Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
Almost two weeks had passed without any more shoes falling, and Helen was beginning to allow herself to think about possibly breathing easy again sometime soon.
"
I still cringe as I approach The Open Door every morning, but I think whoever had a grudge against me must be satisfied,
"
she told Nat.
They were slouched together on the blue denim sofa in the family room, eating popcorn and watching a rented video. Nat had wanted something mindless; Helen, something happy. They settled for a French film which had turned out to be both cerebral and sad—and badly dubbed besides—so they
'
d simply shut off the sound and admired the scenes of
Provence
while they talked and waited for Becky to come back from baby-sitting.
"
You
'
re thinking that this person just wanted you to take some kind of hit financially?
"
Nat asked, sounding unconvinced.
Helen wrinkled her nose.
"
Not exactly. You
'
re gonna laugh, but
...
what if someone on the waiting list really, really wanted to get her child into The Open Door? Wouldn
'
t the Satanist scare be a quick and easy way to do it?
"
Nat did laugh.
"
Come on. I know preschool is serious stuff with today
'
s yuppies, but—come on.
"
Helen tossed a kernel of popcorn at him.
"
Hey. If a
Texas
mom can hire a hit man to take out her daughter
'
s competition in cheerleading
...."
Throwing his hands up, Nat said,
"
You win. I forgot. This is
America
. Who was on your list of suspects?
"
"
Well—Merielle
'
s mother, for one. As we feared, Meri
ell
e herself is a real terror; I wonder if any school would
'
ve taken her. The point is, her mother wasn
'
t the least bit put off by the graffiti. She runs a lingerie shop, incidentally.
"
"H
mm. Lingerie. I see your point. A woman who understands lingerie is a woman who knows how to get what she wants.
"
His ironic tone was just suggestive enough to make Helen
'
s cheeks flush. She was painfully aware that they hadn
'
t made love since that one wild night, which she was convinced had all been a dream, anyway. But they had managed to steal some torrid moments in her office, in his car, and—if Becky only knew!—on one of the kitchen chairs. It couldn
'
t go on this way.
Echoing her thoughts, Nat said wryly,
"
Will I ever see you in lingerie, do you think?
"
"
If both my children are sent to prison, maybe,
"
Helen quipped.
"
But in the meantime
...."
She pointed to the ceiling, which was vibrating in tune with a Pearl Jam recording.
"
At least Russ is sticking close to home,
"
she added, turning sideways and pulling her legs up on the sofa.
"
And he did let you make popcorn for Scotty and him.
"
She slid her bare toes under Nat
'
s thigh and wriggled them tauntingly.
"
I call it progress.
"
Nat snorted and said,
"
Progress? He scarcely comes near me. It
'
s like taming an ocelot.
"
"
You
'
ve tamed one?
"
"
I had a friend. Anyway, now that Scotty
'
s piped up and said he
'
d like to take a whirl in the Porsche sometime, I
'
m hoping your son will condescend to go along for the ride.
"
"
I thought the way to a man
'
s heart is through his stomach.
"
"
The way to a man
'
s heart is actually through lingerie,
"
Nat said, wrapping his hand around her ankle.
"
The way to a boy
'
s heart is, of course, through a hot rod.
"
"
I see. Now that I
'
ve got that straight, I guess I can stop baking chocolate chip cookies for all of you.
"
"
Hey, hey, hey! Let
'
s not be rash,
"
he said, giving her an impromptu foot rub.
Helen laughed seductively and said,
"
I
'
ll show you what
'
s rash,
"
and redirected her other foot to where it was bound to get Nat
'
s interest.
Which is exactly when Becky decided to arrive through the front door, letting it slam behind her.
Up went the leg, down went the feet on the floor. When Becky walked into the family room, what she found was her mother and her mother
'
s friend Mr. Byrne sitting demurely in front of a muted television watching a hilly village in some other country.
"
How
'
d it go?
"
Helen asked in a ridiculously casual voice.
Becky had the kindness to pretend her mother really cared.
"
Oh, fine. Kayla
'
s such an easy sit. She has a new—
"
Suddenly she let loose with half a dozen violent sneezes, then finished the sentence.
