 
Helen's Concerto

by Kay Hemlock Brown

Copyright © Kay Hemlock Brown, 2019

Published at Smashwords, Smashwords.com

ISBN 0-9780463715529

# Table of Contents

Prologue

Annie; On the Road with Jason and Janet; In Illinois with Tom and Elly; The College, the Little House, and The Workshop; Juliana Hoffman; The Early Music Festival; Operas; Jason is Called Up, and Elly and Tommy are born; Cindy, Lisa, and The Johnson Cousins; Sandy Brown, Sylvia, and Tennis Camp; Lalitha; Philadelphia; On the Run; Westfield; Miss Rain, Woodford, and Lorna

England Again

Isolde Wells

Amber

Flashback: Frankfurt; Amber in Philadelphia

Isolde visits Philadelphia

Isolde Meets the Impromptu; Helen and Isolde Perform; Rehearsals; Composing

Kelly Wilde

Dancing with Kelly; An Eventful Morning; Helen in the News; Reporters; Helen Talks to Lorna; The Press Conference

Isolde Wins Philadelphia

LMN Tape an Episode of Isolde's BBC Show; Isolde is Inspired! Isolde Plays Brahms

The Invention of Sharon

Merit and Sita

After Merit

Academy Awards, Los Angeles, and Diabetes; Anne & Frank; Travels with Sita; Helen on her Own

Summer at the Beach

At the Beach; Helga

Helen is Called a Bad Influence

Crash, Miscarriage, Surgery, Whore of the Galaxy; Sita Finds Out; Helen Announces her Retirement; Depression; Starting Violin

Amnesia

Filming in Seattle; Hospital; Helen Awakes; Tommy and April

What Happens Afterwards

Elly Begins Her Violin Instruction Career

Graduation Season

Vicky; Maryssa and the Oatmeal Man; Lorna

Isolde Wells Gets a Call

Concerto; Maryssa; The Concert; Rehearsals; Excitement; Rain; The Concert

The Family Way

Marissa; Sophie

Talking About the Concert

Janet and Elly; The Baby; Maryssa Gets Married; Marika and The Video; Phone Lady; Olive and Polly; Polly and Rain Visit Helen; Newberry

Cindy

Ferguson; Violin; Erin learns to Drive; Company; Cindy's Story; Cindy in Philadelphia; Cindy Visits the Workshop; The New Baby!

Sophie

Tennis; On the Courts; Music in the House

Aggressive Plans

The Triplets: Spring Break; Stephanie; Tennis Again; Spring Break; Graduation

Travels

Illinois; Kansas; The Rockies; California; Change of Guard; Gully Lane; Pilot Marsha; The Old Ferguson Place

Vicky and Sita

Seeking Sharon Vuehl

Sita Plans a Trip; Merit Again; With the Robbinses

Talks Like a Teacher

Stomping Grounds; Westfield, and Anne Lambert

Isolde and Rain Talk it Over

Woodford Again; Talking to Amy; Isolde Calls;

California Once More

Bel Air; Arriving in California; Helen Reflects; Is the Music Back?

Back in Philadelphia

Isolde Arrives; Violins Again; Isolde and Helen; The Audience; Hotel; Lorna Teaches Dance; Gena and Isolde make Plans; Helen Leads Singing

Everyday Life

A Sweet Encounter; Awkwardness; A Visit with the Medicine-Man; Sita and the B Minor Mass; Talking with Maryssa; Vicky is Frustrated

Finding Employment

Gena; Marcus and Krissy Get Jobs; The Triplets Join the Ranks of the Employed

Singing

Tennis, Anyone? Impromptu Performances; Norma Major;

October

Sita Muses; Vicky Makes Progress; Halloween; Program Notes

Four Last Songs

Sita and Lorna; Holidays

Love and Romance

Teacher Helen; Untitled; Helen Learns a Secret

The Endgame

Vicky Attends a Concert; Natasha; Helen and Sita

Epilogue

Author's Note

# Prologue

"Everyone knows, you can't engineer trust and love, Lalitha! You can only engineer suspicion and hate." —Maryssa Brooks.

Helen is about twelve, when a horrible accident takes place. Her mother, Sylvia, their beloved Airedale, Martha, and Helen had driven out on a Sunday to run some errands, when a violent thunderstorm blows up, and lightning strikes a tree on the side of the road, a huge branch falls on the car, and kills Helen's mother and her dog. Blood is everywhere, Helen screams, the storm rages on, and Helen has to walk home all by herself, bawling in fear and misery, and sticky with the dog's blood on her dress. Her dad John can hardly believe it. He goes out to see, and takes care of the destroyed car, and the remains of his wife, and when he comes back, he sinks into a deep depression, which lasts for years.

## Annie

Helen is a sweet child, does moderately well in school without much effort, but has few friends. One of them is her special friend, Annie, a flaming redhead, with big blue eyes. One day, Helen goes to Annie's home, and goes up the stairs silently, just as she always does, and . . . embarrasses poor Annie, who was engaged in something very private. Annie is shocked and furious, but Helen doesn't really notice anything. Annie screams at Helen, and chases her out of the house, and refuses to speak to Helen in school again. No matter how Helen tries, Annie refuses to let Helen back into her heart. Helen is about thirteen, and Annie is a couple of years older. Annie is from a very poor home. Helen's folks are not rich, but they have a medium-sized farm, and cows and horses, and so on. But Helen's dad is still in depression, and is neglecting the farm. Helen helps with the horses, but begins to focus on her schoolwork.

Helen can sing like an angel, and her musicianship is amazing. But apart from singing, Helen has no other musical skills. Her schoolwork becomes really excellent, and her teachers help her to apply for a choir scholarship at one of the best four-year colleges in the country.

As Helen's fifteenth year comes around, she learns that she has won a place at that school; now she needs to get help from her Dad. But Dad is utterly apathetic.

Helen changes subtly. She gives away all the frilly clothes that her mother liked to dress her in, and wears only denim skirts, matching denim jackets, and T-shirts. She finds a pink denim skirt and jacket set, and loves it, and wears it everywhere. She finds a guitar put away in a corner, and learns to play it in secret. (This material is not published anywhere, but some of it is summarized in the prologues to a couple of other Helen stories.)

## On the Road with Jason and Janet

In the summer of Helen's fifteenth year, having graduated from high school a few weeks earlier, she packs a large backpack with the few belongings she has: basically a lot of basic cotton underwear, a denim skirt or two, and their matching vests or jackets; a knitted woolen cap, a few white tops, some sneakers, her racket—she's learned tennis—her soprano recorder, some pieces of sheet music, some sanitary pads, and her toothbrush. Her mother's guitar is in its cloth case. Having failed to get her Dad to help her get to college, she's going to hitchhike.

She sets out just after lunch for the US highway that's about a mile from home. At around two in the afternoon, a white Cherokee slows down for her. It is a young couple, and they take Helen with them. The girl's name is Janet, and she's tall and dark and lovely, like a woman warrior of old, with smooth dark hair pulled back and braided. Helen can hardly take her eyes off her, but she sits quietly in the front seat with Janet, while her stuff is squeezed into the back with all of the couple's things. The guy is Jason Kolb. They'd just got married, and gone West on their honeymoon, and now they're on their way back East, to where he's going to teach. Janet is unemployed, but has a double degree in music and chemistry.

They camp each night, to save money. Over the first few days, both girls are fiercely attracted to each other, but keep it secret from Jason. Little Helen tells Janet that she loves her, and poor bewildered Janet, though she ought to be able to handle the situation, is unable to deal with it, mainly because she loves their little hitch-hiker, and is beginning to fantasize being intimate with her.

Janet and Helen sing together, because Janet has a lovely alto voice, that blends well with Helen's high soprano. Jason loves the newcomer too, not suspecting what is going on.

They stop by the home of Janet's parents, and meet them: Elly—short for Eleanor, and Tom Krebs.

## In Illinois with Tom and Elly

Elly looks at Helen funny, and says that the girl's face looks familiar. After supper, they ask Helen to sing, and the folksong she sings makes Elly sure that she knows Helen's mother. A little questioning reveals that Elly and Sylvia went to college together. Elly recognizes Helen's guitar, which her mother had brought with her to college.

The actual story is more complicated, but Elly calls up John Nordstrom when she hears that Sylvia had died. John reluctantly brings Elly up to date with the facts, and Elly offers to visit, and go through Sylvia's things with him. It turns out that Helen's name is actually _Eleanor_ , after Elly. Sylvia and Elly had been best buddies in college, and Elly and Sylvia had kept up a regular correspondence until just before she died. Sylvia and Elly had even pledged to each other that, if either of them died, the survivor would help support and see to the welfare of the other's children.

Janet is an amazing tennis player, and as they play together, Helen's game improves greatly. Helen is also a capable swimmer, but Janet is a lifeguard, and teaches Helen lots of water skills. Janet runs, and gets Helen running. Janet is an excellent pianist, piano being her instrument, and encourages Helen to learn piano. They play recorder together, and through Elly's generosity, they buy Helen a few selected dresses for special occasions, all at a used-clothing store.

Most interestingly, the school at which Jason had gotten a teaching position is in the same town as the college to which Helen was headed, and very soon they were packing all of the couple's belongings into a large used van, which they had bought for the move.

## The College, the Little House, and The Workshop

Jason and Janet find a lovely little house in the town in which Helen's college stands. It is a little cottage, and Helen loves it. It is the right price for them, and with Janet's and Jason's savings put down as a deposit, they are able to move in. Helen goes into the college and reports in to the admissions office, to find that they know all about her, and have been expecting her. Presently she is registered as a freshman music major for the Fall Semester. There are two more weeks until the semester begins.

In the Music Department, Helen meets an elderly gentleman, who asks her for a little help with setting up a workshop. It happens that he is going to start a workshop on campus to make copies of old musical instruments; in particular, Baroque woodwind and stringed instruments: lutes, viols, violins, cellos, and so on. Helen's father's hobby was cabinet-making and fine woodwork, and she had a little experience in that area. Helen is hired as his assistant to set up the workshop.

Helen and the man, Bill Knowlden of Oregon, and Knowlden's wife, become good friends. Helen builds a lute at the workshop, as soon as the equipment is acquired and set up, and then a little box violin; just a violin shaped like a box, and the bow to go with it.

As the beginning of the semester rolls round, Helen is hired as the student manager of the instrument workshop, a job that she keeps for several semesters. Her academic advisor is a lovely British lady called Norma Major, who will figure in our story quite a bit.

## Juliana Hoffman

Helen has a successful semester, taking a variety of courses, including, of course, instrument construction. She thoroughly enjoys her first semester, making many friends in Choir. She also meets a sophomore from Thailand, who is a capable keyboardist, and they become close friends.

Jason, Janet and Helen travel back to Illinois, to spend Christmas with Janet's large family, and Elly sends for Helen's dad to join them. John Nordstrom and Janet meet for the first time, and remain good friends thereafter.

After Christmas, when Helen, Janet and Jason return to Ohio, the College calls up Helen up to ask whether she would be interested in a job in Florida, just during the break. It appears that a rich German woman in Florida wants a girl who was good at tennis to be her companion over the break, and was willing to pay generously. If things work out well, Helen was given to understand, the job could be continued over other school breaks as well.

Helen makes the call, and manages to persuade the German lady, Juliana Hoffman, to invite all three of them: Helen, Janet and Jason, out to Florida.

The German Lady loves Helen, and by the end of the Winter Break, Helen had earned more money than she has handled in her life. Helen brings it to Janet, and gives her all of it, saying that she loves Janet.

The next semester, Helen hears an early music ensemble for the first time, and is utterly enchanted with it. ( _Early Music_ refers to music written before the sixteenth century: medieval and Renaissance music, principally. It is usually soft-toned music, played on instruments of that period, which are typically quiet and delicate-sounding.) It is a group based locally, whose members include Mr. Knowlden—whom Helen has nick-named _Geppetto_ —and his wife, and also Patricia Wallace, the wife of the President of the College.

Meanwhile, the college choir learns several choral pieces of the British Renaissance, and Helen is in seventh heaven. Helen begins to make a _Viola da Gamba,_ a stringed instrument that was played held between the legs, a little like a cello; her plan is to give it as a gift to Tom Krebs, Janet's father, who is a very lovely and generous man, and with whom Helen has begun a strong friendship.

Spring Break comes along, and Juliana flies Helen out to Florida again, and also arranges for Janet to be signed up at a certain institute that trains tennis instructors. Janet goes, and has a wonderful time. (Helen is too young, being just sixteen.) After the course is completed, Janet coaches Juliana and Helen, and with Helen practicing with Juliana, both of them improve phenomenally.

Juliana is extremely generous, and is very fond of both Helen and Janet, and she buys Helen a fabulous, state-of-the-art computer. At that time, the state of the art was far less powerful than it is now, but it enables Helen to get skilled at computer management, and to practice her programming, which is one course she is taking. It so happens that Juliana is a French speaker, and Janet is fluent in French, so Helen is also learning French. (Juliana is German, but is from a region in which French is spoken heavily.)

Geppetto has given Helen a little treble viol, which has a number of minor flaws, and he is teaching Helen to play it, while she is finishing up the larger _Viola da Gamba_.

Meanwhile, Elly has visited Helen's Dad in his Kansas farm, and as it will be discovered later, inadvertently becomes pregnant by him.

By the end of the semester, Helen has become good enough on her treble viol that she is promised a place on an expanded Student Early Music Ensemble, which they are planning to create in the Summer.

## The Early Music Festival

(These events are hinted at in other Helen stories, but are being described in detail here, for the first time.)

Quite by accident, several things came together.

Typically, when the school semesters are over, most colleges and universities make use of their buildings to host camps and summer events on their grounds, to make use of their buildings, which would otherwise lie empty, and to make some additional income for the school. This year, when graduation was over, the College took stock of their summer commitments, and found that the number of organizations that had asked to use the College buildings was smaller than it had been in typical years.

Meanwhile, they also discovered that a large number of members of the Choir were staying over the Summer Break to work on instruments they were making in Geppetto's workshop. Of course, the Early Instrument Ensemble had begun rehearsing, and Helen was loving every minute of that. Naturally, the choir members organized themselves into a vocal ensemble, and began to learn songs from early times.

To top it all, someone from the local public television station decided that they would like to interview a student from the new Instrument Workshop, to find out what the whole thing was like from a student's point of view, and the natural choice was Helen!

One day, a team from the TV station visited the school, and filmed being taken round the Workshop by Helen, showing the instruments in various stages of completion, and the students working on them. Soon afterward, Helen was in a small studio of the TV station, describing what went on in the workshop on a typical day. Then Helen described how she was learning the little viol, and how the Early music ensemble rehearsals were coming along. "We're making a small choir of the choir kids who're going to be here over the summer, and we're teaching ourselves music from Byrd, and Farnaby, and Gibbons! It's so lovely!"

"Some of it is accompanied, probably?"

"Yes; but the Ensemble is just getting started; and the choir didn't want to be a nuisance, and ask the Ensemble to accompany us, too!"

The segment was aired, and letters arrived at the College from other schools near and far, which just happened to be getting interested in the British Renaissance, or which had been rehearsing similar songs, and were looking for an audience, because the music was new to many ears, and until people heard it, nobody was likely to attend concerts to find out.

Gradually the idea of a festival emerged. The man who had interviewed Helen jumped at the chance, and got Helen to report regularly on how the plans for the festival were coming along. Some groups wanted to come and perform, other groups wanted to come and rehearse with the Ohio group as well.

Helen was on PBS for several weeks that summer, describing the preparations, and presenting short clips of the rehearsals, both instrumental and choral. The rehearsals were actually fascinating, both to watch, and to listen to.

Helen had cut her hair very short just before the Summer, and she became famous around the country with her head of short, curly hair that summer.

The Early Music Ensemble was established as a student organization by the time the Fall rolled round, with the Knowldens, and Mrs. Wallace occasionally joining them.

## Operas

Early in the Fall, with encouragement from Norma Major, Helen auditioned for a part in a production of Mozart's _The Magic Flute_ that was being presented by an opera company in the closest big city, and Helen won the part of _Papagena_ , a minor role. It was a lyric role (that is, not a dramatic role), and Helen did very well indeed, and became close friends with _Papageno,_ the bird man, who she discovered was gay. She became very fond of him.

1 Papageno and Papagena

Meanwhile, Helen visits Juliana Hoffman in Florida regularly.

Juliana once took everyone to a remote nightclub. It was an unusual place, where the floor show was centered on Ballet, and ballroom dancing, but involved all sorts of acts which performed either in the nude, or dressed only in feathers or paint. The acts were all very tasteful, and the audience was not permitted close to the stage. Each night, at the end of the program, a woman—the owner of the nightclub—would sing a melancholy song, dressed only in a translucent robe; when that was over she would select a member of the audience with whom she would dance a slow dance, completely nude. As it happened, the woman's daughter, Leila, noticed the blonde girl with the head of short curly hair seated in the audience, and before her mother went out for her number, asked her to select _that girl_ with whom to do her slow dance _._

Helen got selected, and everyone loved the dancing. To cut a long story short, after the show, Helen was invited backstage, and was asked to perform with them later that visit, and got a job with them dancing nude with Leila, or very scantily dressed, or wearing only body paint, and the two young women were a big hit. Helen was invited to dance for them whenever she was in town, and was paid a lot of money, which she brought back to Janet. Unfortunately, a film of Helen and Leila dancing was made, and played on certain TV channels, and caused all sorts of trouble some ten years later.

In future weekends, Helen visits Florida often, and begins to spend a lot of time with Leila, and they become lovers.

Back in school, Helen began to work part-time as a janitor, doing four-hour shifts several times a week, which paid good money.

Janet, meanwhile, unbeknownst to Helen, sent almost all the money Helen was giving her to Juliana, and requested that Juliana should invest it. The only money Janet kept was to pay off that old van that they had bought for the move, which Helen had begged to be given, and which was Helen's transportation when she needed it.

One week in the summer, Helen had headed home to Kansas, to visit with her Dad. He was now much improved; Elly's attention had worked a miracle, and he was amiable and vigorous again, and received Helen with much love, and showed her how he had rearranged the house, with a pile of Helen's mother's belongings set aside for her, and a large room for his workshop.

Helen decided to look for her friend Annie, who had treated Helen so harshly when they had been in school together. To Helen's amazement, Annie received Helen with great pleasure, and after she had verified that Helen held no grudges, declared that Helen was an angel, and that she loved no one more than she did Helen. The latter learned what the problem had been, which should have been obvious to anyone except Helen; Annie had matured very early. Helen blushed bright red, and Annie laughed.

Annie had a little boy, Bo, from a brief marriage to a loser. Now she needed a job, and Helen's father needed an assistant. Annie began to work for John Nordstrom, and by the end of the year, ended up marrying him. So Helen's former classmate became her stepmother.

## Jason is Called Up, and Elly and Tommy Are Born

Helen returned to The Little House, and the three of them lived harmoniously, with Jason teaching English at the high school, and Janet coaching tennis in both the high school and the college.

Things went on this way, until Jason was called up for service in the armed services, deployed at that time in Kosovo. As the cold season approached, Jason flew off to Athens, but word came that his plane had crashed on landing.

The girl received the news with shock. Janet had become pregnant earlier in the year, and news of Jason's death almost destroyed her. But Helen never left her side for a moment, and somehow pulled Janet through that bad period. Elly came to visit, to support her daughter, and by this time, Elly too was ready to deliver.

On Christmas Eve, both women delivered. Janet gave birth to a lovely baby with dark hair and pretty hazel eyes, and Janet called her Eleanor, after Helen, whose real name was Eleanor, as you would recall. Elly gave birth to an angelic-looking little girl, too, and named her Tomasina, after her husband, because though the baby had been conceived with John Nordstrom, Elly still dearly loved her husband, Thomas, who in fact was loved by all who knew him. So there are three Eleanors in this story: old Elly, Helen herself, and little Elly, who was Janet's daughter, and old Elly's granddaughter. Old Elly was occasionally called 'Grelly', for Grandma Elly. Elly had several other grandchildren, who do not enter the story in an essential way.

The next semester continued in much the same way; Helen still worked at the Instrument Workshop; worked as a janitor in the nights; helped to babysit little Elly; joined the tennis team, did moderately well, and then dropped out; spent the weekends and the breaks in Florida, sharing her time between Juliana, and Leila, the beautiful daughter of the owner of the nightclub. At school, she was learning computer science, in addition to music, Art, and math. She was also learning ballet, under the famous Andrew White. The Thai music student she had befriended was called Sirikul, and became Helen's accompanist, when Helen had to give her recital every semester. There was also a beautiful boy called David, who was in her dance class, and was also a nude model for Helen's Art class.

## Cindy, Lisa, and The Johnson Cousins

The next semester marked Helen's second foray into opera, where she sang Cherubino, a page, a part always played by a woman. Helen was brilliant in the part, and was praised by all the regional newspapers.

Helen also met Cindy, the nun, who had been kidnapped by a prostitution ring. Helen helped Cindy to escape, and presently Cindy, who had amnesia, recalled her identity, and they learned that Cindy was a brilliant violin instructor. Helen had been lent a beautiful, unconverted Italian violin by Pat Wallace, and gradually Helen became known as a marvelous Baroque violinist. This segment of the story is related in _Helen Backstory: Cindy, Lisa, Pat, & the Violin._ By the end of this school year, Helen had met the Johnson family, the family of Helen's mother, Sylvia Johnson, whose Finnish mother had been a Kuikkonen, something Helen had discovered only because of the fact that Cindy had known them well, and had suspected that Helen was a member of that clan!

The two youngest Johnson cousins were Marika, who was just about sixteen, and Heikki, who was a year younger. Both of them looked very much like Helen when she was in her teens.

## Sandy Brown, Sylvia, and Tennis Camp

At this point, Helen had a reputation as a budding violinist, and was invited to give concerts and recitals everywhere. Helen's Junior year was filled with concertizing, which was demanding in energy and time. She had many girlfriends, and it took great effort to keep them from feeling neglected. She was acquiring new girlfriends all the time; singing in a number of operas, working under the pen name Freya as a photographer for a girlie magazine, and going around having adventures, which occasionally involved fighting. Helen had learned martial arts most recently from Leila. Clearly, Helen was spread far too thin.

Despite being smarter than average, by the summer, Helen is heartily sick of her life of constantly juggling all her interests and her romantic partners. Helen is unable to make a go of her College classes. She decides to take a year off from school, and go live with Leila in Florida, at that nightclub. She had numerous friends in Florida, and naturally Helen thought that hanging out with Leila would be fun, instead of spending all her time in classrooms.

While she was waiting at the bus stop, she was approached by a strange woman, who introduced herself as Sandy Brown. Evidently Sandy was aware of Helen's skill at tennis, and tennis instruction. Sandy interested Helen in being a leader at a nudist tennis camp for girls, to be held in Western Canada. Helen's hair was dyed pink, and Helen called herself Pink Orchid, and was a camp leader for four weeks that summer.

But Helen had fallen under the spell of the camp Nurse, whose name was the same as that of Helen's mother: Sylvia. The property on which the annual tennis camp was conducted belonged to Sylvia. Sylvia Tedesco was an all-year nudist, and lived in her large tract of undeveloped land, hunting for food, and shunning civilization. Every camp, one or two girl got a crush on the handsome nurse, and begged to be her lover, but Sylvia always scorned them. But begged to stay with Sylvia, and for the first time ever, Sylvia agreed.

They lived a primitive life, eating off the land, hunting for food with bows and arrows. Helen even persuaded Sylvia to introduce her to her family, from which Sylvia had become estranged, and Helen began to think that she and Sylvia would never part.

[Helen had been briefly married to Kurt Neumann, the opera singer who had played Papageno, but they had separated after a couple of months.]

Helen lived with Sylvia for a year. Helen was discovered to be pregnant with twins; Sandy reappeared, and hauled Helen off to California, where Helen learned that Sandy was a certain actress, Marsha Moore. The twins were stillborn.

Helen was broken-hearted. Sylvia told Helen that Helen's destiny was to be a teacher, and a violinist, and to engage with people, unlike Sylvia, who was a hermit, a recluse. Helen was persuaded to assist at a Ballet camp in Europe. When she returned, Marsha urged Helen to return to school for her senior year. ( _Helen at Ballet Camp._ ) With Marsha's help, Helen applies for re-admission, and is registered for the Fall Semester, having missed one whole year.

## Lalitha

When Helen returns to college, she meets a freshman from India, Lalitha. It is love at first sight for both girls, and with Lalitha encouraging her, Helen turns in a fabulously good school record, and is chosen as the Student Speaker for Graduation. Lalitha's father peremptorily summons her home to India, and Helen gets help from Juliana Hoffman to buy an air ticket, and follow Sita to India.

Things go horribly wrong. When Helen finds Lalitha, she is shooed off by Lalitha's father, and after wandering around for a while, working for some months in a school as essentially a custodian, Helen visits Lalitha and her new husband in their home, and is sent away again, this time by Lalitha herself. Helen wanders around aimlessly, and eventually finds her way into a Roman Catholic _ashram,_ a sort of commune. This is detailed in _The Lost Years: Helen & Lalitha._

One day, Helen awakes in unbearable pain, and her Ashram friends medicate her as well as they know how. She has gradually forgotten her identity, and is called Sister Mary, and has immersed herself in menial housekeeping tasks and farming. The pain goes away for several months. When Helen complains of the pain again, they take Helen, with the few of her belongings they can find, to the US Embassy in Bombay, where they are unable to identify her. There is sufficient evidence to believe that she is an American citizen, and the embassy repatriates her for medical treatment in the US.

Once she is in the US, the tumor is removed, and Helen is found to have lost her memory completely. Luckily, Amy Salvatori is on hand, recognizes her, and arranges for Helen to be brought back to her family; actually, to Illinois (the home of Janet and old Elly, who are living with the "Twins" Little Elly and Tommy), which is where they feel they can deal with Helen's problem best. Helen is about 30 years old.

A family friend, Cindy (the former nun, whom Helen had saved from her abusive pimp) first tries to see whether Helen's memory would be triggered by visiting familiar scenes. But that fails, and she takes Helen around the Midwest, trying to find something for Helen to do. Finally, Helen agrees to join a Catholic farming commune in California, which seems comfortable to Helen. Helen helps with a building project for the nuns, and few months later, the sisters encourage Helen to apply to work at a construction company.

Helen does well at the construction company, and is soon promoted to work at specialized tasks, including electrical systems. Helen discovers that she's athletic, and can play tennis very well. She makes friends with a little girl, Gena, eleven, who has fractured her wrist. Helen takes her to hospital and has the break set. She takes Gena home, and meets her family, and newborn little sister Alison. The parents are very ill, and Helen helps them as much as she is able.

Meanwhile, Lalitha has found her way to the US, and lives with the missionary couple who had first encouraged her to take up music, and had got her into college. With Lalitha is her little boy, now twelve years old. Finding out that Helen has come back and is living in California, Lalitha and the little boy, Suresh, go looking for her, find her, and Lalitha succeeds in triggering the recovery of Helen's memory. This is all recounted in _Helen & Lalitha._

## Grad School in Philadelphia

The two little girls are orphaned, and adopted by Helen. Presently, the four of them settle down in Philadelphia, where Helen is admitted to graduate school. While there, Helen meets an interesting redheaded sales clerk called Lorna, at a drugstore, who strikes up a friendship with Helen. Lorna is a high-school student, who also attends a ballet school. When Helen's university friends encourage Lalitha to take courses at the university, Lorna steps in as a babysitter.

Tax time approaches; Helen's financial affairs have become complicated, and Helen hires Becky Singer to create a corporation for Helen, with Becky as the chief financial officer.

But Helen and Lalitha have disagreements about Lorna, and Lalitha asks for a separation.

Lalitha moves to Baltimore, where she meets another young woman, Trish; and Lalitha, Suresh and Trish set up house together. Presently, little Megan Grace is born to the 21-year-old Trish, and fifteen-year-old Suresh, who is highly embarrassed.

Helen, and Gena go looking for them, find them in dire straits, bring them back to Philadelphia, and with Becky's help, set up a small instrument factory in an empty lot next to Helen's apartment, and arrange for Lalitha to work at the factory, thus providing them with an income.

## On the Run

As recounted in _Helen on the Run,_ a judge orders that Helen is an unfit mother, and Gena and Alison are taken from her. Helen is broken-hearted and suicidal. After Helen and her girlfriend of the time, Michelle, set out from the house thinking to go somewhere and take poison together, they see the girls having run away from their foster home, waiting to cross the street. Helen and the girls escape to California, meet a mother and daughter, Penny and Erin, join up with them, and live in hiding for a year. Most importantly, Helen discovers that she is pregnant, and early the following year, gives birth to a little boy, James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson. (Jeffrey Gibson is the young man with whom Helen got pregnant, a music graduate student. In what follows, you will meet Jeffrey's mother, Olive.)

To the great grief of Helen and the girls, Penny dies of cancer, a condition she had kept secret for many months. It appeared that this had been partly Penny's plan: to leave Erin in the hands of the one most likely to encourage the little girl in her musical aspirations.

Helen and the girls are eventually captured when Helen is recognized while hiding in Ferguson, Minnesota, at a boarding school where Helen had been teaching. Helen is brought before a judge, who declares that it had been an error to separate Helen and the two girls Gena and Alison, but imposes a suspended sentence nevertheless.

When Helen is released, Ferguson Minnesota continues to be a sort of Nordstrom family headquarters for a while. Helen had been acting principal at the private boarding school, a measure of how much the school teachers and students had gotten to love Helen, more than of how qualified she was for the job. She wanted to get back to playing concerts, and the research she had been doing with her mentor, Nadia Van der Wert, so she needed to find someone to take over as Principal of the little school. To Helen's joy and relief, Janet Kolb decides to apply for the job. She is given the appointment, by a very satisfied school board. Elly Kolb, Janet's daughter; Tommy Krebs (Grandma Elly's daughter and Helen's half-sister, and Elly's best friend); Gena, Helen's oldest adopted daughter; and Erin O'Brien Nordstrom, Penny's little girl, now Helen's adopted daughter, are all given partial scholarships to the school.

## Westfield

Dr. Nadia Van der Wert, and Helen (who had satisfied requirements for her doctorate) apply to a little school in Pennsylvania, in the village of Westfield, and are accepted. They begin teaching in the Fall. Initially, only little James is with them; Alison was left behind in Ferguson, with Janet and her mother Grandma Elly, to be company for her older sister, Gena. Halfway through the semester, Allie begs to go to Helen, since those two are very close, and are miserable when kept apart.

In Westfield, there is a wonderful British woman who is a language instructor: Evelyn Woodford. This interesting person is a sort of goth girl, and calls herself Rain, or more exactly, Fräuhlein Rain, or Mam'selle Rain. The students insist on introducing Helen to Miss Rain, and before long, Helen and Rain are spending a lot of time together.

Marsha Moore, the actress (who had first met Helen disguised as Sandy Brown), has asked a friend, Sophie Cocteau, who was a highly-ranked tennis player, to meet Helen, and sort of keep an eye on her, and steer her away from predatory females. Helen and Sophie meet at a concert one weekend, introduce themselves, and exchange e-mail addresses and phone numbers, and begin keeping in touch, because Sophie was cute and unassuming, and they play Tennis later that weekend, and they hit it off well.

Sophie had taken a liking to Helen, and took the responsibility that Marsha Moore had laid on her seriously. When Sophie learned about Rain, she had to come down to Westfield and give Rain the once-over. Rain passed inspection, and Sophie went back to North Carolina, which was her home base.

## Miss Rain, Woodford, and Lorna

Rain loved Helen, but loved the two little kids even more.

Rain wanted Helen to meet her parents, who lived in the village of Woodford, in England. At first, her parents were unhappy about Rain taking up with a woman, but they eventually extended an invitation, and once Helen's kids arrived in Woodford and met Aunty Rain's family, they won over the old couple.

Lorna and Becky had settled down together as a couple for a little more than a year. Even while they were together, Lorna had been inappropriately affectionate towards Helen, until Helen had met Michelle, who moved in with Helen. While Helen was with Rain in Woodford, news came that Lorna wanted a 'divorce' from Becky, and that she loved Helen. She was threatening to kill herself if she could not be with Helen.

Helen was angry with Lorna, and frustrated and upset. She had been attracted to Lorna but had stayed away from her, since Lorna had been too young in the first place, and Lorna and Becky were a couple. It was awkward to have to deal with Lorna trying to slice her wrists, while Helen was trying to win over Rain's (Evelyn's) parents.

Another call came, saying Lorna had gotten a knife, and actually done it.

Helen was shocked. She made her apologies to the Woodfords, and taking Gena and James with her, flew back to Philadelphia. She found Lorna heavily sedated, and alternately hostile to everyone, and pathetically begging everyone to be allowed to go to Helen, in turn. While Helen was conferring with Becky and the family, Lorna had managed to rip out her bandages with her teeth, and bite her own veins, while Gena was watching in horror, and when Gena had screamed for help, they ran in, to find Lorna with torn wrists, and blood all over her sheets and her face.

To cut a long story short, Helen decided to add her pleas to those of Lorna, to be allowed to bring Lorna to live with Nadia, Rain, Helen and the kids in Westfield, and so they had begun a three-way lifestyle, with Helen, Rain and Lorna sharing the second-floor apartment, with Nadia (Dr. van der Wert) settled comfortably on the first floor.

Let us take a break, to allow me time to apologize profusely for this enormous, extended Prologue, which sets the stage for another set of events that have a large impact on Helen.

Helen, the two women, and the little kids, of course joined by Gena and Erin during school holidays (and occasionally by Sophie, who liked to come stay with them after she had competed in some tournament, such as the French Open, for instance) had a wonderful time for a couple of years. Helen's reputation as a violinist, a soprano, and a conductor, increased all the time. Because of her non-profit corporation, she was able to donate instruments to the school, and by the second year, the school had two orchestras of which any school could have been proud. Nadia and Helen wrote and published two books, and Helen's work relating to Bach and his music was widely recognized and admired.

Gena had become a good violinist, but young Erin was turning out to be phenomenal. Cindy O'Shaughnessy, the woman Helen had taken under her wing while she was in college, had joined Janet in Ferguson, and had taken over the violin instruction for the four girls, Tommy, Elly, Gena and Erin, and several students at Ferguson School. During vacations, Gena, Erin, Elly and Tommy often gathered at Grandma Elly's house in Illinois (where the late Tom Krebs had accumulated a large library of sheet music). In addition, there were the younger ones, as well as Little John, who was Helen's half-brother, the child of John Nordstrom and Annie. These summer gatherings were a strong influence on the youngest Nordstroms.

# England Again

The next holiday season, Lorna, Rain, Helen and the children were visiting Rain's parents in Woodford, in the UK. By now, Rain's parents were comfortable with Helen and the children, and in fact Helen's mother Polly adored the two littlest ones.

Helen had been once again invited to be the soprano soloist for the annual _Messiah_ performance in London attended by the Queen, and that had gone beautifully, and the Nordstroms, the Woodfords, Helen's middle daughter, Erin O'Brien, and little James, who was technically a Gibson, and Lorna Shapiro, the lovely ballet student, had all returned to Rain's home in Woodford, to get ready for Christmas. Earlier, the whole company had visited London for shopping, and gone into the enormous music store on Oxford Street (of which Helen's corporation owned controlling shares), and effortlessly charmed the store manager and sales staff; especially Alison and James!

## Isolde Wells

The next big event was a big one indeed. Shortly after Christmas, Helen was invited to join an up-and-coming young classical music star, Isolde Wells, on her weekly program on the BBC. Isolde was an Early Music performer Helen had long wanted to meet, a sort of modern-day Renaissance woman, who played numerous instruments, including the Baroque viol family of instruments, all kinds of violins, violas and cello, also flute, recorder, oboe and harpsichord. In addition, she was young, a mere seventeen, and quite pretty.

For the first time Robin (Robin Friend, a Brit living in the US, who maintained Helen's performance schedule) had asked if Helen was comfortable with the assignment, because he thought Helen might feel upstaged by the young woman. Helen had said that she had to become accustomed to other women being younger and prettier than she. "I'll be forty in two years, Robin. Time moves on." (This was about five years before the scene in the Seattle hospital.)

Robin was silent for a few seconds. "Are you serious?"

"About time moving on?"

"That you're thirty-eight?"

"Yes!"

"To me, you're always eighteen," he said.

"Oh, Robin," she scolded. "Anyway, I'd love to do it. I wish this girl nothing but the very best. I hope she's the biggest thing that ever happened to music."

"Well, she doesn't sing," he said, consolingly.

The format of Isolde Wells's show, which aired on Sunday afternoon on the BBC, was that of an informal visit. There was a guest or two, and instruments, and they would play, the guest playing whatever, and Isolde playing everything else. There was no studio audience except whomever the guest happened to bring along, and they would all be seated round in a circle, very much like an after-dinner concert at Helen's father's family farm, or out at the Krebses (Janet's mother's home).

While Isolde was a popular young musician, the show was not watched very much unless there was a really big guest star to appear. But Isolde refused to spend any time or money or energy on publicity. The BBC faithfully aired her show at the unpopular time of Sunday afternoon at two, and again on sundry weekdays around midnight. It was quite by accident that Helen had seen her on Sunday afternoon while the others were busy wrapping presents. Isolde had a very unassuming air, and Helen had liked her at once. She dressed in a Renaissance style, with a lace-up bodice and long brown skirt, and long glossy brown hair worn loose, or with an Alice-band.

The day before the program, Helen called her. She had to call the BBC and have them page her.

"I'm so happy you said you'd come!" Isolde exclaimed in her low, husky voice with just a hint of a lisp.

"Well," said Helen, mischievously, "I'm going to ask you a favor."

"Oh certainly! What is it?"

"You have to wear what I bring you!"

"Oh goodness," she said, appalled, "I have my favorite clothes..."

"I know. But I'm bringing something anyway. What size do you wear?"

"Oh, Miss Nordstrom, you can't! I can't..."

"Or I'll turn up in something really hideous!"

"Oh no! You dress so beautifully! Oh, please, wear something nice!"

"What size do you wear, Isolde?"

Finally, Isolde said she wore what amounted to an American size one. She was really tiny, and she had to sew all her own clothes because off-the-shelf clothing didn't fit quite right. And she liked long sleeves, she said, because she had hairy arms. Helen and Lorna quickly found a stunning dress for her right in Woodford. It was quiet, in the earth tones Isolde favored, but there were touches of brighter color here and there, which would bring out the color in her cheeks and her hair.

Helen went to the BBC early on Saturday, when the show was scheduled to be taped. As she had been instructed, she took with her the instruments she had brought with her, a violin and her recorders. And, of course, she also took the dress. She was there before Isolde and her brother came in, shortly before the taping, and was all dressed and ready.

In person, Isolde was lovely. Her light brown eyes weren't particularly large, her figure wasn't particularly luscious, her face wasn't particularly pretty, but the package was just perfect, somehow. She wore one of her signature dowdy dresses, and Helen was glad she had done what she had. After introductions were made, and Isolde had told Helen sincerely that she looked beautiful, Helen said with a smile, "And you know I have something for you!"

"Oh no! Do I have to?"

"What's that?" asked her brother Robert, with a puzzled smile.

"Oh, it's... well, never mind!" said Isolde seeing Helen's warning look.

Helen hustled her into her dressing room, and left her alone with the dress. A minute later she came out, all smiles, and showed off her dress to Helen who had been waiting outside.

"It's really very nice! Wherever did you find it?"

Helen told her, and turned her around to adjust the waist a little. Isolde looked as demure and understated as she like to look, but there was just a little something in the cut and the finish of the dress that did a lot for Isolde's appearance.

"Let me touch up your hair a little," Helen offered.

That day there were only Helen, Robert, Isolde, and a studio musician who was also able to play a number of instruments, notably _continuo_ instruments. All along the walls of the little room were stacked racks and racks of more instruments.

After Isolde had introduced Helen to the camera, they began right away.

"Let's begin with a piece that I know you play, the _Air_ from the _Suite in D!"_

"Certainly," said Helen, taking out her baroque violin. "With the harpsichord?"

"Yes, Bill will play harpsichord, and Robert will play second violin and I'll play viola."

It was not a difficult piece, and it went smoothly. At first, everybody played softly, letting Helen's violin stand out, but as they warmed up, they let the inner voices come out more, letting the music speak for itself.

That set the pattern for the session. After Isolde ran out of ideas, Helen suggested pieces Isolde could play and Helen could accompany. They played all sorts of pieces, all the way up to the 19th century, including a _Pavane_ by Fauré, and _Vocalise_ , by Rachmaninov.

Isolde's technique was phenomenal. So was her repertoire. When she found how easily Helen was able to accompany her on the piano, she begged to play more of her favorites. They played _viola da gamba_ duets, and as many trios as they could squeeze into the program.

Winding up, Isolde thanked Helen, and asked her right on camera to be her guest again. "And if you like this frock," she said to the camera, "please write in and let me know!"

"Did you enjoy yourself?" asked Isolde smiling after the taping. "I hope you did!"

"Oh, I certainly did," Helen said. "I'm impressed by how much music you know, and how wide your tastes are!"

"I could say the same for you," Isolde shot back. "You like a lot of the stuff that I like too!"

"There's a lot more I like, but it wouldn't fit on your show, though," Helen said.

"Such as what?" asked Isolde curiously.

"Well, folk music, and a little rock," Helen said, with a laugh.

"And I forgot that you sing!" said Isolde, aghast. Helen laughed. It was too late now. "Will you please come next week too?"

"I don't know," said Helen with a smile. "Anyway, you probably have a guest lined up!"

Isolde smiled ruefully. "I do, but—I wish you could come, all the same!"

"Come on, Isolde," said Robert, reproachfully, "that's not fair to your other guests. I'm sure Miss Nordstrom is very busy."

Changing the subject, Helen brought up something that she had been wondering since she saw Isolde play for the first time.

"Would you play some double concertos with me, Isolde?"

"Certainly! I mean, if they ask me!"

Helen explained that _she was asking;_ it was her orchestra. And she would like to make a record. Isolde said she would love to! And if it meant coming to America, she would.

Two weeks later, when Helen and Lorna had returned to the US, leaving Rain and the kids to spend a little more time with Rain's family, arrangements had been made for Isolde to join them in Philadelphia. Helen had bought the little house in that city in which she had lived while in university, Philadelphia was also where Helen's Impromptu Ensemble was based.

# Amber

## Flashback: Frankfurt

Amber Milano was a glamour model whose pictures Helen had collected in her younger days. Soon after Helen had started work in Westfield, around the time she had just met Sophie, the tennis player, Helen had come to Frankfurt with Sophie, to watch her play a tournament. One day, on their way back to their hotel room rather late, they had seen someone who looked very like Amber Milano. They had got out of their bus and approached the woman, and it had indeed been Amber. She was trying to gain entrance to a building that was locked up. They introduced themselves to her, and learned that her luggage had been left at that address earlier in the day, but Amber had had to run some errands, and had been held up, and now she couldn't get in.

The girls had rescued Amber and taken her to their room, and allowed Amber to stay the night, for which she had been very grateful.

## Amber in Philadelphia

Now, a couple of years later, Helen was in Philadelphia, awaiting the arrival of Isolde Wells. She was in the middle of getting in as many performances with the Impromptu Chamber Orchestra as possible, because living and teaching in Westfield during the semester, some 300 miles away, Helen found it almost impossible to join them for anything.

Lorna had spent almost a year with Helen and family in Westfield, having left her former girlfriend Becky. Becky and Lorna had not spoken for all that while, but Lorna had unexpectedly met Becky that morning at an Impromptu rehearsal, and decided to be civil again. She had gone to spend the afternoon with Becky, and they had bought a tiny little puppy, which they had brought in to the rehearsal, and Lorna was having a great time with it, and Helen was feeling utterly abandoned and threatened, but reluctant to talk to Lorna about how she was feeling.

Unexpectedly, Amber Milano had called Helen and visited, not realizing that Helen was particularly vulnerable at that time. Helen had cried on her shoulder, and Amber had comforted her, and for a while Helen had felt better.

Over the next few days, Lorna had visited with Becky, and Helen had turned up for rehearsals with Amber, who simply sat quietly at the back. (Despite the fact that she was well known in porn circles, Amber could tone down her appearance, and be completely anonymous. She had always acted in a completely dignified way, and radiated an innocence that was truly her real personality.)

Seeing Helen with a mysterious woman, Lorna began to feel uncomfortable, and Lorna decided to put her plans with Becky on hold, and came back to the house, and Amber Milano graciously departed, having made sure that Helen and Lorna were once again on good terms.

# Isolde visits Philadelphia

The next day, Isolde Wells arrived as planned; it was Isolde's first venture out of Britain. Helen and Lorna met her at the airport.

She had worn a full, ankle-length Spanish tiered skirt over heavy leggings, and a cardigan and a raincoat, not anywhere near as warmly-dressed as the weather required. It was a miserable 35 degrees, and the wind was a stiff 40 mph from the north-west, and the poor girl looked fearfully at the wintry blast outside the glass doors of the terminal. Helen, who had worn a light parka coat quickly made the visitor trade coats with her. Isolde carried with her two enormous bags, which contained, she said, a variety of instruments; and a small carry-on.

She made a valiant attempt to keep up with events. Turning her attention to Lorna she held out her hand and introduced herself. "Hello," she said, "I'm Isolde Wells!"

"I'm Lorna," she replied, and shook her hand, amused by the girl's manner. "I'll get the car, and you can help her with her stuff," Lorna said to Helen.

"You have a car?!"

"Sure!" said Lorna, grinning. She had repossessed the little Volkswagen Beetle Becky had bought her. "I'll come around in a couple of minutes!"

Isolde looked around, slightly dazed. Everything seemed strange. Then she smiled at Helen. "Well!" she said, "She seems nice!"

Isolde looked tiny in Helen's parka. Helen picked up the big bags; this was something Helen tended to do.

"Let me carry those, Helen! I always carry the bags everywhere," Isolde said, indignantly.

"I'll let you carry them later, but now I've got them," said Helen.

"You're a lot stronger, I suppose. Oh, there she is; she's waving at us. I'll get the doors... Oh!" she exclaimed as they opened automatically.

They drove into town, and put Isolde up at a hotel just across the street from The Church; a tiny former church, really, which Helen had acquired, to serve as a sort of rehearsal hall for the Impromptu. Isolde looked cheerful, but she wasn't quite able to disguise the fact that she was tired. The moment she was checked-in and made comfortable in her room, and she had learned how to make a phone call to Helen, she brushed her teeth, and putting on a long flannel nightgown and thick socks, slipped under the sheets, and fell fast asleep.

Lorna began to laugh helplessly as Helen steered her quickly out of the room and turned out the lights. "She's so funny!" she exclaimed.

"What do you mean funny?"

"She's like a little space alien! I mean, she's E.T. in a dress!"

Helen had to smile. Isolde was a very pretty space alien, if anything, and Helen expected Lorna to be wary of the young visitor.

Isolde had arrived around noon, but expecting that she would sleep off her jet-lag for at least eight hours, they had been ready to cancel that evening's rehearsal. But around four in the afternoon, they got a call. As it happened, Helen and Lorna were in bed, doing what they usually did there, and the call caught them on the brink of a _big event._

"Hello, hello?"

"Oh, Isolde! You're up!" Helen gasped out, as Lorna ground on, sending waves of disorienting sensations though Helen's body.

"Is this Helen?"

"Yes, yes... I'm just..."

"What are you doing? Shall I call you back?"

"Oh... no, it's all right... er, are you... hungry?"

"Helen?"

"Yes... yes! Wait . . ."

Finally, it was over. Lorna lay on Helen, not letting her speak, covering her mouth with kisses, her tongue taking possession of Helen's tongue. Lorna didn't take kindly to being interrupted while she was with Helen in bed, or with anybody, for that matter.

Lorna grabbed the phone. "Isolde?"

"Hello, Lorna!"

"What's up?"

"Well, I woke up, took a shower, and now I'm thinking, perhaps I should have a meal and head out to the rehearsal."

Lorna had been kissing Helen while Isolde talked. Now she spoke into the phone and said, "Hang on, we'll be right over," and hung up.

"Lorna! She's a famous violinist! We can't be rude to her!"

"I wasn't rude, Helen, I just told her we'd come get her! Chill out!"

Helen sighed.

The hotel they had put Isolde in was an ugly modern concrete building, though it was moderately comfortable inside. As they approached it, now, Helen couldn't help thinking how she despised it. The rates were reasonable, the staff was very friendly, and the room was a rather generic luxury room. But Helen would much rather have been billeted in an older, even if less comfortable, hotel herself, and naturally felt guilty at putting Isolde there.

"Jeeze, that's ugly," said Lorna, voicing Helen's very thought.

"But it's close," Helen said, "we don't have to go traipsing all over Philly to fetch her."

"Ye-ah..." said Lorna, thoughtfully, swinging round to park just beyond the entranceway. "But I hate it anyway. Man, I wish I had money, like you; I'd buy it, and tear it down."

Helen sighed as she got out. It was a very tempting idea.

Inside, Isolde sat on a chair surrounded by her instruments, her eyes riveted on the front entrance. Coming in through the side entrance, they'd surprise her. Lorna giggled. "E.T. Phone home!" she said quietly, and Isolde's eyes swung round to stare straight at them, and her face quickly filled with happy expectation.

"Oh good, you're here! Hello Lorna!"

"Hi, Isolde! Have a good nap?"

"Yes, a very nice one. The bed was very comfortable. I'm a little dried out, though. I think the heat will hurt the instruments; I turned it off."

"Oh no, you'll freeze! It gets a lot colder here, Isolde. I'll get you a radiator, and we'll turn it real low." Helen hurried to the desk and told them what she wanted. They promised to attend to it right away. The desk clerk's smile told Helen she had been recognized. "Set it to, like 50 degrees," Helen instructed, "just so she doesn't freeze when she gets in!"

"Yes, Miss Nordstrom! Just ask her to tell us if there's anything else, okay?" Helen smiled and thanked her.

Walking back to the girls, Helen caught them in the middle of a rather tense exchange.

"I thought you might like to play as many concerts as you could, once you were here, that's why! I'm so sorry!"

"Oh," said Isolde with a frown, anxiously fluttering her hands, "it can't be helped; don't worry about it."

"Worry about what?"

"About announcing that she was here," Lorna said. "Becky and I went ahead and put it in the papers. She..."

Isolde was controlling her frustration, but Helen could tell that she was upset. "Oh, I try not to give out where I am," she said, "but since I'm not known too well over here, maybe they'll ignore me!" she said, looking hopeful.

"Lorna, did you say how she could be contacted?"

"Yeah, at the office."

Helen turned to Isolde. "We'll just take messages for you, and give you a summary once a day while you're here, Isolde. That way you can pick and choose your jobs."

Isolde shook her head. She said she wasn't interested in playing with any group but Helen's. Helen smiled. There was still plenty of time to get her to change her mind, but Helen was content to be the sole recipient of her services for the moment.

Lorna and Helen sat in front, while Isolde shared the back with all her instruments. Some of them were very precious, and Isolde had brought them in spite of Helen's assurances that good instruments were available in Philadelphia. Isolde was very excited. She had been quizzing Helen about her group earlier on, and seemed to have built up an almost magical image of them. Several times Helen had to promise to show her the fabulous workshop, of which Isolde was in awe. "It's just a small place; we're just making plans to move to a more permanent building. We only have six workers," Helen told her. Isolde was even more impressed, and Helen simply gave up.

## Isolde Meets the Impromptu

"Oh, how charming! A little American Church!" Helen just happened to agree; as churches went, this one was indeed charming. But the prospect of an endless series of exclamations like that was rather daunting. Once inside, getting a glimpse of the musicians, Isolde remarked that they looked quite young.

"There's all sorts; the youngest are high-school kids, the oldest is probably around fifty, I guess. I never thought to ask," Helen murmured, carefully setting down the bundle of instruments in a corner. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the visitor, who gazed back at them shyly. Isolde had just remembered that she was afraid of crowds. She stepped back, into Lorna, who instinctively put her arm round Isolde.

Sensing a slight problem, Helen turned to Isolde and talked quietly.

"What shall we do first? We could start off with a concerto, or send everybody home and play some sonatas and stuff!"

"Oh no, don't send them home. Er, why don't you play something first, and I'll watch?"

"What about a double concerto?"

"Um, perhaps the D minor?"

"Yes! Excellent. Let's see, who's here?" There were just the fifteen or so core players. Helen thought that if she could get them all seated, they wouldn't look so intimidating. "Please sit down, everybody. Pavel, Mary Beth, would you come over, please?" Helen turned to Isolde with a reassuring smile. "These two are the ones in charge, Isolde!" Helen introduced them to Isolde, and outlined the plan.

Lorna made Isolde sit and get her violin out. Fumbling at first, the sight of her violin seemed to calm her, and she began to be surer of herself. "They're very nice," Lorna assured her, "they're all my friends. I don't know a thing about music, but they never make me feel stupid, you know?"

"Of course not, they really shouldn't. You're not a musician? Then what do you do?"

Lorna stared at her. What did she do? "I'm just an assistant," she said cautiously, not certain how much Isolde understood.

Helen brought the nervous Isolde up to the little orchestra, which smiled at her in the friendliest way. Isolde managed a smile for them and waved her £1,000,000 bow in greeting. "Friends, I'd like you to meet Isolde Wells, one of the finest violinists in Britain! She also plays a dozen other instruments, and I know we're going to have a great time playing with her!" There was laughter, and Isolde nodded, smiling. Helen could see that she was losing a little of her nervousness.

Helen had set up a recording company, LMN Associates, with two of her friends: Lisa Wallace, who was a sound engineer, and Marika Johnson, her cousin, who was a media engineer, as well as a musician. They specialized in field recording, which meant they could record almost anywhere. They had come by the previous day and set up microphones in the Little Church, and a portable digital recorder good for eight hours of recording, and gone to visit friends in Cleveland. It was now six in the evening, and they were unlikely to record for eight hours. The button was pressed.

## Helen and Isolde Perform

Helen got out her own violin, and Pavel took the podium. (Pavel was a Polish musician, who had come to live in Philadelphia.) They tuned up carefully. Helen was impressed with how carefully Isolde tuned to the harpsichord. The harpsichordist, Glenn, an expert on tuning, began to sweat as Isolde fussed with the violin with every evidence of frustration.

"There!" she said, her eyes lighting up. "I think I got it... yes. Thanks!" (Glenn was already lost to Isolde's sexy contralto voice. It was just low and husky, but to Glenn, it was pure sex.)

Pavel sang a few bars to indicate how fast he wanted it, Helen and Isolde divvied up the lines, and they were off. Isolde liked to sit, and Helen liked to stand, so they both sat. They were using a modified semi-circular arrangement with the violins in the inside semicircle and everyone else on the outside, and Helen and Isolde facing each other in the middle.

Very soon it was clear that they were witnessing something unusual. Helen and Isolde were inspiring each other to play with much more feeling than they had ever heard. Isolde's playing was quite restrained, but there was a certain something that nobody could quite put their finger on. Helen's playing was a song, a response to Isolde. And though their sound was similar, their lines could be clearly distinguished from each other. This was in spite of the fact that they tended to reply to each other with their phrasing in imitative passages. But Helen's imitation of Isolde's phrasing always had her own stamp on it, and vice versa.

After the first movement, the two women simply glowed with pleasure. Isolde nodded at Helen, acknowledging the musical bond they were beginning to experience. The second movement built on the first. Pavel carefully kept it from degenerating into sentimentality, but there was certainly emotion there. Bach's beloved D minor concerto was all about love, but its focus was not just romantic love. Ultimately, it was about the friendship between two violins, and their respective players.

Helen was beginning to do things that she had thus far shunned in Baroque playing. She restrained herself, but she couldn't resist _putting a little more_ into the long, sustained notes. This was the crux of the matter: long sustained notes drove violinists to _vibrato;_ it was almost impossible to resist. Violinists felt intuitively what vocalists felt physically—the need to put some 'spin' on the note, to keep up its interest. And the pressure to do so was proportional to the excitement of the occasion.

Calming herself down with an effort of will, Helen kept her vibrato to an almost inaudible level. She heard Isolde doing the same, and risked a glance in her direction. She looked back, utterly serious. They were becoming very attuned to each other's playing. Of course, that was inevitable, but for Helen, Isolde was the most magical violinist she had ever heard, and she had never felt that excited before about any violinist. Helen must learn from Isolde. But how? Isolde's technique was evolving before Helen's very eyes!

If Isolde was the greater player, Helen knew the music more intimately. Anticipating various passages, Helen was able to give them little rhythmic and bowing treatments which Isolde picked up on at once. She was the most musical person Helen had even met, and she only needed a hint of an idea to run with it.

Lorna watched the interplay between the two violinists with dismay. Thus far, she had been confident that she, Lorna, was finally Helen's match in terms of everything that was important: intelligence, beauty, temperament, their common physicality. No one appreciated what a _physical_ person Helen was. No one realized how much _dance_ was a part of Helen's existence.

But musically Lorna was somewhat an outsider to Helen's world. She had consoled herself with the thought that Helen had no equal; there was no threat to Lorna's supremacy. Rain was not a threat; she was an ally. Sophie was not a threat; she was a friend, and a valuable one.

But Isolde changed everything.

After the D minor, Helen was so delighted she practically danced.

"What do you think?" Helen asked Isolde, smiling all over her face, hardly able to coherently say the words.

"How did I do?" asked Isolde, holding her breath, frozen in place.

" _Do?_ Kid, you were _fabulous!_ It was the best ever! Do you need to ask?"

"I don't know; it was my first time!"

"What?"

"I'm strictly a chamber musician," Isolde said in a low voice, as Helen stepped over to her.

It took a while for Helen to assimilate this bit of information. "Never played a concerto?"

"Well, not with an orchestra," said Isolde. Her reputation was built on solo and chamber performances exclusively. This was a great coup for Helen and the Impromptu.

"Guess what, I'm going to conduct the A minor from the harpsichord! Glenn, I hope you don't mind! Let's see how it goes; if I can't handle it, I'll give it over to you." (This was Bach's best-known solo violin concerto.)

"Oh Miss Nordstrom, I know it'll be fine!" Glenn said, getting out of the way.

"Pavel, please join." Pavel usually played the lute or the _theorbo,_ a very large lute, sometimes called the _archlute_ in English.

It became a duet between the harpsichord and the violin, pure and simple. Helen directed beautifully from the keyboard, and the orchestra was reminded that Helen was indeed the _compleat musician._ Normally, the continuo keyboard player needed to master the skill of realizing a figured bass. Indeed, figured-bass realization was an elementary skill that Helen had acquired long ago. But Glenn had the art of realizing at sight, which Helen did not. On the other hand, Helen knew the work by heart, every note of it. She had played the figured bass in her mind a hundred times, and the figurations ran through her mind in her dreams.

Isolde was in a world of her own. Her eyes were closed, and she was lost. Helen wondered if she heard the harpsichord at all—of course she must, Helen decided. Isolde had the instinct of the soloist, to soar above the orchestra when it was called for, and to shine though it when needed, or to blend in with it. She only needed the chance to discover these things.

Despite her immersion in the music, she was sight-reading. She was obviously familiar with the work, and only needed a look at the notes every now and then to remind herself of how it went. But Helen was astounded at the sheer confidence of the girl to even consider closing her eyes!

At first she had sat rather still, playing in the relaxed, still manner Helen had always seen her play in. But now she swayed to the music, leaning into it. And Helen could feel what she would do by watching the lines of her body.

It was a poetic and soaring performance, and Helen knew that the world would see a side of Isolde that it had never seen before: passion. It was the passion of a young girl, controlled, restrained, cautious, but curious, a little impatient, full of wonder. In a few years, Helen knew, her passion would be fully awakened, but it was still only stirring now.

It was a great temptation to put herself in the role of the one who would awaken Isolde, but Helen firmly rejected it. Isolde was too precious a soul for her, Helen, to interfere with! Some other one must do it, whomever God chose, or perhaps someone whom Isolde herself chose. Helen told herself she was being humble. She would not be the one. For once, she thought, I will do the right thing; she deserves nothing less; I could never live with the thought that I hurt the most wonderful musician alive. And so Helen determined to be Isolde's protector and patron and friend, but nothing more.

"Let's take a break," Helen called out, and Lorna thought she had hardly ever seen Helen so excited. Helen had a wide grin on her face as she prowled about in wide circles round Isolde, as Isolde talked to the Philadelphia musicians, gradually losing her shyness. The string players were amazed with her playing, and all of them knew that they had something here that was rare and wonderful.

"Is she really that good?" Lorna asked Helen with a frown.

"She's better than me!" was Helen's simple reply. She smiled at Lorna, and then her face grew slowly serious. "Don't worry about me, love. Nobody needs _ever_ worry about me and her."

"I wasn't worried." Lorna smiled, and there seemed to be something just a little threatening in it. She would protect what was hers. This was a different Lorna than before. "I just didn't see what was so wonderful, that's all."

Lorna's anxiety just went past Helen. "Oh—trust me!" Helen smiled and nodded, putting a lot of weight into those nods. "Take a good look at this kid. If she isn't the biggest name in music very soon, we've all missed the boat!"

" _You_ are!"

Helen shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said. "That's not what it's about. I'm not about ranking. I'm about recognizing talent, and celebrating it, Lorna." Her gaze had a gentle reproach that stung. Helen the noble senior musician, worshiping the new phenomenon, was a little hard to take.

Isolde performed for them on a number of instruments, and suddenly began to collapse in exhaustion.

"Oh dear," she said weakly, "I seem to be unable to play any more... What time is it?"

Helen and Lorna took her across the street and put her to bed, as she murmured her gratitude to them. Lorna chased Helen out and helped Isolde undress.

Standing outside, Helen was indignant at having been banished to the hall. Lorna was deeply suspicious of Helen's feelings towards Isolde. Surely Isolde would think it funny that Helen was sent outside, while Lorna stayed to help her undress? Was Lorna so much above reproach?

Lorna came outside, walking fast, and led the way out to the car. She brushed aside Helen's angry questions, saying that she had it all under control. Fastening her seatbelt, she turned to Helen. "I'll take care of her. Okay? Leave her to me!"

Helen was incensed.

"I don't think so, Lorna. She's here at my invitation, and I don't need you telling me what I can and cannot do! I told you there was nothing going on. You're acting as if I'm some kind of serial rapist!"

"Put your seatbelt on, Helen, please."

" _Damn_ the seatbelt, will you listen to me? I'm very angry with you, and I will not be treated as if I cannot be trusted in the same room with Isolde Wells!"

"Okay!" said Lorna in a low voice, and drove out. The seatbelt seemed particularly uncooperative as Helen tried to buckle it on.

They drove home in silence. Once in the house, they awkwardly looked for leftovers to eat, each trying to keep out of the other's way.

"You hate me now!" said Lorna, quietly under her breath, bending to look in the lower shelf of the refrigerator. Helen was staring at her legs, full of anger and desire at once. Helen walked out to the living room sofa, frustrated and depressed, her appetite gone.

Lorna suddenly appeared in front of her, holding her plate of food.

"I'm sorry!" said Lorna quietly. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm really sorry!"

No matter how grateful she was for the quick resolution of their quarrel, Helen couldn't quite take the hurt out of her eyes.

"Why did you do it?"

"Don't go there. Please."

Putting her plate down on the coffee table, Lorna sat next to Helen, who had gone red with embarrassment.

"I'm not going to touch her!!" said Helen, through gritted teeth.

"Have you ever been jealous, Helen?" asked Lorna mildly. "You haven't, have you. You don't know how it feels. _I_ know how it feels!" Lorna's voice was still quiet, but it trembled with anger. "I'm just protecting myself. What do you want me to do? Tell you to do what you want, and suffer the consequences? You won't suffer, Helen, I'm the one who'll suffer!" Tears flooded out. "I'll fight, Helen! You know what will happen if I lose!"

