Heat rushed through his ears. It was madness, still. But for the time he embraced the madness and it raged through his body like a ferocious lion.
This cannot be of my own doing
, he thought.
It is beyond me
. There was a physical bond between them now, like a chord of electricity.

“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.