"
—cat. And I think I
'
m aller—
"
Four more big ones.
"
—gic to it. He sheds like crazy. Look at my clothes!
"
"
You could always wear white,
"
her mother said, hoping against hope.
"
But that wouldn
'
t stop me from snee—
"
Off she went on another round of explosions. She left the room in misery, clearly in search of tissues.
Nat said,
"
Poor kid. But you guys have a cat.
"
"
White cats shed much more than black ones.
"
"
Mmm; that explains the jillion black cats in
Salem
. And here I thought they were just tourist props.
"
"
You mean—
"
"
One for every witch,
"
he said, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles.
The smile on Helen
'
s face softened into a thoughtful pursing of her lips.
"
We
'
re so schizophrenic about that, aren
'
t we. We have this very real—and justified—fear that crackpot Satanists are going to be drawn here because of the city
'
s history. But then we turn around and slap those witch silhouettes on everything we own. And meanwhile, Wicca is a serious, ancient religion that doesn
'
t get the respect it
'
s due. Even here.
"
Nat leaned back into the sofa with his hands behind his head and gave her a long, appraising look.
"
Helen of Salem—you care too much about this town.
Salem
is a brand name now, and brand names sell; just ask the Chamber of Commerce. There
'
s nothing you can do to change its image. It
'
s set in granite.
"
"
I don
'
t want to change it. I just want to understand it,
"
Helen said, troubled by the speculative look in his eyes.
"
Do you know what I mean?
"
she asked him.
"
You must have felt it when you walked around some of the 1692 sites: the burial ground on
Charter Street
, the victims
'
houses in
Danvers
and
Peabody
, the Corwin house here in
Salem
. There is
such
sadness
everywhere
;
such a terrible sense of fear and dread.
"
She shivered and rubbed her arms.
"
Innocent men and women hanged by a mob of well-meaning hysterics. I
'
ve practically heard the moans
...
felt the shivers of terror. Haven
'
t you?
"
"
A little, I suppose,
"
he admitted.
"
It
'
s been many years since I
'
ve done the tour. Even then, it wasn
'
t as intense as what you
'
re describing. How do you remember it all so vividly?
"
Helen was reluctant to say that she
'
d been going out of her way to drive past the sites when she was out on errands. And she had no intention of telling him that she felt prodded to do so by the spirit of his dead wife.
"
I
'
ve been researching,
"
she settled for saying.
"
Helen, you
'
re taking this too much to heart,
"
Nat said softly.
"
We both know why.
"
He took her hand in his. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of it pass through hers, like a reassuring current. There was no question about it: He was keeping her battery charged. If it weren
'
t for him
....
She shivered again and said,
"
Anyway, I guess the shakeout you predicted is over. No one
'
s withdrawn in almost a week.
"
She opened her eyes and looked at him with such warmth, such gratitude, that she was afraid he
'
d see how desperately she loved him and flee.
"
I
'
m glad you
'
ve been with me through this, Nat,
"
she whispered. It was all she dared confess.
His response was a look as burning as her own. He said her name in a low, husky voice and drew her close.
"
Ah, Lena,
Lena
,
"
he said.
"
These last two weeks
...
they
'
ve been a kind of wonderful agony
."
He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and under the fabric of her shorts and kissed her hard, his mouth covering hers, his breathing itself hard with frustration.
She wilted under the heat of his kiss, under the hot wet caress of his tongue, as she felt his hand working the fabric away from her body, well on the way to tormenting her still more. Alarm bells began r
inging loudly inside her head; s
he didn
'
t care.
Fingers touched flesh, sending a jolt through her. She sucked in her breath in a rage of desire for some release, for an end to the tension. Almost two weeks since the sanctuary
...
two long, frustrating weeks
...
a wonderful agony. She felt the first ripples of an orgasm, unexpected, out of the blue
.
And incomplete. The muted sound big feet thumping down the carpeted stairs was like the sound of cold ocean surf breaking over her head. She pulled away from Nat
'
s kiss and clapped her hand over his wrist.
"
Stop,
"
she whispered, jumping up from the sofa. She began fiddling with the tape in the VCR as she listened, heart still pounding, to her son say good-bye to Scotty and then close the front door.