Helen looked at her in shock. Lorna seemed to be threatening to hurt Isolde. Though Helen had told herself that she had no designs on the girl, Lorna's words rubbed her the wrong way.

Lorna subsided again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she sighed, "you'll never understand anything. You'll never understand how it feels to love someone you don't have!"

"I do!" cried Helen. "How do you think I felt when you belonged to Becky?"

Lorna stared at her, open mouthed.

"You didn't love me then!"

"Oh yes, I did!" Helen was weeping. "Didn't you know?"

Lorna was sincerely surprised. "I know we've always cared for each other, but... you didn't love me then, Helen... or did you?" Helen nodded.

Slowly their arms found their way around each other.

"And you never said a word?"

Helen managed a laugh. Helen could have said: _we both belonged to other people, Lorna,_ but it seemed too embarrassing to have to say it.

Lorna was mollified, and they forgot their differences for the moment. For Helen, the physical proximity of Lorna still engaged her more than the genius of Isolde. It was yet early for them, but they went to bed eagerly, their passions already roused to fever-pitch.

## Rehearsals

The next morning, Isolde called them very early, around six, when Helen was still out running. Lorna talked to her. It was odd because Isolde had no inkling of Lorna's concerns, nor indeed of Helen's true orientation. She did not quite realize that Helen was older than she appeared, and she was too innocent to wonder why Helen was not married. As far as she knew, Lorna was just Helen's assistant. Certainly, nobody was about to disabuse her of that misconception, so Isolde looked on Lorna as a particularly nice new friend.

Lorna, after realizing the situation, settled back to talk to Isolde on the phone. Isolde was pretty—very pretty—and talking to her was not a chore. As she chatted, reclined on the sofa, Lorna idly rubbed her belly through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"I could take you clothes shopping! That's a lot of fun!"

"No, no; I sew my own clothes."

"Well, fabric shopping, then!"

"Oh, of course, why didn't I think of that?"

"I sew, too!"

"You do? How nice! I hardly know anyone who sews except my aunts Matilda and Penny!"

"See, in dance school we learn a little of that, and I picked up a lot, actually."

"Oh, please come and get me! I'm so bored! I mean, I practiced a little, as quietly as I could, but I really don't want to disturb the other tenants, or whatever you call them!"

When Helen got back, Lorna was gone. She arrived a little later with Isolde who was pleased to see Helen.

"Oh, look! She's been running!"

"Yeah, so she runs; big deal!" Isolde looked at Lorna, eyes twinkling. Lorna was funny! "So, must I fix breakfast, or have you started it?" Lorna asked Helen. Helen blushed and said she was just about to get on it.

"Oo!" said Isolde, "an American breakfast!"

Right after the big American breakfast, they headed out to the church, where they were to rehearse with some of the soloists.

At Helen's call, Lisa and Marika had set out back from Ohio, after giving Helen instructions on saving a session and preparing a new one on the recording equipment. They would be in Philadelphia by mid-afternoon.

The Church was still the best location for a live concert of chamber music, and that's what had been planned for that evening.

Isolde was in great form. She had found the impromptu gang amiable and respectful, and was very pleased with the situation in which she found herself. In spite of her great success in Britain (of which, Helen was discovering, Isolde was only dimly aware), she wasn't conceited or egotistical. Rather than insisting on being treated like a 'star,' she was simply pleased to be recognized as a professional who knew what she was doing, not a dabbler who had to be guided.

At first, Isolde spoke only to Helen. They played some English Renaissance and Italian consort-songs on viols, and Isolde was amused at how much the others liked how it went. Isolde and the Impromptu players were always surprising each other at how well they sounded together. Then Isolde asked Helen if they'd like to play recorders. With a twinkle Helen included the others in the question, and of course they heartily agreed.

After an hour of that, they decided to try the sixth Brandenburg. Helen and Isolde played the two principal viol parts, and Isolde insisted on Helen playing the slightly more difficult part. It quickly became clear that as a violist, Helen was easily as good as Isolde. Isolde led the applause for Helen.

"Helen! I had no idea you were such an expert on the _viola da gamba!_ You're absolutely brilliant!" she exclaimed, her astonishment clearly genuine. Helen's instrument, made by Knowlden himself, had a lovely tone, and was a perfect foil for the instrument that Isolde played. Helen simply smiled in a self-deprecating way. She had always taken pride in her diverse talents, and was appreciative of the diversity of talents in others.

Again, that peculiar magic between Isolde and Helen manifested itself. I could only be described as a kind of musical kinship, two musical cousins, as it were, jousting against each other. There had been such partnerships in the past, but not for many years. If only Nadia were alive to hear and see this, Helen thought! Nadia had died the previous December.

While the rehearsal was going on—it was more of a performance than a rehearsal—Lorna received a call on her phone. Knowing Helen's opinions of cell-phones squealing in public, Lorna had set it to beep very quietly, and answered it in the back room—the former vestry.

"Yes! I can be there any time!... Yes... uh huh! Yes... Oh, thank you so much! I'll be right over!"

Lorna had been talking to the ballet company almost daily since she got to Philadelphia, and visited them twice at their home on Elm Street. Finally, she had re-auditioned for them, and been accepted as a senior chorus member. Now they were calling to say that there was a part for her in a minor performance in early February. They wanted her to come in and resume exercises with them as soon as possible.

As soon as Lorna saw a break in the rehearsal, she slipped in close to Helen and asked if she could take off for the rest of the day.

"Oh, of course; what's up?"

"It's a secret! Oh please, Helen, this is so important!"

"But you'll be here for the performance?"

"Yes, yes!" Helen smiled and nodded. Lorna had not been in such a happy mood for a long, long time. "I'll take a taxi; here are the keys!"

She was gone in a flash of red coat and slim legs. Helen vaguely noticed her leaving, but she was too preoccupied with Isolde to really care. When they broke for lunch, after carefully locking up the precious instruments in the church, Helen and Isolde found themselves planning lunch without Lorna's guidance.

"I suppose she must have had some prior engagement," Isolde said, gravely.

"Well—something like that, anyway," Helen said. "What shall we do? We could all go out to lunch together. We could even send out for lunch and eat in the church."

Isolde shook her head and quickly rejected that idea.

"May I treat you to lunch, Helen? I wanted to take Lorna out, too, but there's so little time! Please say yes!"

Helen smiled at Isolde indulgently. "Oh no; you're our guest; we do all the treating!" Isolde tried to scowl but failed. How pretty she was when she was happy! She had pulled her hair back at the sides and fastened them with a clip, and her hair looked both tidy and luxurious, and her glorious forehead and her pretty ears were revealed. "What kind of food would you like?"

"Robert and Dad never let me eat hamburgers," Isolde confided.

Soon they arrived at an upscale hamburger place Helen had discovered in her grad-school days. As soon as she parked, she was spotted by a policeman, who came up to greet her with the broadest smile. Apparently Philadelphia's finest had forgiven her long ago. "I'll put an 'official business' card on here!" he offered, and bowed and smiled graciously to Isolde.

Helen was very attentive to Isolde. Lorna had found a nice coat for Isolde, one that went well with the rather old-fashioned, fanciful clothes that Isolde wore. Helen found herself opening doors for Isolde and generally acting the gentleman. Isolde responded prettily to Helen's attention. Her already sedate and ladylike manner became yet more sedate and ladylike.

All through lunch, which she enjoyed to the fullest, she talked animatedly about how delighted she was at their collaboration. She said, sincerely, that Helen and her musicians inspired her.

"Usually I find that I have to carry whoever I'm playing with," she said gravely. "I'm not being conceited, honestly." She colored slightly. "I know that I must come across as being, well, a little full of myself, but I try very hard to be down to earth!"

"Well, what do you mean, then, Isolde? I know you've played with some excellent musicians." Helen had acquired an excellent opinion of Isolde's character, and was anxious to understand Isolde correctly. Having pride in her achievement was one thing, but Isolde's words seemed unpleasantly like conceit to Helen.

"Well, it's as if they just play the notes, sometimes. They're the right notes, and they're played beautifully, but it's like they don't understand the music, you know? It's as if it takes a while for them to realize what's being said, but once they have, they're all right." She looked at Helen earnestly, searching Helen's eyes for understanding. "With your group, that problem isn't there at all! It's as if we're talking the same language right from the start! Don't you feel that?"

Of course Helen had felt that. She smiled and nodded. She was impressed with Isolde's honesty and tact. They talked some more, trying to explain musical ideas in plain English to each other, and were able to communicate extremely well. Helen found that Isolde had clarified thoughts about performing music that she had never been able to articulate even to herself. It was as if Helen had never talked music to anyone before.

An hour or so later they were still talking, and Helen heart swelled with joy as she was gradually convinced that Isolde returned her admiration.

"I have to tell you something," Helen said quietly, and Isolde looked at her intently. "I think you're the greatest musician alive today."

Isolde turned red as she stared at Helen in disbelief.

"No, I'm not!" said Isolde, choking. "I was just getting up the courage to tell you the same thing! I think _you_ are the most wonderful musician!"

They gazed at each other, pleased, but rather embarrassed. It was hard to continue a conversation after such a declaration. Helen recovered first outwardly, though inside she was trembling. She laughed lightly, and said that Isolde didn't know as many musicians as Helen did. "I'm just an ordinary woman, Isolde, but you—you are music personified!"

Isolde's eyes held a look that made Helen faint. Helen had to tell herself a hundred times that they were _not falling in love,_ though it certainly seemed like it. It later seemed to Helen that it was that moment that she became an adult. Until then she was a child, incapable of distinguishing between admiration and desire. But now she knew that Isolde admired her, but could never have the feelings for her that Helen wanted her to have. Helen knew the difference between wanting to be in love with Isolde, and actually being in love.

Isolde said something complimentary to Helen, who blushed and accepted the compliment graciously. Isolde confided that she had two aunts who were her only female relatives except for distant cousins. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you and Lorna spending this time with me," she said. "I so wanted to go fabric-shopping with her."

"I'll take you," said Helen.

It was a lot of fun, watching Isolde get excited about fabric. Helen recalled the sewing she used to do, and managed to talk Isolde into buying some materials that they thought would work out well. Impulsively, Helen bought a sewing-machine for the house, and told Isolde she could use it as long as she needed it. Helen was recognized as soon as they went in the store, and assistants followed them everywhere, trying to be helpful.

They headed for home with the fabric and the sewing machine in the back of the little beetle, and as soon as they got to the house, Isolde began to cut and sew.

## Composing

As Helen watched, she heard, in her mind, a melody. It was a violin melody, a beautiful tune. Starting simply, it began to develop into a mighty movement of Beethovenian power, and Helen could see Isolde playing it. It gave Helen a feeling of absolute power, and great humility at the same time.

Helen fetched her little computer, and began to enter the music she was hearing into it as fast as she could.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm composing," Helen said. "For the first time in my life!" she added. "It's a violin concerto, and it's for you!"

"Let me see!"

"No!" Helen insisted, shutting the computer up. "Not until I've got more of it down!"

Isolde's eyes danced with delight. "Are you serious? Is it a concerto? For me? Really?"

Helen nodded, grinning. "You keep sewing, please, Isolde; I need to concentrate, or I'll forget it!"

Isolde anxiously hurried back to her seat, watching Helen with fascinated interest. The music poured out of Helen. For the first time, she found the computer too slow for her needs. The contrapuntal passages demanded additional attention, and she sketched in the counterpoint—a bit here and a bit there, just enough so she could fill it out later.

By four, the first movement was complete, and the other two movements sketched out. Isolde came around so often that Helen had given up chasing her away. For a few seconds Isolde's hand rested on Helen's shoulder, and Helen came distressingly close to grabbing Isolde and kissing her, but she didn't.

Isolde looked over Helen's shoulder and hummed the principal theme. Her voice was rough and unlovely, quite a contrast to the charm of her speaking voice. "It's lovely, like Beethoven," she said. "Oh Helen, play it with me, please?"

It wasn't necessary. The computer could be set to play any or all parts as desired, and Helen got it ready to play as soon as Isolde got her violin out.

It was frustrating, because the computer couldn't respond to Isolde at all; the music had to be played like clockwork. But even so, both girls realized the latent power of the work. And it was a lot less Beethovenesqe than it had seemed at first. In terms of its rhythmic power it certainly was that, but the melodies were more romantic, more chromatic, more expressive, longer.

At the end of the movement, Isolde stared at Helen. It hardly seemed possible that Helen had composed a twelve-minute movement so quickly.

"It's beautiful!" said Isolde reverently. "What else have you composed?"

"Nothing! Nothing except exercises for classes, I mean," Helen confessed.

A car pulled up outside; it was Lisa and Marika. (Lisa had met a handsome young fellow some months ago in LA, and gotten pregnant by him; Marika and Lisa had decided to keep the baby. There was a lot of blushing when Helen had learned all this when they first arrived. Marika was touchingly solicitous of Lisa.) The new composition was forgotten amidst the introductions and plans for the recordings. Marika was interested in Isolde and spoke to her at length, and Isolde happily chatted to her, fascinated in turn by this cousin who looked so much like Helen.

Lisa simply sat and smiled, too tired to do more. She had joined in the conversation while they discussed recording details (about which Isolde was quite knowledgeable), but was now clearly in need of rest.

"Love, you need to rest," Marika said, realizing that she had been neglectful. "I'll help you to bed, come on!"

"Oh, I can get to bed by myself, Marika," said Lisa, getting to her feet slowly, "why don't you stay and talk?"

Soon Marika and Lisa were resting upstairs, and Isolde showed clear signs of being tired. She tended to keep going until she was exhausted, and then suddenly collapse. "I'm just going to lie down here for a while," she declared, reclining on the sofa. Helen sat on the edge of the sofa, next to her, unable to tear herself away. She found a throw close by and brought it to put on the sleeping teenager, and was shocked to see that she was already asleep. She had long, long lashes, and lips a tad thinner than would have been sexy. Her forearms were indeed furred with fine dark hair. Before she could stop herself, Helen had picked up the sleeping girl's hands in her own, and felt the soft weight of them in her palms, and the warmth of the girl's stomach on the back of her hands. Raising the hands, Helen spread the throw on her, and made to lay them on the cover. But she couldn't let go. She wanted to hold those hands forever.

Lorna arrived home a little later, when Helen had managed to tear herself away from Isolde's hands and gone to her room to think. Lorna came in and began to talk animatedly, and Helen reminded herself of how happy she was with Lorna.

The evening's concert went like magic. They played the two best known Bach solo violin concertos, and the D minor double concerto. Isolde had said she'd like Helen to announce the program, so she did. It was an early concert, so it was done by 9, and dropping Isolde off at the hotel, they went home. A little later Lisa and Marika went upstairs to bed, leaving Lorna and Helen to themselves.

Suddenly, Helen's phone beeped.

"Hello?"

"Helen, are you alone?" It was Amber, Helen knew at once.

"Er, hi! No, I'm not; why?"

"Oh." What could Amber want? "Can you call me back when you can talk?" Amber gave Helen her number, and Helen memorized it and hung up.

"What's all that about?"

"It's just a friend... I'm supposed to call her when I have time."

Lorna smiled indulgently. She came up to Helen and sat on her lap. "Fuck me first," she said. "Then you can do what you want!" Lorna was a brilliant guesser.

"Where have you been all day?" Helen asked gently.

"Dancing!" Lorna said, and leaned forward and touched Helen's lips with her tongue.

Before too long, Lorna pushed Helen down on the sofa and flung her body into Helen's arms as was her habit of old. Nothing else mattered except their passion. But Lorna quickly tired, and in a short while, the lovely dancer's body lay limp on Helen, heavy as lead in its limpness, but light as a feather to Helen's loving arms. There was something insanely sweet about Lorna that a stubborn part of Helen could never forget. Normally, Lorna would have undressed Helen first, since she was extremely particular about the treatment of clothes. But tonight, as suddenly as her passion had risen, it had left no time for niceties. Their clothes were crushed and stained with their lovemaking, brief though it was. Helen slowly slipped off her skirt, careful not to wake Lorna, and draping it over her arm, picked up Lorna in her arms, and carried her to their bed. Lorna softly sighed in her sleep, and Helen was reminded how innocent a soul she was, for all the mature airs she often affected. Being the youngest of her family, and the only girl, she had a frustrated desire to be the bossy older sister. Helen had seen her mother her older brothers in the most comical way. She had never tried to mother Rain or Sophie, but the day would surely come when she would. The objects of her solicitude were usually Helen, Rain and the children. And now, the exhausted little mother was fast asleep in Helen's bed, and Helen gazed on her, fascinated by the feelings that the sight generated in Helen's heart.

After undressing Lorna carefully and tucking her in, Helen put on a pair of shorts and headed downstairs to call Amber. She felt a strange excitement.

# Kelly Wilde

The excitement was justified.

Remember, Amber was a glamour model. Amber had told Helen earlier, that in a careless moment, she had let drop to a gathering of her closest friends, that she knew Helen Nordstrom, and she had related the story of how Helen and Sophie had taken her under her wing, when she had nowhere to stay, and only had a few German marks to spend on accommodation. "They all said they knew all about you, and they love you, and they all wanted to meet you!" Helen grinned; this was hardly an unusual occurrence to her, but she was tactful.

But then it turned out that several of them had said that if they got to meet Helen in person, _they would make a very generous contribution to Helen's charities._ Helen was aware that many members of the public held back from contributing to charities because it was increasingly becoming known that most charities kept back a large proportion of the funds they were sent for administrative purposes. Their managers were highly paid, admittedly, and that was the only way to attract managers who were honest and capable. Nevertheless, people held back from contributing out of a vague feeling that there just _had_ to be a more cost-effective channel through which they could make an impact.

"Kelly wants to know if you'd like to go out tonight."

"Tonight?" Helen was surprised but excited. She realized that she should simply say yes, but sheer habit made her argue. "Isn't it late?"

"Well, look, it can't be early, hon, your schedule's too busy."

Helen quickly agreed. "Where are we going? What should I wear?"

Kelly had been watching a tape she had made of a TV interview Helen had given some months before, when Amber called.

"I guess she's coming out with you," Amber said. Kelly knew Amber too well to miss the reluctance in her voice. "So where will you be taking her? To the Grotto," Amber suggested, disapprovingly.

"Amber, I won't do nothing to her," Kelly said sincerely, "I just want to get to know her, honest! I'll just see what she likes to do. You can trust me, Amber."

Amber seemed to bridle at that. "That's your business. I'm only as concerned as anyone would be, Kel. She's a decent woman, and my friend, and I want to keep it that way."

"I promise!"

Kelly was excited. There was something about Helen Nordstrom that fascinated her. She was the unapproachable idol, as well as the girl-next-door. Kelly had watched countless episodes of the Galaxy show, and it still sent chills up her spine when someone addressed Helen's character, Cecilia on the show, and she turned round and looked into his or her eyes. Kelly sighed. It was unreasonable to expect that the woman, Helen, was the same as the role she played.

Studying herself in the mirror, Kelly sighed in frustration. She selected a lace bra and panties, and a soft, figure-hugging sheer black creation she had bought for a special occasion. It was all oblique layers, and softened the rather hard lines of her athletic figure. She was anxious not to invest in this evening as a sexual encounter, because if it didn't work out, that would spell death for their acquaintanceship. But something in her that she refused to recognize wanted her to be as feminine as possible. As she applied her makeup, an expensive translucent foundation, blush, lengthening her eyelashes, putting on blue eye-shadow to accentuate her blue eyes, layering on warm, deep red lipstick, she cursed at the mirror because her color was so high, it has hard to gauge how much color to use. She splashed lots of expensive perfume on and then gritted her teeth; it was too much perfume. She had to get out and let it dry. She put on a fur coat, and then traded it for a fake fur; Helen would probably hate anyone who wore furs.

The car came in minutes, and Kelly checked everything: purse, coat, cash, credit-card, phone, all in order. Helen would be waiting in the lobby of the Marriott. She instructed the driver, and tried to relax.

Kelly took out her mirror and checked out her hair. It was perfect, and Kelly knew it was the best style for her face and figure, but it seemed so ordinary compared with Helen's fabulous rope of braided curly gold hair.

Kelly walked into the huge lobby of the hotel and looked around, attracting the usual interested male stares. Kelly ignored them, looking for a head of bright gold hair. Finally she spotted her target by the simple expedient of looking where everyone else seemed to be staring, at a spot in a far corner of the lounge. There, seated on a chair, vainly seeking shelter behind a potted plant, was Helen. Kelly drew in her breath sharply at the sight.

She had never seen Helen so beautifully dressed. She wore a creation in some soft crepe-like fabric that caressed her torso, leaving her creamy-gold shoulders gloriously bare. Red was certainly her color. She had a red coat folded on her lap, and she was answering a question from some man standing close to her who was gazing at her in rapture. Her hair was loosely braided and tied in a black bow, and she was beautifully made up for the evening, very feminine, like Kelly herself.

As Kelly pulled herself together and walked up, the big green eyes turned to her, and Kelly saw recognition in them. Helen rose gracefully, murmuring something to the man, who stepped back with a smile, his disappointment plain. Afterwards Kelly couldn't quite remember the details of their first words to each other. She only remembered that Helen's voice was warm and soft and beautiful, and she looked into Kelly's eyes and Kelly was lost in them. She remembered touching Helen's back briefly as she guided her out, and she felt soft under the fabric of her dress. There were a few flurries as they walked out to the car, with Helen in her red coat.

Once they were seated in the back of the car, they turned to each other and began talking at the same time, and laughed.

"Go on!" said Helen, smiling, with an expressive gesture of her hand.

"How late can you stay out?" Kelly asked, afraid of the answer, but Helen simply shrugged and smiled. "All night?"

Helen laughed, a magical sound. With an expressive roll of her eyes and a slight coloring of her cheeks she said, "I'd love to, but I have—guests." Since they were in a car, not a limousine, they couldn't talk without being overheard. "I'd like to get back before two," she added.

"We're going to this little place first, for something to eat, and we can plan there," Kelly said. Helen nodded and said that was fine.

Kelly had never dated anyone outside the business who was as well-known as Helen, and was nervous about where she could take her. The driver was completely trustworthy and discreet, as Kelly's friends knew well, but of course Helen couldn't know that.

She was startled to feel Helen pick up her hand. "Please don't worry!" said Helen with a tight smile. "We're going to have a lovely time!"

Kelly was touched by that gesture, and by the fact that Helen didn't let go of her hand, but held it, softly playing with it.

Too soon they were at their destination, Madonna's, and Helen dropped her hand to climb out. Kelly smiled at the driver, and guided Helen inside.

Helen said she had eaten, and Kelly said the same. They decided to have dessert and drinks, and talk for a little.

"What would you like to do?" asked Kelly. "We could go to a nightclub, or go dancing, or a casino..."

"Maybe dancing," Helen said with a smile, "I like to dance!"

Kelly said that was what they'd do. Up till then she had been snatching glances at Helen. Taking a deep breath, she studied Helen frankly, and after a brief pause, Helen did the same.

"You're very pretty," said Kelly, feeling the inadequacy of the words. Helen murmured something back that Kelly didn't quite catch. "Thanks for coming out with me," Kelly continued. "I know it was a weird suggestion!"

Helen blushed slightly. "I like weird things," she said.

They sipped their drinks, and started on their desserts, and Helen exclaimed how wonderful it was. Kelly couldn't get enough of Helen and the way she ate and drank. She had stopped being discreet in her glances altogether, and now studied Helen openly.

Helen looked up at Kelly and laid down her spoon.

"You know," she said, "if I was a producer, I'd put you in the movies! You have the looks and the figure... if you could act..."

"You mean, why do I do it, right?" Kelly asked, with a twisted smile. It was the first question anyone outside the business asked, and Kelly was no longer embarrassed by it. Helen nodded. "Because I'm an exhibitionist, I like sex, a lot of sex, I like Amber and a few other girls, and it pays well!"

Helen smiled, and Kelly had doubts for the first time. God, she thought, if _she_ got in the business, she'd make a fortune. Kelly was already getting hot at the thought of dancing with her. She was worth every penny of the $10,000 Kelly was planning to give. She'd pay more, if Helen would sleep with her. But she felt a certain protectiveness about Helen. It was all so confusing.

"Sometimes," Helen said with a slight smile, "I feel like doing what you do!"

"I was just thinking; you'd make a killing!"

Helen shook her head. "I'd do it for free. It's not the money." Kelly nodded. Helen was as trapped inside her ultra-civilized world as Kelly was in her world of sometimes tiresome sex.

They ate in silence for a while.

Kelly asked about Helen's guests. Helen dismissed them with a few words. It was a couple; they would be fine. She was mostly concerned about her girlfriend.

"She's tired and sleeping, now, but I want to get back before she wakes," Helen said quietly. She glanced quickly at Kelly, and Kelly nodded.

"This is the real thing!"

"Yeah," Helen smiled. "I think it is." She nibbled at her dessert delicately. "I've been lucky, I guess," she said. She looked straight into Kelly's eyes. "There's been three or four." Kelly nodded. "I've been hard on them. This time..."

Kelly smiled. "I can't imagine you being hard on anyone!"

Helen only smiled.

"What's your taste in women?" Kelly asked, her heart in her mouth.

Helen stabbed a quick glance at her and paused to think, then resumed her nibbling. Kelly watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed.

"All sorts," Helen said, coloring. "Well... young, pretty!"

Kelly smiled. "Tell me about the one at home."

The big green eyes looked at her thoughtfully. Were they really green? They were more a sort of hazel-yellow, Kelly thought, but that could be the lighting.

"She's—medium build, about 5' 5", pretty..."

"Of course!"

Helen smiled. "She's a dancer, brunette, with a little red in her hair; slim, pretty legs..."

"Breasts?"

Helen looked at her startled, and Kelly thought maybe she had shocked her. "Small." Helen looked serious. "She's a ballet dancer."

Of course.

"How old?"

Helen blushed. "About 20," she said.

## Dancing

They finished dessert, and headed out to the car. They were very affectionate, helping each other with their coats, occasionally touching each other. Everyone looked at them, not quite sure, in the low light, whether it was actually Helen Nordstrom they were seeing.

The dance club that Kelly selected was unfamiliar to Helen. It was full of young people dancing. The decor was expensive, and it was a rather exclusive club. The girls were beautiful, and the few men there were obviously wealthy.

Kelly bought Helen a drink, which she sipped eagerly. "It's good!" she smiled. "What is it?"

Helen was obviously not a great drinker. Kelly told her what the drink was, and she could see the information being filed away. Helen drank another, then said she wanted to dance. There was a brightness in her eyes that gave Kelly a catch in her throat.

She was an excellent dancer, and she picked up the dances quickly. They were surrounded by girls dancing beautifully, but with unerring instinct, Helen seemed to watch only the best dancers.

No mean dancer herself, Kelly danced, studying Helen's legs. Then a Latin rhythm came along, and Helen needed to watch no one. She was amazing.

A little later they headed to the ladies' room, breathing hard.

"You dance beautifully!" Kelly said.

"So do you!" Helen said, graciously.

The ladies' room was full, and they talked in low tones about dancing while they waited for their turns. They went in together, as lots of two-girl couples were doing, and Helen went first, fixing her eyes on Kelly as she went. Delicately wiping herself off, she stood aside for Kelly.

It was a bonding event. For a moment they stood together, and without a word, they kissed gently. Then Helen opened the door and they headed out, and the stares of a number of girls followed them.

Kelly later remembered the slow dance they had danced together. Helen was hard-muscled under the surface fat, but she was yielding in Kelly's arms.

"If you want, we could go to your place," Helen whispered. "I like you."

_I like you._ The words made Kelly very happy. There was an honesty in them that burned in Kelly's heart. Kelly had kissed Helen then, careful not to smear her lipstick. Around them lesbian couples danced on, most of them oblivious to anything but each other. A few stared at them, but they didn't care. The feel of Helen in her arms was intoxicating. She wasn't a teenager by any means, but there was a youthful feel to her. Kelly felt an insane desire to see Helen in nothing but her glorious hair.

Helen was drunk with pleasure. What had started out as simply a lark, just something to do while Lorna slept, with maybe a roll in the hay thrown in, was turning out to be very pleasant indeed. It was Helen's first public appearance with someone who was in the pornography business. That was the most exciting thing about the evening. (Her outings with Amber didn't count because one or the other of them was always incognito.)

Helen had liked the looks of Kelly right away, but Kelly had shown herself more than just a pretty face. She was a fair dancer, and the way she held Helen made Helen feel good. It was neither grabby, the way some men had held her, nor fluttery, the way Amber held her with the tips of her fingers, but just nice. Helen could feel the warmth of Kelly's body through her thin dress, the hardness of her nipples, the strength of her legs.

The music came to a close, and the lights slowly came up, and Helen's self-control returned. Kelly's blue eyes were looking right into hers, and she saw her own desire reflected there. During a moment that seemed to last forever, Helen managed to pull herself together.

Let is draw a veil over the rest of the evening. Suffice it to say, Kelly persuaded Helen to accompany her to her luxury condominium in New Jersey, just across the river. At first Helen and Kelly were content to indulge in some limited fooling around, but eventually they were skin to skin, and inevitably they had sex, because they were both attractive women, and were drawn very strongly to each other.

Kelly dropped Helen off herself. Helen had quickly decided that she trusted Kelly, and it was safe to show her where she lived. "I have a driver when I'm going into town," Kelly said.

"Yeah, so you don't have to worry about parking."

"Uh-huh." The house came in sight, and Helen pointed it out. "It's a cute little house!"

Helen explained how she had lived there as a student, but now used it as her base in Philadelphia. Kelly parked, and turned off the engine. She half-turned to Helen and smiled.

She was really beautiful in her own way. Her big, strong legs and arms were offset by a narrow waist, a graceful neck, beautiful white teeth, and the prettiest blue eyes. Her face always wore a good-humored smile when they were together, in contrast to her professional severe expression as the dominatrix Kelly Wilde.

"I'd like to see you again," said Helen, knowing that Kelly felt the same.

"I'd love to!" smiled Kelly.

Helen got out of the car. Kelly came around, and they embraced in farewell. Kelly waited until Helen was inside the house, and then drove away, waving goodbye. Helen felt a quiet happiness. Somehow Kelly made her smile.

Helen took off her shoes and crept upstairs; it was 1:30. Lorna was fast asleep, her arm thrown over the blanket, a sleeping angel. Helen undressed, cleaned off her makeup carefully, and got into bed with Lorna. In her sleep, Lorna was aware that Helen was near her, and slipped her arm round Helen's neck. Helen was so happy that a tear rolled down her cheek.

## An Eventful Morning

The following morning was rather eventful. Helen, feeling lethargic even at six in the morning, somehow dragged herself off to her early-morning run, despite Lorna's attempts to keep her in bed. "Wait just a little... I'll come run with you!" she had said sleepily, and when Helen had replied that she'd be back quickly, and then Lorna could run with her, Lorna had fallen asleep again. It was Helen's dearest wish that Lorna would run with her. The love that was developing between them could only be helped along by common interests. But Helen had reasoned that she wouldn't put her running on hold until Lorna joined her; that might be a gamble that didn't pay off.

Still, Helen waited for Lorna a few extra minutes, but Lorna just couldn't wake up. Helen ran by herself, and as she approached home via the rather busy street that led back out to the City, she saw her photograph on display at the newsstand. Recognizing her at once, the news-vendor grinned and offered her a paper for free.

## Helen in the News

"I don't write the stuff, Ma'am, but the pictures are great!"

Helen saw that it was a shot of her last night at the hotel, talking to Kelly. When had they taken it? She hadn't seen a flash going off. She walked home, gazing at the picture.

It was a beautiful picture of Kelly and her together, with Kelly's arm round her, urging her forward. It was a while before Helen remembered to check the headline. It wasn't the lead story of this particular paper, she was glad to note. It read: Helen Dates Porn Queen, and the caption of the picture was: "Helen Nordstrom meets her date, Kelly Wilde, at a well-known hotel prior to her big date!"

Helen ran home as fast as she could, but when she arrived, Lorna was gone. There was a note in Lorna's curly writing that said

"I'm off to the Ballet, I almost forgot! I love you, sweetheart! Back around 3. I'll be on break around 10:15, you can call me then! XOX, Lorna."

Helen was so upset she narrowly missed knocking down a chair. She sat to think. If Lorna saw the newspaper on the way to work, she'd be mortified. Helen didn't have a chance to tell her about the so-called 'date.'

Well, thought Helen, I may as well read the rest of the article.

Inside, there were more pictures. There were pictures of Helen and Kelly coming out of the dance club, and the article simply said that she and Kelly had danced for about an hour, and then disappeared. Fortunately they hadn't been seen returning home. Fortunately, too, there was no sense of criticism of Helen in the article, just a benign interest in her activities. This newspaper evidently admired Kelly Wilde, referring to her as 'the highly respected adult movie actress, Kelly Wilde.' They went on to say that Helen couldn't have chosen better, and wished the couple the best of luck!

She hid the paper, and went ahead with preparing breakfast. She showered and dressed as nicely as she could. Her mind kept constantly freezing up and going round in guilty circles, and she had to force herself to concentrate on what she was doing.

Lisa and Marika came downstairs around 8:30. Lisa looked already a little heavier, and radiant. The pregnancy was really doing her good, Helen thought. Marika, no less than Lisa, looked happy. Helen couldn't help smiling at them, and for a few minutes was distracted from her problems.

While they had breakfast they talked about Isolde (about whom Helen had almost forgotten!) and Marika told Helen that Isolde was cute. "I hope," said Marika, "you're not going to let her get away!"

Helen's face became serious, and Marika quickly sobered.

"Marika, I'm in love with Lorna, and... I'm falling more in love with her every minute. Finally, I think this is the real thing." Marika nodded, impressed. Helen had said things sort of like this often before, but nothing quite as definite.

"What about Rain?"

Helen reddened, but she didn't avoid Marika's eyes. "I don't know," she said, clearly miserable. "I thought we could survive as a group... you know? The three of us. Sometimes it seems a reasonable idea. But..." Helen looked at the other two women. Lisa, embarrassed, concentrated on her food. Helen felt her silence almost as a reproach. Marika nodded encouragement. Marika was so trustful of Helen, all Helen had to do was say anything, and Marika would accept it. "... Lorna and Rain have got very close."

Helen looked at her plate, suddenly losing her appetite. She wanted to blurt out that she had gone on a "date" with a porn star, but she felt something like fear.

"Just carry on, Helen; don't get into worrying about things like that!" Marika said, suddenly sounding fierce. "You're a loving, warm-hearted girl, and you just go on being yourself. Don't neglect them; care for them equally." She stared intently at Helen. "Have you been calling England regularly, to check on the kids and Rain?" Helen nodded, though she hadn't been as regular as she should have. "There!" Marika smiled, her all-forgiving smile, and Helen felt a deep gratitude for Marika and her innocent belief in Helen. Helen needed Marika's trust desperately.

If the whole world turned on her, Helen knew, she could still go to Marika.

Helen knew she was in trouble when the doorbell rang, and there was a reporter on the doorstep.

"Is it true, Miss Nordstrom, that you went on a date last night?"

## Reporters

Helen took a deep breath and thought fast. If she gave an exclusive interview, she would be hunted by every enterprising reporter in the state. The only safe thing to do was to give a press conference if she had to.

"I've just decided not to talk to reporters on my doorstep!"

"Oh! Why not? Please, Miss Nordstrom! Just say yes or no!"

"I'm sorry!" Helen smiled, and shut the door.

"What's all that about?" asked Marika once Helen came inside, looking tired and hunted. Helen sagged into Marika's strong arms.

"I can't deal with the Press," Helen said.

"What do they want?" Lisa asked.

The phone rang. Helen had a bad moment thinking it was Lorna. It was Kelly.

"Helen, it's me, Kelly!"

"Oh, hi, Kelly!"

"I guess we've been spotted!"

"I guess so!" Pride made Helen keep her voice cheerful. But she was regretting her foolhardy decision to publicly date Kelly Wilde. She hadn't realized it was Kelly Wilde, but that was no excuse. In one way she had wanted this. She had wanted the whole business of her sexuality out in the open. But she hadn't prepared her friends and lovers and her family for it. And, most of all, she hadn't planned how to deal with Isolde.

Helen chatted with Kelly, and rejected Kelly's offer to deny the whole thing.

"Shall I say we went dancing, and that was all? That's all I'm going to admit to, Helen, anyway; I'd be grateful if you didn't volunteer more than that. On-screen is one thing, what happens in my home is a whole different business."

Helen was impressed. She had assumed Kelly would want to boast of her conquest. And Helen had certainly been a conquest. Helen would do it over again; Kelly was a wonderful lover. But it was different; more like playing at love.

"That's all they'll get from me, too," she assured Kelly. They talked some more about the Press, and hung up.

"Who is that?" asked Lisa. Marika reported that the crowd outside the front door was thickening. "You should call the police," Lisa said, firmly. "I don't care what the deal is; they can't hang out here!"

The police cleared the place quickly. The patrolman in charge spoke to Helen and said maybe she should look into hiring a security guard.

Helen hardly had time to sit the girls down and confess what she had done the previous night than Isolde called and wanted to come over. Helen promised her she'd be right over before she realized that Lorna had taken the Beetle with her.

"We've got our rental," Lisa said. They were always organized; Helen felt silly. "But what got into you, to do a crazy thing like that? You had to expect the Press would be all over you, Helen!"

Marika was very firm. "What the heck does it matter if Helen dates anyone? Does she have to tolerate these jokers on her doorstep?"

Lisa shrugged. They had to battle their way out to the car, and Lisa was rather annoyed. Helen tried to be cheerful and polite while she pushed through the yelling reporters, who were now on the sidewalk, well away from the house, but still persistent. Becky had called and asked, rather coldly, what the deal was, and Helen had said that Becky should say that she has no idea, but that they'd set up a press conference as soon as it was convenient.

Isolde, blissfully unaware of the furor about Helen, was delighted to see them.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself?" Marika asked her. Marika thought Isolde was as cute as a button, and enjoyed talking to her.

"Well, I've been talking with the BBC people," Isolde said, animatedly, "and they're wondering when I'll be back for the next taping! I had forgotten all about that, but Robert is apparently upset. I've been trying to avoid talking to him, but it's impossible!"

They laughed. They put Isolde in the back with Helen and drove out to the house again. On the way they warned her about the crowd of reporters outside the house.

"Oh, yeah; they can get quite aggressive," Isolde said, with the air of someone who had been in the public eye a long time. They warned her not to listen to anything they said, and definitely not to talk back. "Oh, I won't," she promised.

True to her word, she didn't say a word, even when they asked her how long she had been "going out" with Helen. Helen drew in her breath sharply, and blushed bright red. Letting the others go in, she turned to the offender and advanced on him, until he cringed.

"Which paper are you from, sir?" she asked in a frosty voice.

"No offense, Ma'am," he mumbled.

"Please don't insult my guests," Helen asked. "You're making me very angry." She turned and went inside, leaving a very quiet group of reporters at the door.

"What did he mean, _going out?"_

Helen, Lisa and Marika looked at each other.

Marika took a deep breath and said, "They want to know if you really know Helen very well. I guess they don't approve of some of Helen's friends."

"Oh." Isolde looked very tight-lipped. She looked at Helen, and Helen dropped her eyes, wishing she was a million miles away. Isolde of all people deserved the truth from her, but there were other truths that Helen could not run from. Isolde waited until Helen looked at her, and her expression was kind and understanding. "Don't you worry about me, Helen," she said stoutly, "I don't believe in letting the Press decide who your friends should be!"

"That's not the whole story,..." Helen began, but Marika interrupted her.

"It's a large part of it, Helen," she said quietly. "How much is your privacy worth?"

Anger rose in Helen's breast. "I'm not going to give a Press conference," she declared. "I'll let them guess."

"No. Give one, but refuse to talk about specifics." Lisa's eyes glinted. Helen remembered the fury those eyes could express.

Fortunately, Isolde was successfully distracted with the possibility that she could tape her show in Philadelphia. She, Helen, Marika and the BBC wrangled over the details and came up with a compromise. They would tape the show and send it as soon as they could, so that the BBC could decide on the suitability of the tape, and if necessary, use a rerun of an earlier show. Apparently there was great demand for another show with Helen.

Meanwhile the phone rang off the hook. Helen's phone number had been discovered, and every TV and radio station and national news service wanted to talk to Helen. Finally Helen disconnected the phone, and called Becky for help.

"Well, I'm waiting for you. Have you talked to Lorna?"

"No."

"All right, talk to her first. Then we'll set a time for a Press Conference."

## Helen Talks to Lorna

Marika drove Helen out to the Ballet, while Lisa and Isolde stayed and planned for the recording that afternoon. The newly renovated Ballet looked clean and bright. Helen walked into the building feeling very self-conscious. Unconsciously, she tried to walk gracefully; the place stood for beauty and grace, and Helen cherished the connection she had with it.

"Helen!" She had been spotted. An excited Lorna hurried to her, still in her dance costume of a high-cut leotard and a tiny scrap of fabric for a skirt. She hugged Helen affectionately and grinned at Marika, calling out a cheery "Hi, Marika!"

They were in the large lobby of the Institute, and Lorna pulled Helen towards the inner rooms, saying she wanted to show Helen around.

"Look, wait," Helen said, feeling miserable, "do you have a minute, hon? I have to ask you something."

Lorna suddenly noticed the gravity of Helen's manner. Her smile faded.

"What's wrong? What do you want to know?"

"Last night... after you fell asleep... ?"

"Yeah?"

"I went out with a friend."

"Well, yeah, you said you were going to! What happened?"

"It was Kelly Wilde."

Lorna grinned. "You're kidding!" Helen shook her head. "Well, what's she like?"

"She's very nice," said Helen. "We were spotted by the Press."

"Oh, shit. Rain will be annoyed."

Helen rummaged in her purse for tissues, and Lorna watched, concerned, as Helen began to dab her eyes. "I don't care, darling," Lorna said softly, "honestly, I don't. I hate the Press, and I don't care one bit for myself."

"I haven't done anything evil, or wrong," Helen said. "I guess I knew I was courting trouble when I went out openly." There was no sign in her voice of her obvious distress. "I must stand the heat, or get out of the kitchen, I guess."

"So what's the Press doing? Calling the house?"

"They're out on the sidewalk, calling out questions every time I go in or out."

"You know what? Call a Press conference. Tell 'em to leave you alone. I'll back you up." Lorna glanced at Marika for support, and Marika nodded, smiling. Lorna turned back to Helen and wiped a tear off her cheek. "So, what's Kelly like? Is she big and mean?"

Helen smiled. "She's big and really sweet," she said. "Just a real nice gal! Like—well, Sophie, or Marika! I like her."

Lorna grinned at Marika who looked astonished at being compared to a porn star. "I don't know how she finds them!" Lorna laughed.

Helen was deeply grateful that Lorna had taken the situation in her stride. She had kissed Lorna quickly and hurried back with Marika.

Isolde and Lisa had done practically all the spadework for Isolde's show. They had asked Lalitha and Pavel to participate, and both had agreed. Marika and Lisa took Isolde with them when they went shopping for some extra equipment, including a new camera that they had been eying for a while.

Helen told Becky she was ready. She had only to call Rain and tell her the situation.

"Oh god, Helen... what made you do it?"

"She was introduced by a friend, Rain. There are all sorts of people in the world, and I happen to have friends of all kinds."

"What'll I tell the kids?"

"The truth, of course. I spent an evening with Kelly Wilde. That's all there is to it."

"But, she's a... you know!"

"Who's with you?"

"Allie! Allie, say hi to Mama!"

Allie's quiet voice came on the phone, and Helen chatted to her for a bit.

"Allie, do you mind if I go on a date with a very sexy lady?"

"Uh-uh. You're pretty sexy, Mama! You're not going to forget Auntie Rain and Aunty Lorna are you, Mama?" Helen was startled at her precocity. She began to realize that Allie's view of the world was colored by the incidents in Helen's life that affected the little girl, such as being looked after by a sequence of Aunties, who kept changing.

"No, darling, and Auntie Rain will never forget you either. You can ask her."

Helen heard the child shyly asking Rain whether she would forget her. Rain said firmly that Allie would always be her baby. How about Auntie Lorna? she asked. It's the same for her, too, Rain assured her. Then she spoke to Helen.

"That wasn't fair," she said reproachfully. "You put me on the spot."

"You didn't have to lie," Helen said, anger rising in her again. "Anyway, I apologize. The next time, I'll make sure to ask you if you'd mind telling Allie what you've been telling me for months."

"All right, don't fly off the handle."

"Talk to you later, Rain," said Helen, rather gruffly. It was a rather mixed success, Helen thought, but at least she was ready for the Press Conference.

Becky picked her up, and before coming into the house, told the reporters waiting in the street that there would be a Press conference at the office at noon. Helen dressed in a defiantly sexy outfit, and put on more makeup than she was accustomed to wearing. In effect, she seemed to be saying that she felt at liberty to consort with other celebrities romantically, if she so chose.

When they left the house, the street was clear; all the reporters had hurried off to the office ahead of them. To Helen, Becky seemed ready to dissociate herself from anything she might say. She had an air of disapproving patience that hurt Helen. Beginning from when Lorna had left Becky for Helen, the former had appeared to nurse a resentment against Helen, quite naturally. They had been so close and affectionate at one time, and Helen missed that very much; Helen couldn't bear any kind of emotional tension.

When they were seated, Helen brought it up.

"It's very hard to bear that you dislike me so much, Becky." Though she tried very hard, Helen couldn't prevent her eyes from filling up with tears. Her makeup would be smudged, in spite of being the best, run-proof mascara.

Becky groaned. "This is not the time to bring that up, Helen."

"I know it isn't, but you should know that it eats away at me."

"Okay. Thanks for making that clear."

"I know I've got more than my fair share of happiness and love."

"I wasn't complaining about that."

Helen took a deep breath and calmed herself. At least, she thought, the subject had been broached.

## The Press Conference

The office lobby was full, and the cameras flashed almost non-stop while Helen walked into the room they had set out for her. It was Helen, Becky, Florence, and a couple of security men, and about twenty reporters and photographers. Helen had imagined about a hundred, and was duly calmed by the smaller numbers. She stood in front of them, and Becky stood off to the side. A neat sign stated the date, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

"Thank you all for coming," Helen said, taking charge. "Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can; this room was not designed for a press conference!" Laughter.

Helen stood relaxed, but her hands played with her braid, showing her nervousness. The clothes and the makeup, rather than making her look bold and sexy, made her look vulnerable and feminine instead. Her voice was quiet and calm.

"I don't have an announcement to make. I just want not to deal with a dozen of you on the sidewalk outside my house. I will answer some of your questions, but there may be some that I choose to be silent about. The public doesn't need to know every little detail about my life. There are plenty of interesting things that I do that should keep your readers happy. I don't want my friends being pestered and annoyed because of me!"

The faces of the reporters had been grim while Helen talked. Suddenly she smiled, and their faces relaxed. She asked for questions.

"Did you go on a date with Miss Kelly Wilde?"

Helen took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I did." There was absolute silence. "We went out for dessert, we went dancing, and I enjoyed the evening very much. Miss Wilde is a wonderful woman."

"Were you aware of Miss Wilde's reputation before you went out with her?" asked a woman, and the question was greeted with laughter.

Helen's eyes held a rather cold look. "I probably know as much as anybody does about Kelly Wilde. I've been around a long time, and things like Miss Kelly's supposedly frightening reputation do not bother me!"

"Is it true that you were involved in the adult entertainment business in your youth, Miss Nordstrom?" The question was from an older, rather well-dressed reporter who piqued Helen's curiosity.

"Yes," Helen said. "I have wide interests, and one of them is dancing."

"Dancing nude?"

"Yes," Helen said, "though I probably wouldn't do it today!" She smiled disarmingly, everyone laughed, and magically the subject changed.

"Did you spend the night with Miss Wilde?" asked someone.

There was a pin-drop silence. Helen found the questioner, and fixed him with a level gaze. Cameras whirred, and microphones were aimed at her unwaveringly. Apparently this was the big question.

Helen decided to answer the question. Waffling on this one would be interpreted as having confessed to sleeping with Kelly.

"First of all: no, I did not. Secondly, what would it matter if I had? That is the last time I will answer that kind of question." She managed a small smile. "I have a sex life, as you can imagine. Just as most normal people prefer not to be asked for details about what they do in private, I do too! Is that too much to ask?"

"Miss Nordstrom, you are a public figure, and as such you are expected to satisfy the curiosity of the public. It is the public that supports you, buys your CDs, attends your concerts! You owe it to them to answer these questions honestly!"

Helen's anger boiled over.

"You are wrong on several counts," Helen said, keeping as calm as she could. "I have a job, and I earn my living. The people who buy my CDs don't buy them because of being satisfied about my private life; they buy them because they want to hear the music. Your readers, sir, are probably those who have never bought one of my CDs in their lives. It is not sex that sells the music I make!" Helen took a few breaths to calm herself. "My CDs are the work of many artists collaborating together. There is a huge amount of intrinsic value in every CD we sell. Every recording is a work of love: love for music, love for our audience, and love for each other. We do not exploit our audience. The Press, on the other hand, is often too willing to make musicians subsidize them. What you really seem to mean is that I have a duty to support your sales. Is that what you mean?"

"We only supply what our readers want, Ma'am!" the reporter grinned.

Helen smiled and shrugged.

The men and women of the Press saw a youthful-looking blonde who appeared to be utterly defenseless one moment, and quite fearless and confident the next. The charismatic conductor they were accustomed to seeing on TV was nowhere in evidence. The girl in front of them had more in common with her character in the Galaxy show, perhaps. In addition, those long, long legs that were revealed by the brief black dress were distracting. Helen was acting a role, but what was it? She was a celebrity complaining about her privacy, but she was also wooing them, flirting with them. She was also flaunting her sexuality to the press, and through them to the public. There was a superficial modesty and decorum, but under that was a simmering sexual heat that she was holding back as if it was a dangerous dog being held back from attacking an assailant. She seemed to be regarding the reporters patiently and calmly, but every once in a while, there was the distinct impression that she was gauging the effect she had on them. At least one member of the group looked around at the others, and saw definite signs of salivation.

Helen's hands were empty. She had laid her purse on a counter near her, and clasped her hands together as she spoke to the group. Now her arms were folded under her breasts, both lowering her neckline and raising her hemline, possibly unintentionally. She touched her breast, and then, seeming to realize that she was, quickly made it appear that she was adjusting her dress. She took a deep breath, while the questions came in thick and fast, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

She shook her head, as if disappointed, and called for more questions. All the subsequent questions had one theme: had Helen slept with Kelly? would Helen be seeing Kelly again? was there a relationship? Helen ignored all of them, called an end to the conference, and thanked them for coming.

Becky looked excited as they watched the reporters leave, grumbling. Some of them seemed to want to stay and talk, but Becky efficiently encouraged them to leave without being rude. Helen asked her what caused her excitement, and learned that a popular news channel had carried the entire event live, so they knew that at least one medium would present an uncensored version of the event.

"That was too easy," Helen said, picking up her purse. "There must be something I forgot!"

Becky looked her up and down and gave her a wry look. "It might not work every time," she said grimly.

Helen flushed. The last of the reporters were being seen out by Flo, and were giving her a hard time.

"There really wasn't anything else I could wear," she said. "I'm not pretending to be a saint; at least now they can't accuse me of being... I don't know... a fake?"

# Isolde Wins Philadelphia

## LMN Tape an Episode of Isolde's BBC Show

Helen insisted on changing before they taped Isolde's show. Isolde had taken one look at Helen and begged her to come along just like that, but Helen had refused. "I don't want to upstage you, dear," she said sincerely, "I think you should be the one who shines."

Isolde was delighted with the control she had over the taping of the show. She already enjoyed considerable freedom in the show, being the darling of the BBC top brass, as it were, but Marika had given her a number of novel ideas, and she was excited about them. She had only been concerned with the sound of the show up until then, but now she was beginning to see the show through Marika's eyes.

"Don't think of the show as being about you," Marika had said tactfully, that morning, "think of it as being about music in the abstract, about music as a way of life! About the joy of music, about the pleasure of playing it!" Isolde had nodded eagerly, her eyes shining. "If they were doing it right, they would show you reacting to the music, how you enjoy it, the excitement of making the music as much as hearing the music."

Isolde had gazed in wonder at Marika's eloquence. "I could almost imagine you playing an instrument," she whispered, her eyes shining. "You have music in your soul, somewhere!" She blushed. It was not her habit to say such fanciful things, but it seemed to be in the air. Americans had such wondrous imaginations, they thought so big! Marika reminded her of some fairy godmother, exhorting her charge to greater efforts. Isolde felt sad that Marika had to be sidelined in the show. "If only you played something!"

"Oh, I play lots of things," Marika assured her, "I graduated with a minor in music!"

"Really?" How amazing! She should have guessed.

"Oh, sure. You could ask Helen! We're cousins, and she knows all about me!"

As a result, they were going to use a multi-camera technique, and use many more close-ups than ever before, to show Isolde's expression, and those of her guests. But they would show the ensembles as a whole, too, to emphasize the group effort. Marika had placed cameras in four locations, and she and Lisa would man two more. They would use basically flat, soft lighting, not too dramatic. Whatever romanticizing of the subjects they did would be very subtle.

They kicked off with Isolde's theme music, a sonata by Telemann, which they simply performed, since they didn't have the recording that the BBC used. Then, an excited Isolde faced the camera and welcomed her guests.

"We're in Philadelphia, this week, and I'm visiting with Helen Nordstrom! She has not only agreed to join us again, her company is recording the program for us, and in fact, her cousin Marika is one of the camera persons!" Isolde beamed at Marika, who kept professionally silent. "Our other guests are Mr. Pavel Orlovski, who plays a number of instruments, including lute, theorbo, oboe, bassoon, cello, and _viola da gamba_ , and Miss Lalitha, who plays lute, recorder, and harpsichord, and Ms. Mary Beth Williams, who plays violin, viola, and treble viol, and Mr. Garth Hammer, who plays practically everything else!" The others laughed, because Garth really did play a huge array of instruments. "And today," Isolde continued, "we're going to have Helen sing, and we're all looking forward to that!"

Isolde spoke quietly, just as she spoke in ordinary conversation, but she managed to communicate a great deal of emotion with simple, slight changes in her voice and expression. Instead of the slight upward angle of the BBC cameras, Marika was using an almost level, or slightly downward angle into Isolde's face, so that she was smiling up at the camera, or straight into the camera. She explained that they were going to get as much music into the program as possible by careful editing. They started right off by playing a movement from a concerto. Then, caught up in the excitement of the freedom they were enjoying, they decided to play the next movement too. They didn't have the necessary forces, but they played anyway, and it sounded wonderful, regardless. Isolde reacted to that unexpected success very naturally, and they went on to a galliard by Dowland.

Trish and the little girl sat in the shadows. They were both dressed beautifully, and Marika's camera touched lovingly on them, catching the baby's look of wonder as she picked up the excitement of the music. Helen and Mary Beth played violins, while Isolde and Garth played viols. Lalitha and Pavel played Lute and Theorbo, respectively.

That went so well, that after Isolde had talked a little about Dowland with Helen, they decided to play some more Dowland.

Then Helen sang. And after that, they got Marika to leave the camera and come sing with Helen. Helen sang with the renaissance instruments, and then with her guitar, and with her autoharp. Then Helen played harpsichord for a number of sonatas with Pavel, Isolde and Garth. Perhaps the loveliest song Helen sang that night was an air by an anonymous composer, accompanied by Lalitha on the lute, and Isolde on the gamba.

Wrapping up, Isolde thanked her audience, and all her guests, present, past and future. She smilingly apologized for being, perhaps, a touch more excited about the present program than others, and ascribed it partly to the venue and the circumstances. She mentioned that her goal was to impart something of what she felt when she played music. She stood with all her guests, and took leave of the audience.

"That's a wrap," Lisa called, because Marika was on camera, smiling away.

"Oh!" exulted Isolde, "That simply has to be the best show ever!" and she beamed at Marika, who happened to be the closest to her. Marika impulsively gave her a big hug, something even Helen had not dared to do yet.

That evening, Isolde approached Helen with a suggestion. "I would like to play some more concertos with you!" she said, breathlessly. Her plan was to play every conceivable concerto that she could manage to learn, with Helen conducting, and then every possible double concerto with violin. Helen would play the violin, and she would play the other instrument. Helen laughed, and Isolde was indignant not to be taken seriously.

"You know we can do it, why're you laughing?"

Helen sobered up, realizing that the kid was annoyed. "Well, we only have so much time, Isolde,... I have to go back to work on Monday, you probably have things to get back to; the people in the orchestra need to get back to their regular schedules... you see?"

Isolde nodded, reddening. She hadn't quite realized that the Impromptu wasn't usually as active as it had been in the last few days. Helen had to explain that she taught at a school several hundred miles away.

"I'm sure we could squeeze in a few tomorrow?"

"Of course! We have one ready, maybe another..."

"Oh, let's do two more!"

## Isolde is Inspired!

It was hard to resist Isolde's enthusiasm. The next 24 hours the Impromptu and Isolde worked very hard, while Lisa and Marika slaved away over their editing board. That night they played two Mozart violin concertos and the _Sinfonia Concertante_ to a packed hall, with Lisa and Marika recording it. Marika was ecstatic, especially about the last work. She told a dreamy-eyed Isolde that it was the best performance of the _Sinfonia Concertante_ she had heard.

Again, Isolde got very tired right after the concert. She spoke to a long line of Philadelphia's brightest musicians and music patrons, but she was so clearly exhausted, they had little trouble in getting her excused and back to the hotel. "Just my luck," Helen said plaintively, "I get you set up in this hotel close to the Church, and our concerts are mostly at the Hall, miles away!"

Isolde collapsed onto her bed and lay still for a few seconds. Then with her characteristic politeness, she dragged herself up to see her friends off. Too tired to smile, she said she had had a brilliant time. "You probably don't realize that the biggest audience I've played to was about 250 people!"

"No way!" exclaimed Lorna.

"Well, on TV, of course, I suppose there's a million people watching, some days. But tonight... how many were there, do you know?"

"Close to a thousand, counting everyone standing in the balconies!"

"That explains why I'm so tired!" joked Isolde, weakly.

"Go to bed, dear," Helen said gently, her arm reassuringly round Lorna as she smiled at Isolde. Isolde nodded, and said good night.

That night's TV news had Helen's press conference on every channel. "Squeaky-clean Helen Nordstrom, who had confessed to being bisexual some years ago, was reported being seen with glamour model and professional dominatrix Kelly Wilde last night! Here's what she said at a press conference she called this morning to deal with what she considered excessive harassment by newspaper reporters!" Then there was a clip of Helen in her little black dress, playing with her hair, saying "I've been around a long time, and things like Miss Kelly's supposedly frightening reputation do not bother me!"

The reporter looked at his co-anchor and smiled. "She has been around a while, hasn't she? She looks wonderful!"

"I think she's in her 30's," said the woman, and added that she should be lucky to look that good when she was that old. Helen gasped, saying she couldn't believe she had said that. "But, Jeeze, she should be allowed to date whom she wants! It's not like either of them are married!"

"She's a mother, Jane! Think of the kids!"

"So Kelly Wilde is not allowed to date a single parent?"

Lorna was so delighted with that comeback, she leaped to her feet and cheered, dancing around like a cheerleader. Helen's heart warmed to the woman, the co-anchor of a Philadelphia station that was syndicated around the country.

That was the coverage on that channel. Lorna took the remote-control and surfed for more news about Helen. About two-thirds of the stations took a similar tolerant attitude. Of the rest, some seemed troubled by the fact that Helen was so openly fraternizing with a woman of 'loose morals,' while others were concerned that Helen was trying to get cheap publicity, and yet others thought Helen was showing what they called 'her true colors.' Helen was furious with that idea, and Lorna was almost violently angry.

Marika and Lisa refused to come to watch TV. They worked away at the editing, and finally had it down to an hour. Helen watched the whole thing, and agreed that it was a masterpiece. There was evidence of the skillful editing everywhere if you looked for it, but if you didn't, it felt like one continuous take. Not visually, but in the sense of time; they had managed to make it feel like one unbroken hour of time, no more.

"They do it every week, Marika, they can't possibly put in the time."

"But look at her face! See how expressive it is!"

Helen smiled. Marika hadn't overdone the close-ups, though Helen knew it must have been a temptation.

The evening concert, however, was a simple triumph. The recording had been perfect, there had been no big noises at all, and Lisa was sure she could do it in half an hour.

"But you're not going to, love," said Marika gently. "The little mama is going to bed right now!" Helen watched as the couple kissed tenderly. Definitely, Helen thought, Lisa was becoming a beauty before their very eyes. She was putting on weight, and she had become rosier with the advance of her pregnancy, and Marika was almost mad with love for her. Tomorrow, Helen thought, she had to suggest to Marika the idea of flowers. She remembered how Michelle and Penny had bought her flowers, and a tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it. Luckily, the lovers did not notice. Marika picked Lisa up, and set off up the stairs, with Helen following.

The next morning, Lorna insisted on running with Helen, and Helen felt a certain excitement at the prospect of being accompanied by Lorna. She had bought Lorna a sexy, expensive running suit. Lorna, blushing, protested that it was too cold to wear it. However, with a sweater worn on top it was just warm enough for Lorna, and they set out, in the near dark.

Of course, Helen saw plenty of Lorna's body in the usual course of a day: dressing, washing, and making love. But to see Lorna running with her was an unexpectedly erotic experience. Lorna ran slowly, and at first rather self-consciously, but as she felt the sheer pleasure of running fast, she began to loosen up. She liked to shake her head from side to side as she ran, flinging her braid—quite long, now—about, and laughing. She had thin lovely legs, but with well-muscled buttocks.

Helen led the way to a neighborhood playground, and they ran there, round and round. Then, spontaneously they paused and closed in an embrace, and Lorna's mouth hungrily sought Helen's, and kissed her with the intense passion that was uniquely hers, her pubis thrusting insistently and repeatedly against Helen.

As suddenly as it came on, Lorna's passion ebbed and she stepped back, flushed and laughing. "Oy veh," she said, "it must be the running, or something!" Helen smiled, amused by the unexpected exclamation.

"I'm exhausted!" she said, walking round in a circle. "How many miles have we run?"

"Three," said Helen, impressed. "That's good for the first time out!"

"Let's get back," said Lorna in a low voice, with a special look in her eye, tugging at Helen's hand. "Come on, let's run fast!" As she ran she began to take off her sweater, and Helen caught her and held her until she had safely removed it, earning a kiss for doing so. In the slightly brighter daylight, Lorna looked a vision in her tight running suit, with her sweater tied round her waist. And she was running fast.

Out of nowhere, a small truck turned a corner just as Lorna headed across the street. By a miracle the truck swerved, and Lorna stumbled to safety as Helen fell to her knees in panic. The truck disappeared with its frightened driver, and Helen hurried to Lorna who was leaning against a stop sign, thoroughly frightened. But she recovered quickly and grinned at Helen. "Whew! That was close!" she said, her eyes wide.

"Are you OK?" asked Helen, her heart still beating wildly. "For a moment..."

"No!" said Lorna, "No." She shook her head vehemently. "Nothing was going to happen."

"But Lorna, you..."

Lorna grabbed her and buried her face in Helen's hair, saying the word _no_ repeatedly, not letting Helen say a word. "Let's go home," she whispered. "And tomorrow we're running again; nothing's going to happen!"

The minute they were back, Lorna dragged Helen into the bedroom, and kept her there until she had burned up all the adrenalin that the near collision had thrown into her bloodstream.

