by Ted Dekker
“Hello, Jan.”
He whirled to the voice. Helen stood, arms crossed, leaning on the wall in the hall’s soft light with one leg cocked like a stork. Immediately his knees felt weak, as if she’d injected him with a drug that had gone for his joints.
“Good night! You scared me,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Helen returned. But she was smiling.
“Where . . . where’s Ivena?”
“She left an hour ago. Said she couldn’t spend the rest of her life here while her flowers died at home. She’s pretty excited about some flowers that she says are going nuts over there. We haven’t heard a peep from anyone so we figured it would be safe enough.”
“She just left? Is she coming back?” Helen lowered her arms and walked into the light. He saw the difference immediately and his heart jumped. She wore a strapless white evening dress with a sheen, and it flowed with her small frame like a fluid cream. She wore sandals and a pearl necklace that sparkled in the kitchen light. But it was her face that had pricked his heart. She was smiling and staring at him. The bruises had vanished, either under the hand of God or with the careful application of makeup, and honestly he thought it must have been the hand of God, because her complexion appeared as smooth as new ivory. Her hair lay just below her ears, bending in delicate curls.
Jan’s hand released the travel bag he’d carried in. It landed with a distant thump. Goodness, he’d all but forgotten about the madness.
Helen stared at him with those impossibly blue eyes, smiling. She turned for the kitchen but her eyes lingered on him for a moment. She swayed naturally as if born to wear that dress. Jan’s mind began to scramble. You dropped your bag, you big oaf. You stood here like an idiot, gaping at her, and you dropped your bag!
“Yep, she left,” Helen said. “She wants you to call her when you get back, which I guess is now.” She picked an apple out of the fruit bowl and took a small bite from it.
“So she said nothing about coming back?” Jan asked, opening the icebox.
“She said she didn’t think that was necessary.”
“No?”
“No.” Helen looked at him from behind the apple and she winked. “She said you should take us out for dinner.”
“She said that? Take you and Ivena out?”
“Yes. What do you say, Jan? Want to take me out to dinner? I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’, you know.” She took another bite, her teeth crunching through the brittle fruit.
There now, he was cornered. Cornered with a pounding heart and weak knees, like a teenager on his first date. The icebox was open and he’d retrieved nothing from it. He closed the door.
“Well, I guess that would be—”
“I knew it!” She tossed the apple into the sink and rushed over to him. Before he could move, she had her hands around his own, pulling him back down the hall. “I want to show you something,” she said. Jan stumbled after her, too stunned to speak, very aware of her hands on his.
“What about Ivena?”
“I’ll call her while you get ready.”
She led him to his own bedroom. “I hope you aren’t mad, but I just couldn’t resist,” she said, glancing back with a smile. His door was open and she pulled him through. On his bed lay his best black suit. A white shirt and his red tie were arranged neatly with the jacket. The slacks draped to the floor and his shoes rested at their cuffs. “Will you wear this?”
She had been in here. Helen had done this.
“I found them in your closet. They’re perfect.”
“You found these in my closet?”
“Yes. They’re yours. Don’t you recognize them?”
“Yes, of course I do. I just . . .” He chuckled. “It’s not every day that I have my clothes laid out for me.”
“You’re upset?”
“No. No. So you want me to wear this suit and take you to dinner, right?”
She stared at him without responding.
He laughed. “Okay, madam.” He dipped his head. “Your wish is my command. If you will please step outside, I’ll get dressed and we’ll be off. Did Ivena suggest where we dine?”
“The Orchid.”
“The Orchid, then.”
She tilted her head, as if surprised that he’d taken her up so suddenly. A mischievous grin lit her face and she curtsied in return. “I will be waiting.” She left and pulled the door closed behind her.
Jan showered quickly, his mind busily scolding himself for playing along. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take her to dinner, or even that he shouldn’t take her to dinner. It was that his knees had gone weak at the sight of her. It was that he did want to take her to dinner. It was the madness of it all. It was the voice that had started speaking to him while the hot water cascaded over his skull. You like her, Jan. You really like her, don’t you?
Yes, I like Helen. She’s a refreshing person with charm and . . .
No, you really like her, don’t you? You like her so much you can hardly stand it.
Don’t be absurd! I’m engaged to Karen. What of Karen? Oh, dear Karen!
He forced his mind to a new line of thought. They were going to the Orchid, the finest restaurant in town. A romantic . . .
Stop it! He shook his head and stepped from the shower. Goodness, he was not an undisciplined schoolboy. These matters of the heart were best left to careful thought.
Jan grunted and dressed quickly.
You aren’t married. Ivena will be there, of course. It’s only dinner. A farewell dinner—you will tell her that she must leave at dinner.
A tremble had taken to his fingers and he had some trouble with the buttons, but he managed after a few more lines of scolding. He examined himself one last time in the mirror. His wavy hair lay combed back and wet, darker than Helen’s but still blond. His eyes were nearly as bright, hazel not blue, but as bright. Now his jaw, it was square and strong while hers was so . . . delicate. He smacked his cheek lightly with his right hand. Stop it!
She was waiting in his chair, one leg folded over the other, a copy of The Dance of the Dead spread open in her hands. Her eyes looked up as she closed the book. “My, we are quite handsome.” She set the book on the coffee table and walked toward him with an extended hand, sliding gracefully in that dress.
“What about Ivena?”
“She’s going to meet us there. Shall we, then?”
“Yes,” he said, and he took her elbow and led her from the house.
Dear God, help me, he prayed.
JAN SLAMMED through the men’s room door and stepped inside. Ivena was late! And her absence was becoming a very big problem.
The bathroom was empty. He slumped against the wash counter and leaned on his hands. His mind spun in crazy circles, confused, buzzing. His breath came in short pulls. It was as if he’d ingested some hallucinogenic drug that now raged through his blood stream. But he hadn’t, he was sure of it. He had done nothing but bring her here, order his food, and engage her in small talk. Get a grip, Janjic. Control yourself.
He twisted the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. It was the girl. It was Helen. She had bewitched him. Her voice was the drug, her breath an intoxicant that made straight for his spine and spread like a fire through his bones. It was why he had excused himself and come here not five minutes into the meal— because he was losing his mind out there, watching her bite into her salmon and drink her water. Watching her jaw move with each word.
Jan patted his face with a towel and straightened to stare at his image in the mirror. “My God, what are you doing to me?” he muttered, and he said it as a prayer. “What’s the meaning of this?”
You are falling for her, Janjic.
He didn’t answer the charge. It just sat in his mind, awkward and misguided, like a belch in the middle of careful speech.
If you’re not careful, you’ll have fallen for this girl.
But why? Why, why, why? I don’t want to fall for her! There’s no reason to it.
He had to find some control somewhere, because he simply could not afford to give his heart to someone as unlikely as this woman sitting wide-eyed and so very delicate and . . .
Oh, God . . . it was the most ridiculous thing he could imagine. Ask him to tell a fanciful tale and his imagination would not wander this far. He’d just asked Karen for her hand in marriage before the entire world, just a few days ago. Now he was in Atlanta’s most extravagant restaurant, sharing dinner with another woman. With Helen.
With such a beautiful, sweet, genuine woman who seemed to have the power to melt his heart with a single innocent look.
Karen’s face wandered through his mind and Jan moaned. He fell back to the counter. Karen, dear Karen! What am I doing. Rescue me! If she could only see him now, playing teenager with the sexy little hippie. He ground his teeth and struck the side of his head with his palm.
“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 w
anted 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.