"Aren't you late?" Helen asked, a little later.

Lorna rolled on top of Helen to look at the clock. They had been holding each other, engrossed in their dreamy after play. "I can make it," Lorna said in a low, husky voice. She drew circles round Helen's nipples with her finger.

"When we're fucking... it's like... we become pure spirits, and we're floating in space," Lorna said. "Is it the same for you?"

"Sometimes," Helen said, half amused and half impressed by Lorna's thought.

"Do you really love me, Helen? You can be honest. If you say you don't, I'll just try harder. For me, you're all there is."

Helen held her breath. It was a scary thought.

"There's Becky," she said, and immediately regretted it.

"Yes," said Lorna, "I know... I love her, Helen..."

"I know you do."

"Just let me finish; I love her very much, but you... it's different with you. I would die for you."

Helen looked into her eyes, and then looked away, scared of the desire she saw there. "I don't want to hear that," she said sharply.

Lorna shook her head and rolled out of bed. "You don't understand," she said, calmly. "You're afraid of it! But that . . . fact . . . makes me so happy. It makes me free, really. All day long, I'm making love to you in my mind!" Helen stared at her, unbelieving. "It's like flying. No one can hurt me."

Lorna showered with the door open, and talked to Helen as she did. "My clit is burning," she said.

"Shit," said Helen, "how can you dance?"

"I'll lather some cream on... I usually do, anyway. The way I'm built, I have to do it." She came out, drying herself, gingerly patting her crotch dry. Helen studied her small, perfect breasts, still in her mind feeling them warm and fragrant against her cheek.

Helen's head was spinning. Suddenly she hated the thought of people watching Lorna dance, and she said so, stumbling over the words. "I know that's wrong," she added, getting out of bed, feeling sticky. "I try to control my thoughts, but I can't." She flushed. "Especially when I flirt with Kelly, and do stuff like that."

Lorna grinned. "Flirt all you want!" she said, and went out.

## Isolde Plays Brahms

The morning was spent with Isolde. Helen had convinced her to play two concertos, any two she wanted. "Of course," Helen warned, "I imagine that maybe the big romantic concertos might not sound really grand with our small orchestra, Isolde."

Isolde's expression was serious. "No, that's what I want!"

"Why?" asked Helen, smiling. Isolde's reasons were always entertaining.

"Because you've recorded all the big romantic concertos with the big orchestras, and I can't really add to that."

Helen shook her head, smiling. "Don't worry about things like that, Isolde; you must do it the way you like to do it, and you offer it: this is me, this is my recording! It has nothing to do with 'I think you'll like this better than Helen,' or 'it's different than Helen;' all that has nothing to do with your performance, what you're offering the world." Helen felt a shiver going up her spine as she regarded the slight figure before her, violin in one hand and bow in the other. She was so magical, so musical, seeming to be surrounded by a halo of musicality wherever she went.

Helen watched Isolde choose her words carefully. Isolde was not a demonstrative girl. The exuberance she had occasionally displayed in the past few days was usually followed by her shocked reaction to her own behavior. But Helen knew that Isolde admired her deeply, and it humbled her. Now she knew Isolde was about to explain how her feelings about Helen were relevant to her choice of orchestra and performance.

"Helen," Isolde began, hesitantly, "I've thought about this a long time, and I want to play all the concertos for the first time with you conducting, and your orchestra. I know what I'm doing."

The words were not what Helen had longed to hear. But that was not Isolde's way. But her faith in Helen's musicianship shone out clear as a beacon.

"All right," said Helen, satisfied that Isolde had thought it through. "Which ones, then?"

"The Beethoven and the Brahms."

Helen saw her almost flinch at her own words. She was not reckless, but she was brave. It was uncommon for a 17-year-old to tackle these two most symphonic of concertos. But she was declaring her manifesto, and Helen had to admire her courage.

Helen sat at the piano with the reduced score in front of her, to save having to turn too many pages, and Isolde played.

She had never played the Brahms before. The more she played, the more she loved it. She didn't express her joy physically, by dancing around, as Helen would have done in her youth, but just stood there, transported. Once or twice she interrupted the playing to ask if there was a recording in the house, and Helen said there probably was. "Lorna took all the good ones up to Westfield, where we live," she explained. "Anyway, I don't want you to hear my recording!"

Isolde laughed and said that was the one she owned at home. And the expression on her face made Helen feel wonderful. Perhaps, Helen had thought often in the last few weeks, she had contributed in some small way to Isolde's choice of a career. Now Isolde's look seemed to confirm that wish. "I just want to remember how some places sound with an orchestra, that's all; with the strings playing pianissimo."

It didn't all come automatically. Isolde practiced some passages over and over. She said that she had dreamed of the concertos all night long, and had worked out some things simply in her mind. But she worked hard on the Brahms. After she had finished the first two movements she told Helen that she was afraid she would let down Helen and the orchestra. "I know I can play it, but that's not enough, is it!"

Those two hours of rehearsal made Helen feel closer to the girl than she ever felt before. The perfection one felt on meeting her was not an illusion; there was not a half-hearted bone in her body.

The Beethoven was plain sailing; Isolde knew it from memory, and declared that it wasn't necessary to practice it before the rehearsal.

Instead, Isolde had taken it into her head that the most important thing of all was to perform the concerto Helen had written for her. And this, just when Helen had begun to hope that she had forgotten about it. It was a difficult time for Helen; her emotions were being dragged this way and that, and she could see severe disadvantages to unveiling to the public her very first composition, for a lovely 17-year-old girl, just days after Helen had been seen out dancing with a porn star and dominatrix.

"I can't believe I almost forgot!" Isolde exclaimed.

"Oh, we can do it another time," Helen assured her, dismissing it with a casual gesture she was far from feeling. But no, Isolde could not be dissuaded. She made Helen take up the composition again; Helen sat at the computer, and as soon as she had looked over the piece, she knew how to continue. The phone rang, but Helen continued with the project, while Isolde stared at the ringing phone as if she expected it to explode.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Helen who was involved in an intricate passage asked her to pick it up, which she did, figuring out how to work it.

"Hello?" she said, in her velvety low voice, and talked to whomever it was with her very English phone manner.

Helen turned around to look, and finally realized, from Isolde's expression that it was rather important. Isolde handed the phone to her.

"We're at the airport, Helen, and we're about to get into the shuttle. Everything is under control, Gena and I will do everything, don't worry. I didn't call you because I knew you'd get too flustered."

"Flustered? I'd just have got ready for you; bought some food supplies..."

"No, we don't want you to do anything, we're going to manage by ourselves!"

A more youthful voice came on.

"Mom!! How're you doing? Who is this Kelly person, and how is Isolde Wells?"

Isolde asked, with a smile, who the woman was, and Helen explained. She searched Isolde's face for some sign of jealousy—anything that would signal a more than Platonic interest. But there was nothing.

Helen, gradually becoming accustomed to the idea that Rain and the children would arrive on their own steam, turned to the problem of the concerto. They talked about it at length, and decided that its premiere should be postponed. Helen wanted it to be with a larger orchestra, and after studying the score, Isolde regretfully agreed. Putting it away for the time being, they hurried off to the rehearsal.

They rehearsed and rehearsed. The Impromptu had experience playing Beethoven, but not Brahms. Helen interrupted them again and again, trying to imbue them with the feeling of spaciousness that was the spirit of Brahms. She knew that they would have to battle to substitute for the massivity of the string section of a big symphony orchestra with their skills of perfect ensemble and intonation. As they progressed, Helen began to hear a completely new Brahms violin concerto. One just as joyful and serene as the one she was accustomed to playing, but a more human, more approachable, more colorful, more youthful, and to Helen's admittedly biased eyes, more beautiful. She knew, as Isolde played the beautiful second movement, that the youngster must have often listened to Helen's recordings of it: there were unmistakable gestures copied from her playing, gestures that Helen herself had determined to work at eliminating from her playing. But when Isolde played them they seemed fresh and plausible.

The Beethoven was pure joy. The spirit of Beethoven was in the young girl in good measure; the indomitable will, the nobility of spirit, the composer and his interpreter shared them in equal measure. But Beethoven's boldness and directness of expression was replaced by the natural grace and youthful vigor of the performer. But that Isolde understood Beethoven was clear as daylight.

After the rehearsal, Helen took leave of the orchestra and Isolde. "I must go check on the children," she said, and Isolde smiled at the maternal concern in her friend's face.

"Oh, I'll just walk back," said Isolde quickly. "When do I get to see them?" she asked with an eager look. "Will they come to the concert?"

Marika shrugged, grinning. "They looked pretty pooped to me," she said.

When Helen got home, Rain and the children were fast asleep. Helen couldn't resist looking in on them, and stayed to watch for a while. They were all asleep together in the children's room, all five of them.

Helen bent to kiss Rain on the cheek, and woke her up. She smiled sleepily and after stretching carefully, she tucked little James in and cautiously rolled out of bed.

"I didn't want to wake you up!" exclaimed Helen, following Rain out of the room.

Rain smiled and approached Helen for an embrace and kiss. "You look well, you look happy!" she said. Helen kissed her again, feeling the familiar feelings that Rain evoked in her. They talked about the children as they went downstairs to join Marika and Lisa who were making a sort of lunch.

It was a battle for those two to eat sensibly. Their diet was a cross between college sophomore pizza-party and Mother Earth organic whole grain. It was nothing short of miraculous that Marika still looked so stunning at thirty-five in spite of her careless eating habits. But now she was trying very hard to make sure that Lisa got the nutrition she needed.

"Lisa looks different," Rain said to Helen privately. Helen smiled and nodded with a twinkle in her eye. "Are you sure?" Helen nodded again. Rain's face was transformed. She walked up to the happy couple and asked whether there was cause to congratulate them. "Do you have any announcements you'd like to make?"

"August!" said Lisa, radiant.

Rain put her arms round Lisa and tenderly hugged her. "I'm so happy!" she said. As Helen and Lisa brought Rain up to date on the various happenings, Marika made them all a kind of lunch.

While they were eating, they were joined by Allie, the lightest sleeper of all. Always eager to join whatever discussion was going on, she particularly found it hard to resist the sound of her mother's beloved voice. They heard her coming slowly down the stairs, and she turned into the kitchen with her face aglow at the sight of Helen.

"Mama!" she said, with great satisfaction, as she strolled over and climbed into Helen's lap. The two of them reacquainted themselves while the others watched with interest. These two were particularly interesting to watch.

"Aren't you sleepy, sweetheart?"

"Uh-uh," Allie said firmly, "I had a nap. I'm up now."

Lisa struggled to keep a straight face and failed. "Have some of my calzone," said Marika generously. "It's good for growing children."

"Maybe a little bit," said the young lady.

## The Performance

It was almost seven, and everyone was wide awake, though Gena looked clearly tired. Rain said she had taken a lot of responsibility for the children. Isolde called to ask again whether the children would be at the concert, and Helen had to disappoint her. "I wish I could drive!" she said, "I could meet them before they go to bed!"

Just then Lorna arrived back from Ballet. After the children had given her a big welcome, she was informed about Isolde's desire to meet them, and she graciously offered to bring Isolde over.

It was a strange meeting. Isolde and Gena approached each other, both clearly determined to make the meeting a success. Erin watched with interest. She had become a firm fan of Isolde Wells, who was her ideal of the all-round musician.

"Who's that?" asked James relatively tactfully, as Isolde briefly interrupted what she was saying to Gena and Erin to look over with a smile.

"That's an auntie who plays the violin," Helen explained. "See her violin over there?"

"Uh huh," said James. "Mama, I wan' go say hi!"

"Your brother is so sweet!" Isolde smilingly told the girls, after James had come and said 'hi.'

"Yeah, he's getting very forward," said Gena. "He smiles at any girl he sees!" Isolde laughed, blushing a little. As she pondered a suitable retort, Gena decided she liked the awkward girl. Gena gently changed the subject, and the three of them headed down to the basement, Gena's favorite spot.

In the end, the older girls did wake up enough to dress up and come out to the concert, and they were glad they did.

Helen announced all three works, having gotten Isolde's approval. The hall wasn't full, but the audience was significantly larger than the ones they were accustomed to in the church.

First came the Beethoven. After introducing Isolde briefly, she gave an equally brief introduction to the Beethoven violin concerto, describing its main features. She continued, "Our orchestra is very similar to Beethoven's orchestra, in fact it is exactly the same size. We will be using a pitch of A=429, which was customary in Beethoven's time. We will use valveless horns, and our usual classical violins. Miss Wells is using a 1650 Stradivarius strung with synthetic gut. We are sure that tonight's performance is going to be a memorable one! Thank you."

Helen raised her baton and looked straight at Isolde, who had her violin ready, but had her eyes closed tight, engaged in some mental preparation that Helen respected. Isolde's eyes popped wide open and she nodded. With a slow deliberate nod, Helen beat the time, and cued the timpani. Her head held high, Helen indicated the stern, noble mood of the music, her whole body expressing what she wanted, her usually expressive hands held tight, pulsing with the rhythm of the opening lines.

In the second row, Rain, Lorna and the children sat on the edge of the seats (except for Allie and James who stood on the seats), and watched open-mouthed as Isolde made her confident entrance, as smooth as butter, but as fierce as a young lioness, not moving about like some violinists—Isolde stood rather still most of the time—yet somehow communicating the vehemence of the entry in her stance.

The music drove inexorably forward. Helen was doing far more than merely accompanying Isolde. She loved this concerto, and she did impose her will on the performance. But Isolde soared over the performance, sensitive to Helen's direction, but not circumscribed by it. It seemed to Gena and Erin that they had listened to this work a score of times—they often listened to it on their little personal stereos on plane flights—but it had never been this electrifying. Helen had played it before, and it had seemed as though she had raised it to exciting new heights. But here, Helen, Isolde, and the orchestra together were making something entirely new out of it.

From the first defiant notes, the audience knew that the slim young Englishwoman was more than merely another competent violinist. The orchestra gave her its all; it fought and argued with the solo violin, but when the time came, gave her a glowing foundation for her flights of inspiration. The first movement was an absolute revelation of what the concerto could be. Those who had been skeptical about whether it was possible to play this superhuman piece with gut strings certainly found out that not only could it be done—in a reasonable space like the Temple Hall, but it could be done so well that one wondered whether, after all, there might be some truth in all this hype about original instruments.

Before the slow movement, they tuned up again, while Helen apologized to the audience. "We're recording this tonight, and we want to break with tradition and play this movement in tune," she said, with a wry smile. "I know this ruins the continuity, but look on the bright side; you get to cough loudly!"

Gena and Erin laughed loudly, afraid that their neighbors might not get the humor in Mom's remarks. James and Allie laughed too.

The slow movement went by without event. Isolde made it sound beautiful, and the orchestra helped her willingly. Helen felt envious of her; she had always found it hard to do much with the slow movement except treat it as a necessary bridge between the outer movements.

Suddenly they were in the last movement, and Isolde was showing her prodigious technique, making beautiful music more perfect still with the precision of her playing, while Helen saw to it that the pace of the music, the momentum, never flagged. They had rehearsed carefully where they would hold back a little, and where they would hurry the time a little. The cellos and the basses had their special instructions, and they created that mad, joyful whirl that the finale was when it was played well.

The children leaped to their feet when the music was over, and found that everyone had joined them. Isolde and Helen stood there, perspiring, not sure it was all real. Everyone was on their feet, including the orchestra, cheering and clapping. Somehow Isolde had sounded louder and bigger this time, in contrast to the rehearsals. There were shouts from both the audience and the orchestra. Helen walked to Isolde and shook her hand, all smiles. "You were wonderful!" she exclaimed over the noise.

"What are they saying, I wonder?" Isolde asked, her smile wavering.

"Oh, things like, Wow, awesome, and so forth!"

"Really? Was it really that good?"

"It was the best this audience has heard, I can tell you!" Helen said.

There was chaos, what with the orchestra on its feet, the audience shouting, Isolde talking to Helen, and Flo—who was manager on Lorna's behalf—wondering what to do next. Helen gently pushed Isolde forward to take a bow, smiling fondly at her the whole while, and gradually things took on a semblance of order.

The next piece was the _Sinfonia Concertante_ for violin and viola. Isolde owned a beautiful 19th-century viola which, amazingly enough, was of baroque design, and sounded beautiful; a lucky fluke of an instrument, since a lot less was known about violin-making in the 19th century than in either the 17th or the 20th century. There was silence while the audience watched Helen and Isolde tune up, and Pavel ascended the podium. Then Helen gave a brief introduction to the _Sinfonia_ , for whom it was probably written, and how the viola was supposed to be tuned, and so forth.

According to Isolde's preference, both of them played seated again.

Lorna knew this piece well. When she had first heard it, she had been struck by the eroticism of it; which reminded her of the _pas de deux_ of Swan Lake, with the two instruments making love. She and Helen had talked about it once or twice, but Helen had brushed it aside quickly, for whatever reason. Now Lorna watched and listened with interest, because she suspected that the relationship building up between Helen and Isolde was far from being a Platonic one.

Tonight, Helen wore a very sexy dress, a black-and-gold silk thing that clung to her body, worn without a bra, topped with a long tunic. After the first concerto, Helen had taken off the tunic, and now sat, proudly upright, her nipples erect, her tongue nervously moistening her lips, her eyes flicking towards Isolde and then quickly away. Helen had also worn long earrings, and looked young, excited and vulnerable, and Lorna could hardly bear to look at her. To Lorna it seemed as though the entire audience must know that Helen had the hots for Isolde. To her surprise, that gave Lorna pleasure.

Lorna was a lover of beauty. It was Helen's beauty that had drawn her, and made her sick with desire all those months with Becky, until she had finally been finally able to go with Helen. It wasn't just Helen's beauty of face and form, but the light that shone from inside. Lorna loved to watch Helen when she was excited and eager about something.

Or someone. Right now Lorna could see Helen's desire make her radiant. How could Isolde not see it? But clearly Isolde understood Helen's desire as having its source in their common love for music. Or, Isolde did not understand desire at all.

If she stayed in Philadelphia even a few days more, Lorna knew, Isolde would discover desire right here. If Isolde didn't find desire, Lorna thought, desire would find her! But Isolde was due to leave for England the next day.

There was a longing in their bodies that came from the music. They embarked on the last movement, which was more playful but interesting to watch, as the violin and viola played for each other, matching not only notes, but also their body language. In addition to being a violinist with a rare sensibility and skill, Isolde, Helen knew, was a brilliant violist. Those who knew the work well learned new meaning in it, and those who were strangers to it found that it had a grace and warmth that they hadn't suspected.

Again the applause was warm, and Helen and Isolde took their bows standing close together. The Press was interested in seeing that Helen was very affectionate towards Isolde. They were also taken with Helen's flirtatious dress, which showed a lot of her legs and clung to her figure above the waist. Taking her bows with Isolde, Helen felt rather ashamed of giving in to her impulse to dress more sexily than she had ever done for a concert in Philadelphia. Isolde looked an absolute princess in a gorgeous pink dress with formal lines. Noticing admiring looks from the men in the audience, Helen made an effort to act in a non-proprietary manner towards her young friend. Isolde did not belong to her. She deserved as much normalcy and happiness as she could get, and the last thing she needed was to be romantically paired with Helen.

The applause was more restrained, in keeping with the kind of work that the _Sinfonia Concertante_ was: utterly musical, but with a more subdued charm than solo concertos tended to have. Helen announced a brief break.

"Helen," said Isolde, "I want to play a different cadenza for the Brahms!"

Helen looked at her in amazement. "You want to improvise one? Of course, Isolde; there's nothing to stop you! But isn't it rather a last-minute thing?" Isolde played the Kreisler cadenza beautifully.

"Come on, help me with this!"

"I need to go to the rest room!"

One of the young members of the choir had been assigned to assist Isolde, and she came up now, and the three of them headed towards the dressing-room. Helen handed her violin to the kid while Isolde put away the viola carefully, and they hurried off towards the rest-room.

"I just need an idea or two!"

"Oh Isolde!"

The girl's face was aglow with excitement, and seeing her, Helen knew what she was feeling. The feeling of sheer creative power one felt at seventeen was nothing to be ignored. If Helen had obeyed more of the impulses she had felt when she was young, she thought with a sigh, she would have more to show for her creativity. Perhaps if they kept it brief, Helen thought, Isolde might pull it off.

When she came out of the stall, Isolde was standing with her eyes closed, humming to herself, chewing on a finger. Helen studied her domed forehead and her straight brown hair and memorized the scene. The blue eyes opened and looked at Helen. Her mind was still somewhere else, playing around with the themes of the first movement of the Brahms.

"Come on," she said, tugging at Helen's arm impatiently, "let me show you what I've got so far." She physically hauled Helen back to the dressing-room, where her assistant was patiently waiting for them.

Isolde took out her violin, tuned it up, and asked Helen to play the couple of bars that preceded the cadenza. Helen sat at the little piano and sketched out the lead-in. Isolde closed her eyes and began to play.

She had a whole cadenza sketched out, but Helen was so anxious about the task ahead that she was overwhelmed, and couldn't get a grip on it. "Play it again," she said, embarrassed, "I—er..."

Isolde grinned. "Okay here you are," she said, and played it again. "What do you think?"

Helen took out her violin, and made Isolde teach it to her. Without hurting the girl's feelings, Helen helped her take it apart and put it together into a creditable cadenza. It was actually an excellent cadenza, a tad longer than the Kreisler—but there were too many ideas in the thing to shorten it any further—and it was, moreover, quite true to the spirit of the movement.

"You're amazing;" Isolde exclaimed, "I couldn't have done it myself!"

"It's all you," Helen said with a smile. "You must give yourself more time when you write a cadenza again!"

"I'd like you to write all my cadenzas for me," Isolde said seriously. "I'm not a composer, but you are!"

It was the most precious thought Helen took with her from that evening's performance. She was a composer in Isolde's eyes, and what Isolde saw was beginning to make a difference. She had known Isolde a mere three weeks, and already Isolde had become one of the most important forces in her life.

Helen preceded Isolde out to the stage again, dressed in her long grey tunic and a long black dress. The slightly expanded orchestra was neatly arranged in concentric semicircles, with Isolde at its center and Helen out front. There was absolute silence as Helen raised her baton, and brought the orchestra in on the arresting unison opening. The balance, more in favor of the winds, made it sound different, just slightly more assertive. Helen swayed with the sinuous continuation of the opening theme. It was hard, with the smaller orchestra, to get the mass one was accustomed to hearing in this work, but there was nothing to be done. Instead of tall redwood forests they would present beautiful maple woods, a different kind of beauty.

A strange mood took them all. They were, by now, accustomed to how the concerto sounded when they played it. At first it had sounded wrong, but now, in this hall, with this audience, it regained its own kind of rightness.

With Isolde's entry, the rightness was complete. She provided the main argument, with the softer sound of her gut strings. And Helen, with her incredible sense of rhythm, brought out the rest of the argument, the sense of motion that drove the work forward.

The gut strings of the string section gave a different, if equally valid, sense to the dark textures that Brahms delighted in, while the solo violin soared over it in lyrical flights of joy. At first, in rehearsal, Helen had wondered whether Isolde could get that spaciousness that was Brahms, in contrast to the intense concentrated discipline that was Bach. It had not been as trivial as Isolde had expected. But Helen had yelled at her, "More elastic! More elastic! Don't stop, keep playing! Give it what it needs! Let go!"

It was difficult for the prim and proper Isolde to emote the way Helen wanted her to. But something seemed to give way inside her, and she had begun to caricature an overly romantic style, and Helen knew she had won. Once Isolde gained the upper hand over her inhibitions by clowning, the path to true expressiveness was ready.

And now Isolde was playing more beautifully than she had played that morning; there was more soul, more feeling, more passion, but Isolde was its master. Out in the audience, Isolde was making believers of scores of skeptics. Original instruments may be a fad, they were thinking, but every once in a while it could work, they were beginning to admit. Certainly the small orchestra filled the room with gorgeous sound.

They approached the cadenza, and the orchestra rested their instruments and watched Isolde with keen interest. They knew at once that it was a different cadenza. Helen turned to face her, hardly daring to breathe. Isolde had double- and triple-stops only, rather than the quadruple stops in certain other cadenzas Helen had played. Isolde stumbled just once, but recovered fast. Helen tried not to flush with pride at certain passages she had put together. Isolde sped up in preparation for the final denouement. Helen raised her baton, and the orchestra picked up their instruments. Isolde trilled, grinning at Helen, and taking a deep breath and letting it out visibly, Helen brought the orchestra in on the final bars of the movement, and brought it to a close.

The applause was spontaneous, and Helen turned round smiling, indicating Isolde. The trick was to allow a brief spurt of applause, not enough to interrupt the work too much. Brief applause after a bravura cadenza was finally becoming accepted in America.

Isolde played like an angel. The slow movement went without a hitch, and the last, boisterous, rollicking movement was pure joy. Helen knew that she played that movement better than Isolde, something that gave her more pleasure than it should have. But as a whole, the present performance was a serious challenge to the ascendancy of Helen's own performance with the Philadelphia a couple of years ago, and with the Cleveland before that. There was a certain sadness in giving way to youth, but at least she was doing it gracefully, participating in her own dethronement as the unquestioned queen of the violin. It was a passing of the torch, she thought, even as she strained to make the last movement perfect in every way. She was prepared to anoint Isolde her successor, and in her mind, this performance was precisely that.

Seated in the second row, Lorna, Rain, Gena and Erin, and the two little ones watched and listened. James was certainly aware that Mama was on stage 'conducting.' He was remarkably well acquainted with the idea of conducting; he'd watched her do it often, and he knew it was sort of like playing the piano, only you played the people. But the best of all was the girl to whom he had said 'hi' earlier. She was pretty, like Gena, and he liked her. The music was all the same to him, mostly, and he was very sleepy, but he kept awake for the sake of the girl, who had such pretty clothes, pink and kind of orange (though he didn't perhaps articulate the thoughts in quite those words).

Allie was enthralled by the music. It was adult music, but it was nice and tuneful. Allie knew many of the players, by sight, if not by name, and she observed them closely. She was a total insider to the orchestral scene, and fully identified with the players; they were her friends, and she desperately wanted them to do well. So far it had been wonderful; the clapping and yelling told her that. And to her eyes, Mama conducting was just fabulously beautiful! It was a fusion of music and dance—this art of conducting—and Mama was the most beautiful person on the planet, and the best conductor.

Erin was absolutely riveted by Isolde. She hungrily took in every detail of Isolde's fingering and bowing, memorizing the phrasing, learning things that Isolde would never have guessed that a ten-year-old could learn from twenty feet away. And when Isolde wasn't actually playing, Erin lusted after the beautiful Stradivarius. Isolde had everything that Erin ever wanted: talent, musicality, skill, a priceless Stradivarius, and the face of an angel. But Erin had Mama, the most powerful woman in the world, and Erin had infinite patience. It would all come someday. And Erin would be ready.

Gena was more aware of the drama being enacted on stage. It was muted, but she knew her mother, and she was accustomed to the way Helen's mind worked. She knew Isolde would be an irresistible attraction for Helen, but she also appreciated that Helen would fight her desire for Isolde's sake, if she cared for the girl deeply enough. And, as far as she could tell, Helen did care for her. Oh, it was so romantic! Gena itched to confirm her guess with perhaps a sly hint or two, but they knew it was a cruel thing to do. Gena carefully avoided Lorna's glance, not knowing how much Lorna must guess, or how much Helen had told her. Gena loved Lorna, and did not want her hurt; but Mom was Mom, and protecting Lorna from this kind of thing was an exercise in futility. Mom fell in love about three times a year, and Lorna had to learn to take it in stride. Gena felt her stomach hurt a tiny bit.

It was just as well Gena couldn't tell what Lorna was thinking. Lorna was fantasizing some very interesting things: a couple of women were kissing. They were dressed in beautiful clothes, one in a pretty pink and peach brocade dress, the other in black silk that clung to her body like a second skin to the waist, and then draped gracefully to the knees. And the woman in black gently took the hand of the other woman, a mere girl, and placed it over her heart, pressing it down with her own hand.

Rain—Lady Evelyn Woodford—studied the scene with sad eyes. There were so many problems she had to deal with, and Helen falling in love with the Wells girl would only make things more complicated. She held little Allie close. The tyke wore a lovely smocked dress that Rain herself had sewn one weekend, and she felt soft and cuddly in it. Rain rested her cheek against Allie's little body, and filled her lungs with the sweet fragrance of Allie.

One of the big reasons Rain loved Helen was the children; she knew that now. Somehow the children were able to reflect the most wonderful aspects of Helen's character and personality, outlining them, underscoring them, focusing them. Gena, Erin, Allie and James all had Helen's loving eyes, her willingness to do anything for anyone, her vulnerability. The older girls also had Helen's passion, and the younger ones, her infinite patience. Rain recalled instances where she had put James in his high chair and forgotten to give him his food for nearly half an hour; his only complaint had been a mournful chant which finally caught her attention. The more articulate Allie would patiently repeat a request any number of times until she was either given what she asked, or refused. And then she would accept the refusal with a simple, "oh." Occasionally she followed up with a "Why?" but it was a simple request for a reason, not a challenge. And as Rain had fallen in love with the children, she had fallen in love with their mother.

Now, watching Helen on stage, Rain wondered whether Lorna was hurt by it. As long as the children were not hurt, and Lorna was not hurt, Rain didn't care. It had been long since Rain had learned that it was madness to expect to own Helen's heart.

The last movement was fast and rhythmic, and Helen had come to realize the pitfalls in it. If Isolde took it even the slightest bit faster than they had rehearsed it, it would be difficult to synchronize with her. They had to watch Isolde, because they could not listen for her. Helen had meant to talk it over with key members of the orchestra before the performance, but had forgotten. She couldn't talk to them now, either, since they were miked too close for it. She would have to conduct them more closely than she liked. For some odd reason, Helen felt cold—perhaps there was a draft somewhere, and she gave an involuntary shiver. Isolde was wrapped up in the music, and, indeed, she was picking up speed. Helen began to use tighter, sharper movements than she was accustomed to making. Her whole body said: _watch me!_ She cursed herself for having worn the sexy, flirty costume that gave her very little authority.

Her every instinct was to immerse herself in the music, forgetting the job at hand. It would all fall apart if she lost concentration for a moment. It was too, too fast. But she couldn't slow it down without ruining it.

On they raced, at breakneck speed, it seemed to Helen. By some miracle the cellos and basses did their sixteenth note runs on time, or barely on time; nobody would notice. Raggedness was creeping in, they were losing that incisiveness that was their hallmark, the perfect togetherness. It could have been so perfect!

Helen felt like weeping. She had wanted so badly for this performance to be perfect, both for Isolde's sake, and for the sake of the Impromptu. Nobody was looking at Helen; they were watching Isolde. It was useless. All Helen could do was to pretend to conduct as if she was making a difference, just so she didn't look stupid. Closing her eyes, she 'conducted' Isolde with her ears, listening to just the solo violin. She could hear every bit of raggedness, but she let herself believe that it wasn't so bad.

God, Isolde had learned her lesson well! She was playing passionately, with the feeling of a much more experienced player. There was crispness, but plenty of warmth. There was no shortage of energy. Before she knew it, Isolde led the slow down for the last few bars, and Helen indicated the coda with three crashing strokes, and after holding her arms up for a second or two, sagged against the podium.

Isolde was holding out her violin and bow, her face shining with sheer triumph. She was laughing, and Helen couldn't help but grin in response. Around her the world seemed to speed up again, and the audience leaped to its feet to shout and cheer. Her smile frozen on her face, Helen turned to them, and began to acknowledge the applause.

Helen couldn't remember much about the next few minutes; she knew she managed the curtain calls without thinking, shepherding Isolde back and forth with practiced graciousness. After a while she was herself again. She managed not to show any disappointment. The audience certainly loved it; the excitement of a live performance sometimes overrode the objective assessment of its merits.

From nowhere, Marika hurled herself at Helen.

"Whew, Sis! God, you're good!"

Helen grinned. "You liked it, did you?"

"Liked it? It was incredible!"

"Yes, she's wonderful; she took the audience with her. She'll be the best, someday." Marika beamed and nodded, hugging Helen affectionately as she always did. Helen sighed. "I only wish the last movement went better."

Marika looked at her quizzically. "The last movement?" She looked puzzled. "What was wrong with it?"

"I thought it was a little ragged."

Isolde ran up and they turned to face her and congratulate her all over again. They had to smile at her excitement. Helen bent her head to her and smiled, and told her she had done beautifully. She shot a warning glance at Marika, but Marika wasn't going to be stopped.

"Did you think the last movement was a bit ragged?"

Isolde stared at Marika. "Well, er, I suppose it's possible; perhaps a tiny bit ragged in the worst places, yes." She turned to Helen, looking worried. "I didn't notice! Oh dear!"

Helen glared at Marika, and turned back to Isolde. "Nobody will notice; I don't know why I mentioned it to old blabbermouth here."

There was a couple of reporters who wanted a word with them both, and Helen made it clear that nobody was to talk about raggedness.

She needn't have worried. The Press was absolutely thrilled with the performance, and Isolde soon forgot about Helen's criticism. With great dignity she faced the two men and answered all their questions with intelligence and good taste.

But Marika didn't let go of the issue. When they had finished up at the Hall and everyone had gathered at the Church for their big farewell to Isolde, Lisa and Marika managed to pipe the recording through speakers.

"Tell me where the raggedness begins," she said to Helen.

Everyone heard the words, and everyone reacted differently. Some looked anxious, some puzzled, some amused. Helen was merely amazed by how together they actually were. The raggedness was quite inaudible.

"Well?"

"You can barely hear it!" Helen admitted. But she remembered clearly how ragged it had been, one place in particular.

Isolde was triumphant. "It sounds quite nice!" she said smiling. "Helen, the orchestra sounded just wonderful!"

Knowing that Isolde would be gone the next day, the younger folk of the orchestra surrounded her, determined to make friends with her, and Helen left them to it. Isolde was unlikely to find a more friendly bunch of young musicians, and she needed to become comfortable with people. A musician was an ambassador, whether she liked it or not, and needed to learn to relate to strangers with honest friendliness. Most musicians, in Helen's experience, either simply faked a superficial geniality, or openly despised their admiring fans. More often Helen found herself doing the former, especially when she was tired.

## Isolde Reads the Papers

Isolde was ready for bed by around eleven. As usual, she had been going full steam for nearly eighteen hours, and now she was exhausted. She looked despairingly at Helen and the others, unwilling to go back to the hotel. Rain and Gena insisted that she should be allowed to come home with them, and Helen gave in against her better judgment. She could imagine what the media would make of it.

At home, Lorna and Rain between them got everyone organized smoothly. Allie and James were already asleep, and Gena dropped off soon. Erin stuck close to Isolde, unwilling to surrender a single moment of her company. Marika and Lisa made their apologies, and disappeared into their room-cum-studio.

"Are you tired?" asked Isolde of Helen.

"Well," said Helen, wondering what she meant, "it isn't that late, really."

"Perhaps you could work on your concerto for a few minutes!" She turned to Erin and said, "Your mother is writing a concerto for me!"

Erin's eyes grew wide. "No way! Huh, Mom? Is it true?"

Helen smiled confirmation. "I've got most of one movement done."

"Oh, let me see!"

"You read music?" Isolde asked, impressed.

"Oh, sure!"

"She's an excellent violinist," Helen said proudly. Erin glowed in the interest and approval she saw in Isolde's eyes. "Both she and Gena play violin, but Gena thinks Erin's better!"

Helen showed Erin the score on her computer, and Erin deftly made it play automatically, as Isolde gave Helen a conspiratorial grin. Erin crinkled her eyes and smiled at Isolde. "I like it!" she said, nodding. Isolde studied the clear grey eyes of the youngster, and saw that she was keeping herself awake with a sheer effort of will. She realized that she, Isolde, was the reason for it, and also how tired she was, herself. But inside her the desire to see the composition completed defied all reason.

Isolde turned to Helen and pleaded, "I'd like to take it back with me when I go! Oh please finish it, Helen!" What could Helen do, but nod agreement?

Helen worked on it until late. Lorna stayed up with her a long time, caressing her, rubbing her breasts against Helen's back, and in general indicating how much she wanted Helen in bed. But she could see that Helen was obeying a major creative imperative, and feared being the one who derailed the muse. In the end, she sent to bed, and Helen soon followed, leaving the piece unfinished. They made love peremptorily and went to sleep with Helen loosely holding Lorna, and all night Helen kept Lorna awake, sighing and twitching. Lorna knew that in her dreams Helen was singing and playing something or other.

In the morning, Helen did not run. She rose early, hearing James stirring next door, and Lorna got up with her. To their consternation, they found Isolde coming in through the front door.

"I took the liberty of going out for a paper!" she said coolly smiling, waving the New York Times and USA Today. Helen wrapped her robe more tightly round herself and smiled, embarrassed at being up so late, almost six thirty.

They pored over the papers, the three of them. The critics had been generous with their praise of "the young British genius whom Helen Nordstrom had taken under her wing," and who seemed to be the heir apparent to Helen's crown.

Charismatic yet understated, Miss Wells played seated. The perfect choice for the adventure, she made us believe that the only way to play Brahms's monumental D major concerto was with gut-strung, early 19th \- century instruments, and a small orchestra, such as the Impromptu is. The performance was recorded live, as all Impromptu performances are, and would be available for all who want to participate in this historic moment. Once again, Helen Nordstrom has found a worthy collaborator in her agenda of deconstructing the mid-19th century violin repertoire.

In place of the lush sound of the Philadelphia, the Impromptu and Miss Wells offered the perfect ensemble and ultra-clean playing of a large chamber ensemble. At times, to be sure, it did not sound like what we have become accustomed to believing Brahms should sound. We do not know whether Brahms would have been more comfortable with what was to be heard at Temple Hall last night than has been heard for a century since he died, but we certainly have to accept what we heard last night as a very plausible alternative.

Certainly, Isolde Wells is a brilliant, gifted champion of the violin. The musical maturity we heard was worthy of one twice her age, and the sound she produced on her legendary Stradivarius in the Beethoven and the Brahms, and on her celebrated Gunther viola in the _Sinfonia Concertante_ could have been expected by a player of twice her size! Her singing tone was reminiscent of great violinists of the past, Oistrakh, Kreisler, and indeed Helen Nordstrom at her best.

The Inquirer said:

Once again Helen Nordstrom reminds us why this city loves her the way we do. Last night's performance of three of the shining crowns of the violin repertoire by Isolde Wells, the celebrated young Welsh violinist was a musical event that will long be remembered as Miss Wells' first venture into the romantic repertoire, and Miss Nordstrom's first performance conducting another violinist.

There was no doubt left in anyone's mind after that performance about Nordstrom's ability as a conductor. We have never heard better performances of any of these three works ever. With extreme economy of movement, Nordstrom led her now-legendary ensemble through three brilliant and contrasting works. Nordstrom is a pleasure to watch; surely she is music itself!

Miss Wells, heretofore known for her renaissance and baroque performances, and her weekly chamber music program on the BBC, presented a chamber music program the previous evening. But last night's performance establishes her as an exciting new player in the romantic violin repertoire. Following Helen Nordstrom's lead, she can be expected to straddle the worlds of both the baroque and the romantic. But while Nordstrom took up the modern steel-strung violin for the later repertoire, Wells has chosen to stay with the gut-strung instrument for the Brahms. The results were stunning.

Certainly we did not hear the Berlin Philharmonic. Nor did we hear the braying sounds of a typical period ensemble. Instead, we heard the lush sound of a small classical orchestra with a balance that favored the wind instruments. The sound was discreetly helped at the back of the room with electronic amplification, which is how the orchestra was able to sound so smooth.

It was eerily beautiful. One heard a work that was at once familiar and unfamiliar. One found oneself exclaiming: _what have they done with it_ with fading indignation, and growing admiration. It was an experience of a lifetime.

"I wish," grumbled Helen, "that they wouldn't accuse me of having these agendas! I'm not interested in deconstructing the 19th century repertoire. I'm not!"

"What does that _mean?"_

Helen sighed. "It's a rather vague term used in literature. It's all about second-guessing every work; in literature, it was about why an author wrote something: not because he or she was wise and intelligent, but because of their social conditions, or the bad heating, or whatever."

"Oh, yes, I know what you mean. They do carry on, don't they!"

"I don't know what it means in music! Period performance is not deconstructionism; we're looking at performance, not composition. Man, I get so mad when they call it deconstructionism!" Helen looked furious. "I even play modern violin! How dare they?"

"But I thought they liked you!" said Isolde, aghast at Helen's frustration.

"That's the Inquirer," Helen said, "they have to like me. I'm the local girl; I've been adopted by the City of Philadelphia."

Isolde smiled. Helen had a wonderfully youthful way of expressing herself.

Lorna squeezed Helen's shoulder. "Don't exaggerate," she said softly, as Rain joined them and smoothly took over the task of feeding James. "All the articles are very positive about you." Isolde vigorously nodded.

## Completing the Concerto

Asking not to be disturbed, Helen sat in a corner of the living room, working on her concerto. Lorna sat down with the papers, but found it hard to resist checking on Helen.

At first Helen could send her away for fifteen minutes or half an hour at a stretch, but she couldn't stay away much longer. "How is it coming along?" she would ask gravely. "Can I help?" In the end it was "Please let me watch, Helen, I've never seen a composer at work before!"

Helen, meanwhile, found that the piece wrote itself. The whole work, all three movements, had their seeds in the opening phrase of the solo violin. And, more importantly, Helen realized that she had a compositional scheme in her head, the way she wanted each movement to go. The plan was already there. In some portions, she knew the last few chords, the coda, long before she got there; it was merely a matter of getting to that point.

Being a concerto, it was a dialogue between soloist and orchestra, and she wanted the discussion to lead somewhere. That, too, had its implications, further narrowing her choices. And in the emotional state Helen was in, every note she wrote seemed to insist that it was correct and perfect.

It was a heady feeling, writing perfection. She knew how Mozart must have felt: to write perfect music every time, as if transcribing it from some invisible performance going on in her head. And once Isolde began to stand close to her, for the last movement, yet another miracle happened. Helen began to actually see Isolde playing particular notes in her imagination. It truly was as if she could hear the performance in her head; and once it began, it barreled along to the end, ending with two great chords.

"Is it done?" asked Isolde in a reverent whisper. Helen felt butterflies in her stomach, as Isolde turned the full force of her personality on Helen.

"Go sit down over there, Isolde. Jeeze, how can you expect me to get anything done with you staring over my shoulder?" said Helen firmly, completely belying the pleasure she felt at the attentions of the younger woman. Isolde turned pale, her face expressing the greatest remorsefulness she went around to the other side of the table, ready to retreat even further. Helen savored the moment, one of the sweetest moments of her musical career. It was her first full-scale musical composition. Her face revealed nothing, while she paged through thirty-some pages of it on the screen. Isolde watched her like a hawk, and something in Helen's manner must have hinted at the truth. Helen saw it in her eyes, and a tiny twist of her mouth confirmed everything.

"It's done! It's done! Oh, let me see!" she cried, hurrying round the table, no longer afraid of Helen's anger. She squinted at the screen impatiently, and looked at Helen in frustration. "It does make paper copies, doesn't it? It must!"

Helen laughed. How much pleasure she derived from Isolde's youthful exuberance! Finally, unable to resist a gesture of simple affection, she put her arm round Isolde, and felt her trembling with excitement. "Calm down, kid," she said lightly, "It's just a first attempt; it isn't anything that wonderful!" Already Helen was beginning to see faults in it. It was too reminiscent of Beethoven; it was too baroque in structure; it was too short; it was scored too lightly in spots, and too heavily in other places. It was too playful in places, and too intricate and intellectual in others. Where it was playful, Helen knew it was appealing. The contrapuntal development, though, which she had spent so much time over, she wasn't sure would really work. But it was short, about half an hour. Repeats, Helen thought; I ought to put in some repeats.

Isolde was practically jumping with impatience. She just looked at Helen imploringly, her lips working silently.

Releasing her, Helen went to the bag that held the printer and its supplies, and put it together as Isolde watched in admiration, making soft sounds of surprise at the skill with which Helen seemed, to her inexperienced eyes, to do it.

Soon the printer was printing a fair copy in full score. The orchestra was a modest one: in addition to strings it called for three flutes and horns, two each of clarinets and trumpets, and one each of oboe and bassoon; no tubas, trombones, _cors anglais,_ bass clarinets, and so forth. It did call for timpani, triangle and cymbals; in short, it called for the Impromptu.

Ten minutes later, Isolde held in her hands the full score. She had watched fascinated as the pages came out of the printer; now she stood with the music in her hands, her eyes closed in rapture, hugging the pages to her breast fearfully, as if afraid she would hurt it. Helen giggled nervously.

Slowly Isolde opened her eyes, and began to read the music, her chest heaving with her excitement. The first few pages were familiar already. Finding it hard to watch, Helen went over to play with Allie on the floor, but her attention was on Isolde. Isolde spread the sheets out on the low table and began to study it, her face a mask of concentration. Erin came by, and seeing Isolde bending over music, knew at once what it was. She knelt alongside Isolde and studied the score.

Isolde was a consummate musician, but she was not so experienced as to be able to hear an entire score in her head when she saw it. Helen created a file that could be printed anywhere, and put it on a disk for her.

"I want you to premiere it with me!" said Isolde to Helen.

Helen refused point-blank. "I can't do it," she said vehemently. "I'm too... it's too hard! Too hard," she said, shaking her head. "Once you've played it with someone else, I'd play it with you, but not until!"

"You must!"

But Helen stuck with her refusal. The music was carefully put in a padded envelope and packed in Isolde's bag.

Isolde was fascinated by the children. She loved Gena and Erin, and liked watching the little ones from a distance. Before she left, she gave Gena and Erin little tokens; a pen and a violin tuner respectively. Then Lorna and the older girls escorted her out to the airport, and it felt to Helen as if all her energy left with them. She watched the little beetle disappear, and sat down on a chair, shocked by her reaction to Isolde's departure. They had not even touched before Isolde left; it had just been a smile and a wave.

Rain and the little ones were asleep again. Helen felt very alone.

There was a clatter on the stairs, and Helen realized that Marika and Lisa must have finished the editing.

"Listen to this!" said Marika, her eyes wild with excitement. She put the disk in the little stereo and sat down next to Helen.

It was the Brahms. Immediately Helen was struck with the smoothness of the sound. It didn't have the titanic stillness of a traditional recording of the Brahms; instead it was a simple piano statement of the theme. Then, as the movement unfolded, Helen became aware of what she had accomplished. Gone was the feeling of great effort that one expected to hear. Instead, it sounded deceptively simple, with unexpected orchestral effects and combinations. The strange sounds that Helen had worried over in rehearsal had become correct, meaningful, appropriate. Brahms had always made sense to Helen; the idiom had just been completely lucid to her from when she had been a teenager, listening to Brahms at full volume on her headphones, squatting in front of the stereo. She still remembered her mother gently put a stool under her. She had always associated Brahms with her mother, for just that reason.

The slow movement was a gorgeous wash of colors. The rather neutral colors of the Wagnerian orchestra were gone; in their place were the beautiful pastel shades of the liberated woodwinds, together with the characteristic browns and greens and earth tones of Brahms. And through it all, Isolde walked serene, her eloquent violin communing with the landscape. And instead of the impersonally genial sound of the big orchestra, here Helen could actually hear the warmth with which the Impromptu regarded their Welsh friend. It was everywhere, in the gentle phrasing of the woodwinds, the caress of the strings, the cool tones of the horns, exactly on cue, careful not to submerge the violin, but eager to contribute. It was getting harder and harder to hold back the tears of joy and loss that Helen was feeling. It was all so ridiculous! But she was feeling very emotional.

The only thing that kept her under control was an intense curiosity to hear once more the last movement. She heard over and over the reasons for the wild enthusiasm of the critics. So far, the concerto had been sheer perfection. Then they were into the finale.

Helen listened in disbelief. It was flawless. The attack was perfect, the tempo was perfect. The ensemble was perfect. It was infinitely more together than any performance of the concerto she had ever heard. The orchestra and soloist articulated with the precision of jazz musicians. There was a natural ebb and flow, and it was precisely the way Helen had wanted it. Miraculously, it was as if her dreams had been realized, the actual performance erased, and what was in her mind recorded on disk. Her jaw hung open in shock, she waited all the way to the end, and then heard the applause. She turned to look at Marika and Lisa who looked very pleased with themselves.

"What have you done?" she accused. They had to have tinkered with the recording. She knew it was possible to do miracles with their equipment. They had completely re-assembled it.

Marika and Lisa were taken aback.

"We thought it would be nice to leave a second or two of applause in," Lisa said defensively. "Why not?"

"No, no, no; the... raggedness!"

"Sis, there is no raggedness. We never touched the tape. We just took out the intermission, that's all, and a little noise."

It had all been an artifact of Helen's tension. They had followed her closely. Even Isolde had followed her. It had just been a brilliant performance. Helen felt weak. Nothing she had conducted had given her such a feeling of having arrived as a conductor.

# The Invention of Sharon

Shortly after the visit of Isolde Wells, Helen was involved in a certain adventure that influenced her life in very unpredictable ways. (It is actually a set of several adventures, all related in _Helen & Sharon_ in great detail.)

We have mentioned before that Helen liked to go adventuring in her youth, back in the days when she had learned a style of martial arts from her girlfriend Leila, in Florida. Only a couple of instances have been mentioned, but Helen had indulged in various such escapades, which came dangerously close to bringing Helen's name into the newspaper headlines. Now, of course, having become a professor at a respectable school, she had to think twice before doing anything _at all_ risky.

On one occasion, she, with Lorna, had slipped quietly away from Westfield, and shown up in Toronto, calling herself _Sharon Vuehl_. She had auditioned for the female lead of a remake of the movie _Goodbye Mr. Chips,_ and won the part. The movie had been shot in a little over a week, with a well-known British actor playing the title role. It had been released shortly afterward, and Sharon Vuehl had been a smash success.

Another movie had followed, _Limelight,_ also a remake, in this case of a legendary Charlie Chaplin movie, and that had been even a bigger success. Sharon Vuehl's name had been on everyone's lips. In that movie, Sharon had played a dancer. Now Helen _was_ an excellent dancer, even if not of professional caliber. With a height of around five feet and nine inches, she wasn't built like an ideal dancer, certainly not for conventional ballet. But she had to learn to dance differently from how she had danced in the past, so as not to be recognized; maintaining the masquerade of Sharon Vuehl took a lot of effort. But by dint of persistence, Helen, with Lorna's help, managed it. Sharon Vuehl's dancing was praised by all the critics.

## _Merit_ and Sita

Finally, Helen had repeated her trick once more, but this time she had played the part of a fighting princess from an imaginary Bronze Age culture in which the females dominated. As was their tradition, for any young woman coming of age, the princess had set out on a ship with a crew of all girls, had many adventures, been shipwrecked on the coast of a distant land, broken out a princess of those parts from a convent, fallen in love with this very princess, and taken her away with her and her team of women warriors. That last legendary movie, named _Merit & the Princess_ after its central characters, was wildly popular.

The making of the movie _Merit & The Princess,_ which had broken all sorts of records in its first few days, is a pivotal one in our story.

There is a very significant inner story associated with _Merit_.

When Helen—still disguised as Sharon, of course—turned up in Vancouver for filming, she was stunned to recognize that the actress given the part of the Princess was Sita Maunder, the younger sister of Helen's close friend (and former lover) Lalitha! (This younger sister, Sita, appears briefly in _Helen & Lalitha: The Lost Years._)

This was entirely unexpected. (Some years after Lalitha had come to the US, the two sisters had completely lost touch, and Sita had gone to the UK with the missionary family called Maunder for whom she had worked while in India, with the aim of eventually locating Lalitha. She had done theater in college, had been recruited for the movie in England.) Though she was desperate to do so, Helen was quite unable to reveal to the young woman that they had met long ago, in India; and Helen had to restrain her eagerness to talk with the actress about her older sibling. To Helen's amazement, she learned that Sita was actually searching for her sister, and did not have any contact information, which of course Helen could very easily have provided her with, if only Helen were not in disguise. Helen kept in character—meaning her masquerade as 'Sharon Vuehl'—all through filming, and then slipped away without a word to Sita, having arranged for Lorna to 'accidentally' meet her, reveal that she knew Lalitha, and convey the young actress to Philadelphia, together with Alison and James, and reunite the two sisters together. (Helen was on pins, wondering whether, when Sita was introduced to Helen someday, in Philadelphia, as was inevitable, Sita might recognize her as Sharon Vuehl, her co-star. At that point, in fact, they could have persuaded Sita to keep the secret, but Helen was obsessed with not allowing the masquerade to be discovered _at all. Nobody_ except Helen, Lorna, and Marsha Moore knew who Sharon Vuehl actually was.) A big problem was that Sita Maunder had clearly become infatuated with her costar, Sharon Vuehl.

Eventually, Helen visited Lalitha and family in Philadelphia, on the occasion of having been asked to conduct a production of _Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg_ with the Philadelphia Opera. She later met Sita, as if for the first time, and was relieved to find that Sita had absolutely no inkling that this was indeed Sita's friend from the movie! Helen had pulled off a brilliant deception.

Sita had earned a lot of money from _Merit_. Being a disciplined, frugal girl, Sita had spent her fortune slowly and carefully, using it essentially for charitable work in the slums of Liverpool, and to subsidize her sister's poor household.

## After _Merit_

For a while, after the movie, nothing happened of note. Then Lorna's dancing took on a new importance. She had been a featured soloist in a couple of productions and had danced brilliantly; Helen had attended one of these ballets.

Lorna had made friends with two young stars in the ballet company, and wanted to go on a brief vacation with the two young people, and Helen reluctantly agreed that she should be allowed to do so.

Then, _Merit_ and Sharon Vuehl were nominated for Oscars, and Marsha Moore (who had, in fact, secretly masterminded the production of all three Sharon Vuehl movies with Helen's help) excitedly put pressure on Helen to attend the awards.

## Academy Awards, Los Angeles, and Diabetes

In a stunningly eventful week, Helen travels to Los Angeles once again disguised as Sharon Vuehl, meets not only Sita there, but also a wonderful family: Andrea Mendoza, a photographer by trade; her husband Steve Robbins; and their teenage daughter Stephanie. Stephanie is strongly attracted to Sharon Vuehl, and later to Sita, when Sita asks to visit Helen at the Robbinses. 'Sharon' and Sita spend one night together at the Robbinses.

Other things happen, that are quite unrelated: Helen's father dies, and, also quite unrelatedly, Helen learns that she has Type II Diabetes. After the Awards, Helen returns to Westfield thoroughly chastened.

The latter half of the Spring Semester is a nightmare for Helen.

Lorna is invited to join a famous ballet company in New York. She goes off to New York, and becomes a great success.

The stock market takes a dramatic downturn, and many of Helen's investments lose value, and Helen worries about being able to fund her several charities. Becoming anxious, Helen's financial chief, Becky, advises her to hire an aggressive agent, Conchita Carver, to turn the finances of the corporation around.

Lorna is gone, and Rain and Helen are left with the children. They have numerous disagreements, and they often have to have time apart; their relationship is so bad. For Spring Break, Rain takes the little ones down to Maryland, to spend with Olive Gibson, James's grandmother. Helen stays behind, having planned to practice for upcoming concerts, and to grade some papers.

## Anne & Frank

Some weeks before the Academy Awards, and all the associated excitement, Westfield College had decided that, since the music program was developing rapidly under the influence of Helen Nordstrom, that a program in _dance_ might do well at the school. A woman, Wallis Reeder, had been hired to head the project. They advertised for a second professor, and a famous ballet dancer, Frank Lambert, had applied, and had been invited for an interview.

Frank Lambert was married to a lovely woman, Anne, and they had been prominent ballet dancers for some years. But Anne had become acutely sensitive to numerous air pollutants, so much so that she developed asthma-like symptoms when exposed to even mild levels of the sort of pollutants in the air of most cities. Since typical dance ensembles were located in cities, the couple could no longer work professionally and yet stay together, and Frank would not even consider living away from Anne.

To their delight, Anne suffered only mild discomfort in Westfield. Helen was assigned to entertain the Lamberts over lunch, and when Anne met Helen in their hotel room, it was almost as though the couple had fallen in love with Helen. Furthermore, Anne Lambert associated, in her mind, the great relief she felt while in Westfield, with Helen.

Frank was hired without much debate; he was such a brilliant dancer, and his interests matched so closely with the plans of the administration and Wallis Reeder, that the selection process quickly terminated successfully. While Frank headed back home to pack and move their belongings to Westfield, Anne refused to even accompany him; she said she would live in the hotel until Frank returned; she was that comfortable in the little town. Anne had assumed that Helen would look after her, but of course Helen had planned to slip out to California, and attend the Oscars as Sharon Vuehl. Helen had to reluctantly tell Anne that she had other plans, and make alternative arrangements for Anne to be looked after. This was only the first instance in which the Lamberts had made arrangements that involved Helen without consulting her.

Some weeks later, it was time for the Spring Break, the fateful occasion when Rain had escorted the little Nordstroms down to Maryland, to visit Olive Gibson. On the Friday before, Helen had met up with Anne and Frank for breakfast, when they unexpectedly announced that they were taking Helen camping! This was now the second time that they had made plans for Helen without letting her know beforehand.

Helen actually _loved_ to go camping, but she and Rain were in the process of breaking up, and going camping with the Lamberts could be asking for trouble. Furthermore, she had two performing engagements right after the break, and she had to practice for them; she also had papers to grade.

But Anne and Frank turned on their charm, and Helen found herself joining the campers.

It just so happened that on that fateful camping trip, all three of them had fallen in love with each other. Of course, Frank and Anne were married already. But they had fallen for Helen like a ton of bricks, and Helen had fallen for Anne. The couple had had sexual problems, because, among other things, Anne bruised easily, but Frank needed very vigorous sex. Helen, in her reckless way, had encouraged each of them to have sex with her, and Frank had found satisfaction after many months.

When everyone returned to Westfield after the break, Rain and Helen finally parted company. Lorna, too, announced that she would stay in New York, and now Helen was alone with the kids.

## Travels with Sita

The little ones, Alison and James, who are very attached to Rain, are initially in tears. Helen, as we said, has agreed to play several concerts in Atlanta and Miami, but she has no one to take care of the children while she's gone, and she's considering taking them with her.

Becky, Helen's business manager, sends Lalitha and her entire family up to Westfield, to help Helen out in any way that's necessary, despite Helen's stubborn insistence that she does not want them playing nursemaid to her. At first, she thinks that only Lalitha is coming, but when they arrive, Helen is confused and upset to see Sita also coming in with the rest of the gang. Helen is very reluctant to be placed in an intimate situation with Sita, for obvious reasons.

To make things worse, the family arranges that they will keep the kids with them, and arranges for Sita to accompany Helen on the trip to Atlanta and Miami, since Sita has not seen much of the US at all!

Somehow, Helen endures the companionship of Sita, without the latter—consciously, at least—suspecting the connection between Helen and Sharon. At one point, Sita—perhaps instinctively knowing that Helen was in fact the one Sita loves—tells Helen, half in jest, that she loves her. (It is more than a year later that Sita stumbles on the truth.)

While on the trip, Sita writes a brilliant parody of _Merit_ , and gives it to Helen to bring to the _Galaxy Studios_.

After Helen returns from the trip down south with Sita, the Philadelphia contingent go back home, and she is basically on her own.

On a certain hot, dry night, Helen discovers a stray dog on her kitchen steps, with her half-dozen puppies. She gives them water, moves them indoors to shelter from a thunderstorm, and takes them in to the Vet to get their shots. The Vet recognizes the mother dog, and recalls her name as Lita. Helen adopts the little dog family.

The big-name agent, Conchita, brokers the deal with Galaxy Studios to produce the parody movie _Helga_ which Sita had authored.

After college is out for the summer, the extended family descends on Helen, and one weekend, at a playground, they meet the Vet, David Powers, and his beautiful little daughter, Ruth, who clings to Helen, because Helen looks so much like Ruth's mother, who has just died a few months before! Helen adores little Ruth (and Ruth loves Helen to bits).

# The Summer

## At the Beach

Helen is slowly going off the rails, so Becky and Helen's personal assistant, Betsy, urge Helen to take the family and Amy—Dr. Amy Salvatori—away to the beach. This is all recounted in _Helen at the Beach_ , especially how Conchita arranges for Helen to be photographed by a portrait photographer Diane Elman, and meets her daughter and son, Maryssa and Matt Brooks. Helen also has affairs with other interesting people at the beach, namely Harriet Mahler, an innocent young woman, and Mallory Pearson, the local D.A., both of whom admire Helen. Not least, Gena meets two young people, Kristen Robinson, and Marcus Gustavson, and falls in love with both of them!

Amy is very unhappy about Maryssa, but Helen continues to stay in touch with Maryssa by phone.

## Helga

The parody of _Merit,_ titled _Helga & The Other Princess,_ is produced by _Galaxy Studios,_ and Helen is chosen to play the title role, this time, of course, _as herself_.

The movie comes out in the middle of the fall semester, and is almost as successful as the original movie, and attracts a lot of attention. Helga involves lots of martial arts; in addition to spectacular Ping Pong, Helen must fight the Princess (who is played, incidentally, by Annie Nordstrom, Helen's dad's widow, and Helen's friend). The Princess is also quite a fighter. The martial arts aspect is a major attraction of the movie.

A few weeks after Helen returns from shooting on location, they notice that Helen is visibly pregnant. Over the Fall Semester, Helen's condition becomes clearer, and she begins to put on weight.

The success of the movie is not universally viewed with approval. To the dismay of Helen and her friends, Helen is criticized unmercifully for being a bad influence on young people. The movie, the complaints said, made "sexual perversion acceptable to young people." (This was at a time before the morality of same sex marriages had been hashed out in public, and there were still a great many opposed to the portrayal of alternate lifestyles on the screen.) The main reason for this was not that there were so many scenes that portrayed lesbianism in a particularly objectionable way, but that the actress—Helen Nordstrom—was also a singer and conductor of _sacred Christian music_. It seems that those who sing sacred music must not dabble in lesbian movies.

# Helen is Called a Bad Influence

Recall that Helen taught at a small private college in the US. Because of the big fuss being made in the news, (actually, only in the conservative news media,) parents of the students of Helen's college began to withdraw their students from it. It started as just a few students, but grew to a flood, until some six hundred students had been withdrawn from Westfield College.

Helen was heartbroken. She loved to teach, and she also loved the school, and she had come to love the little town in which it was located. She had been so broken up that she had at first taken a semester's leave, to get back her equilibrium, but it was eventually extended to a year's leave with no pay, and in fact, eventually Helen never returned to the school.

## Crash, Miscarriage, Surgery, Whore of the Galaxy

Other bad experiences followed, quite unconnected with Westfield.

The institutions with which she had planned to conduct Christmas-related musical activities backed out of the agreements; her violin engagements, conducting, and singing engagements vanished. Even Helen's own orchestra, the Impromptu Ensemble, weaseled out of performances with Helen.

At the time Helen moved down to Philadelphia, a friend, Natasha Zemanova had been visiting Helen, and Natasha had been moved to Philadelphia with everybody else. Helen had a transportation manager, Jim McDowell, who took care of the move; Becky found a large house in the Philadelphia area for Helen. They rented a piano, and Jim arranged for Helen's old white Cherokee to be transported for the use of Helen and company. Also, occupying a small suite in this house was Betsy Schoorman (Helen's personal assistant) and her daughters Karen and Carol, aged twenty and twelve, respectively.

Helen was in a poor mood, which took its toll on the children, and Amy, and even on Natasha. On top of all of that, Helen kept slipping off to Primrose, the home of the Brooks family, since Helen got a lot more pleasure from Maryssa's company than she did from Amy's, and Amy and Natasha were getting a little tired of Helen.

Janet Krebs, who was half of the couple who had picked Helen up on the roadside, on her way to college, had a daughter Elly. Elly had had a terrible semester at college, been suspended, broken up with her long-time girlfriend, Tommy, and was barely on speaking terms with her mother. (Being _suspended_ simply means that the school wants the student to go to another school, and if he or she succeeds in raising his or her grades enough, the student would be readmitted to the school which suspended him or her.) Janet begged Helen to talk to Elly, and Helen agreed to let Elly join her in Philadelphia.

There was a nice big dinner at the Brooks mansion, where everyone behaved themselves perfectly for one evening, including Helen and Elly. Natasha had asked Helen to let her take Amy and the children out to Natasha's home in Paris for Christmas, and this had been planned for the morning after the big dinner. There was a large caravan out to the airport, and Helen, Elly and Betsy returned home. Shortly afterwards, Helen's half-brother, Little John, and her half-sister, Tommy, and Grelly and Janet, arrived to keep Helen company.

At this time, Helen and family were living in a rented home in Philadelphia. One night, Helen was called 'The Whore of the Galaxy' on an Evangelical TV channel. This had stunned all of them. A horrified and furious Helen visits Maryssa, and there is a snowstorm, and Helen has a terrible accident on the way home, loses the baby she's carrying, has to have extensive plastic surgery to repair her face which is smashed in the accident, which leaves a hairline scar from her eyebrow to her lip. This brought Amy back from France, where she had been visiting Natasha with the children for Christmas.

Early in the new year, once all the young people were back, Allie, James, and Carol were registered at the local Friends' School; Erin, was sent back to Ferguson; Gena returned to her college, and Karen Schoorman returned to _her_ college; and Elly decided to apply to a local campus of Penn State. Elly regarded this as a great humiliation, since she had been suspended from quite a prestigious institution, but she wanted to stay with Aunt Helen. Everyone settled down into this new pattern of existence.

One day, Diane Brooks, the photographer, now in her late seventies, got her children together, and talked to them about the family's financial situation. Maryssa was upset that her mother seemed to be implying that she was on the brink of dying. After a massive argument, when Diane revealed that she intended for Helen to be the executrix of her will, Maryssa was thoroughly frightened about the future of her relationship with Helen, and, using a complicated chain of arguments, decided that it was better that Helen and she slowed down the escalation of their relationship. So, no sex.

After Helen had eventually recovered from the crash, and her scars had completely healed, she had spent most of her time in the Nordstrom house in Philadelphia, just doing housework. Amy begged her to get out of the house, go to the library, just _do something,_ but Helen was stubborn; the _Helga_ business and the crash had knocked all the energy out of her, and the go-slow which Maryssa had declared, all made Helen go into a sort of retreat.

Amy soon got impatient with this, and went back to Westfield, where she joined the staff of their little hospital.

## Helen Announces her Retirement

As it happened, Diane Brooks's fears of her mortality were not unfounded. One day, she began to give away her personal treasures to Maryssa and Matt and Helen, completely demoralizing Maryssa, and two days later, Diane was dead in her sleep.

This was a huge shock. Maryssa and Matt conducted themselves beautifully for the funeral formalities, and they settled down, with Helen, to manage the household as well as they could. But more than either of the two siblings, Helen was affected by the death, and her responsibility for executing Diane's will. Helen decided to move in with Maryssa and Matt; it didn't make sense to maintain two separate households anymore. There was plenty of room for all of them; it was an enormous house. Helen herself undertook to do all the deferred maintenance on the enormous old house, hiring workers, and renovating all features of the house that would have made it expensive to maintain the home in the future, especially since Maryssa and Matt had practically no income.

Over the summer, it became clear that Helen was still in bad odor as far as the classical music establishment was concerned.

Helen announced that she would retire from the concert stage; no more violin concerts, no more recitals as a lyric soprano, no more teaching. Becky, and Conchita, and Amy, all kept asking her whether she meant it seriously, and Helen was enraged. Lorna was the last to call her, and Helen lost her temper at her; she wasn't violent, but they were all shocked at how furious Helen was. Conchita was asked to resign. Jim had been retired for more than a year.

The one thing she continued to do was to act in _The Galactic Voyager_. The _Galaxy Studios,_ located in Seattle, Washington, which produced the TV series, continued to be faithful to Helen, and in fact had invited her onto their managing board some months before. Once a month, Helen flew out to Seattle to film the scenes in which she would appear in the weekly episodes of the series. Now, in addition to the disappearance of Helen's earning ability (except with _Galaxy_ ), Helen had committed to help maintain the expensive Brooks house. Betsy was released from her duties, though Helen continued to subsidize the schooling of her daughters. Only Becky was left on the payroll.

For the next school year, Erin asked to come live with the family in Philadelphia. She was missing the family too much, now that all the older girls had graduated from Ferguson.

## Sita Finds Out

Before Helen and family had moved in with Maryssa, and was still living in the rented house, Lalitha and family were frequent visitors, and so was Maryssa. Matt would drop Maryssa off, and Maryssa would putter around the house, while Helen fooled around on her laptop computer.

One day, Sita came by, and asked Helen to walk in the back yard with her. Maryssa was watching from an upstairs window, and saw Sita become very upset at something Helen said. Shortly afterwards, Sita, looking furious, marched in through the kitchen door, and out the front door; Maryssa tried to catch up with her, to find out what was wrong, and straighten out what she thought could only be a misunderstanding.

When Maryssa caught up with Sita, it was almost all the way to the home of Lalitha and Sita. Sita was startled to find that she was being followed, and was impatient at having to come back across the street she had just crossed, and having to explain to Maryssa what had happened.

Helen had just revealed to Sita that Helen and Sharon _were the same person_. (Even afterward, everyone who knew kept quiet about it, because Helen had violated the tax laws of both the US and Canada, because though each of them had paid the taxes assessed on them individually in each country, they presumed that they would have been assessed a greater tax liability if their incomes had been lumped together.)

It was a long time before Sita came to terms with the fact that the elusive actress, Sharon Vuehl, had been right there in plain sight all along. Over the weeks and months, the feelings Sita began to have for Helen— _as herself_ —starting on that tour of Georgia and Florida, merged with the feelings Sita had had for Sharon. It was very confusing.

## Depression

Thanksgiving rolled round. Gena wrote to say that she was going to Kristen's home for Thanksgiving. Helen, Maryssa and the younger children visited Ohio, and celebrated the holiday with Norma Major, Helen's undergraduate advisor, and Norma's cousin, Cecily Williamson, but the two old ladies could see that Helen was in depression.

Years ago, Helen had begun her violin career with what was now called The Chamber Orchestra of Ohio, and whenever they learned that Helen was visiting the area, they usually invited her to their rehearsals, and often to conduct a movement or two, or to play violin with them, and they considered Helen's participation a great treat. But this time, Helen declined, rather tersely, to the great disappointment of the orchestra members, but of course, she had announced her retirement earlier in the year, and they had to accept that. But Maryssa persuaded Helen to take the family to just sit and watch a rehearsal of the COO.

Maryssa watched Alison and James watching the orchestra intently; more intently than they had in the past. (She felt that the kids had come to the point where they could imagine themselves _actually performing_ in an orchestra, rather than being just spectators, presumably; after all, Erin had occasionally played with the Impromptu.)

While they were in Ohio, and again once they were back in Philadelphia, Maryssa had brought up the possibility of going Christmas shopping, and got her head bitten off by Helen both times.

"Mama?"

"What's it now?"

Allie stood near the door, looking a little anxious.

"Mama, where's all my _stuff?_ All my stuff, from the old house? I can't find some of my _things._ "

" _What_ things?"

"Oh—you know—my stuff..." said Allie, vaguely, looking a little cautious. Maryssa exchanged a secret smile with her; with Helen in such a lousy mood, they had to stick together.

Helen whirled on the little girl impatiently. "What are you _talking_ about?"

Allie became defensive, and a little belligerent. "Mama, I'm talking about all the things I had in my box, over in the farmhouse, toys, and books and—stuff like that!"

"Your toy box?"

"Yeah!" she said, nodding vigorously.

"It's in the attic, isn't it? All the boxes Jim brought down on that second trip, the ones we didn't open, they're all in the attic." Helen looked at Maryssa for confirmation.

"We put it in one of the storerooms, Helen," Maryssa said, shaking her head. "Come on, Allie; you may as well have your toys where you can use them."

Once Maryssa had gone off with Allie, Elly drifted in to talk to Helen. Helen shot her a glance that wasn't quite hostile. Perhaps she realized that she couldn't alienate absolutely _everybody._

"If you're in a real bad mood, I can talk to you later," Elly said, giving Helen a half-smile.

Helen shook her head, not meeting her eyes. "It may as well be now," she said, with obvious resignation. "What can I do for you?"

"Funny you should ask!" Helen looked up sharply.

That night in bed Helen and Maryssa lay awake. The silence was getting rather awkward.

Helen sighed. She couldn't stand letting Maryssa bear the entire brunt of her anger; after all, Maryssa was the most inoffensive woman who had ever thrown in her lot with Helen. Their last night in Ohio, Maryssa had tried to cajole Helen into a mood to have sex. She had teased Helen, caressing her, whispering little words of love into her ear, until Helen had snapped at her, accusing her of being a sex maniac.

Tonight, Maryssa lay straight as an arrow, too hurt to make an amorous approach to her beloved, but too softhearted to sleep by herself in the little couch that stood along the wall. She was trying to breathe so quietly that her chest hurt.

Helen was her first and only love, and she had never experienced the vagaries of a relationship, and had no way of predicting how moody Helen could be. It was particularly frustrating because for six long months Helen had been the most wonderful, even-tempered lover in the world, and had completely shattered Maryssa's image of the relationships of lovers as being stormy and beset by obstacles and misunderstandings.

"What did Elly want?" Maryssa asked, finally. "I hope I'm not prying?"

"Oh. No, it wasn't anything like that... she wants to start up music lessons again."

"Start up?"

"Yeah; she's rather a good violinist," Helen admitted, not without pride. "And an excellent violist," she added, thoughtfully.

" _Our_ Elly? I haven't ever seen her play!"

"Well, she had such a bad sophomore year, she—she sort of gave it up. She apparently sold her violin."

"Is that bad? Was it a good one?"

Helen didn't mention that it had been one that Helen had made herself. It had taken a great deal of courage for Elly to own up to having sold it, and Helen wasn't about to make her suffer Maryssa's indignation, too.

"I think it was," she said, noncommittally.

"Guess what Allie was looking for, in her collection of what she calls her 'stuff!' "

"What?"

"She had a little violin, a completely playable little instrument!"

"Oh!" Maryssa gratefully observed the note of amusement in Helen's voice. "Oh."

"I was watching her at the rehearsal. Did you notice how intent she was on the music?"

"Yeah," Helen said, very softly.

"Of course you knew about her violin, didn't you?"

"Sure; I made it, Maryssa."

Maryssa remembered that Helen could do that. It was hard to keep track of the things the woman could do.

"Helen—why don't you teach Alison a little violin? She's musical, that's so obvious. And Erin plays, I know; Allie must want to be a part of your musical family so much! And isn't it true that you have to start young, if you're going to be a violinist?"

Helen was quiet for a long time. Since she didn't make any sign of being upset or impatient, Maryssa was encouraged. Then she asked,

"What does Elly want you to do?"

"She wants me to teach her violin, to get started once more."

Maryssa turned towards Helen and felt for her hand and took it in her own.

"I think you should, Helen!"

Helen pressed Maryssa's hand, and all the annoyance Maryssa had felt in Helen for days seemed to melt away. She could almost feel Helen's hardness evaporating.

"I don't want to, Maryssa, I just don't want to!"

"But why?"

Helen took Maryssa's hand and held it to her cheek.

"I don't want to have anything to do with music anymore," she said in a soft voice. There was no anger, just a gentleness that told Maryssa that Helen wanted to make something clear: that the feelings she was expressing had nothing to do with Maryssa. "I don't want to be hurt any more. I don't want to be a musician. I just want to be an ordinary woman."

Maryssa found this very painful. It was hard to respond to such a strange statement. For Maryssa, Helen was far more than a great musical talent and a celebrity. For her, Helen was a wonderful, passionate woman, someone she loved deeply: not for the things she could do, but for the person she was; the sweet, romantic, vulnerable, open-hearted, intelligent girl she had been.

"I just want you to be happy!" she said, choking on the words, her heart breaking. She knew exactly what Helen meant, and she had watched Helen retreat from what she perceived to be the cruelty of society, and she had ached for her, and still ached. Everything else she had been feeling became irrelevant, compared to her need to make things all right for Helen. Here, in spite of Helen's devastating setbacks of the past months, she had been trying to make Maryssa's life safe and comfortable. What could Maryssa do for her lover? She was so helpless, so without resources, so ignorant! All she could do was to offer her love, to help look after Helen's family, and just be there for her. If only her mother were alive! Helen would usually listen to Diane. Maryssa—nobody ever listened to her!

"I only want you to be happy, Helen! Oh god, if you knew how much I wanted you to be happy! But I feel so helpless!"

Soon Helen was also fighting a losing battle with tears. Angrily she dashed away the tears that flooded her eyes, trickling into all kinds of inconvenient places.

"And if you only knew how much I want to be happy for you!" Helen said, with a strangled voice. "But I can't pretend anymore! If not for you..." Helen dropped her voice. "If not for you, I... I might not be alive anymore. There! Now you know."

"Oh god, so it's true!"

" _What's_ true?"

"Nothing!"

"What is it, Maryssa? What have you heard about me?"

"Nothing, Helen, nothing."

"It has to be something!"

"Just that I suspected you might be fighting depression."

"Oh yes." Helen laughed, a short bark that had no humor in it. "Why don't you tell me something I don't know?"

Maryssa buried her head in her pillow and sobbed. She could not remember ever being so sad; not even when she had heard about Helen's awful accident. Then she had been afraid: would Helen live? Was the baby dead? She had then had an unshakable belief that if Helen lived and regained her health, all would be well. She had been willing to bet _anything_ on the strength of Helen's mind to bounce back. Compared to the inbred weakness of her family, her mother's fragile brilliance, her brother's awkward innocence, her own fear of everything outside their home, of crowds, of being alone in the city, Helen had seemed so strong, so confident, so self-assured, so able to bear any ordeal, any hardship! Had that been what had attracted Maryssa to her? Certainly. The power radiated from Helen, and that first almost uncontrollable urge to kneel before Helen, bare her breasts to her, to offer herself to the wonderful, exciting woman who had arrived in their midst like a goddess, that force on her had only changed its direction, and not lessened.

Helen still made her body ache with desire, but she had learned other ways to satisfy her craving. But she still felt the need to mother the big woman, to make her want to bury her face in Maryssa's breast, at least once in a while. She could not bear to see Helen's sexuality wasting away with her self-pity. It was not so sad that she did not cling to Maryssa. But it was sad that she clung to no one at all.

Helen simply waited, passively. Maryssa watched her through the corner of her eye in the gloom. If only she would be frustrated enough to break out of her emotional prison! When Helen knew that Maryssa had stopped crying, she rolled onto her back again, preoccupied with her own thoughts. What did she think, Maryssa wondered. Probably well-worn thoughts of retreat, retreat into dull routine, coming alive once a month for her _Galaxy_ weekend, then relapsing into her mind-numbing routine.

Maryssa lay on her side, her eyes hungry for the old excitement. Helen's profile was clear against the dullness of the wallpaper. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes open, the long eyelashes slowly blinking as she lay thinking. What moved her now? Certainly, love of Maryssa seemed very low in her consciousness—Maryssa didn't resent that. She knew if she suffered, Helen would be immediately concerned. Helen was indifferent now only because Maryssa worried _for her_. Anyway, Helen had said that she wanted to be happy _for her!_ It was a good sign. Perhaps Helen's concern for her little family was not dead.

She sighed and laid her hand on Helen's breast, squeezing softly through the thin fabric, feeling Helen's heart beat just a little faster, and seeing a small smile touch her lips. The nipple stiffened slightly, but not so much. One day Maryssa would touch Helen's breast, and she would not be aroused at all. And the thought of that made a tear roll silently down her temple.

"I wonder whether Alison really has any talent," she said, her heart in her mouth.

Helen caught her breath.

"Allie? Of course! Haven't you heard her singing?" Helen was indignant. Maryssa's heart began to beat with excitement. "She could be the most musical one of all—certainly one of the brightest," Helen said confidently. Helen had a problem claiming intelligence for herself and for Tommy, Little John and James. But for the three adopted girls, Helen constantly declared that they were bright. Gena, Maryssa knew, was a bright girl, and Erin was an accomplished violinist. But Allie had potential that Maryssa was willing to believe might surpass anything they could imagine. Maryssa knew she had been Helen's favorite, but these days Helen hardly spent any time with her. The long-suffering child contented herself with whatever company she could get out of Elly, James, Jeannie, and the eccentric Carol. But Maryssa had come to know that Allie loved Helen more than anyone else, including her own sister. The way she managed to suppress her feelings and leave Helen alone was downright unnatural for a child her age.

"Of course, it's too early to start James, isn't it?"

Maryssa saw Helen frown.

"It's tricky," she admitted. "He's so particular about everything; the problem is to make him think _he_ wants to learn."

"If Allie got lessons, I bet James would want them, too!"

Helen nodded slowly, chewing her lip. Maryssa forced herself to breathe, not wanting Helen to know that she was being manipulated. So far, Helen hadn't brought up the issue of _who_ would teach the children.

Helen sighed. "I guess I should at least buy them proper violins," she said, turning to Maryssa.

Maryssa smiled, trying not to look triumphant. "I saved up a little money to buy them something for Christmas... violins would be perfect!"

That Friday, Helen made a trip to the big music store in the city. She was more confident these days, and drove out alone in the car. She brought some brochures home with her, but Lalitha and Trish had heard that Helen was looking for starter violins, and called to say they'd like to make a gift for Alison and James with the instruments. Helen stammered out a hurried refusal, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. A quarter-size and a half-size would be ready in two weeks, and until then, Lalitha said she'd find two to loan them. Lessons began on Sunday, with all four of them, Erin, Alison, James, and Elly.

Elly realized that it was her that Helen would be teaching, mostly; after a while, she would be expected to drill the little ones.

Maryssa and Carol watched the first few lessons with interest, but the novelty soon wore off. It was not that Helen was a poor teacher; it was just that the lessons were a lot less interesting to _watch_ than to _participate in._ Elly supervised fifteen minutes of drill every day, and Helen held the lessons three days a week after school, after that first week of daily lessons.

For all of them, it was a treat to see Helen playing her violin again. Maryssa could tell that she was taking pains to appear to be as uninterested in her own playing as possible. Most of the time she succeeded, focusing attention on the children, and on Elly. But every once in a while, the violin sounded magically sweet, and her amber eyes would slowly turn round to Maryssa, and something like a smile of embarrassment would twist her lips. None of them said a word; it was a little inside joke shared by the two of them.

That Christmas, Helen had been in tears because she had believed that she had been left out of a compilation of video-clips of most of the numbers from _Messiah,_ one of Helen's favorite works in which she had sung. When Sita empathized with Helen, and came out onto the kitchen steps to comfort her, she had let slip that she might not be completely out of love with Helen. Helen was shocked, and it was the first instance in which Helen had any suspicion of how Sita felt. ( _Helen vs. Handel's Messiah._ )

## Starting Violin

Helen did get the children started on violins, all of them, and got Elly started in warming them up before Helen started the lesson proper. All this went like clockwork, watched by Maryssa with great interest, but Helen was going out of her way, trying not to show much enthusiasm. It seemed to Maryssa, though, that Helen was indeed observing the progress of Alison and James with a degree of excitement!

Later that year, Maryssa and Elly went shopping for a new piano, since the old one bought by Maryssa's mother was an inferior instrument, and was in terrible shape, and they wanted Helen to take a greater interest in music, and in life in general. A nice new piano was found and brought in, but it was more than a month before Helen tried it out. It was a great success!

Shortly afterwards, Helen was persuaded to substitute, at a two-year college, for a calculus teacher who was delivering her baby, and also to teach martial arts in the evenings.

Before Helen could teach Martial Arts without supervision (the course was titled Self Defense), she had to be certified by the former instructor, who insisted on giving Helen a course of lessons, and then observing her for several months, only after which he gave her a black belt, and her instructor certification.

That made a huge difference in Helen's attitude and motivation. She was still holding firm to her determination not to perform music in public. Of course, while teaching the children—and Elly—violin, Helen could not avoid playing the violin just a little. At any rate, Elly progressed in huge leaps and bounds, in this her junior year, and gained entrance to a prestigious music school in Philadelphia.

Later that Summer, Elly met and fell in love with Morgan Green, a sweet girl from a poor family, who had graduated from college, but had never looked for work. Elly and Helen urged Morgan to find employment, and the girls moved in together. This left just the Brooks siblings, Helen, and the Nordstrom children living at Primrose.

# Amnesia

## Filming in Seattle

It was now three years since Helen had left Westfield, and moved in with Maryssa Brooks in Philadelphia.

Helen had taught martial arts for a while at the small community college, and finally, and reluctantly, agreed to teach a survey course in music appreciation for the upcoming Fall Semester, despite her announced retirement. She had taught thus far as Elaine Neumann (a variant of her married name), but now she was going to teach under her own name.

Helen and Maryssa had been living in the enormous Brooks home, hidden away in an exclusive enclave in old Philadelphia. Helen continued to star in _The Galactic Voyager,_ for which she had to travel to Seattle once a month or so, during the year.

That Summer, however, the studio was making a feature-length movie out of a few especially interesting episodes. It was while Helen was marooned in Seattle for this project, that one evening Helen impulsively decided to hunt down a call girl. Her name was Melanie.

Melanie was a stunningly beautiful girl, with lovely brown hair down to her knees. Helen is incognito; she had given her name as 'Elaine' to Melanie. Just before Melanie had picked Helen up, a man attempts to mug Helen, but Helen easily fights him off, and puts him in a hold, which Melanie sees. Helen takes his wallet, and escapes with Melanie. This is apparently a fantasy of Melanie's: to be with a fighter girl. Helen also tells her that she is a body double for Helen Nordstrom, which the girl readily believes.

After one night with Melanie, Helen is left crazy with lust for her. Furthermore, Melanie, too, is strongly drawn to Helen.

When Melanie drops Helen off, both Helen and Melanie are left yearning for each other. After shooting for the day is over, Helen goes hunting for more female flesh, goes into a sort of teen bar, and that's where she finds Jana, a Czech girl, and hauls her off to her quarters in Seattle for a one-night stand (where she tells Jana as well that her name is Elaine). The following day Helen spends a night with Jana again, and happens to tell her her real name, and Jana is stunned; evidently _Galaxy_ is shown in the Czech Republic as well, dubbed in German, and Jana has been a fan for years.

Melanie sees Helen again, informally. From then on, Melanie arranges to provide Helen with her company free of charge, and Helen sees her whenever she is in Seattle. She begins to use the house that the studio has provided for Helen's use, which she had never used before; and she gives Melanie a key to the house, and Melanie plants roses around the house.

Several months later, Helen had gone up to Seattle on one of her regular filming trips. Several scenes they were about to shoot had to do with exercise, working out; physical sorts of things. The character Helen played, named Cecilia, was supposed to be an all-round artist and celebrity of the future, who had been put aboard the _Galactic Voyager_ in hibernation—that is, in a sort of frozen state—but had been resuscitated some years into the voyage, in the hope that she could help with a wave of youth violence that the ship population was experiencing. But her health deteriorates, and she had been re-hibernated and re-resuscitated, but those processes have a negative effect on her mental health, and Cecilia loses her intellectual interests, and is mostly interested in body shaping and physical culture.

The first scene they were filming required Helen to be perspiring, and she soon was. There were a good number of her fellow actors watching the filming: Amanda, a major star, who played a clone of Helen's character in the show; Jana, the Czech girl whom Helen had encouraged to join the cast; the crowd of young people who were her special admirers; and various others. Her trainer, a young fellow called Jerry, was a special admirer, watching over her like a hawk, always worrying about injuries and all sorts of things that could go wrong.

He was running after her with a robe. "Wear this!" he cried, "you could catch a bad chill!"

The ever-present air conditioning was really unnecessary that afternoon; the cloudy sky had darkened, and it was raining again. But Helen liked it cool.

"The robe will soak up my perspiration! They want me sweating!"

"Oh, they'll spray you down," said Jerry.

"Spray her down? Why?" Jana was puzzled. Jerry explained. "Oh," said Jana, turning to Helen. "It won't be that bad. They've done it before, right?"

Helen rolled her eyes. They were at the soundstage now. Even the set lighting made the set warm. There was much noisy welcoming of Helen—who was somewhat of a favorite in the studio—and then they were filming.

The scene involved breaking up an argument which Helen—Cecilia—had witnessed, while she was off-duty. All the other actors were on their toes; they always looked forward to Helen's monthly visits. It seemed as though the actors were especially gentle towards Helen that day. Then it was on to another scene. This director wasted no time, and had an incredible grasp of the script and the overall story line. He quickly had them filming the second scene.

"Cut!" he cried. "Let me see!" He wanted the camera closer on Helen's face. They were trying to show the strain of what she was doing. Makeup had to touch up Helen's face, to show more strain. On they went.

"I'm really tired," Helen said in a low voice to the director. His excited face calmed at once, and he called for a five-minute break.

"Are you all right?" he asked Helen, solicitously.

"I'm a little hungry," Helen said, embarrassed. "I—I'd like a snack, if I may!"

"Of course you may!" said Frank, the writer, who had been talking with Amanda, glancing at the director. "If she doesn't eat regularly, she'll get in trouble, Rich; it's the diabetes!"

Rich's mouth formed an 'O' of understanding. Helen hated when her health intruded into their filming. They called for a fifteen-minute break instead. Snacks were brought out and passed around. Helen felt better in seconds, but she had a bad headache, and it was getting worse. She tried to ignore it, but she just couldn't. Amanda and Jana watched, upset, until a couple of minutes later it went away. Helen's expression was a little worried, but that was supposed to be in the script anyway. These were worrisome days for Cecilia, Helen's character.

While the shooting went on, Jana could see that Helen was fading. She kept glancing at Amanda, to see whether she would pick up on it. Perhaps she did, but she wasn't sharing with Jana. (Amanda was a big star, unlike Jana.)

Amanda and Jana were quite close, and rapidly becoming more so. But still, Jana could never take Amanda for granted. She felt on firmer ground with Helen; she could say things to Helen that she could never say to Amanda. Amanda was a big star. But with Helen... when it came to Helen's health and safety, Jana feared for Helen as if her health was as important as that of the President.

Every subsequent scene was worse. Finally, Helen caught herself, and Jana knew that she was giving it an enormous battle. For the last few scenes which went on until nearly one in the morning, Helen seemed to have made a remarkable comeback.

"She's faking it," Amanda said, finally.

"She's been doing that for several scenes," Jana said, dryly.

Amanda turned to glare at her.

"If you knew, why didn't you say something?" she demanded, hotly.

"Me? I am nobody! What can I say?"

Amanda only groaned. She marched up to the director, Rich, and said something in a low voice. Rich looked at Helen in alarm.

"Helen, are you all right?"

Helen's face froze for a second, as she looked at Rich and the others watching her. Then her control crumbled, and her eyes glazed over, she held her head and sat on the closest chair. That ended shooting for the night.

Helen was sent home in a studio car, and Amanda and Jana sat with Helen in the back, holding a cold compress to her head. Was it something she had eaten? Pollution? The weather?

"I'd really like Doc Thompson to look her over," Amanda said, worriedly.

"He's out of town," Joe, the driver, growled. "There's Doctor Simmons. He's okay."

But Amanda shook her head and said no, she wasn't going to let Dr. Simmons see Helen. She wouldn't say why, but she claimed to have her reasons.

"Helen, do you have a family doctor?"

"Huh?" asked Helen. She was barely able to pay attention to what they were saying. They had to ask her several times before she told them no, she did not have a regular physician.

They arrived at the house that the studio maintained for Helen in Seattle. Joe managed to pick her up, still all sweaty, and climbed the steps. Amanda had got Helen's keys from her purse. But before she could unlock the door, it was opened from inside by someone. A stunningly beautiful woman stood there, beautifully dressed, looking anxiously out the door at them. Seeing Helen in Joe's arms, her eyes went wide.

"Helen!" She stared at them, and understanding came to Jana's eyes, as well as jealousy. Jana knew that Helen had special friend in Seattle, but had never seen her, but they had spoken on the phone. So this was she, Melanie. "What's happened?" Melanie asked.

They explained that Helen had sort of collapsed after shooting was over. She had said she had a headache, and then her legs had given way.

"Please, come in!" She led them inside, and Joe laid Helen on the sofa. Helen was looking pale and ill.

Amanda and Melanie sized each other up—or rather, Amanda did; Melanie's eyes were taken up with Helen.

Melanie bent close to Helen.

"Helen, is there anyone in your family we could call? Shall we call, uh,..."

"Maryssa, right?" Jana contributed. Melanie gave her a grateful glance.

"Shall I call Maryssa?"

Helen only nodded. Her face showed considerable pain.

## Hospital

The closest thing to a primary care doctor Helen had was Dr. Amy Salvatori, a woman whom Helen had gotten to know from when she had been a sophomore in college, some twenty years before. Maryssa urged them to call Amy, and presently they were talking with her. Amy's confident tones had them calmed down quickly. Amy wanted Helen taken to hospital right away. "No need to panic yet," she said, "but she needs to be taken to hospital—without much publicity, I need hardly tell you, do I?—and given a CT scan, or preferably an MRI. She's had a brain tumor, an enormous one, taken out some years ago."

Melanie told them what she had heard, and Amanda, Jana, Melanie and Joe looked at each other, their jaws hanging open. They told Dr. Amy they'd do that, and exchanged phone numbers and hung up.

Joe picked Helen up once again, and they rushed to the big hospital with which the studio had a relationship.

Melanie was, in fact, a high-priced call girl. Helen, who had an amazing libido, had once desperately wanted female company, and she had paid to be connected up with Melanie. They had developed a strong relationship, and Helen had begun seeing Melanie regularly. Though Melanie had never admitted it to herself, she was as close to being in love with Helen as made no difference. Now, Melanie began to feel embarrassed once she began to think about what they were doing, but she hoped she could hide behind the others, and prevent the exact nature of their relationship from emerging.

When they arrived, Helen was just barely conscious, but unable to talk. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, and when they wheeled her out to the computer-tomography unit, she was allowed to have her friends around her only briefly while they got ready. Jana pushed Melanie forward, and Melanie, blushing, took Helen's hand. Helen squeezed it gently, and her eye leaked a tear. Then they had to leave. By then, Amy had called the hospital, and was talking directly to the doctor in charge.

"I hate it when they throw everybody out," Amanda said, fiercely.

"Me too," agreed Melanie softly.

"Hi," Amanda said, belatedly, "I'm Amanda, and this is Jana, and Joe. We all work down at Galaxy," she explained.

"I'm from security," Joe explained.

Melanie smiled and nodded. "I'm—Melanie," said she. "I'm just a friend. She'd just left the door open for me, that's why I happened to be there!"

Amanda nodded slowly. The girl seemed to be a decent sort; nicely brought-up, and Amanda grudgingly approved of her. She glanced at Jana who was watching Melanie like a hawk, and she frowned. Jana was _so_ awkward sometimes.

"I think I have spoken with you," Jana said to Melanie, sounding a little funny. Melanie had called Helen's room one time, and Jana had taken the call.

"Yes, I think I did," said Melanie smiling smoothly.

The scan was done quickly. The doctor approached them.

"Which one of you is in charge of Ms. Nordstrom?"

"Why do you ask?" asked Joe.

The doctor shrugged, frowning. "It's just informational; there's a tumor, and we're going to try and take it out. But I think you should know,... it's very risky. Very risky indeed. But we can't leave her like this. The tumor is hurting her eyes."

"Shit!" swore Joe. "Is it around the eyes?"

"No, no; but it's leaning on the eyes. It looks as though it's a compact mass, nicely differentiated from the surrounding tissue. But of course, you can't really tell until you go in."

"Of course," said Amanda, while Melanie simply turned white.

They were sent off to a waiting-room. Helen had been hooked up to fluids in no time, her clothes taken off, and everything had been handed to Melanie, and Helen had been hauled off to surgery.

Somehow, Melanie found a bench and sat down wearily. Nothing she had done in her life had prepared her for this. Joe was calling his office, Amanda and Jana were calling someone they knew. Melanie sat alone. She had no work on Saturday, as far as she knew. She was completely free to agonize over Helen. Jana came to sit next to her, and to take her hand. She was grateful, in spite of the presumption of the kid. She overlooked the fact that Jana was touching Melanie's leg, something the latter rather disliked. A clerk walked up to them with paperwork, and Jana thrust it at Melanie.

It was two in the morning. The surgeon had to be called out of bed. The surgery went on and on. It was almost five when Helen was reeled out of the operating theater, straight out to intensive care. Melanie began to cry softly, and Amanda looked within inches of tears herself. Jana alone was too worried to cry.

"Look," said Joe, "I've gotta go home. Shall I leave the car keys with you?"

Melanie looked up at him, and his heart skipped a beat. Jeeze, the dame was a looker. Helen sure knew how to pick them.

"Could you take me to Helen's place? I have a car there!"

They all piled into the Galaxy car and drove back to Helen's home, and Joe left them there and went back to the studio. The girls piled into Melanie's car, and returned to the hospital.

It was nearly seven in the morning when the little group at the hospital could speak to the surgeon after the surgical team came out.

"She's alive," he said, "and she can see. But it was worse than we thought; much worse." Amanda gasped. The surgeon looked at her, and turned back to Melanie. "It's hard to tell what's going to happen. It might be the speech-centers, it might be memory, it could be almost anything. She isn't going to be 100% after this."

"Oh, no!" said they, all together. Where was Joe when they needed him? Melanie was silent now, the tears flowing freely. Amanda was cursing under her breath. Jana had a look of utter hopelessness. Amanda looked around her, as if in disbelief. Was there no one to take charge of this disaster?

The surgeon cleared his throat, and spoke to Jana, who seemed to be the calmest of the three. "I want to reassure you, miss, that, er, we had our top surgeons working on Ms. Nordstrom. We did anything, everything that could have possibly been done. No cost or effort was spared."

"She will remain here for now?"

"Oh, of course. She has to remain under observation for 24 hours. I would say that if you really preferred, she could be removed from here tomorrow morning, if no complications arise. I was speaking to one Dr. Salvatori earlier, who seemed familiar with the earlier surgery?"

"Yes, uh huh?"

"For her benefit, the entire procedure was filmed. This is routine for this sort of situation. So as soon as the video is needed..."

There was a disturbance down the hall, raised voices, and a calm, forceful one that seemed to shut off all opposition. Then Jana saw a rather short woman marching towards them. She was dressed for travel in a simple two-piece suit and sneakers. As she came up to them Jana saw more detail of her face. She had big black eyes and a pleasant face, now drawn in concentration.

"I'm Amy Salvatori," she declared. "Who was in charge of the surgery?" Her voice was low but had sort of a bullying tone at which Jana winced.

The doctor's face relaxed and he held out his hand.

"Jim Wilson, Doctor! It's a relief to have someone from the family!"

"Could you give me a quick overview?" They hurried off, leaving the girls.

"Jeeze!" Amanda swore. "Not a word to us!"

"Did you see her face? She was scared to death!" whispered Melanie. "I'm so worried!" She was shaking with fear. Amanda put a gentle arm around her, and Jana led the way off to the lobby area.

A nurse hurried up to intercept them.

"Are you ladies waiting for Ms. Nordstrom?" she asked gently, a little wide-eyed. Jana nodded. "Where will you be waiting? The doctor might need to talk to you."

"Oh—I don't know; the cafeteria, I guess," Jana said vaguely.

"Yes," said Amanda, "tell anyone we're going to be in the cafeteria. Or we'll call you. What's your name?"

"Holden," she said, "I'm nurse Sally Holden. I'll be here until noon! Oh!"

Suddenly there were a lot of people in the hall, of whom Jana recognized one: Maryssa. And the recognition was mutual. Both women blushed briefly. Sally smiled at Jana and nodded, as if to say that she assumed they would all go to the cafeteria now.

"Excuse me," said Maryssa. Her voice was very soft, and she had beautiful, clear speech. "Are you the ladies who brought Helen in?"

Amanda nodded. With regular people she felt more confident. "You must be Maryssa," she said. "I'm Amanda Magnus, and this is Jana and that's Melanie!"

There were three children, an older girl of about thirteen, and two younger ones, half asleep, and an older Indian woman with a touch of grey in her hair. Amanda and Jana guided them to the cafeteria. Helen was in intensive care, they told her, and it appeared that the cafeteria was the place to wait for more news.

There were sofas in the cafeteria, on which the two younger children, a boy and a girl, were soon asleep. The older girl was watching the news on the TV. Melanie was intensely curious about the woman, Maryssa, who was Helen's established partner. She could easily see how they would attract each other; the woman was lovely, and, Melanie supposed, had the same quiet aristocratic manner that she herself always sought to emulate. But Maryssa had a certain innocence that Helen would have found irresistible, just as much as Helen found Melanie's worldly-wise ways attractive. Who was the Indian woman, with so grave an expression? She had been introduced only as Lalitha. The kids were comfortable with her, and Melanie wondered whether Helen kept Indian servants. The woman's clothing did not indicate what her status was. She was dressed in an elegant skirt and sweater like Maryssa was, and had carried a raincoat over her arm, which was now draped over her seat back.

Shortly after they arrived at the cafeteria, a tall dark woman came in, spotted them, and walked over. She was welcomed with relief by the other two.

"Janet! Oh, I'm so relieved to see you! Neither of us knows what to do!"

"Where's Amy?"

"She's with the doctors. She came with us and ran ahead." Maryssa looked at the girls for confirmation.

"She was talking to the surgeon. Hi, I'm Amanda," she said quickly, introducing the others. "They've recorded video of the whole operation, and they must be going over it now."

The woman nodded. She looked just as worried as the others, but she had the air of someone who wouldn't go to pieces very easily.

"I couldn't get away very quickly," she apologized to them all. "It's good of you to come, Lalitha!" She introduced herself as Janet Kolb, and said she was an old friend of Helen's. "It's a bit complicated, but there's a half-brother and a half-sister, who're both away at college." She turned to the girls. "What did they say? Did they talk to you?"

Amanda nodded, and reluctantly conveyed what they had been told. "They were very discouraging. She's alive, and they think they saved her sight, but..." Amanda hated to have to convey such terrible news. They had avoided the question when Maryssa had quizzed her, but she felt that it was too much of a burden of knowledge for the girls to bear alone. "There's a chance that the speech centers might be damaged!"

"Oh Jesus," breathed Janet, closing her eyes. "She won't be able to teach... what will she do? Why her?"

(To explain: Helen had sworn never to ever have anything to do with students; nevertheless she had decided, a year ago, to teach at a small community college under a false name. She had taught calculus and self-defense at first, but this semester she was teaching music appreciation, under her own name.)

Jana watched the little circle with interest. Unless she was mistaken, the tall dark woman had to have been a lover of Helen, too. It was hard to miss; she could almost swear that there was still a lot of feeling there. And, despite the Indian woman's carefully controlled face, Jana could almost swear that she was more than just a friend, too. What a swath Helen had left behind her!

There was a slight stir at the entrance, and they saw Amy looking around for them. The cafeteria was bustling with activity now, and Helen's kids were beginning to wake up. Jana stood and waved to Amy, who set out with determination to cross the room towards them.

There was some hugging as Amy greeted Janet, then turned to the girls.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Amy Salvatori, I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. And you are?"

Janet quickly introduced the girls, getting their names right effortlessly. "What's the situation?" she asked without beating around the bush.

Amy winced, making Melanie worry. Amy didn't look the kind of person to be fazed easily. Jana squeezed Melanie's arm. It was so soft, she could almost feel the delicate bone inside.

"They had to take out quite a lot," Amy said. "Apparently it was still well differentiated, but it had created pressure on the surrounding tissue and cut off the blood supply to some of it." Amy shook her head. "I can't believe how bad it was!"

"So what are they expecting?"

"Well, some memory loss, and maybe—temporary, anyway—speech loss."

"Oh, thank god! Are they _sure_ it will be temporary?" Janet was leaning forward with great concern.

Amy frowned. "No, of course they can't be! I watched the video, and they give a commentary, you know? They were close to the speech area—it isn't easy to see, and certainly I can tell only so well; I'm not a specialist. But speech function is often taken up by the surrounding tissue. Somehow, with most people, speech function doesn't remain impaired permanently."

"What about with a stroke?" Lalitha wanted to know.

"Oh, that's muscle control. No, it isn't muscle control that's in danger, it's the actual brain center that generates speech, and makes her understand what's being said," Amy said, waving her arms about. "With someone as intelligent as her, it's almost certain that it's not a permanent loss."

"She isn't young anymore, Amy." Maryssa spoke quietly. Amy seemed to deflate at those words. She raised her sad eyes to Maryssa, and nodded slowly. The life seemed to go out of all of them, and Jana felt herself sag too. Maryssa looked at her, and they exchanged sympathetic looks.

Jana felt Melanie begin to move.

She picked up her purse. "Excuse me," she said, her voice made indistinct with her stuffed nose, "I'll be right back."

"Would you like some company?" Jana asked gently.

"If you like," Melanie said softly.

Amanda looked up at them both, reluctant to be left alone with the family.

"We won't be long!" said Melanie, patting her arm.

They watched the two girls walk off, one managing her sexy high heels with practiced grace, the other striding behind her in her sneakers with the feline gait of an athlete.

"Are you all from Galaxy Studios? I thought I recognized you," Janet said to Amanda, pleasantly, after the other two had left.

"Yes," said Amanda briefly.

"You're supposed to be her clone, aren't you!" said Maryssa smiling. She had a wonderful smile. "You do make a convincing clone!"

"Thanks!" laughed Amanda. "I'll take that as a compliment!" They all laughed with her. "It's so fun with Helen on the set," she said, after a while, "I hope she can recover completely."

They said nothing, but nodded sympathetically.

As soon as Melanie was in the restroom, she leaned against the wall, and holding her face in her hands, wept silently for a minute, as Jana watched, strangely moved by the girl's emotion. It was harder to think of her as simply a prostitute; she looked more like a lover—or a mistress, at the least.

Melanie collected herself eventually, and going over to a sink, carefully washed her face. Most of her makeup was gone, and she washed off the rest with the lotion soap they provided. She normally wouldn't do that, but somehow it seemed too much to be concerned with details just then. She touched up her face as well as she could, having dried it carefully, and inspected herself in the mirror.

"You look fine," Jana said gently.

Melanie turned to face her.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she said. "I should go. It's too awkward. I'm sure Amanda must be telling them exactly what I am!"

Jana was thoughtful. A dozen thoughts crossed her mind. But in the end she only said, "Please don't go! You know you belong here with everybody else."

"She told me she l-loved me last afternoon!" Melanie's eyes swam with tears, but she had them under control. Her lips trembled.

Janet nodded. "You know how she is! She loves many people. I do, too. It is the human way, Melanie."

Melanie smiled slightly, a sardonic smile.

"So I have to be here, when we find out the worst?"

"At least we'll be together!"

They looked at each other silently for a while. Melanie's face showed the confusion she felt. One thing she had never planned for was tragedy. The life of a courtesan was intended to be distanced from care and suffering. If she had forgone the comforts of a home and a family, surely she could hope never to suffer the pain of personal loss? If she _had_ no one, how could she _lose_ someone?

"I feel so sorry for the children!" Jana said softly, in her mind eyes seeing them asleep on the sofa, and their confusion earlier on. They had been unnaturally quiet.

Melanie smiled to herself. Perhaps Jana was in a predicament not too dissimilar to her own; to be only on the edge of the hurting family, yet feel the pain they were feeling. At least Jana could claim to be a colleague of Helen in the acting business. Melanie was only—a friend.

"They're too tired to realize what's happening."

Jana looked at her and nodded.

"Come on. They'll call us upstairs any time now. Anyway, I'm hungry!"

Melanie wished the girl would hug her. She wanted to be held tight and comforted. That's what Helen would have done, if she were here! Swallowing hard, Melanie led the way back.

Nurse Sally found them all together a little later. The kids were eating a hefty breakfast, and the others were passing round a plate of hash browns.

"She's been moved to a private room, and you can visit her now," she said smiling. "She's just opened her eyes."

"So her vision is okay!" exclaimed Lalitha.

"Oh, I don't know; I wasn't there," said Sally, flustered. "They just called down and told me to get you."

"Oh."

Sally went away. They finished eating in a hurry, and headed up to the room Sally had told them Helen was in.

"Was Mama hurt in an accident?" asked James, finally. Maryssa looked at him, startled. His eyes were lightening to a deep hazel, and he had Helen's incredibly direct, level gaze. He was also capable of deep gravity, and he was grave now.

"No, it's cancer, Jamie," said Allie softly. "Isn't it?" she asked, turning her head to Maryssa, then Janet and Lalitha in turn.

"Cancer? What's that? Is she just sick?"

Jana felt her heart thudding. She felt so helpless! She felt Amanda touch her lightly on the arm, and she turned to see a sympathetic smile on the young actress's face. Melanie was walking by herself, head down, trying not to hear the children's conversation. The older girl ignored it, too full of her own misery to talk to her brother and sister. Jana noticed that the oldest girl bore no resemblance to the younger ones; she was either a cousin, or perhaps adopted. Jana had never asked Helen about her children.

"It's a kind of lump, darling," Amy was saying, in her businesslike way. "It's quite rare, but when you get one, it has to be taken out. And that's what they did."

"Is she all right?" asked the kids, almost with one breath. (In fact they were not related at all—except for Alison, and Gena who wasn't there—but they did act like siblings.)

Amy faltered. "I'm fairly sure she is, but... removing these lumps is very difficult. I saw a video of the operation, and it looked like they did the best job they could."

"So then she'll be fine," said Allie, firmly.

"I don't know," said Amy, slowly; "we're worried that her memory will be damaged. It could come back, in time, but... anyway... here we are."

## Helen Awakes

She regained consciousness and found herself in blinding light. There were confused memories of dreams, vague visions in which she had been paralyzed.

The light was really unbearable, and she slitted her eyes to see better. They were all strangers. She could not recognize any of them. Oh god, what had happened to her? She was panicking inside, but her body refused to respond. (But her breathing became irregular, and the nurse monitoring her adjusted the sedative slightly.) She searched the faces again for a familiar face, but there was none. Perhaps she should smile at them; she was at their mercy. She tried a smile, but it didn't work; her muscles were refusing to respond.

She could blink. There, she had just blinked. And again. It was a minor achievement, but it cheered her a little.

There were things she had to do, she just knew that. She should be somewhere, doing something. Her body stiffened. She felt a touch on her shoulder.

"Just relax, Miss Nordstrom," said a high, young female voice. The face of the owner of the voice swam into view. It was a mild face, cheerful, competent. _A nurse,_ she thought. Of course; I'm in hospital. _Miss Nordstrom._ The panic came back. She couldn't make sense of that name.

There was a commotion, and some of the unfamiliar faces made way for new ones. These were all women, and a little boy. They looked worried, all except the little girl, who looked happy.

She blinked again, to reassure herself that she could still do it. The older girl came around and smiled at her.

"It's Erin!" she said in a sweet, soft voice.

"Hi Erin," she whispered back, "it's good to see you!"

The relief of the family was pathetic to see. James grinned at his mother and gave her a peck on the cheek. Maryssa hugged her and kissed her, as did Janet and Lalitha, all crying with joy. They made way for Amanda and Jana, who pulled Melanie forward for a quick kiss. But the three of them weren't convinced; and neither was Amy.

"Do you remember where you are, sweetheart?" Amy asked gently, once the excitement had settled down a little.

"I'm in hospital," Helen said slowly, her voice sounding rusty.

"Do you recognize everybody, love?"

Helen shook her head. "No," she whispered.

"None of us?"

Helen looked at them, and the stricken looks on their faces was unbearable. The older girl, in particular was shocked.

"You said my name!" she cried.

"You look..."

"... like someone you know?" Helen shook her head. "Familiar?" That was it. She nodded, yes. It was not a big lie, was it? At least Erin was slightly mollified.

Gradually, the excitement turned to despair. It was clear that Helen could remember absolutely nothing; not even her own name. Fortunately, she could speak and see, but some words eluded her. She began to get agitated, and they decided to send everybody away until she could rest and gather her thoughts, such as they were.

Outside, Melanie watched the family go to pieces. They were focused on the Indian woman, now, for whatever reason. It was clear that they needed somewhere to stay, and when Jana gave her a significant look, followed soon after by Amanda doing the same, she stepped forward.

"You need to rest and talk," she said awkwardly. "I have a car; I could take you to the house Helen uses here!"

"Oh, yes, why don't we do that?" said Amy. "It'll be better for the children than a hotel!"

Melanie's eyes grew wide. Had she left the house in a decent condition? She thought furiously.

Maryssa smiled and touched her lightly on the arm. "Don't worry; we'll help straighten the place up," she said, with a little blush. She knew, and Melanie felt her panic receding. It might not be so bad, after all.

"Shall I call for a van from the studio?" Amanda asked her softly.

Melanie looked at the others. Amy shrugged. Her mind was obviously elsewhere. The tall woman, Janet, took charge.

"Melanie, would you take Maryssa and the children in your car? Then Amanda could send up for transport for the rest of us."

That was what they did. Maryssa was quiet in the car, as the children talked to each other, trying to explain to themselves what had happened to their mother. Their conclusion was that the operation had taken out all of their mother's memories, and now she would have to start from scratch.

"Don't worry," Maryssa told the nervous Melanie, "I can imagine the kinds of things she would get up to, on her own over here."

Melanie smiled. At least this was familiar ground, even if with an unfamiliar person.

"It's just my clothes," she said. "I visit occasionally!"

"I know, and... anyway," Maryssa fumbled to find the right words, "it's all right, Melanie."

That evening, the producer of The Galactic Voyager contacted Maryssa, and got permission to take a few photographs of Helen, lying in her hospital bed.

## Helen Talks to Janet

"What were all the photos for? Is there something I don't know about?"

Janet sat with Helen, taking her turn. They had decided to rotate, so that Helen wasn't bombarded with too much information all at once. Already Maryssa and Annie had taken their turns. Janet had decided to talk about their history together only if Helen asked. Maryssa and Helen had held hands, and Helen seemed to find comfort in it. Maryssa had been tearful, but had found her calm soon enough. Janet had spied on them from outside, and finally gone away, satisfied that Helen was literally in excellent hands. Now it was her turn.

"You—are an actress. Can you remember?" Janet smiled and shook her head, and Helen smiled back. "You know what an actress is?"

"Kind of, yeah," Helen said. "A stage actress?"

"Television. See that, over there?" Helen glanced at the TV, now switched off, and nodded. She frowned, and Janet could see her fighting to reach memories that probably lurked just out of reach. They were there, Janet thought, only access was again being denied. "Well, you're a regular on a weekly show, the Galaxy Show, and with you having lost your memory... they wanted to show the fans a few shots of you in the hospital. Your fans love you very much. And so do we!"

Helen gripped her hands together and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Do I have a history of this? Of losing my memory?" She sniffed. "You act as if this isn't the first time! The short, older girl, what's her name..."

"Amy!"

"Yes, she... I guess she's a doctor, or something?"

"Yes, an orthopedic surgeon!"

Helen shrugged. "Well, she... I get the feeling I've let her down. Like, I did this on purpose, or something!"

"Yes, well, she... it was she who assisted with your surgery the last time. It was twelve years ago! She's fought for your health many times, Helen. You mean a great deal to her. You're an old, old friend, and she gets mad when you're sick, and you get mad when she's sick!" Helen smiled. "At least I made you smile!"

Helen looked away, embarrassed.

"Tell me about the children," she said, so quietly, Jan could hardly hear her. "I know Erin is mine, but what about the others? And who are those pretty young things that were here when I woke up?"

While Janet patiently told Helen all she wanted to know, Helen in turn, was studying her. What struck her most of all was the great restraint of the tall brunette. She never got really excited, and she never got really down. She was always in control, a kind of control that came from within. There was passion there, yes, but she had it carefully disciplined.

There were a thousand questions to ask, but she had to get to them in turn. Steady, steady wins the race. No: it was slow and steady. And there was no race.

Three adopted girls, and her own boy, James. God, she had not even touched him yet. And then, the big one: where was her husband?

Was he dead? Were they divorced? What had driven them apart? If she could not remember their differences, could they get back together, for the sake of the children? Oh god, who would look after the kids while she was sick?

"What's the matter?" Janet had sensed her panic. "Just ask me, Helen. Everything is under control. What is it?"

"Who—how—how are the kids managing while I've been sick?"

"What do you mean, managing? They're with Maryssa, out in the lobby... oh, I see. Helen, you're an actress, and by the way, also a music professor at a small college. In any case, you will be paid a slightly reduced salary while you're unable to work. And of course, Maryssa has her own job. She works in a library. And I will help, and... is this making sense, dear?"

Helen was frowning, and her eyes were bright. Her eyes were bright all the time, as if she was on the point of tears. She was fighting frustration with all the strength she had—Janet had known her since she was a teen, and she knew all the signs.

"Where is my husband?" she said. The words were said quietly, but with a desperate urgency that made Janet gasp. "What are you hiding?"

"There's no secret about that," Janet said, quickly. "You never married; the children are yours. Money is not really a problem."

Helen closed her eyes in gratitude. It was painful to learn that she was alone in the world, except for the gentle Maryssa. But it was good to know that money was not an immediate problem. But Helen knew that sooner or later, it would be.

The more she knew, the more questions there were. There were so many, she didn't know which to ask first. The obvious question was the hardest to ask: was she homosexual? Why were there no men anywhere around her? And the question she had to ask herself: did she still feel like a lesbian? Who was she supposed to be in love with: which of these half-dozen women?

She had to think. She was certain she could get some answers from inside her head, if only she thought hard enough.

Music professor? Oh God. There was just no way she could ever do that again. She didn't know a single note.

C! That was a note! Wasn't it?

"Vitamin C!"

"Yes, vitamin C! What about it?" asked Janet, endlessly patient, annoyingly even-tempered.

"I was thinking: I don't know anything about music anymore! I thought C was a note, and then I remembered: it's a vitamin, isn't it!"

"It's a note too," Janet said, smiling. "Don't try too hard; the last time, it was a long, difficult road. You didn't remember some things for several years!"

"Oh, shit!" Helen blushed. Janet only grinned. "Janet, what do you do? What day of the week is this?"

"It's Saturday. I teach high school. I have to be back Monday, but... I could be back next weekend. Or you might go home, and I could come to Philadelphia, if you would like that! But Maryssa probably wants you to herself, and I don't blame her!"

"Is... is she... were we, the two of us...?"

"Yes, Helen. You were very much in love. But I think she understands; things are going to change. Things may never be the same as before."

Helen sighed.

"You're a very understanding person. You must be a great teacher, too!"

Then Janet did a strange thing; she began to weep silently.

"I could never be as understanding as you, Helen! You are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and... this is just a tiny thing I can do for you!"

"Are you in love with me too?" Helen asked softly, reaching out to touch Janet's hand, her eyes upset.

"That was a long time ago," Janet replied in a tear-drowned voice. "We're not in love any more, dear. But I do love you very much!"

They were silent, their hands touching lightly, Helen studying her companion, trying not to stare, but unable to avoid it, and Janet dabbing at her eyes, and smiling through her tears.

"Janet, I... I'd like to talk to the kids, please. I've kept them waiting too long!"

"Yes, of course! You're the boss!"

## Helen Meets the Children Again

The kids trooped in a little later, and stood on one side of the bed, looking worried and thoroughly unhappy.

"Tell me your names again, kids," she said, giving up all attempts to be tactful. "I only remember Erin. You, young lady, what's your name?"

"Allie, Alison," she said, looking on the brink of tears. "I was adopted, with my sister Gena! Do you remember us?"

Helen made room for her on her bed, and beckoned the little boy into her lap. He looked almost the most miserable of the three. Helen managed to include the tow-headed Erin in the group. Erin's eyes were leaking, and Helen felt sorry for her.

"It doesn't matter whether I remember you," she said softly, "I love you, and that's the main thing! And _you_ are..."

"James," said he. "James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson."

"Whoa, what a mouthful! Say it again!" He did. That told her something. Gibson must have been the name of the fellow who had fathered him. What about James, John and Jeffrey?

Awkwardly at first, then increasingly more comfortably, Helen reacquainted herself with her younger children. They were delightful, all of them, except that Erin held herself a little aloof. No matter how she tried, Erin seemed to be suspicious. On the surface, she was pleasant and sweet, but it was as if she didn't trust Helen. It was the one discordant note in an otherwise harmonious reunion.

"Do I seem very different?" she asked. She felt freer to ask things of them than of the adults.

"You just talk different!" Erin said, unexpectedly, grinning. "I don't know why!"

"Really? Very different?"

"Yeah, like... Midwestern!"

"Oh. Where am I from?"

"Well, you were born in Chicago, or Michigan, or somewhere, then you grew up in Kansas," said Erin. Somehow she seemed to have thawed from one second to the next.

"Yeah, Grandpa Nordstrom's farm," said Allie.

"He's dead," said John, cheerfully. "He died, oh, last year, or sump'n'."

"Year-before-last, Jamie. Remember? We were still in Westfield. And Mama was going to the Oscars. You were invited to the Oscars. That's when we learned that you were di-betic. You know that?"

"Yes! Golly, I bet they didn't know that!" Erin's eyes were wide in dismay.

"Oh, is that what these pricks are for?" Helen showed her finger, which had been stuck several times.

"Oh! Oh, yeah; they must be doing it through the tubes, then."

"Do I have to take pills all the time? Or is it injections?" Helen was not happy.

"Pills," they reassured her. "Just pills."

"Uh huh. And your Mom's dead, too. Her name was Sylvia." James seemed to simply love making dismal announcements. "You know what?" asked James.

"No, what?" The kids stared at him.

"We're s'posed to be moving, you know. We just rented this house, see, and you and S'resh were to be fixing it up. Now," he shrugged, "we might have to just move in the way it is. It needed some paint, and stuff," he added.

"Who's S'resh?"

"He's Auntie Trish's husband, and baby Grace's dad. You know Aunty Lalitha? The pretty Indian lady?" asked Allie.

"Oh, yes, what about her?"

"S'resh is her son. He's a guy," James added, to make it perfectly clear. "It's an Indian name."

"S'resh," Helen said the name to herself.

"No, it's _Su-resh_ ," Allie corrected, and Erin nodded. "Auntie Trish is just careless how she says it. But she's so cute, nobody minds!"

"You like them, don't you!"

"Uh _huh!_ And Baby Grace is the cutest of all! She's not really a baby, she's James's age, and about half his height!" she laughed.

"So tell me, what other stuff do you guys do?"

When Lalitha was ushered in, Helen was more than ready for her.

"The children have told me all about you, and your son Suresh, who's supposed to be my assistant, fixing the house!" Helen said, smiling. She tried to size the woman up, wondering how they came to know each other. The woman looked warm and friendly, but also in tight control. Helen had some idea about what consternation she was causing them all. But she was hard put to explain how her family was such a strange collection of people.

"So you know about the house!" Lalitha's relief was evident. "Helen, you don't need to worry about the house. We'll just take a few days off from work, and just do it. We'll forget about the remodeling, and just clean it up and paint it."

"Oh no," said Helen, "I don't want you missing work too, on my behalf. I..." Her face darkened. "... I don't think I can continue teaching. My memory—the way it is, I don't feel right, teaching class." Lalitha wished she had some support. They were getting into dangerous territory. Helen looked plainly panicked.

"But Helen, the students..."

"What can I do? I ask you, how am I to teach students, when I can't remember a _single thing?"_

Lalitha nodded. "We'll have to find a substitute."

" _Substitute!"_ Helen's face lit up. "I couldn't think of that word," she explained. "They do have substitutes, don't they?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Lalitha said gloomily. She wished she could help. She knew a great deal about music, but she had absolutely nothing to show for it. She had never completed college, thanks to her pig-headed, vindictive father, and now she wished she had. She looked at Helen, trying to conceal her frustration. Helen had been the one with a craving for teaching. Now she was fearful, and the bug had bitten Lalitha instead. Life was strange.

"Lalitha," Helen said, pronouncing it Lul- _lee_ ta, as so many others did, "mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Lalitha sighed. "Every question is a personal one, Helen. It's better for you to ask, than for me to start blabbing away!"

Helen smiled.

"Where are you from, and how did we meet?"

Lalitha told her. She only withheld details that wouldn't help Helen now. But she told her about how Helen had gotten her memory back the last time.

"And you sat with me, and you cried, and something melted inside! And maybe it was the power of the goddess, but you began to remember me, and then the college, and little by little Janet, and Elly, and Tom, and soon you were back again, playing the violin, and singing, and... I was so happy, I was floating on air for a whole year!"

Helen felt acutely uncomfortable. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to fall in love with this woman again, with poor Maryssa waiting.

"I thought... Maryssa..."

"Oh!" Lalitha smiled and waved the thought aside. "That was long ago. I left you, and... you went on, and I went on... Helen, some things are so silly, I don't think they're even worth remembering."

"Amen to that," Helen said, uncertainly.

"Maryssa is a good, simple, level-headed girl. Not level-headed— _even-tempered._ She never goes completely off the rails, you know? She's innocent, and protected, and looks so fragile. But she's well centered. I don't think anything can really destroy her. If I lost my memory, I would like to have someone like Maryssa to come back to. You know what I mean?"

Helen looked away.

"I don't know. She was pretty broken up, this morning. We held hands the whole time." Lalitha could see Helen squirm. "Lalitha,... what if I never feel the same way about Maryssa?"

Lalitha dropped her eyes.

"You _must_ ," she said. "You _must_. You have done this too often. For the sake of your soul, you must not give up this woman."

Helen looked into her eyes, and saw implacable resolve. For some reason, Lalitha was determined that Helen should fall back in love with Maryssa, and Helen felt deeply put upon. What right did this woman have to dictate her life? If she was to have half her brain removed, didn't she have some say about what she would do to pick up the pieces of her own life? How could a person be forced to fall in love with someone they couldn't even remember?

"Look," Helen cried, "I'm a completely different person! There's just a chance that... it won't be Maryssa this time! I can't help that!"

"If you leave her, she will kill herself!" said Lalitha. Helen gasped. "I'm sorry to tell you that while you are still sick. _I_ had to go on a hunger strike, to make you see the truth! She is not as strong as I was, not as silly, and she might not think of it. I knew what I had to do, to get you to snap out of your mental chains. This time, you have to do it yourself. You're not a kid anymore, you have children now. You have people who depend on you. And you have a partner who is a very special person. Can I tell you about Maryssa?"

Helen nodded, struck dumb.

Lalitha told her what she had been able to piece together of her love affair with Maryssa. With the fire of Lalitha's persuasive voice in her ears, Helen felt something of the power of the attraction between her and Maryssa. She learned about how Maryssa as it were, jumped off the diving board of her protected life into Helen's arms, learning to negotiate the maze of modern life, anchored to Helen with her love and her admiration.

"She idolized you. You were away at the beach, and she was like someone drowning, waiting for you, unable to think of anything else! And then you would come, and it would be a few days of bliss for her!"

Helen smiled at the way Lalitha's eyes lit up with the romance of her story. Could this be true? Was the Maryssa who had spent the morning with her, the same Maryssa who yearned for Helen, like the Juliet of old?

Most of all, Helen was beginning to wonder if she had any sexuality left at all. What if they had removed the part of her brain that dealt with those basic things? Would she ever be able to love again? And if she was, would it be a woman?

Covering her face with her hands, Helen said, "I think... I want to be by myself, for a while! I have so many things to think about!"

She felt a soft hand on hers. The skin was papery-thin, yet it was rough in the way the skin of new-born children was rough, every whorl perfectly defined.

"Forgive me, Helen, for the sake of our love that we shared! I imagined that it gave me some privileges, to lecture you about this and that. But Helen, no one has any rights, only duties. The gods do what they want. What looks like a curse, sometimes it is a blessing. Sometimes a blessing is a curse. My training, my religion helps me with such ideas. For you people, religion does not help. But forgive me, Helen; I only want for you what I thought was best for both of you."

"At least—it was unselfish of you. I admire that," Helen said.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Glasses?" Helen looked about, and saw a pair of glasses on the bedside table. "Are these mine?"

"Put them on!"

Helen did. Suddenly, everything was clearer. She could see Lalitha's expression in perfect detail. She _was_ beautiful. But could she have ever been in love with this woman?

"When I was young, the goddess was in me," Lalitha explained, and Helen wondered if she could read her mind. "It was the goddess you fell in love with, Helen. And it was the goddess who drew you to India. You changed my life, and I changed yours; if I was just a woman, could I have done that?"

"You're quite a woman!" Helen said, smiling, trying not to make it sound like a personal remark. If the goddess got into this woman again, Helen would have to watch out.

"Have you eaten?"

"Is it supper-time already?"

"It's amazing," Lalitha said, "you're speaking like you used to in college, in that quick, girlish way!" She smiled. "In recent years, you had slowed down, probably from talking to large groups, classes, orchestras, acting. Now, the old Helen is back!"

"The children said I talked differently, too!"

Lalitha nodded. "They would notice a thing like that. They're the best kids in the world!"

"I wonder whether I can take all the credit for that."

"I can share a little. And there was Nadia—you've probably forgotten her—a wonderful old Belgian lady who sort of adopted you. She was a kind of grandmother to the kids. And there was Lorna, another of your episodes, and of course there's Maryssa."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"There's Tommy, your half-sister, and Little John, your half-brother. All different mothers, the same father, John Nordstrom."

"I see. So that's where the John comes from in James's name."

"Is that so? I didn't realize."

"He says it's James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson."

"Well, yes, his father is Olive Gibson's son. He's married to this pretty young lady, and they live in St Paul."

"Minnesota."

"Right. Do you know all your state capitals?"

"Now you're making fun of me!"

Lalitha laughed. "I learned all this trivia when I was studying to become a citizen. I gave it up, but now... because of Trish and the baby..."

Helen smiled. Lalitha had exhausted her.

"Maybe we could talk again tomorrow," she said, hopefully.

"Forgive me!" Lalitha said, leaning close. "Sometimes I forget I'm a foreigner, and I have to watch what I say!"

"I'm just tired, that's all," Helen said softly. "You haven't offended me!"

In the end, Lalitha herself was the one who took over the class Helen could no longer teach.

## Tommy and April

Far away, somewhere in the State of New York, Janet's half-sister, Tomasina, called simply Tommy by everyone, was with her girlfriend April, in their tiny apartment near where Tommy attended school at a major university. (Tommy was the child of Janet's mother, Grandma Elly, and Helen's father, John Nordstrom, the result of a moment of carelessness when Elly had visited the Nordstrom farm, to help go through Helen's mother's belongings. Tommy was, therefore, a half-sister to both Janet and Helen.)

Like Helen, Tommy was a multi-talented girl, a platinum blonde, stunningly beautiful, who rode a motorbike, played the Cello, was an athlete and a swimmer, a video and computer geek, and a wild and crazy sex maniac. But she had met April over the previous summer, and she was in love, and was determined to turn over a new leaf. Tom had already starred in a fabulous porn video, and was now back in school. April had been a model back in Illinois, but for a while neither of them had had any work that could get them a little disposable income.

"Let's both try to get modeling jobs if we can. That way we can get some mad money, keep the money from the porno in the bank."

April's eyes lit up. "If I can just watch you dress up for a modeling gig, I wouldn't need money. I just want to see you in nice clothes!"

Tom looked at her, and felt that warm squishy feeling again. April's ideas were silly, but the fondness in her eyes made Tom happy. Tom hated to dress up, but for April's sake, she thought she just might.

The phone rang. Suddenly, Tom and April both remembered the call of the previous night, where Janet had told them that Helen had been taken to Hospital with a suspected tumor, and was being operated on.

April grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, is Tom there?"

"Just a minute, please." She handed it to Tom.

"Sis?"

"Bad news. She's completely lost her memory. It's California all over again." (This was a reference to the previous surgery and amnesia, which had taken place when Tommy had been still in her teens.)

Janet sounded tired and depressed. She didn't sound fearful, thank god. Tom didn't think she could handle one sister sick and the other one in a panic.

"The children? The farm? Annie? Can she talk?"

"Yes, she talks. Her vocabulary is mostly there, except she couldn't get the word 'familiar.' She seems to remember general knowledge. But she didn't know her name, and anything about herself. Oh Tom, I can hardly stand it!"

("What's up?" April was asking. Tom motioned for her to be quiet.)

"How are the kids taking it? And Maryssa?"

"Maryssa's taking it really well. There's this other... well, I'll tell you later. Things are complicated."

"What other thing?"

"Later, Tom. Listen. They're having her get a sudden attack of something on the show tonight, and they're showing some stills of Helen from the hospital. Just don't be shocked."

"How could they? That's _terrible!"_

"Why?"

"Why... it's an invasion of privacy! She doesn't know what they're doing, it's like capitalizing on someone dying, or something! That's disgusting!"

"It's not disgusting. She's lived a very public life; the only people who care about her and care for her are the fans of that show. They stood behind her through all sorts of bad weather. It's their way of making an honest plot development that lets them write her a vacation until she gets better!"

"But they could have used a stand-in, couldn't they?"

"They are. This is just for the fans."

"Oh."

"I've told John, but now I have to find Gena. She was impossible to track down last night."

"I think I can do it. Johnny could do it."

"Will you? Call me on Helen's phone."

"Will do. Bye, Jan. Give her a hug for me."

"I will," said Janet, her voice unsteady.

"What's all that about?"

"You know I have two half-sisters?"

"Yeah, Janet, and the other one."

"You know _Galaxy?"_

"Yeah, what about it?"

"You know Cecilia?"

"Yes... Oh, don't tell me—Cecilia is your sister? _Cecilia?"_

April's eyes were as big as saucers. But Tommy was not smiling. She told April that her sister had just undergone surgery, and was a total amnesiac.

April held Tommy, as Tommy began to weep. Tommy's heart, already softened by her feelings for April and Janet, was wounded terribly by the cruel fate of her favorite sister. It hurt even more that April would never know the beauty and the wonder of that old Helen, with all her memories and her brilliance intact. And it meant a lot to Tom that April should know her. Helen was a part of who Tom was, and Helen's amnesia hurt Tom far more than Janet could imagine.

"Now you'll never know her like she used to be!" Tom sobbed. "She won't even recognize me! She won't care, she won't understand anything! She was the most wonderful sister ever!"

April's face was covered in tears, too. It was too much to take in all at once, that her lover's sister was a celebrity, and also that that same sister had just completely lost her memory.

With instinctive tact, April let Tom cry herself mostly out. Then she ventured a few words of comfort.

"I know a lot about her," she said softly.

"You do?" Tom sniffed.

"Uh huh. I know she's a singer, and a conductor, and, like, a cellist."

"A violinist!"

"That's what I meant, a violinist! Sorry. And she plays the guitar too, I bet."

"Yeah, she does. And she was _beautiful._ Then she had this terrible accident. Then she sort of grew old while I watched. It was awful. But she's still beautiful, and I love her to _pieces!"_

April nodded. It was almost like knowing royalty.

"She really was beautiful," she nodded.

Tom dashed the tears from her face, and told her about the plan to show shots of her from the hospital on the show. "I don't like it at all," she said firmly.

"I heard you talking, and I just couldn't figure out what it was about," April said, wonderingly. "I think it's a great idea."

"She'd _hate_ it, if she knew!"

"Uh-uh." April watched the show religiously every chance she got. "I know her better than you, and she wouldn't. She'd do anything for her fans!"

Tom looked at her shocked. It was Tom's first exposure to a _Galaxy_ fan who thought she knew Helen better than Tom did.

"You've got to be _totally nuts!_ She's _my_ sister, and _I_ know how she would feel!"

But April was firm. She raised her chin high, and she stood by her opinion. It was not the money, she said. The studio could easily piece together some footage of Cecilia being hospitalized; heaven knew they had done that any number of times. What they were doing—the stills from the hospital—it was a kind of homage, just in case Helen never made it back on the show.

"I don't want to argue, because you're upset," said April quietly, getting out the cornflakes. "But you'll agree with me when you see the show."

Early on Saturday, Tommy and April were talking about somehow getting a boy into their apartment, and having sex with him. They fantasized about things they would do to him, but that line of thinking quickly fizzled out. Neither of them was comfortable with the idea of bringing a boy into their lives. Tom had thought nothing of it before April, but somehow things seemed to have changed since then. They might talk about it, but Tom no longer had the heart to have sex with a boy and throw him out. Sometimes the thought of having a real penis inside her drove her crazy. But she was struggling with the complicated thought that boys were more than just penises. It was far from obvious, especially with the boys they knew.

"Are you going to watch _Galaxy?"_ April asked, her eyes wide in question.

"Oh. Yeah," replied Tommy. Before she finished unfolding her length from the chair—Tommy was _tall,_ nearly six feet—April had skipped to their little TV, turned it on, and taken possession of the remote control. She sat a few inches from the screen. She wanted a larger TV, but since this was all they allowed themselves, she at least wanted to fill her field of view with the screen.

" _Get away from there!"_ Tom cried, and April jumped with alarm. She looked back to see Tom's face contorted with fear. "Who knows what those rays are doing to your eyes? Do you know how much radiation comes out of that thing?"

April scooted away in alarm. It took just a second to make sense of Tom's outburst. This was no time to argue with a girl whose sister had just had a brain tumor removed.

April settled near Tom on the floor. In spite of her boredom, these days were among the happiest she had ever known. And though Tom prided herself on being cruel and mean-spirited, she was gentle and considerate and consistent.

They had to wait a few minutes until _Galaxy_ came on.

The opening titles came on over the familiar music, but it had been modified dramatically to have the feel of a stately march, rather than the bold, brassy challenge to the unknown that it had always been. This was the music they had played when in an earlier episode, a shuttle had collided with some space debris and exploded, killing three young girls.

The episode began normally enough. April cued the recording program, which digitally recorded everything but the commercials.

There was Helen, or rather, Cecilia, working out in the high-gravity gym on the ship. The set was constructed like a portion of an enormous cylinder, (or perhaps it was done with a camera illusion). Other scenes followed, and there was Cecilia settling a fight. Then there was Cecilia watching while another girl taught a circle of children the songs Cecilia had taught them a couple of years ago. All the actors were either impossibly beautiful, or impossibly intelligent, April thought. _Tom should be in the show,_ she thought; she qualified on both counts, as did Helen. She could hardly take her eyes off Cecilia; she noticed detail that she had never noticed before: minute scars; the way her lips expressed her feelings when she was off her guard. It was interesting how Helen didn't just _act,_ she made herself _feel_ what she was supposed to feel, so even things that would not show on camera normally added to the realism of the scene. Those things could not possibly be in the script.

Then they saw Cecilia heading 'home', which in the show was a small suite of rooms. There were a guitar and a keyboard packed away in a storage area, a tragic reminder of the mental damage Cecilia had sustained in the story already. The present Cecilia preferred highly rhythmic recorded music, which she exercised to.

"That's so weird," Tom said, bemused. "She hates aerobic music."

"Yeah baby, work your butt," said April, snapping her fingers and bopping her head.

Suddenly there was catastrophe. They showed Cecilia stumble, and collapse against the bed.

"Oh god, thank goodness, imagine if there was a sharp edge!" exclaimed Tom, aghast. "How—how could they..."

"It isn't her," said April quietly. They were both watching intently. There was nothing to show that it wasn't Helen, just the fact that it couldn't have been her.

It took a long time for the fall to be discovered, several hours. Then the injured woman was rushed to what served as a hospital on the _Galactic Voyager:_ a well-equipped medical center.

The ship's news announced that Cecilia had been injured by a fall, the cause of which remained unknown. "That's all we are being told," said the announcer, a regular on the show. "These photographs have been released, and we present them without further comment."

The photographs showed Helen, dressed in the traditional white of the Seattle hospital linen service. Her eyes were slitted, and followed the camera with a faint touch of mistrust. There was a slight frown on her face, and her head was bandaged. More than anything, the expression on the face was one of restrained confusion, bewilderment, reproach. A group of young people watching the news in a youth clubhouse exclaimed, "Oh Cecilia!" just as Tom and April groaned, "Oh Helen!"

Suddenly, a face appeared. It was a man, his name appeared below: Stephen Burkett.

"Dear fans of the _Galaxy._ Though I know we make it hard for you, you must always bear in mind that _Galaxy_ is just a show. It is a reflection of everyday life, removed to another setting, a more exciting, interesting setting. The reason many of you—and us—prefer to live there in our imagination, is because we try hard to make it that way. Remember it is only a show, not something actually taking place on a space ship somewhere.

"But sometimes, the real world interferes with our world of the Galaxy, as is its prerogative. This is such a time. Our beloved Helen Nordstrom, the actress who plays Cecilia, also a brilliant violinist, teacher and musician, and one of the great human beings of our times, has fallen gravely ill. Our story has been re-written to accommodate her illness. We want to assure our fans that our concern extends beyond mere considerations of plot and economics. Helen was not only a creative force at _Galaxy,_ she was a beloved colleague, and a respected and admired member of our board. On behalf of you, we have extended to Helen's family our sympathies, and we will extend our support to them in their time of need.

"Any messages you send to us will be conveyed to Helen's four children, and the several friends, including our own Ann Nordstrom, who constitute a second family to Helen on the set, who are concerned and worried. The show will continue, but with permission from our sponsors, future episodes will contain brief updates on Helen's condition.

"Remember, Helen is alive, and physically in good to excellent condition. Everything points to her illness being temporary. Therefore it is not appropriate to indulge in a retrospective at this time. Please keep your messages supportive and positive. Do not send condolences; I want to make that clear. I know she is watching this broadcast, and I send Helen our best wishes for a quick recovery!"

There was a group shot of the cast, holding a big banner that read: "Helen, we love you, GET WELL SOON!"

April turned to her friend, uncertain how to react.

Tom just stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open.

"Well!"

"So what do you think?"

"'Send your message to: For-Helen@Galaxy.net, or call in at 1-866-GET-WELL.' How many will they get?"

"Hey, at least one," said April, waiting to shut off the recorder. "I'm gonna write. I'll say, I know this real dumb girl, Tommy, and... Ouch!" She slapped back at Tom, who had aimed a kick at her.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Tom asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah," said April.

## Helen Talks to Amy

Amy came in to talk to Helen.

"Doctor," said Helen, nervously, "was there a lot taken out of my brain? I mean, is there a lot of space there instead?"

Amy was taken off guard, and she and Lalitha had a hearty laugh over that. It seemed to unsettle Helen a bit, more in the direction of indignation than fear. She simplified for Helen the mechanics of the situation, leaving her still a little mystified.

"Helen, I'm not your doctor, sweetheart, I'm your buddy. We've been friends since you were, oh, seventeen, eighteen, something like that. I'm just a doctor in my spare time."

"Really? We were in college together?"

"Er, no. I was just out by then. More or less. See, you played violin, and I played flute in this little orchestra. You were quite a hit."

"Uh huh!" said Helen, smiling non-committally.

"You were quite a hit, kid. Man, I'd like to give you a violin, and watch you go!"

The huge hazel eyes studied her, switched to Lalitha, and switched back to Amy.

"Not just yet," she said softly. "I—I don't want to—I'm afraid that I..."

Amy leaned close and held her arm gently, looking into her eyes.

"The brain is a funny thing," she said. "We know so much about it, but sometimes it surprises us! And you know how it surprises us?" Helen nodded, not in answer, but in her hunger for knowledge. "In how it can compensate. Your brain is one incredible piece of work! I have a brain do things that are literally impossible!" Helen looked at her in awe.

Amy's eyes shone with the emotional struggle that was going on inside her. What she was trying to say was that faith was the most powerful weapon they had for Helen. If she _believed_ that she could recover completely from her amnesia, she would. That was it. If she didn't, she simply would not. And Amy was assessing that Helen's present sophistication was such that she could not deal with ambiguity. She put all the authority she could muster into her voice.

"You _will_ get it all back, it's just a matter of time!"

"Really? How can you know that?"

"Because—it happened before!"

"You took out parts of my brain before?"

" _Yes!_ Haven't you been listening?"

"But, this time, you took out parts that were different from last time!"

"But—the principle is the same!"

Helen searched her face for a long time, and Amy's heart quailed. Then she dropped her eyes.

"I will never recover," she said softly but firmly, and it was like a judgement. "I know what you're trying, doctor, and I thank you for it."

"Don't call me _doctor_ , Helen, it's _Amy!_ "

"Yes, I know. If you're my friend, don't tell me things you don't believe."

Amy closed her eyes and sighed. She glanced at Lalitha, but she would not meet her eyes.

"You have to have faith, Helen. You have to have faith! If you don't believe me, I'll send you your doctor! And another thing! Muscular memory is the strongest of all! The muscles have a memory of their own. If you..."

Helen interrupted her with a shake of her head.

"I'm tired now, please. I have to think."

Amy got to her feet with a heavy heart. Why was Helen showing her the meanest face of all? She had singled out Amy for the full force of her doubts and suspicions, while she had been gentler to all the others. Amy looked at Lalitha again, and saw sympathy there. But it was too late. She had been dismissed. She glared at Lalitha, as if Lalitha had engineered her failure. A glance back at Helen revealed that her glare had been noted, and had been written up in Amy's very short and shameful personal file in Helen's head.

Lalitha shifted position, but didn't leave her seat. Helen stared at her. She could not understand the woman's ability to be most calm and tranquil when things were most unsettled.

"You're going to say that I was mean to her," accused Helen.

Lalitha shook her head. "If your heart told you that, you should listen. If my face told you that, disregard it."

"Why do you talk like some—indian chief?"

Lalitha looked at her startled, and Helen grinned. Suddenly she screwed her face up and intoned: "Paleface girl speak heap bad mischief!"

They laughed.

"You're supposed to be tired," Lalitha said quietly. "Why don't you rest now? I'll just sit here."

Helen slipped down and tried to make herself comfortable. She lay on her side, her back to Lalitha.

"My neck hurts," she said presently.

Lalitha came closer, and began to gently work away the tight knots on her neck and shoulders. Gradually Helen relaxed, and fell asleep.

A while later Amy appeared at the door, and signaled for Lalitha to come out. Amy was agitated, on the brink of tears.

" _Man_ ," she said, "I really bombed!"

Lalitha hugged her briefly.

"You know, it's a good lesson for us. We tend to think that Helen was born a saint."

"Oh god, yes. She was a conceited little bitch."

Lalitha looked at Amy aghast. "Listen to you! She was nothing of the sort! A little self-righteous, maybe, a little inflexible. Impatient, intolerant, egocentric..."

"Yeah. A bitch, like I said."

Lalitha only laughed.

"You're trying to get her for yourself," Amy accused.

"No," said Lalitha. "She should settle down with Maryssa. I have decided. I could be wrong."

"What do we do with that little strumpet, something beginning with M?"

"Melanie."

"Yeah."

Lalitha frowned. "Amy, I have the greatest respect for you as a doctor, but... a year with your new husband has had a bad effect on you. Is he a mean kind of fellow?"

"He's the sweetest, most patient..." Amy stumbled to a halt, and realized Lalitha was pulling her leg. She punched the little Indian woman, hurting her arm. Then, full of remorse, she massaged it for her. "I'll send Maryssa up, then. Let her have a shot at taming the shrew."

"Shall I wait until she comes?"

"None of your sneaky Indian tricks, now."

"Promise!"

# What Happens Afterwards

What was just described is the setting for this concluding episode—a mega-episode—of the Helen story. (I apologize for it being so long; but all the personalities introduced appear in the following chapters, or, if not, what is given above will help to round out their individual stories in the Helen saga.)

To recap: Helen had been a professor of music in a small college in the town of Westfield—a village, really—and had lived there, for nearly four years. But, as recounted in _Helen and Sharon Vuehl,_ Helen had made a total of three movies, skillfully disguised, of course, as a fictitious actress _Sharon Vuehl_. Helen had finished filming those movies, and returned to work, to discover that the movies were great hits. This obliged the fictitious actress 'Sharon' to come out of seclusion, to talk to the press, and eventually, to accept an Oscar for best actress.

In an unexpected turn of events, Sita, her co-star in _Merit_ had fallen in love with the fictitious actress, Sharon. Normally, Helen could have simply ignored that, and eventually everyone would have forgotten about Sharon Vuehl. But the actress concerned happened to be the sister of Lalitha, whom we have met at the hospital! Lalitha was one of Helen's oldest friends (see _Helen & Lalitha—The Lost Years_); a former partner, and an important member of Helen's extended family—possibly _the_ most important member of it.

Note: During the Academy Awards, while Helen (disguised as Sharon, of course) was seated with Sita, and while she accepted the awards for the Director of _Merit_ , elsewhere in the hall, Marsha Moore was seated with Helen Nordstrom, watching the proceedings! How could this be? This little bit of magic was made possible by Helen's cousin Marika Johnson—who looked remarkably like Helen, except for being somewhat more heavily built—dressing up in one of Helen's gowns, and a little makeup. Marsha had planned that little detail to support the deception that Sharon Vuehl and Helen Nordstrom were quite distinct people. It works, as you will learn shortly.

Later that year, Helen, as we know, made a comic parody of the _Merit_ movie, in which she played a warrior princess, _Helga,_ who defeats a foreign princess at Ping-Pong, and falls in love with her! The movie was completely sex-free, except for the same-sex love interest. But it attracted the ire of certain conservative religious people, who accused of Helen of making a movie that made lesbianism palatable to young folk. The conservative media took up this chorus, parents responded by removing their students from the college, and in disgust, Helen took leave from her college, left her home, and retreated to Philadelphia. She was some six months pregnant at the time.

We take up the story from there.

Over the decades, from the time Helen had been in college, Helen had met and been partners with several women. The first had been Janet, the tall, quiet brunette, who was now a principal of a boarding school. Then had followed several women, and then Lalitha. Helen had adored Lalitha so much that when Lalitha had been summoned back home to India, Helen had followed. But Lalitha had been married off, reluctantly, to an alcoholic, who had later died in a fire, having made Lalitha pregnant. Lalitha returned to America with her little boy, and lived for a while with friends in Maryland. With her little boy in tow, Lalitha traveled to California, looking for Helen.

Lalitha and Suresh found Helen, who did not recognize them, but invited them to stay with her in her new house. Over many weeks, Lalitha practically bullied Helen into regaining most of her memories. Meanwhile, Helen had met Gena, who had been an 11-year-old child at a tennis tournament, where the kid had fractured her wrist while working as a ball-girl.

Some months later, Gena and her baby sister lost their parents, and Helen adopted the two orphans.

Needless to say, when Helen had the tumor removed this second time, and had amnesia once again, her friends all hoped that after that surgery, too, Helen could be made to regain her memories, if sufficient effort were to be put into that objective, and the present story is—among other things—an account of how that turns out.

Some months before Helen's fateful surgery, Maryssa's younger brother, Matt, had met and fallen in love with a girl, Jessica Garabedian. The Garabedians are quite a wealthy family, and owned a business. When Jessica's father fell gravely ill due to a stroke, Maryssa generously offered to give them the use of a large suite in the Brooks mansion. (They did have their own home, but Jessica's mother refused to leave her husband's bedside, and there is no one to supervise the two girls who did her housekeeping for her. Maryssa's cook and maid were dispatched to help out. It quickly starts making sense to consolidate the two households.) This greatly eased the financial situation of the Brooks siblings, and helped out Jessica's family as well. Jessica was now managing the family business (and attending school at the same time.) Matt and Jessica decided to get married, despite Jessica being in college.

Maryssa, having been born in, and having lived all her life in, this enormous house, had sworn never to leave it. But in the months since their mother had died, the siblings had realized that they could not afford the enormous house, the faithful retainers, and all the trimmings to which they were accustomed. Jessica and Matt together could certainly afford the house, and Maryssa had decided that it was time to move out into a home more appropriate to her present resources.

Helen and she had, with some difficulty, found a house for rent that they liked, close to Lalitha's family, and they had been ready to move in. And that's where things had stood when Helen had set out for Seattle, been taken ill, and had to have surgery.

The Brooks home was immense, and ornate. All the rooms had high ceilings, paneling, solid wooden doors, and so forth. After the surgery, they had naturally thought to delay the move. But Helen, now minus her memories, is so uncomfortable in the big Brooks house—she says it is "like a _church!"_ —that Maryssa and Helen and their Indian friends undertake the move right away. Jessica's mother, and Maryssa's family retainer Peggy, think the new house is 'a dump,' mostly because they're both unhappy with Maryssa having to live there, and perhaps Jessica's mother feels guilty at, in a sense, having caused Maryssa to want to leave.

But soon they paint the place, and repair the wiring, and they find that the place is beginning to look just fine. Iris, the gruff landlady, grudgingly approves of the repairs and the paint. They start moving in, and one fine day, they move in the piano, and that completes the move.

Meanwhile, Lalitha is teaching the course that Helen had started to teach in the Fall; Elly takes up the violin lessons that Helen can no longer provide.

In the days immediately after they settle down at the Newberry house, as Helen slowly becomes accustomed to her family, and to her relationship with Maryssa, and with her younger children, and her Indian friends so determined to do more than their share of Helping Helen adjust, and with Elly, who is enlisted by Maryssa to make sure that Helen does not eat junk food all the time, many little epiphanies took place.

One day, while they were cleaning up the house, Helen remembers a folk song: _Brigg Fair_ , and begins to sing it. Helen is very pleased at the return of that memory. A few weeks later, Helen teaches herself to play her guitar. (Unfortunately, guitar technique interferes with Helen's violin-playing when she tries that instrument a few months later.)

Sita is asked to keep Helen company during the daytime, when Maryssa is working at the library. Meanwhile, Melanie, who had called long-distance, and met with a friendly reception by Helen and Maryssa, kept up a telephone relationship with Helen. When Helen is given chemotherapy, and her hair falls out, she reached out to Melanie for sympathy. Melanie realizes that Helen needs cheering up, and visits from Seattle. She meets Sita, who was keeping Helen company, and the three women spend the morning together.

We take up our story again some months later. The older children in Helen's circle: Janet's daughter Elly Kolb, and Janet's (and Helen's) half-sibling Thomasina Krebs, had both graduated the previous year. _This_ summer, John, Helen's half-brother (and his feisty girlfriend Taylor Brown) had graduated. Suresh, Lalitha's son, and the dad of little Megan Grace, had also graduated with a degree in engineering.

##  Elly Begins Her Violin Instruction Career

Helen's teaching method had already prepared Elly to be a successful teacher. Erin, Alison, and James all were under Elly's tutelage, and they all continued to progress nicely. Erin was already a wonderful violinist, but Alison was showing signs of being on the way to be equally good.

Amy (Dr. Amy) had made a serious misstep while Helen was in hospital. She had said that she couldn't wait until Helen got a violin in her hands; she bet Helen would pick it right up. (Helen had already had a run-in with Amy, over having sent Melanie away rather rudely. Amy had only wanted to give Maryssa a clear run at Helen. When Maryssa had heard of the brouhaha later, via Lalitha, she had said, "Everyone knows you can't engineer trust and love, Lalitha! You can only engineer suspicion and hate," which had startled Lalitha with its insightfulness. Lalitha had replied, "Not everyone," or something to that effect.) So Amy was already on shaky ground with Helen, and the latter scowled at Amy. Helen had promptly sworn to never touch a violin again, because all _some people_ cared is for her to play violin again. Everyone there had sworn that that wasn't the case, but Helen had been stubborn. (Helen appeared to have a mental age of about twelve, at this point.)

Once Helen had re-taught herself guitar, she was soon leading the neighborhood kids in singing on the street. The house was on a dead-end, and lots of kids played there.

Helen soon forgot her decision not to touch a violin, couldn't resist watching the little ones at their violin lessons, and decided that she could probably learn the violin without much difficulty, and joined the class. But it was disappointing; she was clumsy, and played no better than James.

# Graduation Season

After the graduations of (Little) John, Taylor Brown and Suresh, the grade schools were on the home stretch before the summer. Allie and Erin kept hard at their schoolwork, and everyone noticed that Helen was getting more seriously involved with encouraging them to do well.

Lalitha, having successfully taken over Helen's music appreciation class at the Community College, got hired the following semester as well. She finished teaching the community college courses that she had signed on to teach for the Winter semester, and also completed her own coursework for a B.A. at another school, and quietly graduated.

## Vicky

Vicky was a young lady known only to Helen and Sita in Helen's immediate circle; her story will emerge shortly. Vicky was receiving narcotic addiction treatment in Maryland, and Sita held her nose to the grindstone. Over a couple of weeks in May, Vicky had opened her eyes and found that the sheer thought and energy that Sita was pouring into Vicky's rehabilitation was humbling. When Vicky was despairing, for whatever reason, Sita was encouraging. When Vicky experienced some sort of euphoric overconfidence, Sita brought her down to earth: her recovery would not happen overnight, she repeated, nor even over a year. It was a _multiple-year commitment._ One time when Sita had been a little less tight-lipped about her own life events, Vicky had realized that Sita had given up almost everything that she normally enjoyed, to make sure that she was available for Vicky's support. At one time, Sita had found Vicky attractive; in some ways, it had seemed as if they were made for each other. But now it was becoming clear that their relationship was gradually becoming deplorably platonic. Sita never made Vicky feel as though she would be left high and dry, but Vicky began to wonder whether they had any sort of future together. In a year or two, she knew that she would be totally dry, but would Sita allow Vicky to give her the love that was burning in Vicky's heart?

## Maryssa and the Oatmeal Man

Helen had met Matt, Maryssa's younger brother, while on a flight home from Seattle, the summer before _Helga_. Meanwhile, it had been arranged for Helen to have a photo session with a well-known photographer, Diane Elman. To Helen's surprise, she had learned that Diane was Matt's mother. Maryssa had recognized Helen, when Matt had brought her home, and their love-affair had begun. All this is recounted in _Helen at the Beach._

Maryssa's upbringing had been sheltered in the extreme; she had been home-schooled, and had never left home except for dance lessons. When Helen moved down to Philadelphia some months later, with Helen's encouragement, Maryssa had bravely ventured out to obtain a job at the local library, where she was given some minor responsibility in the Reference department.

While helping a gentleman client research diets suitable for fighting Cholesterol, Maryssa had built up a friendship with him. Calling him The Oatmeal Man, she had gradually fallen in love with him—while still maintaining her relationship with Helen. This charming little friendship had continued for more than a year, until unexpectedly it had become physically intimate. Then, when Helen had had the surgery for the tumor, and emerged from it with amnesia, there had been no mention of The Oatmeal Man for a while.

After the amnesia, of course, Helen did not recognize anybody. With infinite patience, Lalitha, Janet and Maryssa had talked to Helen, and gradually Helen became comfortable with them, and began to trust them. Helen and Maryssa had become comfortable with each other in a few weeks, and the two women—both extraordinarily innocent, for different reasons—became lovers again. After a while, Maryssa trusted Helen enough to reveal that she had a lover, a man, whose real name was Larry Kemp (though they had called him The Oatmeal Man because of the diets that had initially been the reason Maryssa and he had gotten to know each other), and that Larry wanted to marry Maryssa, and was begging her to leave Helen, and come live with him.

Helen responded with panic. At this stage, Helen clung to Maryssa as her only source of comfort and stability. Helen knew dozens of people who could have helped Helen a lot more than Maryssa could, but Helen only trusted Maryssa, at the outset. Maryssa soon saw that Helen could not cope with being parted from Maryssa at that point; and shortly afterwards, decided that Maryssa could not easily part from Helen either. Helen had become a large part of Maryssa's world.

As the days wore on, and Helen became more confident, Helen began to relax. A year later, Maryssa's little romance with the Oatmeal Man was off everyone's radar. Helen had believed for a while that Maryssa had given it up, and was now entirely hers. But as the summer drew closer, little details caught Helen's attention.

Before she had been hit with amnesia for the second time, Helen had been a woman with great mental capacity, which she had used to juggle her complex and multi-dimensional life. But before her most recent surgery, she had given up most of her creative outlets except for her teaching; mathematics, music, and martial arts. Teaching, as we know, takes up all available space in the attention of the teacher.

_After_ the surgery, though, all Helen had to do was worry all by herself, and try to re-learn all the complexities of her relationships with the four children, and their friends, all of whom were people with many interests and concerns. Helen was also gradually realizing just how much innate musicianship there was within her, and after briefly despairing of ever being as much of a guitarist as she had been as a youth, or as much of a violinist, she was rediscovering the mental skills that had enabled her to excel before the surgery, and had begun using them to make great strides in every direction. The first hurdle was learning the guitar, and she learned very fast indeed to play it moderately well. Then she began focusing on the violin, and began to play her favorite tunes on it, which were pop songs and other light classics. The piano was next, and Helen was soon able to play from music, and was getting better every day. They tried to get her to drive, however, but Helen refused.

But now, as she set herself to be the observant adult that she instinctively wanted to be, she studied Maryssa, and began to realize that the latter was drifting towards a more passionate relationship with Larry Kemp, the Oatmeal Man, and began to notice little things that suggested that the relationship was not only passionate, but likely physical as well. And she also realized that she did _not_ have the skills to open up the subject with Maryssa, without making Maryssa very, very uncomfortable.

Helen did not see herself with as keen an eye as she saw the people around her. Nevertheless, when she took stock of her circumstances, she began to see her resources more clearly. She had _four_ children, one of them in college, all of them healthy and wonderful in many ways. She had a wonderful niece, Elly, who was an amazing musical talent, and a girl with a heart as big as the universe. All the children were loving, and open-hearted, and beloved by one and all. But Maryssa had only Matt, her brother; Helen, and Larry; and though she had now become most definitely a mother to Helen's younger children, Helen supposed that the desire to have a child from Larry must be powerful. Helen decided that she must not just _pretend_ to be happy and satisfied, she must _be_ happy and satisfied, so that Maryssa could make any decisions that would face her, about her relationship with Larry, without being hampered by Helen's emotional needs.

## Lorna

Lorna was on one of her flying visits from New York. (After living a sybaritic lifestyle in NYC, she had quietly approached Lalitha, soon after Helen's surgery, and asked Lalitha to be her lover, and Lalitha had agreed, even if they could only be together infrequently.)

"I just went over to Helen's," Lorna told Lalitha. Lalitha gave her a quizzical look, and Lorna explained that she had taken over the job of being nominally Helen's personal assistant. "She really doesn't have any professional engagements; I just go between her and Becky and Robin."

"But there's absolutely nothing to do!"

Lorna shrugged. "There's an occasional signature." Lorna narrowed her eyes. If it came to the point that Helen's interests were being compromised, she would talk it over with Lalitha, Sita and Becky, and maybe Maryssa, and do whatever was necessary to protect Helen. As far as she knew, the five of them wished only the best for Helen, despite all Helen's foolishness. Marika and Lisa still had a steady stream of work for the recording business (which was called LMN Associates, after Marika, Lisa and Nordstrom), and Marika, together with Becky, handled the legal aspects of Helen's creative output; copyrights, and so on.

When Lorna had rung the doorbell and let herself in, Helen had been playing with Lita, the malamute that had adopted her a few years ago. Thinking back on the visit, Lorna had to admit that Helen had come a long way from the previous fall, when she had been taken in to hospital. Her speech had improved; Helen was learning to speak . . . like whom? Not Maryssa, though Maryssa's vocabulary was certainly showing when Helen talked. Lorna had not been around when Helen had regained her memories the previous time, so she did not have a base with which to compare Helen's progress this time.

Lorna was staying the night, and Lalitha and she talked over Lorna's perceptions of her visit, and Lalitha admitted that she had been too preoccupied of late to notice subtleties in Helen's manner or conversation.

# Isolde Wells Gets a Call

Far away, in the hills of Wales, Isolde Wells was sitting on the sofa of her living room. A year ago, she had moved into her own apartment, wanting a little more freedom and privacy. Inevitably, she and her boyfriend Kevin, also a musician, began to have disagreements. They were both really ready to move onto the more physical relationship that was the next step in their lives, but somehow, they seemed out of phase; neither of them was ready for it when the other was. Isolde was, surprisingly, turning into an untidy girl, while Kevin was a neat freak. But Isolde argued that she was, at least, clean, while under Kevin's neat exterior, he smelled bad.

After Kevin had been evicted, Isolde was depressed for a while, but she had a strict schedule, which though it had not been too demanding, had steadily tightened up over the months, and kept Isolde distracted. In addition to her own little hour on the BBC at a time that was far from being prime time, she was being increasingly asked to play concertos with well-known orchestras.

"Miss Wells, this is Orlando Wainwright, with the Birmingham Chamber Orchestra! I'm so sorry to bother you at home!"

"Hello! No, it's fine; actually, this is the only way to reach me. What's going on?"

"What's going on! Well, that's refreshing to hear! You sound almost American!" He laughed.

Isolde was taken aback; it _was_ a bit of an odd thing to have said, she supposed. "No, er, well, . . ."

She hadn't been to the US for a couple of years, and her thoughts started going in that direction, when she was interrupted by Orlando apologizing, and she tried to smooth things over.

It was, as she had expected, an invitation to play, and it was the Dvorak, and she readily agreed. Isolde had played the Dvorak with gut strings a couple of times and caused a sensation. She had acquired a steel-strung violin, one actually built by Helen Nordstrom herself, which had gone on auction earlier that year, and she had snapped it up.

"We really want to have you play something new, something unfamiliar," said Orlando. "Are you brave enough to premiere something, do you think? We have a great new conductor, and he's ready to take on something outside our traditional safety zone!"

"Oh. What do you have in mind?" Isolde's mind was racing; _something new_ . . .

"No, no; perhaps I wasn't clear; do _you_ have any ideas?"

This was when it struck Isolde that she had in her possession a brand-new composition she had set aside for a good occasion, and this might be just what she had been waiting for.

"Actually, I do have a manuscript for a brand-new concerto, that I've been sitting on . . . I had forgotten about it, until you brought it up . . ."

"Oh? A violin concerto? By whom?"

"You know Helen Nordstrom? I had gone over to Philadelphia to play with her Impromptu . . ."

"Oh, sure, I know who that is. _I_ didn't know she had written anything!"

Isolde was getting excited. "It _could_ be the only work she's written, really. Would you like to see it?"

Orlando was not the one who needed to see it; it was their new musical director, Alan Hutchings. Not knowing any better, Isolde sent off the pdf versions of the score to the folks in Birmingham, saying she had some files that Helen had given her, which might be more useful.

As soon as she had sent off the score, Isolde called Marika in California, who had been the one in Helen's organization that she remembered, who was the computer and technology wiz.

"Hi, Isolde! Gosh, it's been a long time!"

"I know! Marika, do you remember that concerto Helen wrote, I believe about five years ago?"

"Oh . . . I remember something like that . . . when you had played the Brahms with the Impromptu, yeah?"

"Yes! That was the time! She gave me a print-out, and a CD with the pdf file on it! Is there some way we can get something a little more useful, like parts, perhaps?"

Of course, Marika was just the right person to have queried about the problem. Within a day, the concerto in all possible usable forms was zipping across the Atlantic to Birmingham.

## Concerto

Alan Hutchings knew his business. In some quarters, Helen Nordstrom's musical reputation was quite intact, and it was a series of accidents that had prevented the music establishments in countries outside the US from intervening in Helen's steady decline in health and fortune. When the story of Isolde's concert with the Birmingham C.O., and its premiere of Helen Nordstrom's concerto broke, there was a great deal of interest. The media interviewed Alan Hutchings, and he indicated that, in his opinion, the concerto was "a great little piece." This was rather ambiguous, but those interested were happy to note that there was no indication that Hutchings was featuring the work reluctantly. Anyone who knew Helen at all, professionally, knew enough to expect that the work would not be _avant-garde_ in any way. Helen would have been quite happy to _conduct_ something _avant-garde,_ but her musical idiom was unlikely to break with tradition at this point in her compositional arc, so to speak.

After she had sent off a full set of parts to Birmingham, and it had been acknowledged, Marika waited the barest interval of time to ask Isolde whether it was going to be performed, and an excited Isolde replied, yes, it was! Could LMN associates record the performance? Unfortunately, said Alan Hutchings, the BBC had decided to record it, and he assured Marika that they would do a good job of it. Marika next begged to record a rehearsal, saying that she had the authority to clear copyright and performance rights with both the composer and the soloist, and a reluctant BBC agreed to the plan, and some very complicated legal documents arrived in California, requesting signatures that would allow LMN Associates and the BBC to jointly own the rights to the recordings.

Shortly, Lisa and Marika and Lisa's baby girl, little Sue, were flying across the North Sea with their equipment, which would surely be sneered at by the BBC. (However, LMN had done a _far_ better job with Isolde's weekly program a few years ago than the BBC had ever tried to do, and never tried to equal, either.)

Of course, Becky told Lorna about the planned performance, and Lorna told Lalitha, and Lalitha told Sita.

"I never knew you had written a concerto, Helen!" said Sita, one morning when she was keeping Helen company. (At this time, she still occasionally spent the mornings with Helen, the two of them carving violin or recorder parts together.)

Helen looked stunned. By now she knew what a concerto was, but she had trouble getting her head around the phrase _writing a concerto,_ indeed even to realize that it meant _composing._

" _I_ did? When?"

"I guess when Isolde had been visiting. You remember Isolde?" Helen shook her head, and even when Sita had shown her a photo of Isolde, Helen had shaken her head slowly. She did remark that Isolde was cute, with a twisted smile at Sita, who might have accused Helen of being a letch.

A little searching turned up a newspaper notice about the performance, and there was a full article in the Arts section, which even had an old photo of Helen in it, smiling serenely, back from when her reputation had been intact.

"You want to go?"

"I don't know," said Helen. She still hated flying. She didn't want to leave Maryssa alone, and she didn't know how she would manage in the UK. "Must see."

# Maryssa

Helen's love came home around four in the afternoon, very tired. Helen drew her into a warm embrace, as she had been doing for so many months. Maryssa was a sweet, affectionate, generous woman, and as Helen's eyes took in the people around her with more intelligence and perception, her love for Maryssa had grown, and she tried to forget the possibility of Maryssa feeling that she would have to join Larry, to consummate their relationship somehow.

Maryssa clung to Helen, and then disengaged, and looked into Helen's eyes. She took a deep breath, and let it out.

"Are you OK?" Helen asked, looking anxious.

Maryssa was tense. "Mostly," she said, and Helen was immediately concerned.

"Tell me, Maryssa . . . you can tell me. What happened? Did you go to the doctor? Without me? Why?"

Maryssa looked grey. "I . . . thought I might be pregnant," she whispered.

"Pregnant?"

"Shh, don't shout, Helen!" she said, her face screwed up in a worried frown. "The kids will be here any minute!"

Helen studied Maryssa's torso with great anxiety. "And what did the... doctor say?"

"Yes . . . I am!"

Helen pulled Maryssa into a tender embrace once again, and at first Maryssa was tense. But she relaxed, and Helen held her away, to be able to look into her eyes, and she smiled. Presently Maryssa was smiling, and then a tear slipped down her cheek. "Don't worry," said Helen softly, stroking Maryssa's arm, trying to make her understand that Helen would not leave her to fend for herself.

"Do you think I could do your job, at the Library?"

"Why?"

" _Why?_ You're pregnant! Aren't you supposed to rest?"

Maryssa laughed. "Actually, they say that it's best to keep working. If I need to, I could ask for shorter hours!"

"But you know? I _do_ want to start working _somewhere_. Working at the workshop is kind of silly. I want to do a _real_ job." Helen had been feeling that the workshop job was just occupational therapy, because her gang had felt that Helen needed to feel productive.

"We'll talk about it. We've got to find you a job that you'll be good at, that you'll enjoy doing, and where they won't give you a hard time." Maryssa knew that Helen had worked in construction, but somehow it didn't seem the right sort of occupation for Helen, at this point.

Helen had already quizzed Maryssa closely about the pregnancy, and what she needed to do to make sure that the baby would be healthy. Maryssa had quietly told Helen that now, when she was just a month or so pregnant, it was the best time to have an abortion, if she was going to go through with that. But Helen had thought about that carefully, after her immediate rejection of the idea had come and gone, and she had said that Maryssa had to _at least_ confer with Larry about the problem.

"Oh . . . I _couldn't!"_

"Why?"

Maryssa had blushed, and vehemently shaken her head.

"Haven't you even _told_ him? Doesn't he have a right to know?"

Maryssa looked at this new, thoughtful Helen, her head cocked to one side. "Helen . . . You've really changed. You're so _grown up._ "

Helen blushed. "I guess that's a good thing, right?"

Maryssa nodded. "Mostly a good thing. You're observing more; you're more aware of things." Maryssa was forced to think of how her own awareness of things had changed over the years; how Helen had gently nudged her along the road to adult emotional awareness. In fact, Maryssa knew, given her background, that she had already been extraordinarily aware before she had met Helen, even despite her cloistered upbringing. (Both Maryssa and Matt had been home-schooled.) But Helen had accomplished a miracle in maturing Maryssa's perception to the point where she was now. Still, Maryssa never felt as though she was Helen's child; they were always lovers, and companions.

For a while, as Maryssa watched Helen, she saw worry take the place of shock, then determination, as Helen's expressive mouth clearly, and not quite involuntarily, expressed her attitude. Maryssa was inclined to keep the pregnancy a secret from Larry, but she gradually saw that it would not only be impossible, but cruel, and ultimately unnecessary. Larry _longed_ for a child with all his heart, and unless Maryssa avoided him for several months, he would quickly learn her condition anyway.

After talking over the situation with Helen at length, Maryssa called Larry, and arranged to meet him at the park bench where they often met on holidays or weekends.

Larry was early; they hadn't got together for a couple of days, and Larry was eager to see her. Helen was close by, but out of sight, and determinedly not spying on them.

Larry gave Maryssa a long, tender embrace, and Maryssa clung to him for a bit longer than she usually did. She told him she was pregnant, ready to talk fast if he reacted badly. But a slow smile of joy spread over his face, and Maryssa got another hug, and each of them got a jolt of happiness from the delight in the other's face. Then it was time to worry about the complications.

"He wants us to get married," Maryssa reported, when they got together. "He's afraid of meeting you, but . . . he definitely wants me to marry him."

"What did you say?"

"I said no, at first, and then, I said I have to think about it. Helen, we . . . I haven't told him that we . . . you and I . . . have . . . a . . . you know . . . well, I didn't make clear what _sort_ of relationship we have."

Helen looked away and shrugged. "He doesn't really need to know, I suppose," she said, after a while.

"I want him to know," said Maryssa, and Helen turned to study her face. "You don't realize, completely, anyway, how . . . how . . ." Maryssa made an impatient noise. ". . . how much a part of my life you have been, and how much a part of _your_ life _I'm_ becoming. You can't imagine what a big event it was for me, to have met you that night, when Matt brought you to meet us! At one time, I think you did know, but..."

"Yeah. I have a rough idea, but yeah; so much is gone!"

Maryssa gazed in wonder at Helen's eyes, wondering how the rest of the world could manage without the strength of Helen to fall back on! And Helen leaned on Maryssa, it was so crazy! They were _so much more_ a married couple than so many married couples she knew.

# The Concert

## Rehearsal

News of the concerto was spreading, and people who hadn't thought about Helen Nordstrom for a long time were beginning to wonder what had happened to her. Most people knew about the big fuss over _Helga_ some years ago, and Helen's announced retirement from the concert stage, but the fact that Helen continued to act in _Galaxy_ had gone under the radar quite completely. _Galaxy_ fans had been indignant about what they saw as the victimization of Helen by the classical music world—those of them who knew that Helen had anything to do with classical music, anyway. (Many oblivious _Galaxy_ fans believed that Helen's sole occupation had always been to act in their favorite show! Marcus, Gena's and Kristen's boyfriend, for example, as well as his parents, had been among this group, and when, for example, Helen was seen playing the piano, Marcus had been astounded.)

Initially it was thought that the capacity of the small concert hall in which the Birmingham Chamber Orchestra performed would be ample for the concert; they were only thinking about the ability of Isolde Wells to draw an audience. But as the date of the concert approached, they were beginning to run out of seats.

Marika and Lisa arrived in Birmingham, and got a hotel room near the concert hall. The two engineers planned their arrangements for recording, and with their usual diplomacy, discussed the project with the conductor. He was cooperative, especially after Marika pointed out that there might be considerable interest in the concert from the point of news, and that LMN associates could be depended upon to stay with the story long after the BBC had gotten bored with its apparent newsworthiness. The recording process would be quite unobtrusive, and that was a major selling-point, but Marika warned that they had to do a couple of trial placements, to avoid having to interrupt the rehearsal.

The day dawned a little muggy, but the forecast for the day of the performance was fair and warm. Marika and Lisa set up their microphones, and their little sound board, and presently the orchestra gathered, and the conductor walked up to them with a suave smile. He was clearly underwhelmed by the modest appearance of their equipment, but they explained that, while the video recording had to be perfect in one go, the sound recording would be mixed in their studio afterwards.

"Oh. You're videotaping it?"

"Yes, if you don't mind? You—I mean the orchestra—will part-own the video as well. We're not going to steal any of it!" He didn't care; there was no anticipation that the performance would be a major event.

Isolde arrived, and was greeted with profuse expressions of respect. She saw Marika and Lisa, and walked over to greet them with pleasure. Marika hugged the diminutive violinist, and the three women were clearly delighted to meet again. Isolde turned to the Maestro, and presently everybody was in place, and the rehearsal began. Conductor Alan Hutchings intermittently turned to the back, especially when they had made an odd sound, but Marika was quick to give him a thumbs up, to reassure him that the worst problems could be edited out.

The Nordstrom concerto was the last piece they rehearsed, and Hutchings said that the orchestra had practiced it already, with one of their own violinists standing in for Isolde. "It's very promising," he said, to Isolde, and to Marika and Lisa in the seats. Little Sue was quietly seated by her mother.

As the first few minutes of the concerto was played, Marika and Lisa listened, stunned. They had actually heard snippets of it back in Philadelphia, but hearing it played live by the Birmingham troops was a revelation. There was absolutely no hint that this was a first opus by the composer; it was a mature work by a master. Nor was there any hint that the composer was a Bach scholar, or had been one, anyway; it was definitely a Romantic work, despite the counterpoint in the development section of the first movement, and in the intertwining melodic strands in the slow movement.

Isolde was brilliant. She did not usually like to play standing, but for this work, she stood. After the first movement was over, she waited, as the conductor instructed the orchestra to re-tune, and while that was going on, he gave Isolde a big grin of approval, and a thumbs-up. But she was clearly still off-balance with the effect the first movement had had on her.

The second movement was slow and lyrical, but it also had an element of tension in it, coming from the orchestra. The final movement was exciting, and released the tension, and created a feeling of great triumph. With the last note, the orchestra stood to cheer, and Isolde just stood and beamed at them all. Marika ran up to the stage, and picked up Isolde bodily, and kissed her silly! "I love it, Mama!" they heard little Sue telling Lisa.

## Excitement

Soon after Helen had been asked whether she would like to attend the premiere of her work in the UK, she had, unbelievably, forgotten all about it. Of course there had been other important things occupying her mind, and she did not keep up with Arts news as much as she had in the past.

Among Helen's acquaintances, Lalitha and Sita, and Lorna and Becky, not to mention Martha Singer (Helen's graduate school advisor), were certainly paying attention. Even Amy and Old Elly had not noticed that a composition of Helen's—indeed her only composition—was about to be performed by a minor orchestra in Britain. Most of Helen's friends were oblivious to this impending event; only a few were alert to it.

Mallory Pearson of Nowhere saw the article, and hurried to meet Hattie Mailer. (These are characters introduced in _Helen at the Beach._ ) It took a lot of talking to explain to Hattie that _Elaine Gibson_ , who had been all over her a few summers ago, was in fact the multi-millionaire movie star, soprano, violinist and conductor, Helen Nordstrom. Hattie was wide-eyed in shock. Then she was pardonably angry.

"She could have told me," she said, tight-lipped. She looked at Mallory, whom she was coming to look upon as a good friend, and maybe more, and there was some resentfulness in her eyes. "She told you, but she didn't tell me!"

"She _didn't_ tell me, but . . . I guessed," said Mallory, gently. "She wanted to be unrecognized; you know how it is with people like that!"

Hattie sighed. Hattie's sighs were beautiful things, and Mallory appreciated this one. "I'm a nobody; I don't _know_ anything, I can't _do_ anything . . . What am I good for?"

When she looked back at Mallory, she was surprised to see her cheeks wet with tears. Mallory had loved Hattie from a distance for many years, but had been too much of a lady to pressure Hattie into a relationship that might be difficult for Hattie. But Hattie's resentment evaporated as she saw the tears, and it looked very much as though Hattie would like to wipe those tears away.

"Good heavens, Norma, look at this! Isolde Wells is playing something written by Helen!" Cecily was a cousin of Norma Major, who had been Helen's advisor in college.

"What? Playing what, now?"

"A _concerto!_ I never knew Helen had written anything!"

"Nor did I! Let me see that . . ."

## Rain

After recording the rehearsal, Marika and Lisa were so stunned at the sheer poetry of the concerto that they talked in circles for a while. Obviously, Helen herself was in no position to appreciate the piece, and it was frustrating to be unable to share the excitement. The recorded materials were not theirs to share at will, and Marika was a stickler for propriety, at least in matters of intellectual property.

Marsha Moore (a popular movie star who had been a close friend of Helen, but had lost touch with her for years) was vaguely aware of it, and was interested to hear that it was likely to be a roaring success. Marsha had only recently found out that Helen had lost her memory again, after surgery, and was puzzling over how to find out more about Helen, and how she was doing, and whether she, Marsha, ought to interfere in Helen's life again.

Robin Friend had heard about the performance and had lost no time in buying tickets for himself and his mother, who lived in the UK, and was headed across the Atlantic.

Evelyn Woodford had not visited home for two years. She had taken her breakup with Helen hard. In a sense she knew more about Helen, after their brief relationship, than many others did. Lorna, Rain, Sophie and Helen, all living together, they had eventually learned everything about each other. It had been hard for Rain to live by herself, after having had the company of the other girls, Helen and the children for a couple of years; it was just as hard to visit home, and meet the eyes of her parents, especially her mother, who had fought so hard to extract a promise of faithfulness from Helen. Helen had stubbornly refused to give it, knowing herself too well. Rain (who called herself Evelyn while at Woodford) knew that Helen had stopped teaching at Westfield, but knew nothing of what Helen was doing presently. Outside of Helen's little extended family, only the _Galaxy_ folks—the studio employees and the fans—knew the facts about Helen's health.

Rain had bought a flight to London early in the summer, after school let out, and after much thought. She was now, after roughly five years, able to think about her failures with a certain amount of objectivity.

Her parents, especially her mother, were pleased to see her, and took the news of her breakup with Helen Nordstrom with resignation.

"Do you see the children?" they asked. They had fallen in love with the kids just as much as Rain had.

"No," said Evelyn. "It's too much of a strain to . . . look at the kids, knowing . . . you know?"

Her mother nodded. Yes; it couldn't be easy to see the kids briefly, and let them go. It would probably be hard for the kids, too. Evelyn described how she had gone in to help with the children when Helen had been given her teaching award—the year before Helga—and how she had gone back to her apartment afterwards and cried for half an hour.

A few weeks after Evelyn had arrived in Woodford, Polly (Pauline, Evelyn's mother) had seen the news about Isolde Wells's concert, and Helen's name had caught her eye. This particular article, one of more than a dozen in various newspapers, had happened to mention that Helen Nordstrom had retired from the concert stage, but had continued to act in a television series for a few years, before she had undergone invasive surgery for a brain tumor, and ended up losing almost all her memory.

"Good Lord... Evelyn, look at this! Did you know about the cancer surgery?"

"What cancer surgery?"

"It says here, Helen has completely lost her memory... she's retired, and... This is so sad!"

"Let me see that!" Rain grabbed the paper, and saw the headline. "Oh gosh; she's written a concerto for Isolde Wells, and... she, Isolde, is playing it tomorrow, in Birmingham!"

The three Woodfords looked at each other, astonished.

"Was she any good? Had she done any other composing? Is it worth trying to get seats?"

"I'm going to call," said Rain, impulsively. She had wanted to attend a live performance anyway, and it helped if she had some sort of connection to at least one item on the program. Luckily, seats were available.

## The Concert

The Dvorak Violin Concerto, as always, was a treat, as well as the _Slavonic Dances_ , and other short pieces that the Birmingham Chamber Orchestra performed. After the intermission, Isolde Wells played the Nordstrom Concerto.

The audience did not know what to expect; it was always a puzzle as to how to approach a world premiere of a piece by a minor composer. It was clear that there were no specifically ear-catching elements in the work; no strange harmonies, no unusual rhythms; in fact, it started out quite ordinary, but soon got very interesting.

There were some professional critics in the audience, as well as other music professionals who were able to map their way through the work. Instinctively, Helen had provided points of reference all through the first movement, which was the densest movement in the work, so that the listener was never bored. Isolde had composed a perfect cadenza (often it was left to the soloist to create a cadenza), a brief but charming end to the first movement. The audience was itching to applaud, but this was not the US, and people behaved more properly.

The slow movement was simply lovely; deeply moving, sad in places, but still full of optimism. The woodwinds and the soloist had many contrapuntal passages, and the audience sighed, even if they did not realize that counterpoint had anything to do with the poignancy of the writing.

The last movement was athletic and jolly, and with its own inexorable logic, alternating brief exciting passages, and long, argumentative sections in which the solo violin fought the orchestra, and was triumphant! There were two crashing triple-stopped chords, and it was over, and the audience sprang to its feet.

Marika and Lisa turned to look at the audience, and there was no doubt that the performance was a triumph. Isolde Wells stood on the stage, and simply glowed, and then to everyone's amazement, she covered her cheeks, and tears poured down them.

Afterwards, when the curtain-calls had all been completed, Isolde explained that she had wanted to play the work with Helen Nordstrom herself conducting, but Helen had insisted that the premiere should be conducted by someone else.

"I suppose I was the lucky one!" quipped Alan Hutchings.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Can you doubt it? It is a piece of genius, and you can tell Miss Nordstrom I said so, though I doubt my opinion is worth that much!"

"When I meet her, I will," said Isolde.

" _I_ certainly loved it," said Polly, Rain's mother, and her father agreed. Of course, they amended, it's one thing for an audience of ordinary music-lovers to enjoy a work, but quite another thing for the critics to endorse it.

They need not have worried. The next morning, all the major newspapers had only praise for both the work and the performance. The consensus was that Nordstrom's violin concerto was going to be a welcome addition to the canon of violin concertos of recent times, and that it was going to bring Isolde Wells the level of international fame that she so richly deserved.

# The Family Way

Only Helen herself and Maryssa, within Helen's inner circle, were unaware of the brilliant success of the concerto. A repeat performance in Birmingham itself was arranged for the following day, and the BBC reluctantly agreed to televise this one. But the event was not considered sufficiently important to be shown in the USA. Marika and Lisa stayed for that performance as well, and then left for home.

Helen's photograph was shown in the programs, but in the bulk of the critical reviews, it was Isolde Wells who was lionized, though Isolde repeatedly stated her gratitude to the composer and the composition.

Meanwhile, money was coming in from the concerto. Marika and Becky, between them, were keeping an eye on the performance rights, and there was a trickle of income from the concerto. Now, of all the projects that had been sources of income for Helen in the past, there remained only the BNB chain of bookstores, the LMN recording business, the two books that Helen had published: one about J. S. Bach, the other about Baroque performance practice; and Diane Elman's book of portraits of Helen, and not least, royalties from Helen's recordings and TV appearances: three Christmas specials, and episodes of _Galaxy_ that were re-run over the summer.

## Marissa

In a couple of months, Maryssa began to show, just a little, but she was so bashful about it that she longed to resign her job, and to stay home with Helen. Erin, Allie and James were doing well in school; James had stopped goofing off once he realized that school was easy, and that his Mama was overjoyed when he excelled. Erin was a brilliant musician; under Elly's tutelage, Erin was slowly climbing the ranks to become a violinist of solo quality. In school work, however, Erin had to work hard to do well. Alison was an excellent musician, as well as an excellent student; she was also very unassuming, and reluctant to appear to be unusually smart. But she was so amazingly clever that Erin, several grade levels above Allie, could slip up to Allie's room, and get help with material that Allie had never seen. She would read the book, and she and Erin together would figure it out!

The instrument factory was functioning sufficiently well to keep itself in business and pay its costs and the salaries of the workers, but generated no profits. Only Becky was able to take a salary of any kind from the corporation; everyone else had been let go, and even Becky did not take more than a nominal paycheck; she subsisted mainly on her tax accounting business over the tax season. BNS, the bookstore chain, was sending in a small stream of profits.

# Sophie

Sophie was a professional tennis player, who had been number one on the women's tennis circuit at one time, and then given up competitive tennis, and taken up instruction instead. (When Sophie was still in the women's tennis circuit, Marsha Moore had, soon after Helen had joined the faculty of Westfield College, assigned Sophie the task of keeping an eye on Helen, after a Federal judge had threatened Helen with jail if she did not tighten up her behavior. Once Helen had begun teaching, she had tried her best to focus on being a mother, but two things had happened: Helen had met Rain (Evelyn Woodford) at the college, and they had begun an intense affair; and secondly, Sophie had shown up to check on Helen, and she too had become worrisomely close with Helen. This was when James was just a baby, and Alison was two.

Now James had already had his seventh birthday, and Alison was nine. Sophie had focused on Tennis, and only thought about Helen when something came up in the news. When she heard some vague news about Helen, she decided to call Marsha Moore. Marsha said that she had heard about a composition by Helen that had showed up in the UK, and which had been recently performed by Isolde Wells.

"This Isolde person recorded with Helen some years ago, I remember that," Sophie said. "That was when she was living with Rain and Lorna, and Nadia. I never met Isolde, though."

"Yeah, those were during the Sharon Vuehl days," said Marsha, and as soon as she had said the words, had bitten her tongue. She had forgotten that nobody knew about Sharon Vuehl and Helen Nordstrom being the same person, and she had _nearly_ given the game away to Sophie!

"Yes, about that time. Was there something going on with Helen and Sharon Vuehl?"

"No, no; it was about the same _time_ , that's all," Marsha hurriedly recovered her fumble, and Sophie did not seem to think anything of the comment.

"Tell me more about Helen! What is she doing? I know she is no longer at this Westfield place, that's all."

"You heard about the amnesia, right?"

" _Amnesia?_ Recently?"

"Yes; just last year. She had gone up to film for _Galaxy,_ and . . ."

"Now, remind me: what is _Galaxy?"_

"Oh, Sophie; you're hopeless. It's a TV show, honey. Listen, I've got to go. Find out what you can, and you can call me tonight, if you like."

"Sorry, Marsha. Thanks for everything, once again!"

In Seattle, word had been received that a composition of Helen's had been performed, and received positive critical reviews. Amanda Magnus, one of Helen's co-stars, and Jana, a Czech actress whom Helen had discovered, and brought into the studio to act in a summer feature film, were both close friends of Helen's, and were talking about the strange fact that Helen was being celebrated as a composer, at a time when she could not appreciate the honor. Melanie De Angeli, a high-priced call girl who had had an intense relationship with Helen at one time, was told about it over the phone by Jana, who was sort of a friend, and they renewed their acquaintance briefly to discuss it. Melanie called Vicky, a colleague in Philadelphia, and Vicky deplored the fact that she had neglected Helen for so long.

# Talking About the Concert

Vicky's connection with Sita is complicated. About a year before all this took place, Melanie had set up a 'date' with Vicky for Sita.

It had come about like this. Melanie had assumed that, when Helen lost her memory, Melanie could no longer explain to Helen what their relationship was. Maryssa had met Melanie in hospital, of course, and had pity on her, and arranged for Melanie to have one last meeting with Helen, to essentially say goodbye. She had waited until everyone was gone, and phoned Melanie, asking her to come to Helen's hospital room.

She had come, briefly introduced herself, but of course, Helen did not have the background to make sense of most of what she was saying. Just as they were saying their goodbyes, Dr. Amy, who had learned who and what Melanie was, had come in, and raised an awful stink. Melanie had, with great dignity, quietly left. Helen had been furious, but had not been able to react effectively; she had threatened to have Amy thrown out of the room. "Call her back!" she had screamed, but it had been too late; Melanie was gone.

After Helen had been discharged, and brought back to Philadelphia with Maryssa, Melanie had found the courage to give Helen a call. Helen had been pleased to talk to her, and they had kept up a phone friendship, with Maryssa's blessing.

When Helen had had chemotherapy, as a follow-up to the surgery, she had begun to lose her hair. She had called Melanie and told her, and Melanie had advised Helen to get her hair cut short. Hearing in Helen's voice how depressed she was, Melanie flew down to Philadelphia, and dropped in on Helen, and met Sita, who had been assigned to keep Helen company at that time.

Later on that visit, Melanie had met Vicky, who belonged to the same network, for some R&R _off the books,_ as it were. Vicky, too, was disturbed by some events in her life, and earned the compassion of Melanie. (Melanie was just 20, despite her occupation.)

Once Melanie was back on the West Coast, she conceived of the plan to put Sita and Vicky together, believing that they would be good company for each other. She paid Vicky for a date with Sita, as a gift. They had met at a restaurant, and things had gone naturally, as planned; in fact, better than Melanie's wildest hopes. Sita had been completely ravished by Vicky. But then she had discovered, at the last minute, that Vicky was a drug addict. Meanwhile Vicky had fallen hard for Sita, who was a beautiful woman.

After Vicky and Sita had argued about the addiction, and struggled with what should be done about it, Sita had pressured Vicky into seeking treatment, and was supporting Vicky emotionally, while she underwent drug addiction therapy.

Sita had accompanied Vicky to the treatment center in Maryland for several months. Vicky was at the stage where she was feeling rather cocky about her chances of success, while Sita had read up all about it, and was far less confident that Vicky would make it all the way to the point of being certified drug-free.

They were on their way to a town in northern Maryland, which was where Vicky had chosen to be treated. [Author's note: this is no longer possible; addiction treatment must be received where the patient is directed to go by the insurance company, usually in the patient's town of residence.]

"You've heard about Helen's concerto, I suppose?"

Sita was surprised. "I didn't know you were interested in classical music!"

"Sure, I am!" Sita looked at her sidelong, and Vicky could never lie to Sita. "No, just kidding; I'm interested in Helen, of course. Hey, I resent your assuming that I have no interests at all! What's that all about?"

Sita blushed. She _did_ tend to think of Vicky as a pretty girl, with no depth to her. Vicky certainly had the intelligence to be interested in practically anything; she had just never applied herself to any sort of intellectual discipline.

"Anyway, yeah; I read that it received rave reviews," Sita said.

"Did you talk to Helen about it?"

Sita shook her head. Sita did spend a lot of time with Helen, initially as a babysitter, but increasingly to encourage Helen to take an interest in the world at large. Sita and Lalitha had recently begun to have hope that Helen could gradually begin to live a normal life again. Not that her life was in any way _abnormal_ , it was just that there was a huge disparity between Helen's present abilities, and her qualifications, having earned a doctorate in musicology, and having written some sophisticated software to convert photographic images of music manuscript into musical notation, an amazing achievement for a musician. Helen had been a celebrated teacher, as well as a concert violinist, conductor, and lyric soprano, having sung such roles as Euridice, in _Orfeo_ , and Eva in _Die Meistersinger,_ and Cherubino in _Figaro,_ not to mention numerous performances of Baroque cantatas, oratorios and masses. But Sita was reluctant to broach a conversation that would rub Helen's face once more in how much she fell short of her potential. "I can't think of what approach I could take . . . The last thing I want to do is to make her feel like an idiot."

Vicky considered what she could say. Sita spent a lot of energy and time keeping Vicky on track, and Vicky had repeatedly and awkwardly tried to express how grateful she was for Sita's patient, self-effacing help; but each time, Sita had groaned, and turned her head away. Sita tried hard not to be needlessly cruel, but her reply was always: You're in it for the long haul. Save your strength and energy, and don't get too intense; we're going to be commuting to Maryland for another few years. There's no point getting emotional. Keep your eye on the ball.

Vicky hated that homily, and though Sita did not intend it that way, it seemed to create a greater distance between Vicky, down here, and Sita, way up there in the clouds, with the angels of heaven.

Most days of the week, Sita kept Helen company. Helen had passed the point of needing to be babysat, but Sita's company had been an amazing positive influence on Helen. Of course Vicky did not know all this detail.

"I'm going to pretend to be a phone lady again," declared Vicky.

"She might make you some muffins," said Sita, with a grin, recalling how Helen had sent muffins to Vicky through Sita, the last time Vicky had visited the house, pretending to be from the phone company.

## Janet and Elly

Janet was the principal of a boarding school in St. Paul, Minnesota. Helen, long ago, had made their two families into a single unit, and set up trusts to send them money regularly, before, of course, she had first lost her reputation, then much of her income, and finally lost her memory. But Becky, Helen's financial manager, still sent a trickle of money their way.

Janet had met a lovely young redhead, Crystal, in a bar in Philadelphia two years ago. Crystal was a freshman in university, and Janet had only wanted to have a fling during Spring Break. (This was very uncharacteristic of Janet, but it was sort of a mid-life-crisis. It is recounted in _Helen's Eventful Summer._ ) But her target, Crystal, had fallen head-over-heels in love with Janet, and tracked her back to the suburbs of St. Paul, and with great dignity requested the privilege of paying court to the bemused principal. Now, two years later, Janet was finding it a little more plausible that she and Crystal should become a couple. With Janet's influence, and that of the other people in Janet's circle, Crystal was blossoming, and doing better, and had a better than B average at a highly prestigious Ivy League university.

Recall Juliana Hoffman, who had given Helen her first opportunity to earn extra money during her breaks between semesters, and later helped Helen to obtain a flight to pursue Lalitha to India. Over those years when Helen spent a lot of time in Juliana's Florida ranch, Juliana had decided that it was so much effort for Helen to travel all that way to Florida, and decided to obtain some land in Ohio, and build a ranch there. By the time that was ready to occupy, Helen had already left for India. "So Janet," said Juliana Hoffman, "they have found a manuscript of something that Helen wrote, I hear!"

"Yes, and it was performed, and it seems a wonderful piece of music! I have not heard it yet. How is everyone doing?"

"Everyone is fine, Janet. But I am now so out of touch, I want to know everything that is happening! We were watching that _Galaxy_ show last year, I think, and that announcement: Helen is ill; but after that, nothing! Has she stopped acting, or what? Gretchen went to visit them, but never tells me anything!" (Gretchen had been a tiny little thing back in Florida when Helen was visiting, but she was now a tall young woman, who occasionally made a visit to Philadelphia to check on Helen, and disappeared again. She had not been by since the surgery.)

"Oh, Juliana, you haven't heard, then. Helen had a huge tumor removed; this time it was about half a pound, they told me."

"Oh no! Not again!"

"And she has lost her memory entirely. Nothing. She can talk, and she can function, but . . . she doesn't remember the music, the people, the children, nothing."

"Oh, my poor Helen! So, who is this Isolde someone? Is she a new girlfriend, or . . . who is she?"

Janet's mouth struggled not to take on a sour twist. It was funny that Juliana assumed that Isolde was yet another of Helen's conquests, but, to give Helen her due, Isolde had not fallen prey to Helen's insatiable sexual appetite. "No, she is an excellent young violinist, just about twenty, I would think, and Helen and she performed together in Philly, and I suppose she wrote the piece for her. No, there was no romance that I know of!"

"That is good. So where is Helen now?"

"In Philadelphia. I can give you the address, if you like; she lives in a rented house, with Maryssa Brooks, a Philadelphian woman, and they take care of the kids. Gena is in college, and Erin, Alison and little James are all still in school. It's so good of you to call, Juliana, especially considering I haven't kept you up with all the news, mostly bad though it is!"

"Who was that?" asked Elly, Janet's mother, and Janet explained. "You know, Norma and Cecily are the ones who would probably know the most."

Janet frowned. "No; it's going to be Marika and Lisa. They would get involved with something like this."

Shortly afterwards, Sophie called, with essentially the same questions, and Janet gave her essentially the same answers. Both Juliana and Sophie had been good friends to Helen; they had jumped in to help her when times were bad for her.

## The Baby

By late October, Maryssa was already enormously big with the baby. Larry had finally come to visit Maryssa at the Newberry house, and Maryssa had made sure that only Helen and the kids were at home. Larry had found the house not too intimidating, though it was a little larger than his own house. Maryssa had convinced him that she was comfortable there, and Helen, watching them together, approved of how Maryssa had comported herself. She made Larry feel like a king, and conducted the conversation with a cheerful note, only wincing very occasionally when she was briefly uncomfortable. Helen knew she was uncomfortable more frequently than she showed, but there was no point in making Larry believe that he had to take steps to take care of Maryssa more aggressively.

Maryssa heaved a heavy sigh when Larry left. "God, he hovers something awful." She heaved herself off the couch, and Helen demanded where she was going. She wanted to get a foot stool, to get a little more comfortable, and Helen told her firmly to stay put, and got Maryssa settled with the foot stool. Maryssa was amused.

Helen studied Maryssa closely these days. In the abstract, Maryssa knew that Helen, herself, had gone through pregnancy several times, the only successful pregnancy being when she had delivered James. Helen had been in hiding at that time, but there had been two gynecologists who had been fiercely protective of her, and James had been born with almost no difficulty, and now he lorded it over all his sisters, though he was very fond of them. Maryssa, though anxious about the baby, was somehow more relaxed. She gazed on the world around her with calm eyes, eyes that saw everything, and was panicked by nothing. This was a far cry from the incredibly innocent young woman whom Helen had swept off her feet and into Helen's bed.

"What are you thinking about, looking so serious?"

"I was thinking how . . . mature you have become," said Helen, flushing.

Maryssa was suddenly serious, and thoughtful. "It's been a long time since you used that word, Helen."

"Which one?"

" 'Mature.' "

"Am I qualified to use it?" Helen asked, with a twisted smile.

"I think so!" said Maryssa, with a smile of her own.

A few days later, Maryssa told Helen that Larry wanted to marry her, and bring her to his home. "I said no," she said. "But he has some cousins who want to . . . get me over there."

Helen controlled her tears with great difficulty. She had to find out whether Maryssa wanted to go; if she did, Helen would encourage her to go. Helen knew how terribly she would miss Maryssa, and Maryssa probably knew, too. But this new, mature Maryssa knew that you couldn't protect everyone from everything, all the time. It took a certain maturity to realize that without responsibility, nobody would mature at all.

The usual arrangement was that the kids would go to Lalitha's home on Semple right after school, because little Megan Grace, Trish's child, attended the same school as Erin, Alison and James. They would have some snacks, with Megan Grace, after which Trish would drop them off at home. This time, Trish also brought Sita with them. Sita was spending less time with Helen, now that Maryssa was home. Helen was pleased to see her.

"What's happening?" Sita asked. "Is everything OK? Is Maryssa well?" Sita had good eyes.

"Nothing's wrong," said Helen with a frown. "What... why did you ask?"

The kids had already run inside with their book bags, and Trish and Sita were watching Helen closely.

While Sita was still thinking of what to say, Trish at once said, "Helen, sweetheart, you can tell us anything. We promise not to tell! I've got a lot better at keeping my news to myself."

"Tell me," said Sita softly.

"Maryssa wants to go with Larry to his house," said Helen not breathing, so as not to cry. _I don't know what to do,_ was what she wanted to say, but what she _did_ say was: "I'm getting up the strength to tell her that . . . it's all right!"

Trish got out of the car—an ancient minivan—and Sita belatedly realized that she should, too. By the time Sita had gotten out of the car, tiny Trish had given Helen a tender hug, and had said, "I'm so proud of you! I think you're right. What do you think, Sita?"

## Maryssa Gets Married

Sita had spent so many years desperately wanting Helen for herself, back when Helen had been untouched by health problems, that she couldn't quickly say that she agreed with Trish. But, even if it looked self-serving, she had to agree: Maryssa deserved her try at conventional happiness. She loved that loser Larry with all her might, though she tried to ignore that to keep Helen company. But now Helen was _growing up,_ if that was the appropriate phrase. Helen was soaking in all the experience she was getting like an incredible sponge. She was reinventing herself, even without the model of her former self to build on.

Sita told herself, they should support Maryssa if she decided to move in with Larry. "I agree, Helen, _if_ Maryssa really wants to go. Not that we want you for ourselves!" Trish and Helen laughed, though it was a little forced. "She should have the freedom to go, if she chooses."

Helen gave the two women a look, which clearly said, _I don't think you both know just how much I love Maryssa!_ But they looked back at her, and their faces seemed to say, _Yes, we do!_ They had known Helen and Maryssa much longer than Helen remembered them knowing her, and they knew how strong an influence 'weak' Maryssa had been on 'strong' Helen.

Larry Kemp came by a few days later, with his cousins, and they all swooned over Maryssa, and lovingly took her home with them. The children looked slightly stunned to see Aunt Maryssa departing with several bags, but they smiled bravely, and watched the ancient vehicle pull away.

"What are we going to do without Aunt Maryssa?" demanded James, after they had gone.

"You're gonna have to learn to cook," said Allie, tongue in cheek. Helen laughed and laughed; she had been on the brink of breaking out in tears. Erin snorted in amusement, but she knew that Allie was, in fact, quite able to get a meal ready with a little help. James glared at them, trying not to laugh.

Maryssa had been gone three days, and Helen had been invited to a little private wedding ceremony they had planned to have in Larry's home, but Helen had politely declined, and they had been understanding. It appeared that they were quite civilized people, though their speech was rough, and Larry appeared not to be able to hold down a job.

The children were being helpful at the moment. Erin and Allie had made breakfast, and they had got themselves ready for school, including James. James had not needed to be hustled into getting ready for more than a month. The girls had been quite obviously proud that they were managing really well, with Maryssa gone, but Helen knew that there would be announcements about missing Maryssa, sooner or later.

## Marika and The Video

One day, Marika called Helen, and said she was coming to visit. It was always a shock to talk to post-surgery Helen; Marika couldn't shriek at her over the phone, " _Sis!!! I'm coming over!"_ as she used to do; she had to pretend that Helen was a stranger, or almost a stranger. (Marika Johnson, one of Helen's Johnson cousins, looked very much like Helen. Heikki, Marika's younger sister, looked even more like Helen, but she was very young; Ingrid, the oldest, who had been a friend of Cindy's, whom we will meet later, also resembled Helen strongly.)

"Helen! This is Marika! Remember me?"

"Oh, Hi Marika! It's nice to hear from you!"

"How long has it been?"

"Er, not more than a year, I believe . . . you came over at Christmas, I remember!"

It was such a shock; Helen had learned some odd tricks of speech; she had a heavier Midwestern burr than Marika remembered, and used different phrases, but then Marika couldn't really remember what the old Helen would have said; she just felt that _this_ Helen talked differently. But it was the same sweet voice; sweeter, if that was possible.

"May I speak to Maryssa? I want to coordinate my visit, and check with her!"

There was a slight pause. "You know, Maryssa got married and moved away." Helen could tell that Marika was stunned. "Yes, just a couple of days ago. There's a lot of space here; you could stay with us, if you like." There was a smile in her voice, and Marika knew it was a genuine invitation. "Are you here already?" Helen asked, and Marika replied that she was still on the way; she had to change planes in Chicago. She had taken a cheap flight.

It was late when Marika got into the airport. She had rented a car right there, and driven herself over. Helen could see that she was tired, but she had her indelible smile, and Helen just had to smile with her. Helen got her a cup of tea, and Marika left her bag in the hallway, and sat down to talk to Helen.

"I don't know how much you found out, but what I do, with Lisa, is do field recordings of music, especially in the open air, or when it's too short notice to get an ordinary recording company to do it. We also make CDs. Did you follow all that?"

"You mean, like, with microphones, and so on?"

"Exactly! Like, we would go with you to, say, Europe, and you would have a little recital in a big room somewhere, and we would record it, and bring it home!" Helen nodded and smiled, and Marika could see that she was really picking up every detail. She wasn't so distracted with details that she could not get the big picture, as she had been back in December.

By this time, Erin and Alison had come by, given Marika her usual big hug, and settled down to listen. James was still in his room, grumbling about something.

"I went over to Birmingham, in England, with Lisa and little Sue," said Marika, and Erin's and Allie's eyes became as big as saucers; clearly they knew what was going on, to some extent. "Did you learn about this concerto of yours?"

"Oh . . . yeah; they told me something, but I've forgotten. Maybe you can explain what that was all about?"

"Well, see, there was this little orchestra that you conducted, back when you were fresh out of grad school . . ."

"Mom, you remember? Erin played violin for them?"

"Oh, yes, the Impromptu?" Marika was relieved that Helen knew about them. "What about them?"

"You met a young violinist in England, when you were visiting Rain's folks, and you invited her over here, to play with the Impromptu gang!"

Helen was confused about who _Rain_ was, and the kids explained, and all was confusion for a minute, until Marika got them on track again. Then Erin suddenly remembered the whole thing; Mom (Helen) had been writing this music on the computer, and Isolde had kept wanting to look at it, and Mom had laughed and insisted that Isolde should wait until it was completed, and then it had been printed out, and Isolde had been so happy, she had hugged it to herself, and had wanted to play it with the Impromptu, but Mom had said no; the first time Isolde played it, it had to be conducted by someone else!

Marika was amused, because she had witnessed some of this excitement, but Lisa had been pregnant back then, and Marika had been distracted with it.

Helen quietly absorbed all this, and unlike a few months ago, she could fill in the gaps, and she understood what it meant to write music on the computer.

"I can't use computers like that anymore, but I guess I could learn!"

"That would be great! But did you know that Isolde decided to play it in England, a few weeks ago, and the newspapers were full of how good it is?"

Helen concentrated furiously. "Is she a very good violinist, then?"

"Oh, Mom, she's awesome!"

"Yes, Helen, she's good; I recorded her Brahms concert, and I know. She's excellent. But, _at least_ half the praise was for the _music itself!_ It's beginning to look as though you're an excellent composer!"

It took a minute for Helen to absorb what Marika was saying, and what the girls were reacting to. She was still at the stage where the _performance_ of the 'song'—she still thought of any piece of music as a _song_ —was more important than the _writing_ of it. She was just beginning to recognize the names of the composers of the classical pieces she liked.

For a minute she glowed with pleasure, and then realization set in that she certainly could not pull off something like that the way she was now. She labored to get this idea across, but Marika knew at once what Helen was thinking.

"Helen, sweetheart, nobody needs you to run out and compose something new right away! All we are wondering is whether you'd like to _hear_ the music for yourself! Helen, it's one of the loveliest things I've heard, but I'm kind of a musical insider. It might be a little harder for _you_ to appreciate _your own_ work! But whenever you're ready, I have a video for you to watch! We can connect it to your speakers, if you have good ones, and we can watch and listen! And you can see whether seeing Isolde Wells rings a bell!"

Helen heaved a big sigh. "I wouldn't put too much hope into trying to get my memory back," she said, sad and embarrassed. "Lalitha was telling me how hard it had been the last time."

Marika shrugged, saddened by Helen's defeated attitude. Even she could see—in fact, she could see more clearly than the people in the house—that Helen had made enormous progress over the mere months since she had come out of surgery. She spoke like an adult, and her thinking processes seemed to be _vastly_ more efficient compared to when Marika had last seen her during the Holiday season.

"Well, think about it a little, while I take a little nap; these trans-continental flights are so tiring, I can't handle them as I used to a few years ago!"

"How old are you?" Helen asked, and Marika was amused to see how Helen's eyes brightened up with a subject to which she could easily relate!

"I'm just two years younger than you are! I remember when you first came to our house; you were, like, eighteen, and I was sixteen! Then I came to the College for my freshman year, and you ran off to Canada or somewhere, and I didn't see you for a year or more!" Luckily Helen thought that was more funny than tragic, so it wasn't so bad.

Allie and Erin saw Marika to her room, and Marika was fast asleep in no time, and James had to be thrown out, because he wanted to interview Marika closely. The girls marveled at the fact that Aunty Marika was forty years old, which seemed to them to be a very advanced age. But Aunty Marika had awesome legs, and wore tiny skirts, and looked like a teenager! But Allie had noticed a few grey hairs that Marika had failed to color, and it was easy to believe that she was the age she said she was.

"What did Aunt Marika say?" demanded James from his mother.

Helen sighed. "She has a video of . . . this Isolde Wells, a girl who is playing a violin concerto that I supposedly wrote," she told him briefly.

James's eyes widened. He thought he remembered a really pretty girl with that name, who played violin really well.

"I wanna see that! Could I Mom? Huh? I know that . . . Isolde girl."

Helen was amused. It was just like James to latch onto the fact that he knew Isolde, and wanted to see her on video.

Helen was able to distract him by asking what he was learning in school, and _he_ was able to distract _her_ into talking only about his mathematics homework, which he really liked to do.

It was late when Marika woke up, but the female population of the house was still awake, while James was fast asleep.

Helen sat down to watch the video with them. The sound system which Suresh had set up for Helen was duly linked to the video player, and Marika cued it to just after the intermission, to go straight into Helen's concerto.

At first, as Isolde walked on stage, there was a little interest, because Isolde was really cute, if not a spectacular beauty. But soon, the violin line caught the attention of the two girls, and then Helen, too, was listening closely.

Honestly, Helen had written a very approachable concerto. The first movement sucked you in, and the second movement made you a captive. The final movement was almost pure confectionery, but Marika could hear sophisticated ideas in the mix. If you did _not_ want sophistication, it was entirely possible to ignore the complexity, but if you _did_ want some substance, it was definitely there.

As the work progressed, Marika could see Helen sitting up straighter, clearly proud of her accomplishment, even though she could not relate to it as well as even Alison and Erin could. But Helen could see that it was a serious piece of composition, and she was proud of it! It was too much to hope for that Helen would remember writing it.

Marika needed a signature from Helen, to post some clips from the video on the Internet, and to publish a CD of the live performance of the entire concert. The performance permissions had all be obtained, and though the BBC owned most of the rights to the actual concert, there seemed no interest in releasing the music track as a record for sale. There were guaranteed sales of a few hundred at least, since those who had attended the concert seemed eager to have a recording of it. But they would have to be satisfied with a cleaned-up recording of the rehearsal, which was complete. Helen trusted Marika, and signed without hesitation, and Marika set off for Becky's office, and to run a few other errands.

## Phone Lady

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Helen opened the door, and saw a really beautiful girl, wearing work clothes, with a toolbelt such as telephone workers wear.

"Good morning, miss! May I examine your phone line wiring in the basement?"

"Oh . . . is something wrong with it?"

"No, we just need to see whether it is ready in case you want an Internet connection through us, or television through us."

"We have both; but not with the phone company, ma'am."

"That's fine. I won't change anything; this is just in case you sell the house, or in case a future tenant wanted to upgrade services. Just to be ready. I'm just going to look at it!"

"Say, haven't I seen you before?"

"Yes! You gave me muffins!" laughed Vicky.

"That's _right,_ I remember!"

"I'm not supposed to get muffins from customers, but . . . they were good!"

Helen laughed and blushed.

Vicky could hardly stand to be near Helen; she had forgotten how much effortless charm Helen wielded! All her suppressed desire for Helen, from back when Vicky had had a strange relationship with Helen—a secret relationship which no one outside the two of them knew about—all that was making it difficult for Vicky to even go through the pretense of checking the wiring. Helen only remembered Vicky as the peculiar 'phone lady' who had visited earlier, asking about the basement wiring.

"I'm going to have to do this another time," Vicky said, unsteadily; "I'm not feeling well, I had better get home now . . ."

"Oh . . . can I get you anything?"

"No . . . lady . . . you're a lovely person . . . I wish you all the best! Thank you! Excuse me . . ."

"Wait! Is something wrong?"

"I just have to go," Vicky said breathlessly, and hurried away, leaving Helen completely baffled.

Later, at the workshop, Helen just had to tell Sita about the strange phone lady. Sita paid close attention, and her eyes widened when Helen said what had happened at the end; the woman had left, looking confused and upset.

"Oh no; this is terrible . . . I wish she wouldn't do things like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Helen, nothing."

"It _can't_ be nothing! She looked very upset!"

Sita shook her head, sorry that she had blurted out words that could blow Vicky's cover, if Helen happened to want to get to the bottom of the peculiar behavior of the phone lady.

"What was the meaning of your silliness at Helen's place?"

"Oh god; did she tell you the whole thing?" Vicky was deeply embarrassed.

" _Yes!"_ Sita was angry. "If you were going to lose your nerve, you should have simply stayed home! I don't understand; what did you do? What did you _mean?"_

They were driving down to Maryland, and Vicky was at the wheel. She was so upset that she pulled over and laid her forehead on the wheel.

"I'm easily overwhelmed, Sita."

"Just tell me, Vicky, what happened?"

Vicky took several deep breaths, and Sita knew enough to know that Vicky would tell her story when she was ready. "I just looked into her eyes, and there was so much compassion, and kindness, and interest, and patience! I can't take it anymore, Sita! She makes me feel like a piece of crap! _You_ make me feel that way, too! I mean, I think _I'm_ a pretty decent person, but you and your friends . . ." Vicky shook her head.

Sita sagged. It had been a long time since Vicky had got this way.

"Vicky, you _are_ a woman with good intentions. You're a good woman. But a _strong_ good woman is much better than a _weak_ good woman, you know? You're no good to anyone unless you find strength somewhere. If Helen saps your strength, just stay away from her. It's that easy."

Vicky flinched, as though Sita had raised her hand to slap her.

She nodded. "Okay. Understood. Message received and understood. That was brutal, Sita. You don't have to play rough, you know."

"If I was understanding and accepting like Helen, you would be stuck in this rut forever. I _do_ understand. But I _can't accept._ You must get out of this thing. That's all I care about. I'm not going to leave. You have to finish this."

Sita knew she need not be that brutally firm with Vicky. But she knew that if _she_ gave up on Vicky, it would be difficult for Vicky to find someone to take Sita's place. _Sita must not burn out._ If she was gentle and understanding with Vicky, Sita knew she would run out of steam. Vicky might not realize that Sita's extra firmness was almost an admission of exhaustion, but then, she just might. Sita was not exhausted _yet_ , but she soon would be.

## Rain Plans a Visit

"When did you last see Helen and the children?" asked Pauline, Evelyn's mother, or Polly, as she was called by her friends. Polly adored children generally, and Helen's kids specifically. Evelyn suspected that her mother missed the kids more than she did.

"Not for, let me think . . . Oh mummy; a few years ago; what does it matter?"

"I just asked, darling; I . . . I'd like to see them, too! That cancer news scares me a little . . . I really hope the kids are doing all right. Little James would be, how old? He would be in school, now."

"He was bright. Not as bright as Alison, but still, clever in his own way . . ."

"Well, the girls were adopted, weren't they?"

"Well, yes; not that it matters, anyway!"

Polly could see that it hurt Evelyn to think about the children. But Polly longed to see the children, all of them! Evelyn had met Allie and James first, and gotten to know them before she eventually met Gena and Erin, but Polly had met the whole lot, all at once. She had never ventured outside Britain, though George had been abroad, to Europe, and Evelyn had been everywhere, France, Germany, and now the USA.

"I'm of half a mind to go over there . . . see whether I can find them . . ."

Evelyn looked at her mother in surprise.

The easiest thing to do, of course, would be to talk to Lorna. She would wait until tomorrow, and then try to get in touch with her ballet-dancing friend, whom Evelyn was missing in the worst way.

## Olive and Polly

Some six years ago, Helen had gone to Providence, Rhode Island, for a convention of a professional association of musicians, and given a talk about her work. (She had been just a graduate student herself, back then.) There a bright young graduate student, Jeffrey Gibson, had been the media technician, and Helen had made friends with him, and thoughtlessly invited him to visit Philadelphia, promising to show him around.

Mere weeks before, after a brief appearance in court, her children had been taken from Helen and had been given to an elderly couple of foster parents; Helen had only gone through the presentation with difficulty, and hadn't realized that she might not be in a fit mental state to host the young man if he happened to take her up on her offer.

He had indeed shown up around Easter, at a time when Helen had been up to her eyebrows in anti-depressants. It had so happened that Helen and this boy had had sex, and some nine months later, while Helen and the girls (and Penny and Erin) were still in hiding, Helen gave birth to James. Jeffrey was notified as the delivery drew near, and he had begged Helen to marry him, but she had refused. Jeffrey had said that his mother was so upset that she wanted to speak to Helen directly, but she refused.

After James had been born, Helen had a change of heart, and had visited the boy's mother, Olive Gibson, James's grandmother, who lived in the Maryland suburbs of Washington, D. C., and Olive had been completely charmed by Helen. From then on, Olive Gibson had joined Helen's family, either at Thanksgiving or at Christmas, until Helen had lost her memory. All Helen's girlfriends had gotten to know Olive. (Most of this is in _Helen On the Run: The Lost Years_. Soon afterward, James had gone on to marry a lovely young woman whom Helen introduced to him: Barbara Cromack.)

A few years later, when Helen and Evelyn were about to break up, Rain and Helen were awkward with each other, and no longer sleeping together, and the prospect of spending the Easter break together was intolerable. It had been arranged for Evelyn and the younger children to spend the Easter Holidays in Maryland with Olive Gibson, while Helen would remain in Westfield.

Helen was persuaded to go camping with Frank and Anne Lambert. (As soon as the Easter break was over, as we know, Evelyn had broken up finally with Helen.)

Now, some four years later, it was Thanksgiving again, and Olive was all alone in her home in Maryland. Olive was surprised to hear from Evelyn Woodford, who wanted to visit briefly, and was bringing her mother, Pauline. Olive was delighted.

A few days later, Olive met them at the Baltimore Airport. "Hello, Woodfords! I'm Olive Gibson! Welcome to America!" said Olive.

A little later, they were in Olive's lovely old home. Olive, though she was a widow, was by no means inactive. (A couple of times a week her home was filled with her large circle of music-loving friends, who brought their instruments along, and played works from Olive's enormous collection of sheet music, which she had gathered over the years with the help of her late husband. The guests brought food with them, and the tradition showed no signs of slowing down.) Olive led them upstairs, and got them settled in the guest room. It was quite big and roomy, and in a corner was the little crib, now folded to a side, in which Olive used to put James, when he was a baby, when Helen and the kids were visiting.

"Oh, I remember when I first laid eyes on the little guy! He was just a shapeless little blob!" Pauline nodded and laughed, as Evelyn tried to keep from showing how much she missed the two youngest children. "Come on downstairs; I have something ready in case you're hungry, and we can sit and talk in comfort!" She could no longer clatter down the stairs as she used to a decade ago, but the constant going up and down the stairs did keep her a little more limber than she would have been in a single-floor home.

"I'm glad you brought me here, Evelyn," Pauline said softly, before they followed Olive down the stairs.

"When did you see the children last?" they asked Olive, once they were seated comfortably.

"Let's see; I think it was year before last. But Barbara—that's the girl Jeffrey married, you know; after Helen said no—keeps me up with the news." Polly had smiled when Olive had showed with her hands how Helen had firmly put the brakes on Olive's marriage plans for Helen and Jeffrey. "He's growing like a weed, she said he's taller than Alison, but takes after Helen almost completely. Only one grandson, and he doesn't look like any of us _at all._ " She shook her head in disapproval. "That woman has _a lot_ to answer for!"

"That was after the surgery, then, wasn't it?" Evelyn asked. "Did Barb mention what Helen looked like?"

Olive tried to remember what Barb had reported about it, but it had been all about Helen's confusion about the people, and her excitement about the dogs, which Amy and David had brought with them in the truck.

The visitor from England was soon ready to sleep, and Olive announced that there was going to be one of her musical evenings the following day, but it was likely to be poorly attended, since most of her regulars would be in the throes of Thanksgiving preparations.

Two days later, Olive Gibson and the two Woodfords had obtained Helen's phone number from Becky's office in Philadelphia. Not knowing that it was Lalitha's family that lived there now, Evelyn had first tried the number of the house on Semple where Helen used to live in her grad school days. That number had been disconnected. Evelyn called the new number, and it was picked up promptly.

"Hello?" It was Erin!

"Is that you, Erin?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"It's Auntie Rain! You remember me?"

"Oh!" They heard Erin excitedly announce that it was Auntie Rain on the phone. "Hi, Auntie Rain! Wow, I haven't seen you in a long, _long_ time! We live in Philly, now! Are you still in Westfield?"

"Well, yes, but I'm visiting James's grandmother, in Maryland! I so want to see all of you! Did you have a good Thanksgiving?"

"Oh, yes! You know, Mom had an operation, and she has amnesia?"

"Yes, I heard about that. What a sad thing to happen."

"Well . . ."

They heard a discussion taking place with the phone muffled, and Rain quickly decided that it would be tactless to discuss Helen's condition when she might be listening at the other end.

"Oh . . . what were you saying?"

"No, it isn't important. Who else is there? Grandma Olive and I were thinking of visiting, if it won't be too inconvenient, being Thanksgiving and all."

"Guess what! Gena, and Krissy and Marcus are home, and Aunty Sita, Aunty Lalitha, Aunty Trish, and Megan . . . _everybody's_ here! Aunt Maryssa has gone, but Elly is coming later!"

After a little more talking, Rain hung up. Hearing so many unfamiliar names, Rain almost gave up the idea of visiting them, but Olive said, "Oh, let's go! All this treading on eggshells just doesn't get you anywhere. We'll go, with a little something for the house, and if it looks too awkward, we can just smile all round, and come away!"

Polly had to agree. After all, she had come all the way from Woodford, in England, and it seemed silly to lose courage at the last moment. She was dying to see the children once again, but most of all, she wanted to see Helen. Brash and uncompromising Helen might have been, but Polly knew that Helen was fond of her—had been, anyway. Helen and she had connected beautifully, and listening to Olive, it certainly seemed that Olive had been hooked into Helen's family quite successfully.

## Polly and Rain Visit Helen

It was about three hours, the way Olive drove, from Olive's home to the part of Philadelphia in which Helen had her rented house. They didn't hurry, they stopped to have tea from time to time, and they all made faces at the quality of the tea bags. Polly was accustomed to getting the best tea she could find, and so was Olive. Rain, of course, was happy with coffee. They got a little lunch at a good restaurant on the way, Olive scorning anything but the best, since, after all, Polly was Lady Pauline Woodford, the wife of an earl, and in Olive's mind should not be treated like just anyone.

They arrived in the early afternoon, parked carefully, walked up to the front door of the house in the little _cul-de-sac,_ and rang the bell, closely watched by a few kids who were playing on the street.

They heard noises inside, and the door was thrown open by an unfamiliar young woman with a beautiful smile. They later learned that this was Krissy, a friend of Gena's. Gena was close behind, and the moment she saw who the visitors were, her face blossomed in a welcoming smile, and she hurried to give each of them a big embrace and a kiss. Polly remembered how affectionate Gena had always been, and tried to imagine what she must be thinking! They had listened in on Rain's call, and knew that Polly was probably going to be a big surprise!

Presently they were all seated inside the modest living room of the house, and Gena was patiently introducing the visitors as simply as possible to Helen, who was looking just a little off balance.

"This is Aunty Rain, who used to live with us in Westfield, Mom, and this is Aunty Polly, her mom, who has come, wow, all the way from England! And _this_ , Mom, is Aunty Olive, who is Uncle Jeffrey's Mom, and James's grandma!"

Helen was usually a little hunched, these days, but she was sitting up straight, and listening to the introductions with some interest. She wore glasses, but it was the same Helen, only appearing to have aged rather dramatically. Rain and Polly were seeing the slight hairline scar down her face, from her eyebrow to her lip, which Helen had stopped covering up a long time ago.

"I met Jeffrey last Thanksgiving," Helen said with a smile. "You know I lost my memory! So everyone is a stranger, but . . . _not_ a stranger!" There was the glisten of tears in her eyes, but no tears fell.

Each of the visitors began to realize that they needed to talk quietly and privately to Helen, reestablish a fresh relationship with her. It was impossible, with all of them there, but they could certainly catch up with the children, and they did.

James had given his grandmother a big hug, and proceeded to quiz her about Barbara's little baby, whom James had just seen last year. He was now tall and stringy, like his Nordstrom ancestors, and Jeffrey, too, who was a thin fellow. Alison came close to Rain, who had been a great favorite from when Allie had been a little girl of about four. Rain had fallen in love with all of them, but most of all with Alison, and she hungrily drank in the soft speech of the sweet child, her bright eyes, and her obvious pleasure in seeing Rain again! She remembered how, when she had first met Helen and the children, she had tried to force Helen to grant her some rights to them, that if they were to break up, Helen would not prevent Rain from visiting them. She could never have anticipated when, or why, or in what way she would have to leave the children, but she saw now that they would never, in a million years, forget her, or refuse to shower her with their love. Erin and Gena allowed the younger ones the major share of the visitors' attention, but they focused on Polly, realizing that they were far less likely to see Polly in their home again, than either of Olive or Rain.

"That's Kristen, who's my best friend, and that's Marcus, who's also my best friend!" explained Gena with a mischievous grin, indicating the two tall young people, who were not quite sure what to do. Marcus had slimmed down greatly, but at significantly more than six feet in height, and a healthy 250 pounds in weight, he stood out from among the rest of them. Erin quietly sat on the arm of Polly's chair, and slipped an affectionate arm around her, and smiled.

"So how are _you_ doing, young lady?" Polly asked her, and she got Erin's usual answer: fine! Rain and Alison turned to smile at Erin and Mrs. Woodford. Helen, Krissy and Marcus had slipped away to the kitchen to brew some coffee, when Gena ran after them to tell them, tea, not coffee, and use the special tea that Aunty Sita had found somewhere. Erin and Allie and James had the visitors to themselves.

"You know what?" said Erin quietly, suddenly remembering, "there's this concerto that Mom wrote, back when Isolde was visiting in the old house, in Semple? And Isolde played it, and it was really awesome!"

"Yes, and Auntie Marika and Lisa had gone over, and they brought us a video!" said Allie, excitedly.

"We were there!" said Rain and Polly, together, suddenly interested. "We saw the broadcast on TV about a month later!"

"Did you, now? I had read about that, but I had almost forgotten about it," said Olive. "We waited for something to be shown on TV over here, but it never was. Do you think your aunt might give me a copy of the video, if I ask her nicely?"

"Oh, we have it here . . . I guess we can make you a copy," said Erin, "but she said, it's not supposed to be given to just anybody. But you're special!"

"Yeah, she's our grandma!" said James, who tended to forget that Olive was just _his_ grandma, though Olive, of course, considered herself the grandmother of all of them, even if she didn't throw her weight around.

"Tea for you!" announced Gena, bringing a large tray, while Marcus brought a low table to put it on, and Olive was seconded to pour. Helen had found some old china among the things she had accumulated along the way, or perhaps it was a set that Maryssa had brought from her house, and the two old ladies were presently giving favorable opinions about the tea.

"What were you talking about?" asked Gena.

"Did you know about the concerto?" asked Erin.

" _What_ concerto?"

"Remember that one time, when Isolde was visiting us in the old house, and Mom was writing a concerto for her?"

"Oh, yeah . . ." Gena could barely remember the occasion. She had just arrived from England, and had been jet-lagged rather severely, and barely dragged herself to Isolde's concert, where Isolde had played the Brahms for the very first time in public. "What about it? That was, like four, five years ago. I was still at Ferguson!"

Helen joined them, and she and Marcus found chairs for everyone from around the house.

"We were talking about your concerto," said Rain. Gena and Erin quickly explained to Kristen and Marcus about the discovery of Helen's forgotten composition in Isolde Wells's possession. Gena turned back to Erin, and asked what about the concerto.

"Isolde played it in England, and Auntie Rain and Auntie Polly went to it, and everybody likes it! _I_ liked it, but I forgot about it all this time."

"How come I didn't know about it?"

Erin shrugged. "Don't you listen to the news?" she asked, tongue in cheek. Then Erin reminded them that there was a DVD of it, right on the TV rack.

It was now a little past four, and Helen and Kristen had brought out a few snacks for the visitors. There were always snacks a-plenty in the Nordstrom house, and at Thanksgiving time, the children had revived their habit of keeping snacks ready, just in case visitors showed up.

Olive urged them to play the DVD, since she had not seen the performance, and anyway it had been several months since _anyone_ had seen it. Marcus and Erin connected up the system, and they settled down to watch, and listen. This time they watched from the beginning, to give Olive the full experience.

As they heard the opening notes of the Dvorak concerto, Helen sat up straight, all attention. The Dvorak was a favorite of Olive's, as well as of Erin's. Isolde loved that sweet, self-effacing concerto, so full of comfort and love and romance, and she had given it her all. Olive owned a recording of it played by Helen in her younger days, but Isolde's rendering of it was easily as good; a little less extrovert than Helen's performance, but it was a wonderful work, which could almost never be played badly.

"Marvelous, marvelous," murmured Olive, as the video continued with a Bagatelle, and a Slavonic Dance, with Helen watching intently. From time to time Rain glanced at Helen, fascinated by how much of the old Helen remained, as well as by how much of the old Helen had gone.

The program had been designed beautifully. The Birmingham C.O. had been in good mettle, and Isolde was in great form. This was a recording of the rehearsal, so it was an acoustic that was just a little more 'live' than it would have been the next night, with a full audience.

Finally the title of the last work splashed on screen: _Concerto in D minor for Violin and Orchestra_ , by Helen Nordstrom, performed by the Birmingham Chamber Orchestra, with Isolde Wells.

Olive, Gena, Kristen and Marcus watched, riveted. It was a little more than a half hour of amazing music, some of it pure poetry. Marika had edited out the breaks between the movements, so it was almost a continuous performance with no gaps. At the end, the orchestra and the soloist applauded themselves quite unprofessionally, while the audience in Philadelphia looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Wow," said Gena, looking reverently at her mother. "That was something else, Mom. Wow."

Marcus looked at Helen. " _You_ wrote that?" Helen shrugged, bemused. He still remembered the first time he had heard Helen play the new piano that Maryssa had bought for the home. He had been stunned, having thought, up until then, that Helen was just an actress. And here she was, apparently having composed a really gorgeous concerto.

Kristen and Gena, too, looked unusually thoughtful.

"What did the papers say?" Gena asked. Polly said that the response of the British music critics had been favorable in the extreme, both for the performance, and the work. _She, Gena,_ thought the work was good enough to join the Mendelssohn, the Beethoven, the Brahms, the Tchaikovsky, the Sibelius, all the wondrous concertos Gena knew and loved. She felt, in fact, that it was superior to all of them, but of course she was biased. She walked over to her mother and gave her a soft embrace. "You're awesome, Mom!" she said.

But Helen was strangely preoccupied. "Some of that was familiar," she said, very softly.

" _Familiar?_ What was familiar?"

"The . . . the very first one . . . I remember hearing that somewhere!"

"The Dvorak?"

Yes, it was the Dvorak. After Helen had been quizzed closely, she confirmed that the Dvorak concerto had brought back a few vague memories, but she could not be sure.

Finally, after the entire thing had been given a detailed post-mortem, it was time to leave. Olive had enjoyed herself thoroughly, and forgiving person that she was, had insisted that she should be allowed to visit whenever she pleased, to keep an eye on her grandchildren, to which Helen agreed with a shy smile. It had been a long time since Olive had deplored the fact that Helen would not be her daughter-in-law. Olive had introduced Helen to her gang as her _un_ -daughter-in-law, to polite laughter.

Polly had been happy to see the kids, and to see how they had grown in the last few years, as young kids tend to do. They still loved her, and remembered her, and their love for Evelyn was clearly undiminished, and they showered her with affection. She was so grateful that she had insisted on visiting Helen and her family. As far as Polly was concerned, the American visit was a roaring success, though it was painful to see Helen, so quiet, so unsure of herself, so off-balance with visitors she could not recognize.

By the time Elly arrived, the visitors had left, eager to get back to Maryland before dark.

# Cindy

## Ferguson

Elly had promised to return to Ferguson, to her mother, for the weekend after Thanksgiving. It was a jolly group that gathered in Ferguson: Janet, Elly, Little John, Grandma Elly, Annie, Morgan, and Cindy. They discussed Helen's painfully slow progress after the surgery, and how she had responded to the video of the performance, and commiserated together.

Some of them had not been down to Philadelphia after Helen had been discharged and sent back home, because it seemed as if it would be too much trouble for Maryssa to play host to them all. And now, it appeared, Maryssa had gotten married to her boyfriend Larry, and more, had gotten pregnant as well. None of them had imagined _that_ would _ever_ have happened, but it had.

Once the visitors had left, only Janet and Cindy remained in the expanded cottage called 'The Old Ferguson Place.' Once Tommy (Old Elly's daughter, and Janet's half-sister), had graduated, she had moved to the West Coast with her girlfriend April, and no one seemed to know what she was doing. Annie and Grandma Elly lived in the Nordstrom farm, in Kansas, and Little John was still in College, finishing up.

Cindy and Grandma Elly had a quiet discussion, and Cindy told old Elly that she had neglected Helen for too long. "I just need to see how this new arrangement with Maryssa works out; and then I should go down there, and help with the kids."

"You don't need to help every mother in the world with her kids, Cindy." Old Elly was reluctant to have Cindy subject herself once again to the mercies of the notoriously fickle Helen.

Cindy looked into Elly's eyes. "You didn't know, did you?"

"Know what?" asked Elly, though she could guess.

"I was so in love with Helen, that . . . I'm still not sure how I have been able to live out here for so long." She struggled with her breathing. "I wanted to leave her free to . . . go with whomever she wanted to, and I couldn't compete with anyone. I just can't compete. I can't."

Cindy had also been very fond of Maryssa, and had been fond of Helen's numerous girlfriends, and that was part of the problem; she encouraged each of them as hard as she could, hoping desperately that each new girlfriend would be the one who finally made Helen kick her promiscuity infection, and settle down with monogamy. Maryssa had been the last horse Cindy had bet on, but it seemed that she had lost again.

Elly pulled Cindy into a big hug. There was nothing she could safely say. Helen was a lovely girl, but . . . Cindy deserved better than to have Helen break her heart once again.

Little Elly had brought a bootleg copy of the concerto with her, to leave with Janet and Cindy. They had all listened to it, and marveled at how exciting and polished Helen's concerto was, and how tragic it was that Helen could neither remember having written it, nor appreciate its quality.

## Violin

Erin, Alison, and James were now seriously learning violin, and Elly was their instructor. Elly was an excellent teacher, and already Erin and Alison were amazingly good. They were talented, and they adored Elly, and would practice harder and for longer for her than they would for anyone else. Some months earlier, Helen had wanted to try and learn violin, having mastered the guitar fairly quickly. She joined the group violin lessons, and had quickly gotten to be better than James. But then James and Helen had started a rivalry, and they both progressed quite fast, but didn't catch up with the older children, who were too far ahead, and too immersed in the violin culture to be easy to surpass.

A couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, as the school holiday break was approaching, Erin confided to Elly that she wanted to learn to play Mama's concerto. (Helen herself had not been much excited by the concerto, though she knew that her former self had composed it. But the act of composition was not quite real to Helen, and she had not expressed an interest in the concerto. Alison, too, did not aspire to play concertos, though Elly could guess that if Erin started playing concertos, Allie would soon follow.)

One day, Elly called Ferguson, hoping to get her mother, but she wasn't at home, and Cindy answered.

"Well, guess what!"

Cindy's voice had a smile in it. She had been the surrogate mother to Little Elly, Tommy, Gena and Allie when they had all attended Ferguson (except Allie, who had been too young), and Janet had been a new principal of the school, and too busy to be a full-time mother, and did not have time to be the 'warden' of the little dormitory that the house had turned into!

"I can't even guess! How's the viola coming along?"

"Oh, Aunt Cindy, you're hopeless! I play for the Impromptu, and another chamber orchestra, didn't you know?"

"Oh, that's right! Oh Elly; you guys are growing up too fast!"

"You know I'm the one who's taken over the violin lessons for the kids, right?"

"Oh, no, I hadn't quite picked up on that! Good for you. You can do it, Elly; you have a good ear, and they would listen to you."

"They do! Well, Erin is really awesome, and Allie is pretty good, too."

"Yes; I remember that Erin was pretty unstoppable!" It had been Cindy who had taught Erin when Gena, Elly and Allie were living with Janet.

"Well, she wants to play Helen's concerto! What do you think of that?"

Cindy thought that over. "You know, Elly, it isn't too difficult, really. It's time that child tried something a little beyond her—you know—comfort zone." Elly was pleased; her hope was that Cindy would consider moving to Philadelphia and taking over the violin instruction of the little ones. Elly was good, but Cindy was actually an amazing violin teacher, and the musical achievements of Elly, Tommy and Erin were due to Cindy's instruction. In fact, it had been Cindy who had first taught Helen herself.

Just then Janet arrived back home, and Elly talked to her mother.

## Erin learns to Drive

Erin's sixteenth birthday came and went, and Helen helped her celebrate modestly, and Erin's thoughts turned to getting a driving license. Helen had a license, though she knew she ought not to use it, and didn't like to drive anyway. As soon as Lalitha and company learned that Erin was interested, with their usual enthusiasm, especially Trish, they said they would take Erin out to learn to drive. Erin's school did not offer the service, but Erin preferred to learn from Aunt Lalitha and company, anyway.

Erin was not the greatest driver, but she was careful and steady, and paid attention. She had a preliminary license very soon, and now she needed to get a car. At this point, the family had an ancient minivan, a gas-guzzler, which Erin did not mind driving, but everyone agreed, over Christmas, that they had to get rid of it.

Maryssa and Larry visited for Christmas, and they were all amazed at how wonderful Maryssa looked. In the late stages of pregnancy, she had put on weight, and her eyes were bright, and she hugged Helen fondly, and presented Larry with great pride. If Helen had hoped that Maryssa would have had enough of married life, she was disappointed, but by now she knew enough to keep her face under control, and Maryssa could tell that Helen missed her, but not _that_ much. The house was a little untidy, but they did seem to be managing fine; Erin and Allie had taken up the slack, and though Alison and Erin seemed a tiny bit reproachful at Maryssa's defection, they took it with good humor.

Mr. Kemp was a little bashful, but clearly Maryssa had given him enormous confidence. They had brought one of the cousins with them, who was even more shy than Larry had ever been, and sat in as dark a corner as she could find, and read a magazine.

To their excitement, Larry offered to buy the minivan off them, provided he was allowed to pay for it in installments, which was fine by Helen and the kids.

Maryssa, of course, renewed her acquaintance with the dog Lita with great pleasure, and the visitors departed, promising to visit again, maybe once the baby was born.

David Powers, the veterinary surgeon—and Amy's husband, incidentally—owned an old station wagon, which he offered the Nordstroms, and one weekend, Erin, Trish and Helen headed up to Westfield, visited the Powers, including little Ruth, who was now old enough to go to preschool, and visited with Lita's pups, who were not fully grown, and who danced around Helen and Erin in mad excitement. Then Helen had a glimpse of a memory, of a lovely white dog with her newborn pups, thirstily lapping up water from a bowl!

"It was a thunderstorm, and . . . I guess it was Lita, and I remember the puppies!"

"Yes, you called and told Gena about it! That's so funny, of all things to remember that!"

"I guess I took it really big. Oh, I can hardly wait to get back, and give that dog a big hug!"

"She's a great dog, Mom."

"She certainly is," agreed Helen.

"Mom, Elly is going to teach me to play your concerto!"

"Oh." As far as Helen was concerned, Erin could play anything; and she wasn't far wrong. She only needed a little guidance and support. Helen made a token show of uncertainty. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Well, I'm going to try, and . . ."

Helen nodded quickly; Erin wasn't such an expert as to be able to glance at a score and say that it was too difficult.

## Company

"You probably don't remember me, Helen," said Cindy over the phone, "but I knew you a long time ago! I would really like to see you again, and see the kids, and see your apartment! I've neglected you too long!"

Helen suppressed a sigh.

"You know I've lost my memory, right?"

"Yes, I know. Has nothing come back?"

"You know what? Just last week I remembered seeing my dog, Lita, and her pups! Funny you should mention that! Of all the things I could be remembering . . . Anyway, so far, that's all."

"Oh, it's so nice to hear your voice!"

"Oh . . . are you a friend of Gena, or Lalitha . . ."

"Er . . . I know them all, but . . ."

"Do you live in Westfield?"

"No, dear; I live in Minnesota, in Ferguson. Do you remember living in Ferguson, near St. Paul?"

"Crystal! Are you Crystal?"

"No, no, no; I'm from . . . your college days, in Ohio! I . . . we met on the Internet . . ."

"Uh huh."

"And . . ." Cindy decided not to bring up the amnesia motif; it must be hard enough for Helen, thinking that her amnesia was already so much of a problem for her friends and family. "Er, I was just . . . visiting in Ohio, and then I thought I'd take you to see my folks in St. Paul, and that's when you discovered Marika, and Ingrid, and Heikki, and your grandmother Kuikkonen! Now, I just sort of keep house for Janet, but there isn't anybody here, since Elly came to Philadelphia. I used to look after Gena and the kids when they were in grade school. _That's_ who I am!"

"Oh! So . . . it's going to be quite a long trip for you!"

"Yes, but that's OK, dear. I really want to see you. I should have gone up to Seattle, when you were in hospital, but so many others were going, I guess I thought, what's the use, you'd be so busy trying to figure out who _they_ were, and I . . . you didn't need to recognize me; Maryssa and the kids were more important, really."

"Maryssa got married to Larry, Larry Kemp, and she moved in with him." Helen sounded perfectly matter-of-fact saying that, though Cindy imagined that Helen was deeply unhappy with that turn of events.

"Are you doing OK, with just the children?"

"Oh, sure; everything is fine, and I work at the Instrument factory, and I'm going to be starting work at the library next week."

"All right, then! I'll get my tickets, and then I'll call you back!"

A few years ago, Cindy would have given up the idea of the visit, since it wasn't clear whether Helen was actually comfortable with the idea. But Cindy was tired of being so tentative; Helen wasn't able to handle delicate psychological matters, such as making sure she didn't get her signals confused. Only Cindy knew that there was a likelihood that Cindy could improve the situation in a number of different ways, and further, she wanted to assess Helen's mental state at close hand. If she had to, Cindy could always fly back to Ferguson.

Cindy's Story

Cindy had been a nun. At the time that Helen was a sophomore in college, Cindy had flown to Columbus for a convention, but had been kidnapped at the airport, and forced to be a prostitute for two years. Somehow when she regained consciousness after her abductor had taken her to his apartment, she had lost all memory of her life. Quite by accident, she had made the acquaintance—over the Internet—of Helen. Helen had put a lot of energy into finding where Cindy had been incarcerated, had gone looking for her, and when an opportunity arose, she had grabbed Cindy and brought her away, and helped her reconnect with her family, and her order, which both were anxious to have her back. But deeply troubled by her experiences, after Cindy had recovered her memory, she had left the order, and come to live with Helen. She was, in fact, an excellent string teacher—she taught violin, viola and cello to young people in the St. Paul area—and gave Helen her first serious tutoring in string technique, which ultimately put Helen on the path to becoming a violinist and conductor. (All this is recounted in _Helen Backstory: Lisa, Cindy and the Violin._ )

Helen and Cindy had become very close, and their relationship had been briefly physical. Helen had been very promiscuous at that time, and Cindy had instinctively realized that Helen had to unravel her emotional entanglements by herself, and becoming yet another girlfriend of the young woman was just going to make things harder for Helen.

As it happened, things did get very difficult for Helen, and to top it all, as we know, some two years later, Helen fell in love with Lalitha, and followed her back to India in a futile effort to prevent her from marrying a drunkard she did not at all like, and Helen ended up living in India for close to ten years, gradually forgetting what had brought her there ( _Helen & Lalitha: The Lost Years_).

Later, Cindy had drifted into the role of a sort of family friend-cum-housekeeper-cum-nanny for close to 12 years, frequently filling in as a violist or cellist in small orchestras in Minnesota, Ohio and Illinois. Cindy had also taken charge of Helen for a while when she had amnesia in her twenties, upon returning from India.

## Cindy in Philadelphia

Because the Nordstrom concerto was so new, there were no "music-minus-1" records with which Erin could play along, nor was a piano reduction freely available, so Elly wondered how to help Erin learn the concerto.

Meanwhile, after a great struggle, Marika and Lisa were able to clear the rights to publish an audio record of the concert, which started selling slowly. Around Christmas, the video of the actual concert was shown on PBS in the US, but of the children, only Erin was interested in it.

Cindy arrived during a cold spell in January, and was brought from the airport by Trish and Sita. Cindy had brought with her a cello, which they loaded into the trunk, and Cindy had to share her seat with her bag and her violin and viola; she had come prepared for a long stay. Once they arrived at the house in which Helen lived with the younger children, Cindy was introduced to Helen, who greeted her with greater warmth than she had greeted anyone else, of late.

Seeing Helen was a shock for Cindy. Having known Helen for decades, Cindy had seen her change, first from being a brilliant young teenager who could apparently pick up and do almost anything, to be a solemn, earnest, almost dull woman, practically a hermit, when she had returned from India; then, as she suddenly regained her memory that first time, Helen had acquired the two girls, Gena and Allie, and she had become a good mother to them; then Nadia had fired her up with the desire to research on the project which had earned her a doctorate. Over the next few years, Helen had matured, and become a charismatic performer, conductor, and professor; utterly fearless, with enormous powers of persuasion. Her fame had spread so wide, that she had been invited to conduct the combined bands of the armed forces two years in a row, and become more famous than she had already been. When that fell apart, because of that silly movie that Helen had produced and acted in, Helen had still had the mental fortitude to fight against her circumstances. Even when Cindy had visited Helen and Maryssa at Primrose for Christmas a couple of years ago, Helen was successfully forging herself, the kids, and Maryssa into a wonderful family. But Cindy was seeing Helen for the first time after the amnesia, and what she was seeing was a stranger.

After talking with Helen for a while, Cindy had to admit that Helen seemed to be have retained some of the graciousness that had been a hallmark of her personality at its height. She was definitely not the great confident conductor, but only a private citizen. Cindy had worried that she would face a passively hostile reception; that did not happen. Helen had a nice room ready for her, and Lita seemed happy to meet her, and the girls seemed to be delighted to have Cindy with them.

"Will you have a lot of jet-lag?" asked Helen, when they were sitting quietly after Cindy had been settled in.

"I don't think so; it's just one hour, really."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. What time do you all go to bed?"

"Oh . . . er . . ."

"Nine thirty," said Allie. "Mom is fast asleep by ten!"

"Mom, did you know? Aunt Cindy taught us violin when we were in Ferguson!"

Helen's eyes widened, and she turned to smile indulgently with Cindy. "I've taken a few lessons with Elly, who's the family violin instructor! I'm not very good, but I'm getting better!"

"Wonderful! You must all show me what you can do, sometime when you're ready!"

"And James plays too!"

"Nah, I c'n just play a li'l bit!" said James, anxious to make his excuses before he was embarrassed. In fact, he played as well as anyone who had taken lessons for a couple of years. It was just that _everyone else,_ with the exception of his mother, were _amazingly good._

James was losing a little of his tendency to swoon over pretty young women, and his tastes were broadening! And now Helen watched him appraising aunt Cindy, who was a lot older than she appeared, and clearly looking upon her with favor. And Cindy was quite aware of his appraisal, and fortunately thought it was more amusing than insulting. (Cindy was in her mid-fifties, but looked no older than Helen.)

"When you're ready, I'll tell you a little about how we met," said Cindy, thoughtfully. "It was exciting for me . . . and for you, too, I remember! But it was so long ago, it really doesn't matter! Oh, it's so good to see you again, and especially the kids! They're coming along _so_ well! When is Elly going to be back? I should find out how they're doing with violin while she's here."

"Why? I can get them down in a second! Shall I?"

"No, that would be a little disrespectful to Elly, I think. These must be the first students that she's taught, and it just seems wrong to quiz them when she's not here!"

Helen's eyes were wide with comprehension. There were professional courtesies to be observed, she understood then. She nodded slowly.

"She got me started, too! Oh, you know what? One time I was cleaning the bathtub, and I suddenly remembered a song! I had completely forgotten that I had remembered it!" Helen thought that was funny, and burst into laughter. "I have been playing, like, pop music, mostly, on the violin, when nobody was listening! But the Dvorak piece was so lovely, I think I _would_ like to learn a little of it, some day . . ."

Cindy frowned at Helen, suddenly interested.

" _What_ Dvorak piece? 'From the New World'?"

" ' _From the new world'?_ I've never heard of that!"

"Well, Helen, tell me exactly _which_ Dvorak tune has caught your fancy so much? Was it something you heard recently?"

"See, Marika—you know Marika? She's, like, my cousin, I believe . . ."

"Yes, very well. I went to school with her oldest sister; we grew up together."

"Oh, really? Well, she went out to somewhere in England . . . Birmingham? . . . something like that, and videotaped the whole concert, and made a video for us. And we played it when Rain and Mrs. Woodford, and Olive were here at Thanksgiving, and it was right there; the very first song in the video, played by Isolde Wells. You want to see?"

"Oh, the Dvorak _concerto._ I understand!"

Cindy was a little tired from the flight, but the Video of Isolde's concert was too much of a temptation.

Helen quickly got the system ready, and got the video playing, and Cindy watched. The kids would be down as soon as they heard the video. The opening menu was simple and brief, and they chose to watch the entire video.

_Dvorak Violin Concerto in A minor_ , the title flashed across the scene briefly, and Isolde walked onto the stage. There was brief applause, and the striking initial phrase of the piece sounded, and Cindy recalled, once again, what a great work it was. She glanced at Helen, and saw that she was riveted. "That one! _That's_ the piece I remember," Helen clarified, though Cindy had figured this out. "I remember that from somewhere . . ." Cindy nodded, as she watched.

Soon the girls came downstairs, followed by James, and they watched together. Cindy could see that the kids were interested. She couldn't know that with each viewing of the video, they were getting to like this piece a little more.

There followed the Bagatelle, arranged for orchestra, then a Slavonic Dance, and finally, the Nordstrom Concerto.

When Cindy had first met Helen, the young woman was already deep into music theory and structure, and they had had long discussions about particular works that they each liked. But Cindy had only had the basic training in music theory that performing specialists were given in Cindy's school days; whatever theory she had picked up since then were all in service to string performance technique.

Cindy had already heard the concerto once through, back in St. Paul. A few minutes into the work, however, Cindy was aware that, from the structural point of view, the piece was flawless. As soon as she heard a phrase, shortly afterwards it was clear that it _had to be_ that phrase. After hearing an entire section, similarly, it seemed as though there really wasn't an alternative except for that section to be that way. Cindy glanced around at the kids, and Allie had her eyes narrowed, and Cindy could almost bet that Allie was getting her little nine-year-old head around the large-scale structure of the work. She could not guess at all what was going through Helen's mind; it seemed that Helen was still digesting the impact of the Dvorak concerto.

The piece hurtled on to its very satisfying conclusion, and Cindy took a deep breath. The Concerto was even better, on a second hearing, than she had thought it had been at first.

"Oh, my!" Cindy couldn't think of what to say. On top of the fact that it was a lovely piece of music, there was also the fact that _Helen had written it,_ which was almost too much to take in; and there was the further fact that Helen seemed unable to appreciate the work, now, the way it should be appreciated. "Helen, after hearing it just a couple of times, I think this is a lovely concerto. It really is, and I have a hunch that lots of violinists are going to ask for permission to play it!"

Helen looked very pleased. "Actually, Becky—you know Becky? Becky keeps track of those things, and she said there have been, like, I think six or seven requests already! I guess they have to pay, like a few dollars, or something! That's so strange!"

Cindy smiled. "Well, if they make money from the concerts, it's probably only fair that they should give you a little of it!"

"Oh, I guess that's true!"

## Cindy Visits the Workshop

The following morning, after the kids had headed off to school, Cindy and Helen were alone, tidying up, and Helen showed the little former nun how the housekeeping was organized. Cindy had promised to help with that, but she quickly saw that Helen had things well in hand.

Lita had been given her breakfast, and they decided to take the dog on a walk, to show Cindy the neighborhood. Helen had equipment to clean up behind Lita. As soon as the leash was taken out, Lita's tail showed no signs of stopping its wagging, and she looked at Helen with great approval, and sent an occasional smile Cindy's way as well. Cindy was more of a cat person, but this dog had a lot of charm.

They took turns holding the leash, but Lita was amazingly well-behaved, and did not take a lot of energy to walk.

As they walked, Cindy quietly told Helen how they had first met, some twenty-five years ago. Back then, the Internet was new, and more text-based, though of course photographs could be freely exchanged. They had met in a _chat room._ Cindy could not remember why either of them had visited that particular chat room. She described how Helen had helped 'spring' Cindy from her pimp's possession—actually, the man had been gunned down by some third party—and Helen had whisked Cindy off to her little cottage, given her clothes to wear, food to eat, and in her own way, all the love that Cindy needed to feel human again.

Cindy did not reveal that she had eventually fallen madly in love with Helen. Helen had been the spitting image of the girl with whom Cindy had had her first crazy, illicit love affair: Ingrid.

Helen looked flushed and embarrassed, but said nothing, but only looked seriously at Cindy. It was difficult to talk about these matters while walking along the street, and there were lots of interruptions as they tried not to be overheard.

They arrived at the workshop—a small factory, really—and Cindy studied the setup. It was very similar to the workshop at the college in Ohio, where Helen had spent much of her time supervising students who were taking instrument-manufacture as a course for credit. Cindy had put in half an hour here, and an hour there, when some minor bit of work needed to be done while the student whose responsibility it was had to be away somewhere.

All the while, while Helen and Cindy had been talking and walking to the workshop with the dog Lita, and in the workshop, as Cindy watched Helen working on a guitar, and talking to Lalitha and Sita, and as they walked back, Cindy felt once again the fierce attraction to Helen that she had first felt as soon as her memory returned, more than twenty years ago, as soon as she remembered her love Ingrid, and realized that she knew what it felt like to be physically attracted to a woman. Very quickly, she had realized back then that she could not have an _exclusive_ relationship with Helen; at that time, there had been far too many others Helen needed to comfort.

Now, Helen had nobody—except the children. She was surrounded by lovely women, but none of them seemed to want to take the next step, to become a life-partner with this woman with whom hundreds—even thousands—had been madly in love at one time. But this was a very different Helen.

They had a simple lunch that Trish had prepared: sandwiches. A bowl with her kibbles was set out for Lita. Though she was nominally the owner of the workshop, Helen put in a full four hours, after which Helen, Cindy and Lita headed back on foot to the big rented home in which Helen lived.

"When is Elly coming round? I want to see her so much!" Cindy said, when they had arrived back in the house.

Helen's face glowed with a smile. The big grin with which Helen had greeted any pleasant prospect mere months before, had given place to this more restrained expression of pleasure, but of course Cindy didn't know that.

"This evening! She'll come by for supper, and then the kids will have their lessons. And Lita sits and watches! Don't you, girl?" Lita wagged her tail, her attention still on the smells drifting into the back yard.

## Cindy Checks out the Violin Lessons

Around 5:00, Elly arrived, and Erin, Allie, James, and Helen, all came down with their instruments for their lesson with Elly. Cindy was seated with them with her own violin, wearing a happy smile, and they were going through their exercises with Elly, while Cindy observed them closely. Elly and Cindy had talked things over, and this was the least disruptive way to check on their progress.

They went smoothly through the exercises, with the older girls not trying very hard, but Helen and James were not yet at the point where they could play these without thinking at all. Cindy observed that their intonation was so good that they sounded like an excellent orchestra.

As they went through increasingly more difficult exercises James and Helen had to work harder, but Helen managed not to appear embarrassed as she had to concentrate harder.

"Would you like to play a little solo, to show Aunt Cindy more of what you can do?" Erin nodded, and Allie shrugged, with a blush, while James said _Oh man,_ under his breath, and Helen encouraged him, saying he could do it. The next exercise was perfect to show off their skill; it broke evenly into four sections. Erin played the first sentence, which was about sixteen bars. Then Allie played the next; it was a textbook performance, with Allie's special warm tone, which she had learned from Elly herself. Helen, a few years ago had not liked that style of playing, but _this_ Helen had no opinions about it; she thought Allie played beautifully! Elly nodded her approval, and so did Cindy. Then it was James's turn, and he played the next sentence beautifully, with a simple, sweet tone, accurate but unpretentious. Helen seamlessly took it over, and played the last section, sounding just like James, but with a little more control, appropriate to her age and strength, which brought the exercise to a close.

Elly and Cindy gave their approval, and Cindy could find no fault with how Elly had trained the group, and she showed with her expression just how pleased she was.

They continued, with some chorus pieces, and some solo pieces, of increasingly greater difficulty level, until they reached the limit of what James and Helen could do. Helen played the tune she had been working on most recently, after which James played one of his assignments, quite well, and they would usually be allowed to leave at this point, except that Helen always stayed to listen, and James decided to stay as well, carefully starting to put away his violin and bow. Cindy talked to Elly about adjusting the bow tension for both of these two; James needed a little less tension, and Helen needed a tiny bit more, she said. The bows were adjusted accordingly.

Allie had learned a lovely piece, which Elly accompanied on the piano (after a little tuning up), and they applauded after it was over. Finally, Erin played a movement of a sonata, which they applauded as well, and Cindy told Elly how beautifully they had played.

"Wonderful! Elly, you have a special talent! I'll talk to you privately about teaching string players in general, but with these young people, and with Helen, no one could have done much better, honestly!"

"What are you going to tell her, Aunt Cindy? Come on, tell us!" said Allie, and the others immediately began to clamor to demand that Cindy should not give a secret report to Elly!

Cindy laughed. "Oh, you people! No, I was going to tell Elly that . . . it was easy to teach students who were naturally talented. Typical students are a whole different matter, so that if Elly were to take students to whom violin did not come naturally, it would take longer, and she shouldn't be discouraged if good results did not come so quickly! Satisfied?"

"Oh. Is _that_ all?" said James, smiling charmingly.

James and Allie ran off to meet up with their buddies from the neighborhood, leaving Erin, Helen, Elly and Cindy to talk. "James needs a full size, Elly. Allie can stay with her three-quarter size a little longer."

"Really? I didn't look at that problem."

"We can go look for a violin sometime when you and Helen are free."

Elly took a deep breath. " _I_ could use a little help, first of all. Then, Aunt Helen is interested in the Dvorak; then Erin wants to learn the new concerto. I've got the piano reduction for the Dvorak, but nothing for the—Nordstrom Concerto," said Elly, with a comical grin. "The Dvorak has some double-stopping that could be too challenging for Aunt Helen."

Erin suddenly interjected that she thought there was a way to get a piano reduction for Helen's concerto, if Helen had used the software that Erin was familiar with. Helen looked alarmed, and said she didn't know, but Elly and Erin were fairly sure that between them, they could figure it out.

"Hey, in fact, I think I can make an orchestra version to play along with! Ooo, ooo, ooo! Why didn't I think of it earlier??" said Erin, excitedly. (She had forgotten, but she had done exactly that, back when the concerto was first being written.)

Helen asked Erin to run upstairs and fetch the computer, which she did, and booted it up with a little difficulty, since Helen had to try and remember the password, and then, within a few minutes, Erin showed them how to get the orchestral accompaniment playing, without the solo line. Cindy was impressed, and so was Helen. Playing with the new concerto was postponed for the next day, and everyone was shooed off except Elly, with whom Cindy spent a half-hour rehearsing the piece that Elly was learning just then.

Elly stayed for dinner, and then went off home, and they all went to bed, after briefly discussing what was going on in the _Galaxy_ show of late.

The following morning, after the kids had been safely sent off to school, and Helen had called in to say she would be a little late for work, Cindy and Helen sat down with the music to the Dvorak Concerto.

By the end of the half-hour, Helen had made a little progress, though her expectation had been that she would have been able to learn the whole movement in one lesson, which was clearly impossible for Helen. But Cindy had the knack of encouraging Helen. When Helen had been still in college, her expectations had been much more reasonable, but having learned the trick of encouraging Helen in her youth, Cindy found it not too difficult with the adult Helen. "I think you'll pick it up within a week or two, but Helen, this is a _concerto_ , and they have to be played well!" Helen agreed at once, and they put the music away and headed out to the instrument factory.

## The New Baby!

A few days later, Maryssa and Larry and an older female cousin arrived at the house in Newberry, to show off the baby. Cindy greeted Maryssa warmly; though she was somewhat disappointed that the latter had chosen Larry over Helen, but she was careful not to indicate that to Maryssa.

The baby was a delicate little girl, with beautiful green eyes. Maryssa had put on a great deal of weight during the pregnancy, and still had not lost it all. Helen was delighted with the baby, which was a constant throughout her life, for anyone who had known her. Cindy had watched Helen regard babies with undisguised longing, and so had Maryssa, and Helen was cooing at this baby just as always. But the birth put to rest one of Maryssa's beliefs, namely that she was barren. It was a perfectly normal little girl, though she seemed to regard the strangers with some reserve.

# Sophie

All through the early Spring, Sophie Cocteau mulled over the problem of reacquainting herself with Helen Nordstrom, whom she had been very fond of at one time, back when Helen had first started working at Westfield.

Sophie was only vaguely aware of Helen's various emotional entanglements since Sophie had given up on keeping track of them, but in any case, she was so fond of Helen that she would have forgiven her almost anything. When the Spring training season was approaching, which meant that Sophie was going to be shortly very busy indeed, she headed up to Philadelphia, to find Helen.

Sophie first went to the house Helen had rented as a graduate student, and had subsequently bought. Helen and family no longer lived there, but Lalitha and her family did.

"I'm Sophie," she said to the two sisters and Trish, who were usually willing to set aside their instrument-crafting work to deal with anything concerning Helen.

"I do remember you," said Lalitha, with a smile. "The tennis player!"

"Oh, er, yes!"

"Such a sad thing, about Helen . . ." Lalitha began.

Sophie's expression quickly became grave. "How is she? Is she hopeless? Can't she recognize _anybody?_ Not even Elly, or . . ."

Trish, who had been looking out the window of the workshop interrupted them: "Oh, there's Lita . . . Helen just came in," she said. "I'll go back and keep her distracted; you girls talk!"

Sophie nodded. "I want to plan out with you what I should do first; I don't have any ideas yet!"

Sita, most of all, knew how various strategies had been tried, and had failed. She recounted in detail, what had happened to Helen since she was released from hospital. "We thought that seeing the kids would trigger something, but . . . nothing happened. We thought coming to Philly would work, but . . . nothing. Working at the instrument shop; _that_ didn't work, either. We thought hearing the Concerto would ring a bell, but . . ."

"Some special concerto, right? Maybe a favorite one?"

"No, no; we recently learned that Helen had _composed_ a concerto!"

"Oh, yes, yes; I heard about that! But . . . nothing?"

Both sisters shook their heads. Even playing the guitar, playing the violin, visiting the farm in Kansas, nothing had worked. Visiting the house in Westfield had triggered a memory of the dog Lita and her puppies, so _that_ was a bit of progress. They had shown Helen the movies she had made at Galaxy Studios: _Helga,_ and then one of the summer Galaxy features, but they had not triggered any memories either.

Sophie was thoroughly downcast, and Lalitha and Sita could see it.

"All we had in common was . . . well, apart from I loved her like crazy, and I still do! Then there was tennis, of course, but that . . ."

" _Tennis!_ You know, Helen took Cindy ice skating, and that's what did the trick for Cindy!"

"What trick? Cindy? Ferguson Cindy?"

"Yeah! She had amnesia at one time; long before we knew Helen, when she was a sophomore, they said. And Helen kept her at the Little House, and one day they went skating, and it turned out Cindy had been a good skater, and she began to remember! So, I guess something physical, like tennis, _could_ work!"

"Was Helen any good at the game?" asked Sita, softly.

"Helen? Are you kidding? She beat me, not once, several times! She was _my coach_ sometimes, did you know?"

"Helen?"

"Oh yes! One time, just before the Frankfurt quarter-finals, my Russian coach got mad, and quit. I was totally upset, but Helen took me out to the practice courts, and began hitting with me. She had learned from one of the biggest tennis pros in the world, you know, and she is a natural! I brought a ball machine to Westfield, one time, and they gave us a court, and she whacked those balls, smash, smash, smash! You know, she was world class! That was then. Now . . . who knows?"

## Tennis

They went out to where Helen was putting away her things. "Helen, there's an old friend here to see you!" they announced, bringing Sophie forward, and Sophie saw Helen for the first time in years, and bravely controlled her look of dismay at Helen's appearance. Though Helen looked a lot better than she had looked after the surgery, compared to the Helen that Sophie remembered, she looked a mere shadow of herself. But Helen greeted Sophie with apparent pleasure, which increased to great interest when Sophie said that she had been a professional tennis player on the women's circuit just a couple of years before.

"Tennis! I'd really like to learn that game sometime!" she said wistfully.

"Helen, you do so many things, don't feel you need to learn tennis on top of all that!" said Lalitha, a little archly. The last thing they wanted was to shatter Helen's rather frail self-esteem.

"But, you know, everyone should learn a little tennis, _I_ think. I was thinking of taking a room nearby, and visiting with you, find out what you have been doing, but we can go to a little tennis court somewhere, and I could show you the basics!"

Of course, they weren't going to allow Sophie to get a room in a hotel; she was invited to stay with Lalitha and family right there. They moved Sophie's bags in. While Helen started a task that allowed her to talk with Sophie, they sat and chatted.

At the time at which Helen usually headed back home, Sophie learned that Cindy was staying with Helen, and said she would like to renew her acquaintance with Cindy, and she walked home with Helen. Even if Helen did not recover all of her tennis skills, Sophie thought, it was probably time for Helen to start taking her exercise regimen seriously. She looked hunched, and her limbs moved any old how, not with the tight perfection with which Helen used to walk and move.

"I was thinking of doing some body building," Helen said without prompting. "I have this machine in the basement, and it's for body building." She blushed. "I used to be pretty good at fighting and stuff," she confided to Sophie. "I was in this one movie, and it was a lot of martial arts!"

"Oh, yes, _Helga!_ Helen, you were fabulous in that one! I was going to come and see you, and say how great you had been in that, but, you know, there was Amy, and you had gone to Philadelphia, and I thought, you know . . . better to do it another time."

"I guess so . . . Amy was telling me that . . . a lot of stuff was going on at that time, but . . . I can't remember any of it, Sophie. It is something I'm finding sadder each day. I had thought, at one time, that all the things I had forgot, was unpleasant stuff. But I'm beginning to understand that some of those things were . . . things I would really want to remember!"

"It is always a mixture, Cherie . . . there was a lot of good, and also a lot of bad. There were people you loved very much, and who . . . probably . . ."

"Yeah, they want the old Helen back, but . . . I don't know . . ."

Sophie made a quick decision. She did not want Helen to think that she should make the effort to regain her memory _on behalf of her friends._ "Don't worry, Helen! You don't owe it to anybody, you know? Just do it for yourself. Like, you know, driving. It will be so useful!"

It was apparently just the right idea. Helen turned to Sophie and flashed her a relieved smile, and chuckled.

Cindy and Sophie had not been very close, but they knew each other well. Sophie was made welcome, and inspected the house, and gave her approval, especially of the large backyard, of which Lita gave her a tour. Cindy was glad to renew her acquaintance with Sophie, who agreed to stay to supper, and when the kids came back in from school, Alison was pleased to see Sophie. As with any visitor, they made Sophie comfortable, and James waggled his eyebrows with Helen, expressing approval of Sophie, who had been described as a babe in her time. (In fact, Helen's students had referred to her as Sophie the Legs, much to Helen's indignation.)

"I have not heard this concerto," Sophie said, and Cindy and Helen said that they had a DVD of it, and Sophie would be shown it soon. But, Helen said, the main objective for the next several days would be to learn the basics of tennis. Cindy's eyes opened wide, and she expressed support, seeing at once what the underlying hope was.

## On the Courts

That evening, Sophie and the girls had helped Helen to locate her tennis gear from where it had been stowed away, and Helen was pleased with the smart Tennis clothes she owned, though she declared that it could be embarrassing to wear fabulous outfits and play like a beginner! Allie had called up Gena, and told her that Sophie was visiting, and that they were trying to get Helen on the courts, and Gena had asked to speak to Helen, and sworn to her that Helen would pick it up, no problem. In any case, Gena said, anyone could learn tennis; it was that easy!

When Helen and Sophie headed out looking for courts at which they could practice, Helen had been filled up with great encouragement, and sure enough, when Sophie carefully adjusted Helen's forehand grip, and fed her a few balls, Helen returned the balls gently and firmly, displaying a degree of control that was not at all common. Sophie very quickly got Helen playing ground strokes with confidence, just as Helen had picked up the game nearly a decade ago, when she had been an amnesiac for the first time, just before she had first met Gena who had been a tiny little ball girl at a private tennis tournament.

Helen picked up tennis much faster than she had picked up the violin, or anything else. Helen herself was delighted at how well it was going, and presently she and Sophie were playing games, and then sets, and Helen was beginning to express her pleasure at how wonderful it felt to hit the ball squarely, which she did close to 99 percent of the time! Her feet were a little slower than Sophie remembered. At Westfield, Helen's feet had seemed to have wings; now she did sort of lope towards the ball, and tended to stretch to hit it, which worked most of the time, because Helen had really long, gorilla arms. Sophie jumped on the problem very quickly, and set out to fix it. With good humor, Helen took the correction, and her footwork quickly improved. Being out of shape, though, Helen had to stop much earlier than either of them wanted.

"You are doing excellent, Cherie," Sophie told her. "Relax, now, and maybe in the late evening we will find a court with lights, and we can bring the girls out! Gena is a good athlete, and I'm sure the little girl..."

"Alison. Allie!"

"Yes; I bet she will pick it up quickly. And what is the middle one?"

"Erin! I love that kid!"

"She has probably learned a little, by now, from Ferguson?"

"You know, I never found out that sort of thing. Maybe she's got some tennis instruction somewhere . . . It's probably time to get James started, too . . ."

## Music in the House

There had always been music playing in Cindy's apartment, when she had lived on her own, and she had put on music at the Ferguson place when she was living there. When she had packed to come on this trip, she had—on autopilot—brought her small collection of CDs, because she liked to get in the mood for various seasons.

When Helen and Sophie returned from the courts, all excited about Helen's great progress, they heard some lovely music, and after Cindy had debriefed them about the tennis, she was glad to see Helen's eyes all lit up at the lovely sounds she was hearing.

It was inevitable that, after the women had cleaned up from the exercise, they would indulge in reminiscing. Both Sophie and Cindy were concerned that Helen might get anxious if her face was rubbed too much in the fact that she could not remember much of anything at all. But now Helen seemed eager to learn her history, but in small doses.

"You know, I remember a scene or two from my Dad's farm, and then a scene or two from Amy's house; maybe I remember scenes from farmhouses a lot better than anything else!"

Sophie smiled and shrugged; it was a fanciful idea, and clearly Helen wasn't serious about it, but it set Cindy thinking; she wondered whether seeing Gully Lane, the little street on which Helen's house was, in California, might spark off some memories. The summer break were approaching, and it might make sense to plan something for then.

After lunch, Sophie was treated to a viewing of Helen's concerto, which made Helen blush. But Sophie was not completely unacquainted with classical music, and her eyes grew round as the music continued; clearly it was excellent stuff, and Sophie knew enough to tell that it was no amateur effort.

"The more I hear it, the more I like it," Helen said, candidly.

The following day, Sophie and Helen played more tennis in the morning; and in the evening, they all went out to some lit courts that Erin was aware of, and they expressed their amazement at how well Helen was doing. Soon they realized that Helen was embarrassed at all the attention, and that she played much better if they kept their admiration to a minimum. Helen was gradually getting quicker on her feet, the first step to becoming really good at the game; hitting the ball at full stretch was sort of a last resort option.

All through the day, Cindy's little boom-box was playing the music that Helen had forgotten about. Helen's CD collection was in the house, too, and Erin said that Gena played the music when she was home, which was increasingly rarely, because she tended to travel around with Kristen and Marcus over the summer. But this year, she was graduating, and they couldn't guess _what_ she would want to do.

# Aggressive Plans

## The Triplets: Spring Break

"Gena!"

"Hi, Aunt Cindy! Oh, I'm so happy you're there, helping out, you know."

"Gena, honey, we've got to take this thing seriously. I'm not going to let Helen try and regain her memories at her own speed. I think there's a good chance that she'd get a lot of it back, like I did!"

Gena, at that time, did not know about the history of Cindy's relationship with Helen, and she was very interested when Cindy sketched it out. Then Kristen came on the line, and declared that she was very eager to help if she could.

Cindy, over the next few weeks, met with all Helen's friends in Philadelphia, and got a fair idea of what each of these friends thought about the whole amnesia question. Gena and Erin were intensely eager to push for Helen to regain her memory, and so were Lalitha and Lorna. Allie, too, wanted Helen to remember her, and how they had become a family, but had no ideas about how to make it happen, having been only an infant when Helen had regained her memory the previous time. Sophie, too, was intensely interested in Helen's memory, and she believed that tennis alone would do the trick. But it was Cindy's belief that no single approach would break through the blocks in Helen's memory; it would be a combination of all the things that made up Helen: visual triggers, aural triggers, muscular triggers, people, and places.

## Stephanie

In Princeton, a brilliant young student, Stephanie Robbins, was completing her senior year. She had never met Helen Nordstrom _as such_ , but she had indeed met "Sharon Vuehl," who had in fact stayed with Stephanie's family during the week of the Academy Awards, the year when Sharon had been nominated Best Actress for _Limelight._ Stephanie and Sharon had had an intense encounter one night, and Stephanie had managed to relegate that night to the back of her mind. She had made a few friends at Princeton, but subconsciously Stephanie was still looking for _Sharon Vuehl._

Also in Princeton, a mathematics graduate of Westfield, Angela Connors, was working towards a graduate degree. She had attracted the attention of Stephanie, whose avocation was nude photography. Unlike Stephanie's mother, Andrea Mendoza, whose photographic niche was the depiction of raw sex in fine detail, Stephanie had a romantic attitude to sex and nudity, and she and Angie got along just fine.

Today, Stephanie had posed Angie in some unusual ways, and Angie could hardly wait until Steph was finished with the sequence.

"You're so pretty; you could be a model yourself!" Angie said, looking to see if Stephanie took it amiss. Stephanie stopped what she was doing, and looked thoughtfully at Angie.

"Just one person took a nude photograph of me. Just one person."

"When? Who was it?" Stephanie had obviously taken it big, and Angie wondered what the deal was.

"Have you heard of Sharon Vuehl?"

Angie frowned; the name was familiar, but she was a little too young to make the connection between Sharon Vuehl, and _Merit & the Princess,_ a movie that was still spoken of with respect.

Angie had been Helen's student under peculiar circumstances. Their math professor had been run over by a car, and it had been considered a homicide. Their entire class had been under suspicion, and for various reasons Helen Nordstrom had been asked to take the class through the rest of the semester. Helen had worked incredibly hard at the task, because the students, all suspicious of each other, had refused to come to class, and Helen had been reduced to essentially teaching all some twenty of them one-on-one for a number of weeks. By the end of the semester, because of the emotionally intense circumstances, all the students had been infatuated with the violinist, but none of them more than Angie. After the finals, Angie had offered sex to Helen, in gratitude for her hard work, and Helen had coolly declined. But subsequently they had repaired their relationship, and Angie thought of Miss Helen with great affection, and a lot of sorrow, since Angie had learned all about Miss Helen's amnesia.

## Tennis Again

The returning of Helen's memories that Helen could list were few: a few scenes from the farm, Lita and her pups, a folksong or two Helen could recall. But, unlike the last major instance of her loss of memory a decade earlier, when a large set of memories suddenly appeared in her mind at once, so that Helen was overwhelmed with their volume, this time there were little visions of _herself._ A glimpse of the way she pronounced a word; a tiny inkling of how she did something; her response to a certain sort of situation; some of these were noticeable, some went unremarked by her.

Playing tennis with Sophie, most definitely, brought out moves and decisions that she used to make without thinking, and now she was _noticing_ that she did those things _without thinking._ She recalled her surprise at seeing her name written in a grown-up scribble on pieces of sheet music from her college days, in contrast to the way she had written her name in grade school: in calligraphy, or _italics_ , as she had been taught.

She did not ponder over any of it; she was not preoccupied with her amnesia all the time. She was noticing all sorts of interesting things happening around her, and she had plenty to occupy her thoughts, and only thought about the amnesia when her mind was a blank.

The tennis was going very well, and Sophie was enjoying teaching her so much, she often lost sight of the ultimate objective of the tennis: to try and provoke a burst of recollection. Instead, Helen's game was racing towards perfection, and she was working out on the trainer, and Helen had decided to join Sophie on her early-morning runs, and Sophie recounted how they had run together in the Westfield lanes, and how they had got the lazy football team to get up and work out in the early mornings! Now and then Helen smiled and declared that she could remember a scene here and there, but Helen was getting 'tactful', and it was possible that she simply said she could remember something so as not to disappoint Sophie.

The bottom line was, Sophie had to fight pretty hard to win a set against Helen, and that made Sophie both delighted, and mad. Nothing got in Sophie's craw more than someone who beat her effortlessly. Meanwhile, Erin was getting quite good at the game, and so was Allie. James was too lazy to work at it very hard, but he was getting pretty good at his serves, and his ground strokes when he was paying attention, and Sophie could see in the making a young fellow who liked to win every game with an ace.

## Spring Break

Unlike in previous years, Gena and Kristen brought Marcus to Philadelphia for the break. Marcus could not quite see the point of it, but the girls said they wanted to try and work on Helen's amnesia. Kristen was the one who wanted it the most, and Gena was shamed into wanting it too.

"What are we going to do?" Gena asked the other two, once they had arrived by car, got their baggage out, made themselves comfortable in the basement, and had sat and talked to Helen, watching her like a trio of hawks.

Cindy came looking for them, and promised to think about the problem. Sophie came down to give them a report, and revealed that Helen seemed to be responding to Cindy's music therapy approach pretty well. Once Cindy had begun playing what she called _passion music,_ they had heard Helen singing along with some of the tunes; tunes which were unfamiliar to Sophie.

"That's huge," whispered Gena. "I wonder whether it's from the Matthew-Passion?"

"You have to ask Cindy," said Sophie.

On Saturday, the triplets (Gena, Kristen and Marcus) went off to talk to Lalitha and Lorna.

"The only idea I have, sweetheart, is to take Helen around to the places out West, which she hasn't seen, like Gully Lane, and Ferguson School, and Marika's family home; maybe even a visit to what's her name: Marsha? That sort of thing?"

"Or even Galaxy Studios again?"

They talked at length, while Sita, who had just come in, listened to them. Sita thought she knew some places that might trigger some interesting thoughts in Helen's head, having had one of the most traumatic encounters in Sita's life out there in California. It had been more than a year since Sita had thought of the Robbins family in Santa Monica, and she wondered how little Stephanie was doing, now that Sharon Vuehl had disappeared after winning her Oscar. (Sita had no idea that Stephanie lived not far from Philadelphia, in Princeton.)

Though Gena was, of all the children, the most vocal about trying to get Helen's memories restored, Kristin was observing all the children, and she noticed that Erin was in fact the most determined of them all; she spoke little, but when she did, it was something that they could really use. When Erin said that it might make sense to get Elly on board, that struck Kristin as an excellent idea; Elly was a bit scattered, but she was bright, and could see a bad plan a mile away.

"We want to plan for the summer!" said Elly, and Cindy thought that was reasonable, and the kids all trooped down to the basement.

"What do they plan for the summer?" asked Helen, a little nervously, from Cindy. She had only one summer's experience that she could draw from, and was curious to know the possible plans that could emerge.

"They often spent summers up in Illinois, or in Kansas, wherever Elly happened to be; or in Ferguson, with Janet. Poor Janet; she must be starved for their company! Elly never visits her mother unless we encourage her pretty hard!"

"Yeah, I can imagine that," said Helen, smiling. She liked Elly, and was gradually figuring out the geography of what had once been Helen's extended family. It would have been tough for anyone to figure out, especially since Old Elly, and Helen's father, John Nordstrom, were not related in any way, but the children were just one enormous closely-knit gang.

In the basement, they were thinking hard.

"The main thing is to figure out what's going on in Aunt Helen's head," said Elly, after thinking a while. "If she thinks that rushing about the country, visiting places, is a goofy idea, nothing will work."

"No, I was talking to her," said Erin, "and I mentioned that my mom and she and Gena and Allie all spent a lot of time in California, she wanted to go see those places. _I_ want to go see those places!"

"If _you_ suggest the California trip as something _you_ want to do . . ."

"Me, too! I want to remember those places! It's one way of remembering Aunt Penny. I want to do it for you, Erin." Gena looked solemnly at Erin, ready to jump to comfort her, if the memory of her mother was too painful for their most recently adopted sister, but Erin only pressed her lips tightly together, and looked back seriously at Gena; there was no need to talk carefully on _her_ behalf; as Alison took her hand, she pressed back, and indicated they should keep talking.

"What about Aunt Lalitha, and Aunt Cindy?" asked Kristen.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there must be places they want to show Aunt Helen, too, right?"

"Yeah . . . and Aunt Amy . . ."

"And Aunt Maryssa!"

The talk stopped, as the kids realized that there were a ton of aunts, all of whom would love to show Helen particular places that meant a lot to them, and indirectly, a lot to Helen as well.

Sophie had been away running an errand, but then they heard her come in, and talk to Cindy in her distinctive accent, which reminded Allie and Erin about Helen's amazing progress on the tennis courts. Gena, Kristen and Marcus were excitedly reminded about the fact that the kids had all been learning tennis several nights a week.

"Oh yeah? What time do you go out?" asked Gena.

"About this time, when they're done with the violins," Elly said. "But Morgan is coming to pick me up, and we're going out to dinner."

"Oh, she should come watch us playing tennis!"

Pretty soon, the entire gang was at the courts, and after Sophie had checked their grips, and watched them hit a few serves, they paired up, and began to play the little games that Sophie had taught them to play. Helen and Sophie got a court together, and soon Gena was observing Helen. Helen was playing as though she had never stopped playing the game. Most of all, Gena saw the expression on Helen's face! The old Helen was back; certainly as far as tennis was concerned. She was quick on her feet; her eye was in within a few seconds; her ground strokes were solid, and the few volleys she attempted were beautifully placed. There were hardly any lobs, or the more uncommon parts of Helen's game, but Gena could just see how Helen stopped being tentative, and just oozed confidence. Also, her upper-body strength, which had been a little lacking, had come right back.

Everyone wanted to hit with Helen, making her blush, but Gena had loved hitting with Helen, back when they had played on the Ferguson courts, or on the community courts in Illinois. It was so much fun, Gena felt like laughing and weeping at the same time. This was a very different Helen from the one she had seen in the hospital in Seattle, recovering after surgery. Then Gena had been in a blind panic, not knowing what was to become of her and the other girls, and even James. Now, however, Helen was a little nervous, and easily frustrated when she couldn't figure out something that was complicated, or when she realized the gaps in her knowledge; but as the head of her household, she seemed quite comfortable. It was probably flowing, Gena guessed, from the tennis. Gena blessed Sophie with all her heart; what a brilliant idea _that_ had been!

On Saturday, Maryssa visited with her baby, who had been named Gertie, after two aunts: one of Maryssa's, and one of Larry's. Gertie was getting to be a good smiler, and James liked to play with her, as did all the kids, and Helen.

Of course they had to go out to the courts, and show Maryssa how great Helen was at tennis. Helen blushed, but it was clear that she was delighted to show off something that she was _really_ good at, in contrast to the violin, or the guitar, or even the piano, all of which she could manage on, but in which she was by no means as proficient as with tennis.

When Kristen was able to get a private word in with Aunt Maryssa about their ideas, she looked seriously at Kristen, and said: do it. "Plan the first trip; just send her out with one person, or two people; then we can arrange someone else to take over for another leg of the trip. So you don't need to plan the whole thing out all at once, at the beginning."

"Wow. I think that's a good idea, Aunt Maryssa! You're a genius!"

"I'm just worried that if you make a big deal of it, it will never happen!"

## Graduation

Gena could not expend a lot of time thinking about their complicated plans for Helen over the summer; she was graduating, and one of the courses she had taken was very challenging, and she had to keep at it, especially the last two weeks. Two of the other courses required a lot of writing, and another required a presentation, and a performance. Gena's degree was in a self-designed major, which required satisfying requirements in several departments. Kristen, too, had undertaken a challenging course of study, but her final semester requirements were more conventional. Furthermore, she was actually a stronger student than Gena, and could devote a little time for puzzling over the problem of Helen's amnesia. Marcus was certifying in elementary education and minoring in law enforcement, and all the topics were intuitive for him, and he had an easy time of his last semester, except for having to undertake a month of practice teaching, which he took very seriously.

By the middle of May, their examinations were all over, and only Gena had doubts that she had done well. The previous week, she had been inducted into a service honor society, and she consoled herself that at least in that way she had distinguished herself. She kept in touch with her friend Evie from Illinois, who had also been inducted into a similar organization at William and Mary, and Gena and Evie had patted each other on the back over the phone!

It was particularly convenient for Helen to attend the graduation celebrations, since all three young people attended the same school. Helen had learned that she had been introduced to the parents of Kristen and Marcus, and after a week of embarrassed preoccupation about how to face them, she decided to simply behave as she felt, and smile, or wear a grave visage, as she felt at the moment.

After the diplomas were awarded, it was April Robinson, Krissy's mother, who approached Helen first, with a lovely smile, and introduced herself. Helen saw genuine affection in her eyes, and returned her embrace quite happily. "I know we've met," she confessed, "but . . . I can't recall that . . . period at all; I'm sure Gena has told you!"

"Miss Helen, you know that you had called yourself Elaine Gibson, back then! It was such a shock to learn who you really were!"

Helen laughed. "I'm not _really_ very much of what I used to be!" she said, surprised at her own wit.

April's face became serious at once. "It will come back. I just know it will," she said. Kristen stood by anxiously, but her mother had been perfect. She smiled her approval of her mother, and pulled her aside to make room for her father, who wanted to greet Miss Helen, too, and did so quite diplomatically.

Behind the Robinsons were two people Helen did not recognize.

"Congratulations, Krissy! I knew you could do it!" said one of them, a confident-looking woman with almost a military air.

"Thanks so much for coming, Miss Mallory! This is a great honor! And you too, Miss Hattie! So lovely to see you!" Just then Gena and Marcus walked up with Marcus's parents. Gena saw Miss Mallory and Miss Hattie, and gave them each an enormous hug. Emotional Gena was in tears, to see these two dear friends from that summer at the beach.

"Miss Hattie, my mom has amnesia, and wouldn't remember you, of course; but if she did, she would give you the hugest hug! Mom, Miss Hattie and Miss Pearson were our good friends when we were at the beach!"

Mallory Pearson had been the District Attorney of that little beach community. She had been very fond of Helen, as had Hattie been, too. "It's lovely to see you again, Elaine, or Helen! It really doesn't matter, does it?"

"I can't remember a thing, except bits here and there," Helen said, finally, including Marcus's parents in the circle, with new grace. (Sometimes it seemed as though Helen did something new almost every day!) "I've had amnesia before, and regained some of my memory, so I bet I can do it again!" Her eyes twinkled. "You all look very interesting people, so I must try harder!"

There was polite laughter at that, as everyone congratulated Helen on Gena's achievement, and embraced Helen, not so closely as to make her uncomfortable, and then congratulated Gena, Krissy and Marcus themselves.

When Hattie Mailer saw Helen close up, and observed the scar which the automobile accident had left, and which had given Helen's face a prematurely aged look, despite all the careful work that Elly and company had done on her face, with moisturizers and makeup, all the resentment went out of Hattie, who was a forgiving person anyway.

"You used to work at the general store, and I used to come by and get stuff; snacks, and so forth, and peek at the kids! And we used to go to the music on the green; you probably can't remember any of that," said Hattie, inexplicably shy with this very different-looking Elaine. But the admiration in Helen's eyes quickly made Hattie feel the same pride that she had felt when Helen and she had first met. As far back as Gena could remember, the admiration in Helen's eyes as she greeted _most_ women had been a constant. Helen was struck by the sweetness of Hattie's speech, and her expressive face, and began to suspect that she might have found her irresistible at one time. Now, a few years after they had first met, Hattie was even more lovely, though of course Helen could not know that.

Helen guessed which of the strangers were Marcus's parents. His father was a very tall man, who had wide hips and handsome features, and she greeted him with a smile. But it was Marcus's mother who had bequeathed her lovely smile to her son, and Helen shyly remarked the fact. They were clearly proud of their boy, and were pleased with Helen's presence, and her observation.

Little John and Taylor had come for Gena's graduation, as had Elly and Morgan, and they were talking to Erin and Alison, and Grelly and Cindy. Becky's office had even arranged for Lorna, Lalitha, Sita, Trish and Suresh to attend, and they were standing some distance away, observing all the activities with great interest, especially since the Indian contingent was very interested in all manner of educational matters and ceremonies. Since Suresh's graduation, to which Helen had been invited, and to which the Nordstrom gang had gone _en masse_ , Suresh and Trish considered themselves experts in anything to do with college graduations. Only Maryssa was absent, and Tommy and her girl, but that couldn't be helped.

Much later the same day, they were all back in Helen's home in Newberry, and Erin and Allie were serving lemonade to everyone. Larry had dropped Maryssa and Baby off, and they had been waiting, with broad smiles.

Helen had now gotten accustomed to Lalitha's and Trish's cooking procedures, and was efficiently helping. The Triplets, Gena Kristen and Marcus, were quite laid back, despite the excitement of the day, and were keeping a careful eye on the proceedings. Maryssa was given a blow-by-blow account of the ceremony, while Cindy dandled the new baby on her lap.

All in all, it was agreed that the graduation had been a total triumph. unfortunately, Kristen's and Marcus's parents had been annoyed and disappointed that those two worthies had opted to travel to Philadelphia with Gena, instead of going home with their respective parents.

# Travels

It took a while for the euphoria surrounding graduation to quieten down. The Triplets did not pick up on this, but they were somewhat more sincerely academically oriented than many of their fellow-students, and the college experience was both real and important to them, rather than merely a gateway to their future—though of course it certainly was that. Now, ahead of them, was looking for work—all three of them close together, ideally—and finding a place to stay. And, above all, what lay before them was pushing Helen towards recovering as much of her memory as they could, because all three young people had begun to realize just how much they loved Gena's mom. She was so changed, from the amazing woman that she had been, but every time they saw her again, of late, there seemed to be some unexpected progress that was revealed, and they were hungry to have more of their beloved Miss Elaine back, as she had been at the Beach! They had loved her so much, then, that they, and their entire gang had spent a lot of their time at the little beach cottage where Miss Elaine, Miss Amy and their family had been staying.

Cindy observed that, back when Helen had been brought back from India, and Helen had had her first tumor removed, Helen had been listless, and unexcited about going anywhere. Cindy had taken her to Ohio, and then to Kansas; after those two destinations, there had seemed no obvious place to go to; Helen could not see any reason to decide on one destination over another.

_This_ time, Helen was a full partner with Kristen's and Gena's plans. The morning after the graduation, which had been a Sunday, they sat around the dining room, and Kristen quietly took charge of the discussion, having gotten Gena's approval. "Kristen is good at this kind of thing," she told everyone, "and we can jump in anytime, if there's an idea that we've missed!"

Kristen looked at Erin, and began. "I thought, and Erin thought, that it might be fun to trace the route Miss Helen and Gena and Allie took out to California, with Erin's mom, just so that they can re-live those days, and Miss Helen and the rest of us can find out what they keep talking about, because that was obviously a big . . . event for everyone!"

"Yeah, me and Allie and Erin were all agreed on that. I'm going to rent a large van, like we did during the tornadoes, but no winch!" They laughed; Helen had taken the children out to Kansas some years ago, and they had bought a van for the purpose. This time, unlike then, they would stay in cheap motels, said Gena, and they would take tents, just in case camping was an option.

They would keep in touch with everyone by email and phone, and anyone who wanted to could join the expedition at any point they chose.

Helen and Elly were put in charge of food, with powers to conscript anyone as needed. Kristen and Gena were in charge of trip planning. One lovely morning in June they set out, with Gena at the wheel, and Helen riding shotgun, to give her every chance to see as much as she could. There were the Triplets; Erin, Allie and James; and Suresh. Helen wanted to take Maryssa, and Sita wanted to go, and Trish wanted to go, and so did Morgan, but Kristen explained that everyone could take their turns, and she was pleased that there was such enthusiasm for the trip.

Marcus had picked up quite a lot of skill on the guitar, and he sat at the back, playing his favorite songs, and Suresh was singing along. Helen had no recollection that it was Helen herself who had helped Suresh learn a few chords on an ancient guitar, and shy Suresh would never dream of bringing such a thing up.

Gena knew that the van would get the best possible mileage if they drove slow, so at least for this first few hundred miles, they would keep to a very sedate speed. Trish had packed a huge cooler with sandwiches, and charged Suresh with insisting that they ate the sandwiches for lunch, and that was what they did, even if Marcus was less than satisfied.

They were slow to realize that this was all new to Helen. She peered at the scenery, and they wondered what she thought about what she was seeing. They were initially on the Turnpike, I-76, but Kristen wanted to get onto a more southerly interstate, which would take them through Columbus. There was no one in the van who was completely comfortable with driving to the stomping grounds of Helen's college days; they were headed to Columbus instead. Soon they were going through places which Suresh could remember vaguely, since Lalitha and he had taken a bus through those parts, on their way to meeting Helen in California. Of course, some of the landmarks Suresh thought he remembered had changed, but he remembered the names of the towns they were driving past.

With some difficulty, they found lodgings, using a sort of directory that Kristen had acquired, decided to have a simple meal at a restaurant, and turned in for the night. Helen confided to Gena that she hadn't realized that this was going to be an expensive trip, and she wondered how she was going to pay for it. But Gena said that Becky had found some money somewhere, and that the Robinsons had agreed to contribute a little bit. Helen's eyes grew wide, and she shook her head; she did not want to be embarrassed by depending on the Robinsons for what was, to her mind, a private errand.

"What's going on? What's the problem?" demanded Elly, walking up.

"Mom is getting anxious about the cost," said Gena.

"Well, Aunt Helen, it normally would be, but we're using coupons, and, hey, we always set aside some money for the summer. And I have money. And we can fly back from St. Paul, if we have to, and Suresh and Marcus and Kristen can drive the van back."

Helen nodded; it was too complicated, but she seemed to be comfortable with leaving the logistics to the younger folk. Gena had expected Helen to panic, but she was not panicking, really. She just wanted to be careful, and keep on top of things. Also, Elly did not say that Suresh had some savings, having worked for a year, and had offered to chip in if there was an emergency.

As always, everyone was a lot more upbeat in the morning, and as they drove through Columbus, Gena, Erin and Allie began to recognize the road which they had taken with Helen when they had been On the Run. Allie had been a baby, but she remembered the Cadillac, and how Helen had cut her hair. And she began to remember Aunt Penny, and realized that Erin was looking very sober; Allie loved Erin dearly, and the thought that Erin must deal with memories of her mother all by herself made Allie sad. When they stopped at a rest area, she asked Erin whether she could remember traveling with her mom, and Erin said yeah.

"What made you think of that?" asked Erin.

"This whole trip is reminding me of Aunt Penny," said Allie softly.

"I wonder whether Aunt Helen remembers things like that," Erin said. Just then Helen walked up with James, and her smile went away when she saw the faces of the girls.

"What are you talking about?" asked James, with a frown.

"Just . . . Aunty Penny," said Allie, with a glance at Erin, who nodded. Helen put her arm around Erin.

"That was your mother, I think I remember," said Helen softly, looking at Erin a little worriedly. She felt it was her responsibility to help the girls to bear the sorrow of having lost their parents, and couldn't think how she could deal with the fact that she could not recall those parents anymore.

"It's all right, Mom," Erin said quietly. "It's been five years; you've been there for us."

Suddenly, the need for recovering her memories became more urgent. Gena saw the little group talking, and quickly joined them. She could see that Helen was looking uncertain, and she felt that anxiety would get in the way of Helen remembering things. On the other hand, landmarks that were associated with emotional events or incidents could help trigger memory recall.

After a few hours, they were approaching Indianapolis, and Gena remembered a certain rest area at which they had slept in the wee small hours on that earlier trip. Gena called out that she remembered the place, and Erin, Allie and Gena talked about that memory. Elly, who had been watching Helen, did not notice any change in her expression.

It was only midafternoon, so they kept driving, now with Marcus at the wheel, and presently they were within shooting distance of Grelly's home in Illinois. They decided to take a small detour to spend the night at the Krebs home, and spend some time with Grelly. Grelly was delighted at the prospect, and said she was home, and would be ready for them.

## Illinois

When they got to the large house in Illinois, it was very late indeed, and Grelly greeted them all with pleasure, but they looked tired, so she led them to the various rooms she had gotten ready for them, and they unpacked the van, and began to take turns to shower.

"You won't remember, but when you came here for the first time, this was the room I put you in!" Grelly said, leading Helen to the little second-floor room that she had given to Helen, in her mind. It had a little twin bed, and a few things that Helen had left there, just to take possession of the room. Grelly did not mention any other details, because she was sure that it would not help. But she was very pleased indeed to have Helen back there, since the last time she had visited was several years ago. Since then, the family gatherings seem to take place elsewhere; either wherever Helen was living, or at the farm in Kansas.

Helen smiled and shrugged. "I think the harder I try to remember things, the less likely they are to . . . appear, you know?" Grelly nodded, understanding perfectly. "Like, in the half-dark, when you stare at something, it sometimes disappears, but if you look slightly away, it comes back!"

Grelly was amazed. That was so much like the old Helen that it was startling. That Helen was comfortable enough with Grelly to bring up something like that gave the old lady a lot of pleasure. If Janet had been there, it would have been perfect, like old times. But Grelly was happy. The only sad circumstance in her world was that Tommy had disappeared, and was out of touch. (Tommy was the child of Elly's old age; she had been born when Elly was well past normal child-bearing age, and Elly adored her youngest child. But she had turned into a rebel, and they didn't know where she was. Elly had hoped that Tommy's girlfriend April would stay in touch, but it had been a year, and there had been no word from them.)

In the morning, Elly (Little Elly; Grelly's granddaughter) undertook to give them a tour of the town and the schools that she and Tommy had attended, and the library at which she had met Evie for the first time. Evie had been the daughter of Elly's favorite teacher, and she had also been Gena's buddy in high school. But they had attended different colleges, though at first Gena had wanted to go to college with Evie in the worst way. But meeting Kristen and Marc had changed all that, and Gena was happy.

To Gena's and Elly's delight, Evie was home, and they all went over to Evie's house, and introduced the ones Evie hadn't met. Evie joined them as they toured the town.

Mid-morning, they found the local tennis courts, and Grelly (Grandma Elly, in case you had missed that, were wondering who Grelly was!) had told them that these were the courts in which Janet and Helen had first begun to play tennis. Janet had played for her college, and Helen had learned tennis already, but this had been where Helen's game really began to get good. Evie did not play tennis, but was a great audience. James and Allie looked longingly at the older kids, but it would be some time before they could play that well.

Perhaps we should note one more thing that happened. Helen and gang got so lost in the tennis, that a hypoglycemic episode sneaked up on Helen. She suddenly felt cold, and her knees gave way.

Kristen ran back to the house to get help from Elly, and Elly said, as she went around the kitchen picking up various things she needed, "It's the diabetes. I completely forgot about that; let's hurry, honey. Bring my phone. Thanks."

Fortunately, Gena knew what to do, and knew that Kristen would be back with help. After Helen was persuaded to have a little honey, and then various other items that Elly had decided would be beneficial, Helen sat up, and began taking notice.

"What happened to me?" demanded Helen, and for the first time since Helen recovered from the surgery, she understood at least one implication of her ailment.

## Kansas

They said their goodbyes, and got back on the road in the morning. Soon Erin and Gena began to recognize exits and roadside attractions, the biggest being, of course, the Gateway to the West. They had not spent much time in Missouri, but by the time they crossed into Kansas it was late afternoon.

They arrived at Helen's father's farm late in the evening. Gena had been at the wheel, and knew her way well, having visited the farm during a week in which tornados had destroyed a large swath of country a few years before. Aunty Annie was delighted to see them, and got them settled efficiently, and then sat down with Helen to talk.

"You're going to have to listen to this history lesson," Annie said to Helen with a smile. Annie had gone to school with Helen, and they had been very fond of each other for more than twenty years. Also, Annie had come to work for Helen's father, just about the time Helen had gone into her sophomore year, and Helen's father and Annie had made friends with each other, and gotten married. Furthermore, Annie had started acting on _Galaxy,_ and ended up being the _other princess_ in _Helga,_ and been much celebrated. So Helen and Annie had spent a lot of time together, off and on.

Helen looked thoughtfully at Annie, and then quickly smiled. Annie had asked how Helen was coming along, now that Maryssa was gone, and Helen was replying. But what Helen wasn't saying was that she was beginning to remember having gone through Kansas with wreckage on either side of the highway.

Gena had been watching when Helen had looked thoughtful, and that night, she arranged to sleep near Helen, and cuddle with her. Erin almost invariably slept close to Helen, but she was fast asleep.

"Any memories? I thought I saw you look kinda intent . . ."

"Did you? . . ." Helen looked into Gena's eyes, wondering how to bring up what she had remembered. "I did remember something," she said softly, in almost a whisper.

"What?" asked Gena at once.

"It was . . . We were going on that same road, the highway . . . and there was litter . . . wreckage, on either side of the road. It was a little scary!"

"Oh Mom . . . Yes, we did drive on the highway one time, with wreckage on either side!"

"We did? Wreckage?"

"Yes, Mom! There had been tornadoes, and we came to check on Bo and Jenn, and we came through with wreckage everywhere!"

It was exciting, but Gena wasn't sure where that particular memory would lead; it was ironic that Elly, Kristen, Mark, and even Allie had been on that trip, and they were all right there.

The next morning Gena told the others, excitedly, that Helen had remembered driving through after the tornadoes, but they didn't know what to make of it; it would have been so much better if Helen had remembered more important events.

## The Rockies

By the end of the following day, they were approaching the campground at which they had stayed on at least two occasions that Gena could remember; first headed out to California, and then on the way from California to Minnesota.

Helen did not make a big fuss about it, but when they woke up the next morning, after having slept in two tents, the camp smells seemed almost startlingly familiar to Helen. But Alison and James were asking her something, and she got distracted.

Just the trip itself, and her own memories made Erin happy. She came to Helen quietly, and recounted a story about that very campground, which had been a strong memory for her.

Erin had loved Helen dearly ever since that year of being in hiding; Helen had seemed a magical, romantic figure, a musical goddess who seemed to breathe music. But as Erin thought about it, she began to realize the big obstacle to this trip triggering memories for Helen. Firstly, Erin had been just a little girl back then, and didn't look very much like she looked now. Secondly, the central figure of Erin's mother, Penny, was completely absent. All Erin's memories of those days had centered around her mother, and she was certain that so must Helen's memories. Helen wasn't going to remember a thing. Erin sighed.

Perhaps because it was the weekend, the campground was full, and crazy country music was blaring over the PA system. All the young people of their group were thoroughly enjoying this particular campground, and they were telling Kristen, Marcus and Suresh about the last time they had camped there, and they were listening closely.

It was late in the morning when they left, headed toward Utah.

Kristen was sitting in the back with Helen. Helen had insisted that others should get their turn to sit in front. Kristen had argued that they had put Helen in the best seat for visibility for a good reason, but Helen had said it was time to rotate out of that seat, and that she would take it again after each of the others had had their turn. Suresh was riding shotgun, since each of the other older kids had already taken their turn at the wheel, and Suresh didn't have a license. Gena was at the wheel again.

Erin could remember every road and turn of their original drive to California in the ancient Cadillac. Helen listened to her comments with half an ear, while continuing to talk with Kristen.

"Lots of memories for Gena and Erin," said Kristen.

"I only know about that trip from Erin telling me about it," said Helen. "Allie was too young to remember. Sometimes I think I remember Erin's mother, Penny, but sometimes I think I'm only tricking myself into thinking I can remember her!"

Erin looked over and smiled. Another child might have taken it amiss that Helen could not remember her mother. (At that time, they had been careful not to take photographs, terrified about being found by the FBI.)

## California

Presently, they were driving slowly past the tiny home they had rented, where Helen had lived for half a year as Steve Johnson, and later as Paula Johnson. Gena was describing those days as well as she could remember, and Kristen and Marcus were staring out the window, trying to imagine what it must have been like, and occasionally glancing at Helen, who was seated all the way at the back. They had given up asking Helen whether she could remember anything, because it just made Helen upset. There was nothing, as Helen stared out at the house with them. To be honest, the house was not remarkable in any way.

They had only found the place with great difficulty, because Gena had been a mere thirteen or so, and though she could identify the house easily, she had not known the directions to get there; Marika had helped them over the phone.

Presently, they had found the campground at which they had stayed, and took a tent-site for a day, and tried to relax.

While the guys were making the tent super-nice, removing stones, digging trenches, and so on, and the girls were putting up the large, luxurious tent, Helen was chased off to the warm showers with James.

The tent was soon up, and Marcus was inside, snoring loudly; he tired easily, and he had been driving. Kristen, Gena and Suresh were seated together, talking.

"I was thinking about that Gully Lane house," said Suresh, hesitantly, and Gena looked at him.

"I hate to drag everyone out there, though; it won't be interesting to Kristen and Marcus, and . . . I don't know my way out there."

"Actually, I could find the place," said Suresh. He and his mother had been in and out of that house on foot, and they had walked around the closest big town often, looking for tools, supplies, laundromats, and so on.

"What is this place?" asked Kristen. "You've never talked about it before!"

Gena took a deep breath, and let it out.

"Helen lost her memory once before," Gena began. Kristen was immediately interested. "From what I heard, Cindy brought her out here, from Illinois, and settled her at, like, a farm, and then she went to work for this building company."

Just then, they saw Helen and James coming out of the showers, with happy smiles on their faces, and Gena hurried to finish up the story.

"Then Mom bought one of the houses for cheap, and then she saw me at a tennis club, and that's how Allie and I ended up getting adopted by her!"

Helen and James came up to them, and smiled.

"Planning, huh?" Helen asked.

"Yeah," said Kristen, "this seems like a dead-end!"

Helen's face fell, and Kristen bit her tongue. It was so hard to be tactful in the circumstances.

"I'm trying as hard as I can!"

Kristen sprang to her feet, and went to Helen, her eyes filling with tears, and put her arms around her. Gena got up, too, and with a smile to Kristen, said in her sweet voice, that she knew Helen was trying, but it was really out of Helen's ability to control. "Nobody expects it to be quick, Mom! We're not in _any_ hurry!"

## Change of Guard

Sophie had taken a few days off, and gone up to visit with Cindy. Kristen had quietly spoken to Sophie on the phone, and Sophie had been struck by how unhappy Kristen seemed to be with the lack of progress. "That girl was so upset over it, I was surprised! I know Erin is also pretty upset—when you told me about how she had reacted in the hospital, I sort of, you know, got an idea of what she felt about Helen's memory—but Kristen is more upset than Gena!"

Cindy smiled briefly, but then looked anxious again. "We're all upset by it, Sophie . . . we all want Helen back for our own reasons, but . . . those of us who remember more of how Helen was, we're the ones who are a little more desperate, I think. I mean, I was actually there at a lot of Helen's big triumphs! Her big _early_ triumphs, I must say, to make it clear!"

"I was there at a couple of concerts, and then at the bands, you know, in Washington D.C. That was awesome! Did you go?"

Cindy shook her head and smiled ruefully.

"Kristen is a really sweet girl. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and we can depend on her to keep things calm."

Cindy called Kristen, and learned that Marcus's family had a large apartment in San Diego, and that Marcus's family would love to host as many of them as wanted to take a week or so off from the project.

A few days later, Cindy and Lalitha were flying to L.A., where they met Helen and company, and were joined by Marsha Moore, after which all the kids except Gena headed out to San Diego, and Suresh flew back to Philadelphia into the delighted arms of his little daughter.

At the modest home of Marsha Moore, who had been a major actress in Hollywood about twenty years before, the actress reacquainted herself with Helen. She had been one of Helen's most high-profile conquests, and the two of them had briefly been an _It_ couple, in the year before Helen's senior year. (It would have been Helen's Junior Year, except that Helen had taken a year off.)

"After you got back from India, Helen, it was quite a while before I saw you again!" Helen had been brought up-to-date on the various ways in which Marsha and Helen had planned things together.

Right after this most recent surgery, Galaxy Studios had Helen occasionally visit the set, watching the young people of the Galaxy being taught the songs Cecilia had taught them at one time, and so on, just so Helen could have a little income. They had tried to get Helen to read a few lines for them, but back then, Helen had been too intimidated to do a good job of it. On one of these trips, Melanie had shown Helen the movie _Merit,_ but had not revealed that Helen was acting in it. They had also watched _Helga,_ and Helen had recognized herself in _that,_ and been very impressed with her own former fighting ability.

When they had finished watching the movies, Marsha had told them that Sharon Vuehl had in fact been Helen. Helen had been quite stunned to learn that it had been _she_ who had played the role of Merit! That had become one of Marsha's most favorite adventures—even if she had only an invisible role in it—and she described how they had put it together. Of course, this was not just new to Helen, but to Gena, Cindy and Lalitha as well! This secret had been kept very carefully. They were all amazed at how successful the masquerade had been.

They spent one night with Marsha, where they watched _Limelight_ and _Chips_ together, and Helen was very pleased with how she had done. She claimed to have seen through the disguise right away, but Gena shook her head, and said that it might have been clear in hindsight, but the deception had been just too clever.

Marsha lent them an SUV, a class of vehicle that was just coming into its popularity, and Cindy, Helen, Lalitha and Gena headed out towards the little house at Gully Lane.

While they're on their way, let's take a peek into what was happening to Helen. The trip down memory lane was rather a bust; without the central figure of Penny, no memories came forward. Erin had changed too much to evoke her younger self in Helen's mind; Gena could see herself and Erin clearly in her own memory, singing in the choir, going to the library. But even a drive past the restaurant at which Helen and 'Frankie' had waited tables did not trigger any memories. Gena could not remember the way to the home of Alyssa, but Helen would not have remembered that either, as far as Gena could see.

Kristen and Helen had gotten close—more of that later—and Kristen had persuaded Helen to _forget about the amnesia._ "Just enjoy the trip," she urged; she was beginning to think that Helen's anxiety about the amnesia may be getting in the way of the memories. Relax!

Helen had studied Kristen, and somehow thought that the young woman's idea made sense. You _just couldn't do_ some things when you were tight and upset. Every morning, Kristen had started giving Helen a great big hug, and both of them had begun to notice how Helen's tension would drain away.

Whether it was Kristen's strategy, or some other reason, Helen began to _remember herself_ even more. Nobody picked up on it right away, but she had just a little more access to her vocabulary, some of her thought-habits, and just a little of her speech habits. A decade earlier, a much younger Gena had noticed that, right after Helen had regained a large chunk of her memory, Helen's speech became a little more educated, and _higher in pitch!_ But this time, Gena was a little too distracted to observe the same thing happening again, and her adult senses were clearly a little duller than they had been when she was eleven!

## Gully Lane

Cindy worked her way, with some difficulty towards the wine country, and Sacramento, and to the little Catholic farm where Helen had lived and worked, and where she had accompanied their choruses on a Friday evening on her second-hand guitar. The farm was still there, but it had changed greatly, and most of the young people who had lived there with Helen were gone, and other girls had taken their place, but Sister Gertie, the big gal with the enormous, ornate cross hanging on a chain around her neck, and Sister Cordelia were both there. When the visitors piled out of their car, Gertie and Sister Cordelia took just a brief minute to recognize Helen, though she was greatly changed.

"Sister Helen!" yelled Gertie, in her excited contralto, "You came back!" Cordelia only took a few seconds more, and soon they were hugging Helen, and showing her far more affection than they had shown Helen a decade ago.

Lalitha, Cindy and Gena were all pleased to be recognized, and of course they had to be shown all over the farm, and made aware of all the improvements, and any improvements that Helen had helped them with, which were still working well.

With her usual politeness, Helen went about with them, giving her opinion when it was sought, and Lalitha wondered whether it was only politeness, or whether Helen was genuinely interested in these people.

They stayed for a meal, and Helen was introduced to the new folks who had joined the communal farm, and they had a guitar, and a new guitarist, and they sang, and Cindy observed it all with shining eyes.

"There's a bad scar, Sister Helen," said Gertie, never one to hold back on her observations. "What was it?"

There was an awkward silence until Lalitha ventured "That was the accident, right? It was very sad; it was a bad snowstorm, and a deer ran into Helen's Jeep, and they all went down an embankment . . . Did I get that right?"

Helen only looked shocked. "Was _that_ how this happened?" asked Helen, in a shocked voice. It was only then that they realized Helen had never heard that story.

Lalitha looked upset. "I should have told you before," she said.

Gena looked at the sisters and said that Helen had amnesia.

"Again?"

Helen nodded.

When they were on their way again, Gena quietly told Helen that she had lost a baby that time, when the Cherokee had run right into an enormous boulder. Helen just sat, bewildered. "That was a terrible thing to spring on you, Helen, sweetheart," said Lalitha in a low voice. "So often I have wished that one of us had been in the car with you, but . . . you were all by yourself. That was probably the reason you lost control. I'm sorry!"

"I had to know, sooner or later," Helen said quietly.

Presently, they were driving along Gully Lane, and the last home on it was still the same property, 147 Gully Lane. The road had been widened, a brick wall crossed it at the top of the gully, leaving just a little gate to enter the gully. Gena got down, unlocked the padlock with the key Gertie had given them.

Helen could vaguely remember the view of the house in the headlights of a car, and she eagerly waited for more memories to come.

"You might remember making this porch?" Lalitha asked, with a little excitement. "We used it like a workshop! Someone has tidied away all the tools and stuff," she said, walking about the large car-port, which not even the Ford truck that stood inside it could fill. When she walked round to the front of it, Helen could just remember the truck, which she had had to leave behind when her memories had flooded back the last time, and she had wanted to visit her father urgently, to tell him that her amnesia was mostly gone. But none of those details, of course, could Helen remember.

Gena opened the door to the house, and it was like time-travel for her.

"Oh Mom . . . I'm so glad we came here! So many memories . . . not all of them happy. Oh, we should have brought Suresh!"

Tears were leaking out of Gena's eyes, because she could remember her mother, Bethany, but she was quiet, not certain whether reminding Helen of her birth-mother would be a kindness.

They got back in the car, and headed into town, and bought enough supplies to be able to make a simple supper. It was a pleasant meal, and Helen declared that it did bring back some memories, but not very clear ones. She said she could remember brewing coffee in the little coffee machine, which had stopped functioning, but that was all. She could also remember finishing the dining table, which she had done with Lalitha and Suresh.

"This is a lovely little house!" Helen said, without being prompted. "Is it mine, really?" Lalitha nodded. Becky acquired the home over the years, just not to have the bother of paying the mortgage.

"My house," Helen breathed, as Cindy smiled with amusement.

## Pilot Marsha

When Marsha was consulted about what to do, she suggested St. Paul. "You never know," she said, "there's no telling whether meeting the Johnsons might ring a bell, or seeing the school? At least give Heikki a chance to do something for her!"

Cindy, of course, was all for it, but it was so far away, she observed.

"Come back here; I'll fly you out!" said Marsha, who had a little propeller plane.

Helen looked rather startled, since the phone was on speaker mode. Helen hated to fly, ever since she had flown back to Philadelphia after the surgery. But Marsha explained that she had a little private plane, and suggested that Helen might like a small plane a lot better than the big commercial airliners. That was pretty far-fetched, but Helen was, at that time, just innocent enough to buy the idea.

They drove back, and presently, they were at a minor airstrip of the greater Los Angeles area, where Marsha's small aircraft was housed. They had only brought a little luggage, and that was all strapped down according to regulations, and the passengers took their seats. Helen was invited to be co-pilot, though it was largely a ceremonial role in the present case. Helen had a pilot's license, as Gena pointed out to Helen, but not having piloted a plane for several years even before her loss of memory, it would have been difficult for Helen to take the controls (though pilots swore that once a pilot, always a pilot).

Helen was quite nervous during the take-off, as anyone would have been, but to everyone's relief, not as panic-stricken as they would have expected.

"Would you like to take the stick, just for a minute or two?" asked Marsha, with a smile. Marsha knew perfectly well just how good a pilot Helen had been.

Helen enjoyed holding the controls, as Marsha talked her through the routine of steering the craft, to avoid traffic, and to gain height to pass over the Rockies.

They enjoyed the experience of flying in a small plane, though naturally the flight was a lot less smooth than it would have been in a passenger jet. But though they expected a lot of anxiety from Helen, it never materialized; she took the inevitable bumps well in stride, and though she handed the controls to Marsha to be better able to watch the ground, she extracted every iota of pleasure from the flight.

## The Johnsons

Marsha landed them in an airfield near St. Paul, and joined Helen, Gena, Cindy and Lalitha to head into the home of the Johnsons.

Helen and Cindy had been chatting all the way from the airfield, and Helen was hearing all about that amazing first visit she had made to St. Paul, and how her girl cousins had taken her into their collective bosoms, and how Cindy's parents, too, had welcomed Helen. "They just took one look at you, and decided that you were the greatest thing since sliced bread!" Helen had a good laugh at that; apparently there were some phrases that had not come to Helen yet, and sliced bread was one.

Of course, since that first visit some twenty years ago, the Johnson girls had all left home, except for Heikki, who still lived near her parents, and the eldest, Ingrid, who also lived nearby. The word was spread that Helen was in town, and Heikki, Ingrid, and another sister showed up to meet Helen, and told her all about that earlier meeting, and how they had introduced their grandmother Kuikkonen to Helen. The old lady had died, and so had Rolf Johnson, Heikki's father. But the girls' mother was pleased to greet and embrace Helen, and Helen could easily believe that this was an aunt of hers, and a half-sister of her own mother, whom Helen could not recall no matter how hard she tried.

"Well," said Heikki, "what's to be done. Have you thought of taking her down to Ferguson?"

"Yes, that's next on the list," said Cindy. (Marsha was tagging along as an old friend of Helen's. Marsha hated to reveal who she was, even though she was a lot less recognizable now than she had been in her youth.)

## The Old Ferguson Place

They all loved the visit to the village of Ferguson, and Ferguson School, the Ferguson Inn, and the cottage which Helen had expanded, and in which Janet now lived, all alone, except that Annie Nordstrom was spending a few weeks there this summer.

Everyone was excited to learn that Helen definitely had some memories of the place. School was still in session, but Helen and her companions were allowed to walk around the school. Jeffrey Gibson, James's father, and one of Helen's greatest admirers, was conducting a music class, and briefly came out to greet them, and give Helen and Gena hugs. Helen had met Jeffrey on Thanksgiving, and knew all about him.

Later, Helen grew serious and said quietly to Cindy and Heikki that she could remember some of the places; specifically the music room, the cafeteria, the school chapel, and later when Gena steered them to the little cottage in which lived Marion Lessig, the former music teacher, Helen remembered that, as well.

Talking things over, Cindy and Gena came to agree that maybe this time, Helen's memory would not come back all at once, as it had the last time, but that it would dribble in, without Helen noticing it.

"That's what she told me," Lalitha said quietly. "She's got back a lot of her skills, a lot of her vocabulary, things like that; only she can't remember her past. That will be disappointing, but . . . we have to be thankful that she can be a mother, and . . . well, a mother, mainly," said Lalitha.

"I'm not giving up," said Cindy, looking fierce. Gena could have cheered!

## Vicky and Sita

Vicky and Sita were driving down to Baltimore as they often did.

"If you would say, _Vicky, I love you,_ and meant it, I would give up everything, and come live with you, and I would die of happiness! We could be married, Sita." Sita gritted her teeth. "How did you manage to be single all these years?"

Same-sex marriages were possible in many states, and Vicky literally meant what she had said: she wanted Sita for herself. She lusted after Helen, but she wanted to own Sita desperately. She suspected that Sita would not buy into that idea, but she recklessly wanted Sita to actually say the words that would destroy Vicky's hopes. But Sita knew that the possibility of some sort of relationship between them was the carrot that would break the grip of Vicky's addiction. She also knew that to dangle that carrot—if she did not mean to come through with it—was cruel, to say the least. Perhaps she would have to give herself to Vicky, and try to love her forever, or just endure a loveless marriage until something gave.

"I was in love with someone," she found herself saying.

"Yeah, I know," said Vicky. "But that's a lost cause, Sita!" Vicky frequently accused Sita of being in love with Helen.

"I don't think that's true," Sita said. She didn't want to tell Vicky about how hard they were trying to get Helen's memory back. She was on another tack entirely. "Anyway, I was not in love with who you're thinking of."

"Not with Helen?"

Sita shook her head.

"Who then?"

Sita shook her head. She was beginning to enjoy this.

"Tell me!"

She shook her head, and allowed herself a little smile, to infuriate Vicky.

" _Tell me!"_

"Vicky, get a grip on yourself. You nearly ran into that buggy!" They were in Amish country, and there were the occasional horse and buggy they had to watch out for. "Anyway, listen. If you stay with the program for two complete years . . . I will allow you to kiss me."

Vicky had looked so incredibly pleased that Sita had felt like a dog. She should have felt like a million bucks to know that someone loved her so much that they could look as if they'd seen a vision, just to hear _the promise_ of a kiss.

Back in Ferguson, Janet came home from school, and they sat around and talked, and late in the evening, Crystal, Janet's girlfriend, came visiting. Janet, no less than Helen's other friends and family, wanted Helen's memory back, but unlike Cindy, she was patient; it could take years, and Janet was resigned.

# Seeking Sharon Vuehl

The Princeton University graduation exercises took place, and Angie Connors had been invited to attend as Stephanie Robbins's guest. Steph's parents, Andrea Mendoza and Stephen Robbins were introduced to Angie, and Angie made a favorable impression on the Californians. They thought that, perhaps, Angie and Stephanie were a couple; Andrea was a romantic soul, and ever since she had observed Stephanie and Sharon Vuehl together, she had realized—with some inevitable sorrow—that someday it could be a woman who would be Stephanie's love. If it were to be Angie, that would have been all right with Andrea; Angie was bright, easily as bright as Stephanie; and she was polite, and decent, and the girls were clearly _very_ close.

Now, after the celebrations were over, the two girls had a chance to talk about their hobbies. After the older folks had gone to bed, Angie pulled out her sketchbook, and Steph pulled out her computer, and each showed the other their depictions of the women they had lusted after for several years: Helen Nordstrom, and Sharon Vuehl, respectively. Angie was a closet artist, and had drawn literally _hundreds_ of sketches of Helen, while Steph had just a half-dozen photographs of Sharon.

Over a period of several minutes, or an hour, Stephanie was convinced that the famous Helen Nordstrom was none other than Sharon Vuehl, since Angie's sketches were in black and white. She had seen a photograph of Sharon as a blonde teenager, and could imagine Sharon as a blonde very easily. Meanwhile, Angie too had begun to see that the two actresses were the same, because of having drawn Helen so often; furthermore, the smile that Helen had worn for Stephanie's camera was _closer to her Helen expression, than to that of her Sharon persona!_

The girls stared at each other for a long time.

"I was so in love with her, that I couldn't concentrate on _anything,"_ confessed Stephanie, in a whisper. "It never crossed my mind that she could be anyone except . . . Sharon!"

"In my case, I knew exactly who she was. It wasn't exactly . . . being _in love,"_ she began to say, but then fell silent. Stephanie looked at her with slight amusement. Sometimes, other people could tell that you were in love, while you yourself were still wondering about it.

"I know where to find her," said Steph, and though Angie knew her as a gentle and inoffensive girl, the intensity of that last statement gave her pause. Steph did not know where to find Helen in actual fact; but to know that the one whom she sought _was_ Helen Nordstrom, rather than the frequently disappearing Sharon Vuehl, changed the game completely!

"What a story! We could write a feature article on it, and sell it to the tabloids!"

"You don't mean that," said Steph. Angie shook her head.

Stephanie dispatched her parents back to California, having told them that they wanted to tie up some loose threads in New Jersey. Stephanie had moved out of her room on campus, but Angie had an open-ended lease, and Stephanie moved in with her model.

Angie's apartment was full of artwork, not a few pieces being of Helen Nordstrom, understandably. Stephanie actually saw her own face in a corner, and blushed to herself. Evidently, Angie thought Stephanie attractive enough to want to draw her, but she had tried, not too hard, to hide the piece. She did not remark on her observation.

It did not take long for the girls to hunt down the address of the corporate headquarters of Helen Nordstrom, Inc. They were soon on their way, in Angela's little car, to the part of Philadelphia in which Rebekah Singer had her office. Only a part-time employee was manning the reception desk, but when the girls begged to speak to Helen Nordstrom, or anyone who could tell them where she was, the receptionist called Becky, who in turn decided to call up Lorna, and ask if she would speak to the young women.

An improbably beautiful woman came into the office, and the girls rose to their feet.

"Hi!" said the woman, and Angie smiled hesitantly back. "I'm Lorna Shapiro; I work for the company part-time."

"I think I recognize you, from back when Miss Helen taught Calculus!"

"Yes, I recognize you, too!" Lorna smiled at the girls, and invited them to sit in the reception area. "What brings you in?"

"My name is Angie Connors. We just need to talk to Miss Helen about . . . a . . . project we're thinking of doing," improvised Angie.

"Oh . . ." Lorna focused on Angie, and looked thoughtful. "Weren't you the one who, er, nominated her for, like, a teaching award, or something? Yes, it was you; I saw a photograph!"

"Yes, that was me!" smiled Angie, nervously.

"Angie, Dr. Nordstrom has almost total amnesia, hon; she's not going to be able to help with _anything,_ let alone the sort of project that anyone would have wanted her to help with, before she lost her memory. She's . . ."

"I just want to talk to her," said Stephanie.

Lorna could see that the two girls were desperately in earnest about wanting to speak to Helen. "You know, Helen and a few friends are presently out on the West Coast, trying very hard to jog her memory, as it happens. That's priority number one, for all of us who know her; you just have to wait until they come back!"

Stephanie gasped. This was an amazing turn of events. Nobody wanted to have Helen get back her memory more than Steph and Angie, because, as Stephanie had worked out by herself, if Helen could not recall being Sharon Vuehl, then she certainly could not recall meeting Stephanie.

It was a very thoughtful pair of girl that departed for Angie's apartment.

## Sita Plans a Trip

"Can you manage without me for a week?"

Vicky was at the wheel. "Why?"

Sita shrugged. "There are a few things I want to do . . . they involve traveling out of town." This was unusual, because Sita almost never traveled. What Sita wanted was to go out to California, and try to jog Helen's memory. Maybe she could succeed, where her sister might have failed. That Oscar Weekend had to have been important for Helen; it had certainly been so for Sita.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you!"

"Well, no, Vicky; I can't tell you absolutely everything. I might text you while I'm gone, if I get the chance."

## Talking About Sharon

"Who was that woman?" asked Stephanie, still not quite recovered from the meeting. Lorna was a beautiful woman to begin with, and on top of that she was always dressed perfectly, so much so that it was easy to imagine that she was a model, who cared for nothing but clothing.

In fact, she was just as obsessed with Helen's amnesia as Erin, or Kristen, or anyone else; she was merely convinced that she should not be identified as the one who was fueling this effort; she was aware of how fragile her relationship with Lalitha was, and knew perfectly well that if Helen turned her eyes on Lorna, the dancer could never resist her.

"That's . . . actually, she was Miss Helen's girlfriend. One of them, anyway; there were two. The other one was _Mademoiselle_ Rain, the language instructor." Suddenly Angie was reminded of the fact that it might not be easy for Angie to sweep Miss Helen off her feet; _Mlle_ Rain, and this woman, Lorna Shapiro, would be obstacles. And so would Stephanie, come to think of it . . .

"Not Sita? I'm so confused . . ."

"Sita? Who's that?"

There was clearly a large gap in Angie's cultural background that Stephanie had to fill first, before they could plan their assault on Helen Nordstrom.

"See, there was this awesome movie, _Merit & the Princess,_ which starred an actress called Sharon Vuehl, who we're pretty sure was Helen Nordstrom."

"Yeah, okay?"

"The other star in the movie was a new talent, Sita Maunder. It was a lesbian story, and Merit—that was Miss Helen—and the Princess—that was Sita—were romantically linked in the movie. Everyone was fairly sure that the two actresses were romantically involved as well. After the movie, both actresses just dropped out of sight—until the Oscars, and _Merit,_ and Sharon, were nominated. Okay?"

Angie nodded, her mouth hanging open. She had already discovered that Stephanie had heavy Hollywood connections, which was probably how she knew all this stuff.

"Well, it happened that 'Sharon', when she came out to LA for the awards, had no place to stay, and my mom brought her home! I blew my mind, to see Sharon standing in our kitchen!" Angie nodded. "The next thing that happened was, Sharon got a call on her phone, and it turned out that it was from Sita. She wanted to meet Sharon, so I drove Sharon out to Sita's hotel, and picked her up, and brought her home. We all dressed up, and went out to show the girls the night life; Sharon and I drank a little, Sita only had a Coke, or something. Then we came home. I was out of my mind; I was totally in love with both of them! Oh Angie . . ." Those memories were so strong that Stephanie could hardly continue the story.

"Then, Sita stayed the night, and the next morning, I knew for sure that Sita was totally infatuated with Sharon, but Sharon was pretty casual about Sita. I messed up, thinking that they were an item, and said what a cute couple they were, but . . . both of them insisted that they were only good friends."

Stephanie related the story about how the following night Sharon had got a call that her father had died, and then quietly, privately confessed to Stephanie that she led a double life; that was why Sharon showed up occasionally, for some purpose, and then disappeared. The rest of the time, presumably, she was busy being Helen Nordstrom. That had been a huge clue that Stephanie had missed.

With some difficulty, they were able to find a high-definition video of _Merit,_ and sat and watched the movie for a while. Angie recalled that she had wanted to see it, but the local theatre had not shown it. Nobody at Westfield College had had the slightest inkling that Dr. Nordstrom had been playing the role of the sexy Merit! Angie shook her head in wonder; her desire for Helen Nordstrom was now flaming as bright as ever, with less probability of seeing her again than there had ever been. Meanwhile, Stephanie, too, was remembering how her heart had beat for Sharon Vuehl, and how they had confessed their mutual love, and how she had comforted the actress when she had been in tears at her bereavement. Angie also had had Miss Helen at her mercy, and had comforted and cared for her when in a day of foolishness, Helen had set out to run some twenty miles to see Angie for a few moments, and nearly collapsed in the attempt. That story was for Angie to savor in her own mind. Both girls turned inwards, remembering. But they were tired, and could not stay awake to watch more than a few minutes of the movie, and so Angie did not see the meeting of Merit and the Princess that evening.

"I just want to see her again," said Angie, softly. "I had almost forgotten her, but now . . ." She shook her head. Being reminded of Miss Helen had re-opened wounds.

"That's all I want, too," Stephanie said. "What an amazing woman! She definitely has to be the same person: Helen and Sharon." She covered her face briefly. "Total amnesia . . . I feel _so_ sorry for her!"

Angie was feeling just a little bitter about the situation. Even as they spoke, Miss Helen was in California, or somewhere in those parts, and Stephanie could arrange to find her by just going home. Angie couldn't travel to distant parts like that; she had to subsist on the stipend of a lowly teaching assistant. But being sort of in love with the same woman drew them together, and each girl could see deeply enough into the mind of the other, to recognize her basic decency. They couldn't even hate Lorna Shapiro, because behind the glamorous appearance, they could sense someone who loved Helen just as much as they did.

## _Merit_ Again

To Angie's great delight, the Robbinses offered to pay for Angie to visit their home in Santa Monica. Tickets were bought; the girls packed, and they were ready to fly to Los Angeles. Angie had never traveled outside the New Jersey / Pennsylvania region, and Stephanie tried to describe the disaster that Los Angeles International was at that time.

"I've never flown," Angie confessed; "I always drove."

"What shall we do until we go to the airport?"

They decided to watch the rest of _Merit_. Each of them devoured the figure of their most favorite person, who was the character Merit in the movie. The personality of Merit was quite different from that of Helen, and even that of Sharon Vuehl, but now, knowing what they knew, they could see little details that corroborated their growing conviction that Helen and Sharon Vuehl were one and the same.

And then, Angie sat up straight as she saw the Princess for the first time.

"Wow; who the heck is _that?"_

"That's Sita Maunder, of course!"

"Sita? I've never seen her before in anything!"

"Not surprising; she never acted in another movie ever again. She won an Oscar for this one, and stopped acting completely."

Angie's eyes were now riveted on the screen. She could understand how this movie had been such a hit; it was the most romantic movie Angie had ever watched. Anyone would have thought that Merit and the Princess were really, truly in love; not just the characters, but the actors. This was Miss Helen acting? Gosh; Angie was overwhelmed with the ambition of the project; she was realizing the act within the act that Miss Helen had pulled off. She had acted as Sharon Vuehl, _acting as Merit._ And this woman had _taught her Calculus II!_ It was unbelievable.

She glanced at Stephanie, whose adoring eyes were riveted on the screen, just as Angie's had been. Stephanie had her own reasons for being obsessed with Miss Helen. But she could not possibly relate to Miss Helen on as many levels as Angie could.

They finished the movie, closed down the apartment, and took a shuttle out to the airport. They got into the queue, already exhausted in anticipation of the ordeal of checking in. Suddenly Angie noticed the passenger just in front of them, and tapped Stephanie to get her attention.

"What?" asked Stephanie.

"Did you notice . . ." she dropped her voice to a whisper, " _her?"_

Stephanie gasped.

"Excuse me!" said Stephanie politely, touching the woman's shoulder. She turned around, and her face blossomed in a smile of recognition. It was Sita!

"Stephanie, isn't it? Yes, I thought it was you! It's been so long! What brings you out here?"

"I just finished college in New Jersey! It's so wonderful to see you again!"

"Are you flying Economy? I wonder whether we could get seats together?"

Stephanie remembered to introduce Angela as a friend. She was trying to think of a way to connect Angela to Sita, but Stephanie only knew that Sita knew Sharon Vuehl, and she could not assume that Sita was aware of the masquerade.

It wasn't possible to arrange to have seats together, because Stephanie and Angie were actually flying Business Class, so they arranged to get together in Charlottesville, which was where they changed planes.

## With the Robbinses

Many hours later, they were picked up by Andrea, Stephanie's mother. In the Robbins home, Sita socialized with the family, and with the two girls, Stephanie and Angela, but presently she was too exhausted to keep up with the younger people. She was not much older than they, but mentally, she felt _ancient_ compared to them.

"I wish we could get in touch with Sharon," Andrea was saying. She was frustrated. She, too, had felt a great kinship with Sharon Vuehl, and was impatient to see her again. She had been told only that Sharon had suffered amnesia, and she had wondered why there had been no news about it.

"Mom . . . brace yourself, OK?"

"Brace myself? For what?" Andrea saw Sita holding her breath, and was puzzled and worried. She wondered whether she was being told everything.

"I found out who Sharon Vuehl was. _Is._ "

"Found out . . . I don't get it. _Sharon?"_

"It was _Helen Nordstrom_ all along!"

Andrea and Steve stared at the girls and then at each other, their mouths handing open, thoroughly confused.

"That's _impossible,"_ said Steve Robbins. "They were both seated _right there_ in the auditorium, at the Oscars!" He smiled at his daughter. "Who told you this story, Steph?"

Stephanie and Sita stared at each other, understandably confused. That detail had not been discussed by them. (In fact, it had been Marika, Helen's cousin, who had masqueraded as Helen, for a lark; Marsha had helped her. Neither Sita nor Steph knew about that; only Marsha and Marika knew.)

There was only one person whom Sita could think to ask, and it was Lorna. She picked up her phone, and then realized that it would be very late indeed on the East Coast, but she could straighten it all out in the morning. She put the phone back down.

But the Robbinses were gradually coming to believe that Helen and Sharon were one and the same, as the exhausted Sita—reluctant to go to bed, leaving the question in the air—explained how she had found out about the Helen-Sharon connection, without giving away much information that she considered too personal to reveal.

"Over the years, while I was still in England, Helen . . . helped my sister, Lalitha, a . . . a lot." They nodded. "So, even while we were filming, and Helen was in her Sharon Vuehl disguise, Helen guessed who I was, because she saw the resemblance, you know? between me and my sister. So . . . at the end of filming, she got her girlfriend at the time, Lorna Shapiro, to meet me at the front desk of the hotel, as if by accident, and pretend to 'recognize' me—actually Lorna, too, had seen and figured out who I was long before; a week or more before—and offer to bring me to Philadelphia, and pay for the ticket, and everything. At this point, none of us: my sister, I, the public, _nobody_ knew that Sharon was actually Helen. Only Lorna knew. This was in the Summer.

"Months later, Helen had this huge amount of bad press, about _Helga,_ you remember?" They nodded. "She was accused of being a sexual predator, and so on, and students began to transfer out of Westfield, I was told. And she moved down to Philadelphia, quit from the college, and we began to see each other all the time. I still didn't have any clue that Helen and Sharon were the same.

"Then, one day I went over to where Helen was living, and I begged Helen to help me find Sharon. I knew she was powerful, and that she could find Sharon easily, if she wanted to."

Sita was an excellent actress, but at this point, she just _could not_ keep her composure. She covered her cheeks, and tried to sound as matter-of-fact as she could. "She said there _was_ no Sharon." And that was all she could get out. She shook her head, and looked at each one of them in turn, her eyes overflowing with tears, and her voice was low and hoarse. "There _was no Sharon._ There was only Helen."

In the face of that revelation, the Robbinses had to accept. Of course, Helen Nordstrom could have lied to Sita, but why? It wasn't as if Helen _needed_ the added notoriety of impersonating a fictitious actress. Andrea, with her great empathy, could hardly bear to see Sita relive the suffering of having heard that confession; she got to her feet and hurried to where Sita had been seated, and knelt down, and took Sita into her arms. Sita cried for a while.

Angie, across the room, could just about believe that Miss Helen was capable of the escapade. Without any intention of hurting anyone, Miss Helen just might have pulled off a stunt like that; after all, she had tried to run some twenty miles to meet Angie. What else might Miss Helen have done in her craziness? It was becoming clear that Miss Helen was a genius, and Angie knew that geniuses often indulged in spectacular pranks. In college, with Angie and her friends, Miss Helen had been sedate and patient and considerate, and predictable, and kind. But this story did not have any feel of meanness about it; it just seemed an over-the-top escapade.

Angie could also feel Miss Sita's agony, and knew instinctively that Sita was deeply in love with Miss Helen. If what Sita had told them was correct, the cause of all the trouble would soon be in LA.

# Talks Like a Teacher

All the young people—except for Suresh and Gena, of course—were gathered in San Diego, at the home of the Gustavsons. For years, Krissy and Marcus visited there on their breaks, because they wanted, all three, to be together, and rotated between their three homes; but it was new for Elly, and the three younger Nordstrom kids.

There were tennis courts close by, and near the sea shore, and they could play tennis as often as they wanted, except that they had to let other groups play on days when the courts were crowded. Inspired by the numerous kids of their size who played quite well, Erin, Allie and James were soon getting better. Alison was physically the weakest of them, but she worked at it like Trojan, and soon she was finding the corners like a pro, except that James would call the balls out, if he could possibly get away with it.

Kristen could be depended upon to not lose sight of their main objective. She called Sophie and expressed frustration at not knowing what was happening to Helen.

"You know," said Sophie, "Cindy says she sees some interesting changes in Helen. She remembers a scene here and there, but listen to this. She says Helen is talking a lot more like she used to. You know? Like a professor. I mean, she never actually _talked like a professor,_ no. But there is _something;_ the words, the . . . I don't know how to say . . ."

Kristen was excited. "I know exactly what you mean! When she was at the beach, where we live, she worked in a general store, but she never sounded like a local; she sounded like, well, a teacher, anyway! Like, she would check your spelling if you weren't careful!"

" _Exactly!_ Like a teacher! Have you met Olive, James's grandmother? Now _she_ is a bit extreme, but Helen could, you know, hold her own!"

"Oh, I know who you mean; the lady from Maryland?"

"Yes!"

"Uh-huh, she visited the Newberry house when I was there. Yeah, she had a sort of high-class manner!"

"Helen is not like that, at all. But _somehow_ I think Helen can talk like a teacher, like you say!"

"I'm going to give her a call. I want to hear it for myself!"

Shortly afterwards, Krissy was talking to Miss Helen, and she was amazed to hear Helen chatting to her happily, and the voice was the same, everything was _mostly_ the same, but Krissy could definitely hear the tones of Miss Elaine, the clerk in the general store! Krissy had admired Miss Elaine (Helen's cover name that summer) from the beginning, and it was now clear that part of the attraction had been Miss Elaine's educated speech.

"You sound well, and nice and cheerful, Miss Helen! This trip is doing you good!"

"Oh Krissy . . ." Somehow Krissy's words came across as rather grown-up, even compared to a year ago, when Helen had first met her, as far as she remembered, and Helen had noticed it. ". . . I don't like to see you kids growing up at _all!_ Soon you'll get jobs, and . . . never have the time to visit . . ."

"Do you remember that time when Marcus got—pretty _athletic_ —with Gena, and cracked the frame of the bed they were using?" Krissy had momentarily forgotten about the amnesia, and was trying to remind Helen about an incident from before the surgery.

Helen was quiet, and Krissy was brought back to the present with a jerk, and realized that Helen just could not remember that time—not unless her memory came back, anyway. But Helen was continuing:

"You know . . . I _can_ remember that . . . I seem to remember a big crash..."

Krissy was stunned, and overjoyed at the same time. "Are you sure?"

"I think I remember going out and buying a large steel frame . . . Do you remember me doing that?"

"Yes, Miss Helen! Oh . . . I hope you don't remember what happened _just before_ that crash!"

"Just before . . . no, Krissy, it's just an isolated memory, dear; if I work at it, the memories will come back, but just at the moment, it's an isolated memory! Oh, that's so disappointing!"

That incident had taken place about three years before, the very first time the Triplets (Gena, Kristen and Marcus) had come to spend a few weeks at Primrose, Maryssa's and Matt's house. Marcus had been dropped off by the Gustavsons, and Marcus's mother had taken Helen aside, and warned her to brace herself, believing that this would be the time when the three of them would experiment with vaginal sex for the first time. (Of course, the breaking bed frame had been a major—but temporary—setback!)

What had happened just before Helen heard the enormous crash (after which they had run out and discovered the broken bed, and the frightened young people) was that Kristen had come to Helen, and hesitantly asked whether she would sleep with Kristen.

## Stomping Grounds

Marsha was making plans with the others. "It's just a brief hop to Ohio, and we could look around the college, and see whether that brings back any sort of memories," she said.

"You might have better luck than I had," Cindy said, remembering her effort a decade ago, which had produced no results.

"I want to take her round the school; I have some important memories at the college, and Helen, you might have them strongly enough for them to come forward!" said Lalitha.

"I think I'd like that," Helen said.

"If you wait a week or two, I could come with you!" Janet said with a smile, but Janet had responsibilities in Ferguson, and really should not be leaving the school without a better reason than prodding Helen's memories.

Presently, they were back in the little plane, flying to Ohio.

Unlike the previous time, when Cindy had brought Helen to the college, hoping that she would remember something from those wonderful college years, this time Helen had already been told about the college, and the things and places she had visited often, and loved. Helen had longed to see them, and the others had decided not to push the amnesia angle too much. Helen was brought to The Little House—a simple cottage built on the lines of those in New England. Helen was introduced again to the lovely pair of old ladies who lived there now: Norma Majors, who still taught a partial load at the school, despite her advanced age; her cousin, Cecilia Williamson, whom everyone called Cecily, both of whom embraced Helen, and insisted that they were absolutely certain that Helen would regain her memory.

They asked about Maryssa, whom they remembered, and expressed sorrow that Helen had been parted from her; they had taken a great liking to Maryssa. But they could see that Helen was in good hands with Cindy, and they remembered Lalitha well, though it had been more than a decade since they had seen her. Gena had already hugged them thoroughly; Gena was a great hugger.

Helen's eyes took in the house, with eagerness. This time, she was not so preoccupied with trying to remember the place, but just appreciating the fact that the house was nominally _hers,_ just as the California house had been, but was managed by Becky and the corporation, which paid the taxes, and collected a nominal rent from the two old ladies.

"Now, you probably don't remember the Instrument Workshop, Helen," said Norma, "but it's doing well, and there's a steady stream of undergraduates who work there! We have to show you around!" Helen agreed at once, and Lalitha thought that was a good idea as well.

Lalitha and Helen visited the Admissions Office, but the new personnel had never known them. In the nature of admissions departments, there were some very pushy people there, who took Helen, Lalitha and Gena on a whirlwind tour of the school, as if Gena might be a prospective freshman! Gena told them that she had just graduated.

The folk who were still on campus after graduation had no memory of Helen's famous valedictory speech; the only piece of information they could grasp was that Helen had been the first manager of the _Knowlden Lab,_ as the workshop was now called. Cindy joined them as they entered the Lab, which had a grand plaque with its name above the front entrance, and a little plaque inside in honor of Helen Nordstrom, alumna, who had evidently been a benefactor, and had been identified as one of the earliest student managers of the Lab. Helen looked very proud, in great contrast to her demeanor when she had visited with Cindy a decade before.

"And that's where you had put the 'Cello you had made for me; and when I came in, everyone yelled _Surprise!"_

Helen was wide-eyed. " _I_ made you a 'cello, did I?" she asked, a little nervously. Anytime anyone mentioned some achievement of hers, Helen seemed anxious about being maybe asked to repeat it.

"Yup! That's the one I brought to Philadelphia!"

"Wow," said Helen.

Presently, Lalitha took Helen by the hand, and led her to the ornate front steps of the school chapel, a lovely building, a central landmark on campus, as was the style at the time the school had been built. Their friends watched them as they slowly climbed the steps, Helen's head turned questioningly towards Lalitha, the latter wearing an enigmatic smile. At the doors of the chapel, Lalitha gracefully sat on the top step, and smiled up at Helen, and invited her to join her on the floor.

It was clear that there were _some_ memories being awakened. Helen's eyes, just as lovely now as they had been twenty years before, scanned a full half-circle, and all that was visible from their vantage point. The watchers could see the disappointment on Lalitha's face, but later as Helen slowly descended the steps with her companion, she wore a thoughtful expression.

"It looks very familiar," said Helen, as they watched her face closely. "I don't remember the view, but it looks . . . very familiar," she said, struggling to express exactly what she was feeling.

Once members of the school administration were informed of the presence on campus of a person whom they considered a distinguished alumna, their entire group was offered a suite in the lovely old inn that was owned by the school, and was situated close to it.

Helen was very thoughtful as they got out their luggage, cleaned up, and sat down to plan. Lalitha and Cindy were both thinking of the little mall a short distance from the college, and how the hairdresser always recognized Helen when she went in for a trim. Gena and Marsha were planning what they would do next, and calls were coming in from San Diego, asking what happens next.

The visit to the Mall was a pleasant one. Helen had been somewhat intimidated by the malls in Philadelphia, except for the small neighborhood malls with various specialty stores. But this little mall was just perfect, though it was just a little the worse for wear. The hairdressers were all new, but amazingly, they recognized the name Helen Nordstrom, and it happened that one of the hairdressers was the daughter of the woman who used to recognize Helen so faithfully. She begged Helen to return the next day, because her mother would love to see her, but they said they were leaving in the morning, and they could not change their plans. Gena could see that Helen badly wanted to try and meet the woman, but they were reluctant to interfere with Marsha's schedule.

## Westfield, and Anne Lambert

Marsha's plane could easily land in the tiny runway of Westfield, and Helen seemed pleased to see the little town, and when they called David, the Veterinarian, he was having a light morning, and came over in his enormous SUV, which he said he would gladly lend the visitors for the day, if they would drop him back at the veterinary clinic. "You can visit Amy at the hospital, and she would probably be happy to go around with you once she's off work for the day!"

The nurse at the veterinary clinic was still Lisa, who had assisted with Lita and the pups back when Helen had first discovered them. Lisa rose respectfully to greet Helen, but Helen had no idea that she and Lisa were sort of friends.

Dropping Dave off, they headed out to the little town hospital, where Amy was waiting to meet them.

"About time you jokers came out here! Hi, Cindy! Hi Marsha!" Amy was happy to see all of them, gave each of them the enormous hugs she always gave everybody. She said she would be done by 3:00, and sent them away, raising the possibility of meeting them for lunch.

Marsha was at the wheel, and took them straight to the college, while Gena pointed out points of interest: the YMCA that Helen helped to build, the basketball courts, and then they arrived at the school.

The reception here was a lot more enthusiastic than at Helen's alma mater. The new president of the school himself wanted to meet Helen, and he and the Dean, Dr. Attwood, took Helen around the school. Gena noted that the school had not changed much at all; there was a new occupant in Helen's former office, Rich Wilson was on vacation; Rita, the secretary was grey-haired, but greeted Helen with fondness, and chattered about people she and Helen had known. Helen told her about her amnesia, and Rita replied that she knew about that. Gena noted that the people who knew Helen well seemed not to be embarrassed about that fact.

Most of the faculty had not come in to work, since it was so soon after the end of semester. They headed down to the playing fields, and Dean Attwood conducted them to the tennis courts, where the former president had briefly watched Helen and Sophie-The-Legs play a game!

They visited the cafeteria, were given a tray of snacks, after which the President and the Dean took their leave, and the visitors went out to walk around the town.

"You had an agent, called Aunt Conchita," Gena said, taking them to the YMCA, "and I wasn't there, but you beat her 0-0 at tennis! She had played for Princeton, and she was so embarrassed!"

"I didn't know she had played for Princeton," said Amy. Marsha gave Helen a sardonic smile.

They got lunch, and Gena took them to the old half-double, where Helen had lived for more than a year. Here, Helen was thoughtful. The people who lived there allowed Helen to come in and look around, and Helen later said that she could remember some rooms in the house. But it had obviously been re-decorated, so Helen had to struggle to connect up what she was seeing in front of her, with what was in her mind. But the street outside was very clear, she said.

At a little after 3 in the afternoon, Amy called to say that there was not a lot going on, and she was checking out for the afternoon. She arranged to meet them back at the farmhouse where Helen had lived in the last year or so at Westfield, and where Amy and David lived presently. As Gena drove them out there, and they got down from David's car, Amy came out with a lovely, slim woman, at whom Helen stared for a long time.

"Helen, this is Anne, with whom you were very close at one time," said Amy.

Lalitha stared at the woman, while Gena greeted her with an affectionate smile. The woman, having studied Helen with obvious pleasure mixed with surprise and concern, walked up to Helen, and enfolded her in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Helen," she said, and when she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. "I heard about the accident . . . but it's startling to see . . . the scar!"

"I think I remember you," said Helen, softly, her arm still affectionately around Anne. Lalitha felt distinctly unhappy with the pleasant reunion.

As the others stared at Helen and Anne, the latter quickly realized that explanations were in order. She turned to include them all in her wistful smile. "I was a dancer, long ago," she said, using her hands eloquently, "but I unexpectedly developed— _sensitivities_ —to gasoline fumes, and diesel fumes, and so on. So my husband—at that time—Frank, applied for a job as a professor of dance, at Westfield, and Helen," she turned to Helen with that smile that made it absolutely clear how she felt about Helen, "was on the search committee. Very soon, I was able to breathe— _quite-_ well, and . . . I think I . . . I became very fond of Helen." Her smile disappeared, and she looked at them solemnly. She turned to Helen again. "I wanted to see you for—how many years?—since you left Westfield. I knew you were in Philadelphia, but I dared not travel to the, you know, city area, for fear I would have an attack of—well, it is something like asthma." She suddenly noticed Gena, and broke out in a smile. "You're Gena, aren't you! It's good to see you again!"

They smiled at each other, at a loss as to what to say. Marsha alone studied Anne closely, looking thoughtful.

"I think I may have seen you dance," said Marsha. "You were Anne Delaney, I believe!"

"Do you remember me?" asked Anne, looking pleased. "That was so long ago; I was accustomed to being quite unknown!"

But Anne Delaney Lambert's eyes always kept going to Helen, with a look that seemed very much like love.

Amy urged them into the house, and they found lots of things to talk about. Anne described how the press, and various conservatives had begun to turn on Helen, "Because of this quite innocent _comedy_ that she had starred in! She was pregnant at the time, and she was devastated by the very undeserved criticism. I know you probably can't recall all that, but we were there when the news came on TV, and Conchita—you probably don't know who that is?" Amy said that Helen hadn't seen Conchita since the memory loss. "She was stunned. Then, Helen, you decided to take everyone to Philadelphia, and after that, I never knew what you had done. You taught at a junior college, I think I heard."

Gena nodded, and described those two years, when Helen had started to teach again. Helen listened carefully, and smiled around ruefully, embarrassed at all this history that everyone seemed to be aware of, except Helen herself.

It was soon clear to everyone that, perhaps, Helen should have some time alone with Anne Lambert; Anne was gazing at Helen with desperate hope, which the others took some time to understand, and then a little more time to see how it would align with what they wanted for Helen. It was difficult to put the finger on why Anne might not be the right choice for Helen, but it seemed unfair to get in the way of Anne possibly reminding Helen of some pivotal event.

Somehow, a few minutes later, Anne and Helen were walking along the quiet farm roads that wound around the homes and farms between Helen's converted farm in which Amy and David and little Ruthie now lived, and the annex in which Anne lived by herself.

Anne found Helen an interested listener, and Anne told Helen as much as she knew about that wonderful camping trip, which was difficult for Helen to completely get her head around, because of course Anne did not know the whole story. Amy knew more pieces of it, but had tactfully not told Anne all that she knew.

Anne did not hold back. She told Helen how she, Anne, had found herself irresistibly attracted to Helen, and how her husband at that time, Frank, had been in love with Helen even before he had ever met her. "He saw you on TV, and he told me that, next to me, he loved you more than anyone else. And I believed him."

"Oh Anne; I don't think love can happen that way. You have to live with the person; you have to fight with him, you have to listen to them snoring at night . . ."

Anne stared at Helen. Everything she said seemed like perfect wisdom, but how much wisdom could someone with amnesia have at their command? Is wisdom a part of your memory, or does it occupy some place that is different?

"You're looking at me as though I don't _deserve_ to have . . . any thoughts about love!" said Helen with an embarrassed laugh.

"That _is_ exactly what I was thinking, Helen . . . you don't sound like someone who's lost all her memory. You sound like the . . . painfully wise woman with whom . . . I fell in love with!" Anne pressed her hand to her heart. "I fell in love, knowing that I could never . . . _have_ you; I could only borrow you once in a while, and let you go back to . . . various people; it was Amy, and Conchita, and Lorna, and . . . Betsy, I suppose . . ."

Helen put her arms around Anne, and pulled her close, until she stopped trembling. Within these few minutes, Anne had cast her spell over Helen; it was not an unbreakable spell, but it would be very hard to forget the magic of little Anne. Helen had done it once, when Maryssa had appeared. But now, with no one in her life, Helen would find it much harder.

Helen frowned. "Who is Conchita, and . . . the other name you mentioned?"

"Who, Betsy?"

"Yeah; who's that?"

Anne explained who they were; Helen's agent, and Helen's personal assistant, respectively. Helen resolved to ask Lalitha and Amy about those women.

# Isolde and Rain Talk it Over

## Woodford Again

Evelyn Woodford—Rain—had made a brief visit to Woodford, and inevitably she and her mother got to talking about the Nordstrom kids. This would not have happened if they had been in the habit of chatting over the phone regularly, but they were not.

"Were you able to visit the children again?" Polly had asked.

"No, Mum." She was quiet for a while; she hated this next portion of their conversation. "It isn't like England, you have to realize; I can't just get in a bus and . . ."

"I know; I understand. I wasn't being critical, Evelyn."

Rain sighed. She wanted to see those kids as badly as her mother did, but during the work week, Rain worked incredibly hard with her students; getting them to talk reasonable French and German took an enormous amount of energy. But by the end of Saturday, her mind would often wander towards Philadelphia, wondering what the kids might be doing, how they might be dealing with their mother's amnesia, and how Helen might be interacting with those three children, so incredibly bright, so aware, so affectionate; and so in need of an adult.

Helen had not been very chatty, understandably, not being at all familiar with the strangers in the house. Olive had happily marched into the conversation, and Helen must have felt the enthusiasm and the energy in the old girl, and quickly become comfortable with her. Dear Olive, sweet soul, was easy to relate to.

But Rain, and her mother, Polly, were cut from a different cloth. Reticent and cautious, they had inspired caution in Helen, too, and Rain could not even see the Helen she knew in the bespectacled spinster that Helen had become. The Helen that Rain had been so angry with, inconsiderate and self-centered, was nowhere in evidence; from _where_ had this Helen come? She was not like anyone in Helen's circle of friends.

## Isolde Calls

A few days later, Rain was surprised to receive a call from someone on behalf of Isolde Wells. Apparently Isolde was trying to contact Rain, and this someone had been assigned to find Rain's family's phone number, and succeeded. Now Isolde was on the line.

"Hello, am I speaking to Evelyn Woodford?"

"Yes! I was told to expect your call! How can I help?"

"Well, you might not know, but I recently premiered a work by Helen Nordstrom, whom you knew well, I know. I . . ."

"Yes, and my parents and I were at the performance, Miss Wells, and it was a wonderful, brilliant performance!"

"Thanks! I have to say, and I hope I'm not coming across as very, you know, conceited, but I knew, as I was playing, that it was an historic performance; not because of me, but because of Helen! But I was trying to say, that I . . . had been putting off visiting Helen."

Rain nodded, silently, knowing the feeling well.

"I owe her a visit, both as a musician, and as a friend, and I want to go about it carefully, because I've heard so many sad reports of what's going on with Helen, and I thought I'd ask you first, about anything you can tell me!"

"Miss Wells, . . ."

"Oh, just Isolde, please!"

"Isolde, . . . and you can call me Rain, by the way!" Isolde laughed and agreed to call her Rain, if that was what she wanted; "I think it's a wonderful idea to visit Helen. It could make a huge difference to her. Did you know about her amnesia?"

Isolde sounded very concerned, and interested. "Only vague reports; I wasn't sure whether she was just reclusive and hostile to visitors, or whether she had actually lost her memory! What could have caused such a thing? Did she have a fall, or . . .? I can't even guess what could have made such a thing happen!"

Rain had to describe, as well as she knew, that Helen had indeed had a very bad year, and gone through a misanthropic phase, but that she had had a large tumor removed, which had resulted in almost total amnesia.

Presently, both women became comfortable with each other, and settled down to chat at length. So much had happened since Isolde had last met Helen, that there was a lot of ground to cover.

Isolde mentioned Lorna, and Rain quickly indicated that Lorna could fill in all the gaps in the Helen story a lot better than anyone else could. Had Rain been to visit Helen, asked Isolde, and Rain described how the visit had gone. Do you live in the UK now, she asked, and Rain said she was only visiting her parents. Might Rain be interested in having Isolde accompany her to the US? Isolde had not visited the US for several years, and felt uncertain about any travel to the country.

Rain was perfectly willing to have Isolde tag along with her, because during the protracted phone conversation, she had formed a very positive impression of how pleasant a travel companion the violinist would make.

But first, said Isolde, she was going to call Lorna.

"Isolde! So good to hear from you! How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine," said Isolde. "Did you hear about Helen's concerto?"

The tone of the exchange got distinctly more somber. "Yes; I watched a video of it. Isolde, you did a wonderful job with that; did you get asked to play it again?"

"Oh yes. The Philharmonia, the London Philharmonic, and the BBC, all wanted to play it. Once the orchestras get to like a work, you know, it's on its way to becoming a fixture in the repertoire! The only problem is that it's scored for a very modest orchestra. The big orchestras want works written for _them:_ huge orchestras with, well, about a hundred players!"

"Oh. Aha. That sort of makes sense."

"Lorna, is it true that Helen can't remember _anything?"_

"Yes," said Lorna, feeling rotten to disappoint Isolde. She could guess that Isolde was working herself up to pay Helen a visit. "Come for a visit anyway, Isolde; we could try to set you up for a performance with the Impromptu, and . . . you never know; seeing you again could make a difference to Helen. So far, Helen has recognized _places,_ and we're happy about that. Meeting _people_ , though, hasn't made much of a difference; she has been happy to meet them, but they haven't, you know, jogged her memory as such. But those of us . . ."

The line went silent for so long, Isolde became alarmed. But presently Lorna continued, to explain that Helen's closest friends didn't want to spare any effort that might help in a breakthrough. She talked about two of Helen's students who had come looking for her (not realizing that only one of them, Angie Connors, had been a student; but the other was just a friend, and a friend of Sharon Vuehl, at that), and how Lorna had described how Helen's family and friends were taking Helen round all the places she had known, hoping against hope that Helen would regain at least a portion of her memory.

# California Once More

##

## Bel Air

Helen and her companions, Gena, Lalitha, Cindy and Marsha, boarded the plane, and flew back to Los Angeles in easy stages. It took most of a day, because it was a propeller plane, which, according to Marsha was the most economical way to fly. None of them, least of all Helen, was eager to have Marsha spend a vast amount of money, but they could plainly see that Marsha did not grudge the expense of the trip.

While they made a stop for refueling, Lalitha got a call from Lorna. Lorna apprised Lalitha of the fact that two of Helen's students were in Los Angeles, hoping to meet Helen, and to try to reconnect with her. Sita, too, had managed to reach Lalitha, and promised to give her more contact information once Lalitha got to California.

Meanwhile, not knowing much about brain injury, or indeed any sort of health information, Marsha had expected that Helen would begin to recognize people and places a lot faster. She wasn't showing her disappointment, but she was beginning to feel sad. On one hand, Helen was alive, and healthy, and her children were around her, and her friends; but Marsha, as much as anyone, wanted Helen back. She wanted the youthful Helen, who would occasionally play tricks on her, wrestle her, and accompany her to public events that Helen hated; Helen had been a wonderful _pal,_ game for anything. It had been Marsha who, once she had come to realize that Lalitha had conquered Helen's heart decisively, had insisted that Helen and Lalitha should 'marry;' in a religious ceremony, at least, even if it was not legally valid. That had been back when Gena had been just about ten or eleven. They had dressed up the two women in wedding sarees, and they had said their vows on a hilltop in Ohio, and though they had never taken the step of trying to establish any sort of civil union, in the eyes of the Goddess, at least, they had been married. Lalitha had tried to push that knowledge to the back of her mind, but every once in a while, it came back to bring tears to her eyes.

## Arriving in California

Those in Marsha's little propeller plane were just as tired as the three girls with the Robbinses were; but Lalitha just had to call her sister.

"We just got in," said Lalitha, clearly pleased with hearing Sita's voice as she took the call. "Where are you?"

"Who's with you, again?" asked Sita, her mood improving rapidly.

"Helen; Marsha Moore, whom you might not know; Gena; Cindy—you remember her? Right—and me. Everybody else is at the home of Marcus, in San Diego."

"I'm at the home of the Robbins family, where Sharon stayed during the Oscars. It's a complicated story."

"Oh!" Lalitha was just beginning to realize how complicated it was; the Sharon Vuehl connection had been forgotten by most of our Philadelphian friends, because they had not been very much involved with the Oscars, and had thought of it as some minor frivolity in which only Sita had any interest. "I suppose we can get together tomorrow; there's no hurry?"

Though they were very tired indeed, Gena and Marsha talked all of them into doing, of all things, _makeovers_ on each other. Normally, Helen would have squashed that idea, and even now, Helen was less than completely enthusiastic about it. But Marsha and Gena took turns to put on makeup on everyone in turn, beginning with Helen.

Helen had not worn makeup since that horrible day at the Galaxy Studios soundstage, where she had been very heavily made up indeed. Marsha was good at what she did, and Helen looked lovely. _This_ Helen was easily embarrassed and bashful, but she was pleased to have her friends making her look pretty, and when they were finished, she looked in the mirror, and was very pleased at the result. In fact, she was just learning how makeup worked, because she had not dealt with it for more than a year.

Then it was Gena, and Marsha made her look sensational. Then it was Lalitha, who fussed a lot before she subjected herself to the makeup torture. They all gasped at the finished product! Lalitha was a beautiful woman.

Then it was Marsha's turn. They all knew how beautiful Marsha could be made to look, but she had not made any movies for nearly a decade, so it was still a surprise how lovely she looked.

Finally it was Cindy's turn. Cindy was very uncomfortable with it; she had not worn makeup since high school, nearly some thirty years before. It took a while, but it was worth it.

She looked completely different. Her sweet, happy face became actually radiant. They all took photographs of each other, and then Gena and Marsha insisted that their makeup needed to be removed carefully. They subjected themselves to that process, got into clean nightclothes, courtesy of Marsha, and went to bed.

Sita barely got any sleep, and all her companions asleep in the Robbins home slept late. It was very late in the morning before the two parties were able to make arrangements to meet.

## Helen Reflects

All through the few weeks that they had been traveling, Helen had studied her companions. She missed Maryssa terribly, and she even missed the newborn little girl, Gertie. The others had smiled at the old-fashioned name, but to Helen it was a lovely name for the infant, who had a beautiful face, uncommonly pleasing for a newborn.

All the young people, from Elly all the way down to little Alison, seemed to have the most wonderful personalities, and though at first Helen had been acutely disappointed with her memories not making an appearance, she was beginning to dread the day when the group would disperse, and she would once again be left with the three younger kids, and Gena appearing once in a while.

Kristen was special; one night, Kristen had shared a bed with Helen, and they had cuddled, and without a word, they had gone beyond mere cuddling; all the need for physical comfort that Helen had to endure unsatisfied, quietly flowed out, and Kristen seemed to understand, and Helen felt so much pleasure that she had wept silently. They did not make love, but they were somehow intimate, just enough not to frighten Helen, but not intimate enough to satisfy Kristen. For Helen's sake, Kristen allowed her to set the pace. When Helen left with the other women and Gena on the trip to Gully Lane, she had tried very hard not to show her reluctance to leave Kristen behind, but soon the company, and the new sights, and interesting stories distracted her.

Within a couple of days, not just Lalitha, but Helen herself knew that she was changing; the horrible, worrisome feeling that she had no clue who she was, and what she should do, seemed to have disappeared. She was becoming comfortable about who she was, and regarded her ignorance of visual memories, memories of things she had done, her inability to recall _events_ —in contrast to places—as relatively unimportant.

She was as comfortable with those she was with, in the plane, in St. Paul, in Ferguson, everywhere, in fact, as if she had known them for years. She _had_ known them for years, of course.

The others with Helen, with possibly the exception of Gena, were also beginning to realize that even a Helen with no memories wasn't so bad. She spoke and acted almost as if she was completely back, but of course, she couldn't remember a single thing.

They agreed to go with Marsha to a nice breakfast restaurant, where they would meet the Robbinses and their guests: Sita, and Stephanie's Princeton friend. Andrea knew the place, and said she would bring everyone.

Helen's group was there first, and they were conducted to a nice table in a secluded area, and a large breakfast was ordered, so that they wouldn't need to waste time.

Then Andrea led her group in, with Sita and Steve bringing up the rear. Helen politely stood as she saw them coming up, and looked at Andrea with interest, as she offered her hand, and then opened her arms to embrace her. Next it was Stephanie, and Helen could remember her face from _somewhere,_ but not any place she had been to. Steph gave Helen a big hug, and said something which Helen could not catch.

Then came Angie, and Helen rocked on her feet. Stephanie was introducing her, and Helen _knew_ the young woman was _very familiar._ Helen allowed herself to be embraced by the young woman who was just as off-balance as Helen.

The last two visitors greeted Helen with affectionate smiles; a tall handsome man, and Sita, whom Helen knew very well. But, with these other people present, Helen looked at Sita as if she was meeting her for the first time.

"Well, Shari, how are you feeling?" asked Andrea, without thinking, and Helen abruptly had a vision of having met this woman in another place.

"I know you from somewhere!" she said softly.

"You must remember Stephanie?"

"Stephanie . . ." Helen said, staring at that young woman. "You look familiar, too!" They were laughing. All their confusion about whether Helen could be the same as Sharon Vuehl evaporated; when they put their arms around Helen, when they felt Helen's arms hold them tight, they _knew;_ that hug was so familiar!

"Do you remember me, Miss Helen?" asked Angie, shyly. She was a graduate student, with her own classes and her own students, but Miss Helen made her feel like a kid again.

"Angie? Is it Angie? Oh, Angie!"

Recognizing Angie Connors was a big step. All Helen's memories were not back, but _Miss Helen_ certainly was.

"Miss Helen, do you remember _me?"_ asked Sita, laughing and crying, and everyone joined her.

"I do, I do!" said Helen laughing, and they laughed with her.

Lalitha and Cindy, trying not to make Helen anxious, tried to verify whether Helen remembered Sita the same way as she remembered Angie, but it was disappointing. Helen had remembered Angie at the college, and walking about Westfield. She had remembered Sita only because they had spent time together in the months _since_ the surgery.

Gena watched what was going on with only vague understanding of what it all meant. It was a little overwhelming to realize just how much these people were interested in Mom and her welfare. But for Gena, the big issue was: could Helen remember her children again? This was something that was enormously important for Gena just then: she loved Helen so much, that it was painful to even think about Helen not remembering her. It was complicated now by the fact that Helen knew perfectly well who the children were; she had come to know them since the surgery. But Gena wanted Helen to remember _meeting Gena and Allie._

Sita was deeply unhappy. Sita had told Helen that she loved her, _before_ the surgery. There had been two occasions: first, half in jest, while on that concert tour in which Sita had accompanied Helen; second, seated on the steps of Maryssa's house in Primrose, when Helen had been so utterly downcast about no longer being wanted as a soprano.

Sita would not make a spontaneous declaration of love to Helen again; if anything were to happen between them, it was Helen who had to take the initiative. Sita was stubborn. Helen looked beautiful to her; if she had seen Helen with all her warpaint on, as she had looked last night, she would have been stunned. But even now, Helen looked beautiful. It was something in her expression, in her eyes; something in those scarred lips, something in her voice. Sita felt something like _hunger._

Stephanie, too, could see her hopes gradually fade. Helen Nordstrom had certainly been Sharon Vuehl, and Stephanie could see the expression in Andrea's eyes, as she realized it. Somehow they had not made the connection; possibly because they had never known Helen Nordstrom very well, and certainly not seen her in person.

## Is the Music Back?

Helen's friends and family were deeply interested in Helen's memories, but when it came right down to it, it was all about whether Helen remembered _them!_ Anyway, those at that breakfast—which they proceeded to devour; it was an excellent breakfast—were moderately satisfied that Helen 'was back,' whatever that might mean.

There still remained another question: could Helen be a musician again?

They had not brought violins with them on the trip; and though there certainly were lots of violins in the City of Los Angeles that Helen could play, that question had not yet raised its head.

Cindy called up Kristen, and they planned to meet. They wanted to see Helen, and assess for themselves whether, as Kristen claimed, she had regained _something,_ which was difficult to define, but which made more wandering around, trying to force the issue, unnecessary.

Marsha said the gang could use her home as a rendezvous, and by late that afternoon, the whole gang had congregated in her yard.

Helen greeted her children with pleasure. Gena was unusually clingy, and Helen kept an arm around her. Alison smiled at Helen, and James tried to climb up Helen as if she were a tree. Erin stood close by, smiling, and Helen tried to put her arms around the whole lot, and the way she did that made the kids believe that Mom was Back. Kristen and Marcus watched the scene, grinning from ear to ear.

But Cindy and Elly needed to know. And they _could not_ verify what they wanted to so badly: Could Helen play the violin again? Tennis was well and good, but what the world wanted was their beloved violinist back, or _mostly_ back; either everyone had to be satisfied with a private citizen, quite content with her life; or they could actually have someone who could once again thrill the world with the sound of her violin. _Helga_ had incited religious conservatives to stab the soprano Helen in the heart, but perhaps the instrumentalist was still alive, and strong enough to withstand whatever residual disapproval there might still be.

# Back in Philadelphia

The Triplets agreed to drive the van back, while everyone else flew back on a commercial flight. Sophie had arrived, and had ordered pizza, and presently the usual residents of Newberry were asleep, while Sophie, Cindy, Morgan and Elly sat talking quietly. Sophie was barely awake, but she wanted to know everything that Cindy had to report.

"Listen," said Sophie, "Lorna wants to come over in the morning, with some visitors!"

"Who?"

"Rain Woodford, and . . . guess!"

"I can't guess! Tell me," laughed Cindy.

"Isolde Wells!"

Cindy's mouth became an 'O' of surprise. She had never met the British violinist, and to have her visit and meet Helen had some interesting possibilities.

## Isolde Arrives

Lorna, as coolly elegant as ever, met Miss Rain (Lady Evelyn) Woodford, and Miss Isolde Wells at the airport. They had flown economy class, but had arranged for a little extra space. No longer the excitable schoolgirl, Lorna was the accomplished ballerina, so much in demand that she could easily take several weeks off from work. Her lovely brown eyes, tinged with a little grey, smiled easily at the visitors, all of whom she knew well. Evelyn knew her well, and she was the first one Lorna folded into her arms! Lorna tended to forget just how much she loved a person, until that person suddenly appeared, and Lorna couldn't let go of the person! Lorna was much more relaxed and mature than they remembered her, but just as beautifully dressed, or even more so.

"You look really super, Red! And Isolde!" Lorna hugged her, her smile bright. Lorna was pleased to see them, having believed for more than a year, that she would never meet them again, having almost broken her ties with Helen. But here they were, evidently glad to see her!

Rain had longed to renew her acquaintance with Lorna, and she was discovering that she was far happier to see the lovely dancer than she had expected! Isolde smiled; she remembered Lorna as a girl who made her laugh. Lorna's humor, which everyone else took for granted, seemed perfect and fresh to Isolde.

As they walked to the parking lot—Lorna hadn't bothered to bring her car round to the terminal building—Lorna told them that Helen and Cindy and Lalitha had all arrived the previous night. "Gena and her squeezes are coming by road. They're probably driving that van way, _way_ too fast, in their hurry," she said, shaking her head. "I was going to bring my little Volkswagen, but I brought Lalitha's minivan instead. S'resh helped me clean it out pretty well, because of the, you know, violins, and stuff."

"You look lovely, Lorna! So nice to see you again!"

"Oh, _thank_ you!" Lorna wasn't vain, exactly, but though most dancers take their looks for granted, they _do_ like to be reminded of them.

Isolde was fussing over her instruments, but she was accustomed to Lorna's brusque way, and the two women got the instruments stowed to their satisfaction, watched with some amusement by Rain.

"So how did you like Olive Gibson?" Lorna asked them with a smile, as she got behind the wheel.

"Oh, she's a dear," said Rain at once.

"Who's Olive Gibson?" Isolde wanted to know, and Rain explained.

The next question was how Helen was doing, and Lorna's expression became serious. Lorna cautiously said that she was not spending a huge amount of time with Helen. Now that Maryssa is gone to live with Larry, she said, Cindy O'Shaughnessy has come over. "Not that Helen can't look after the kids and the house, but, you know, for company. Cindy is awesome. And, of course, Elly spends a lot of time there, teaching them violin. Oh—and this is interesting—Helen used to be crazy about tennis, and a good player, too."

"Oh, yes; I remember she used to beat Sophie!"

"I was just about to say: Sophie has been working with Helen, until a couple of weeks ago, and guess what: she picked it right up, and she's as good as she ever used to be! Just picked up a racket, and wham! I thought _that_ was pretty interesting!"

"Didn't she meet Gena on a tennis court, or something like that?" asked Rain.

"Yes, it was a long story; you have to ask Helen. Those two used to play a _lot_ of tennis together, at one time."

Lorna had decided that she would put the visitors in a somewhat more elegant hotel than the one in which they had put Isolde five years before. Isolde and Rain liked the idea of being put in a single suite. It was nearly noon, Eastern Daylight Savings Time, but it was the late afternoon for those who had just flown in from London. After a quick cleanup and a brief rest, they indicated that they would love to go over to Newberry, and meet Helen and the kids, and anyone else; perhaps the Impromptu folks.

## Violins Again

After that long excursion, it was understandably difficult for the residents of the Newberry house to settle down to their usual summertime pursuits.

There were frequent calls from on the road, and Kristen kept the family informed about their progress. They would be in Philadelphia by the end of the following day.

Most interestingly, though, when Cindy took over the violin instruction, having given Elly a few days off, they were surprised by Helen.

Helen looked very thoughtful, the first time she put the bow to the strings. She stopped, and studied her violin carefully.

"You know," she said, "I think I might have made this one," she said in a low voice, and Erin's eyes opened wide.

"That's not the one," said Erin, running upstairs. She brought down Helen's violin, and showed it to her mother.

Helen took it carefully, and turned it over in her hands. By this time, they were all tense, wondering whether Helen could actually remember having made the violin. (Allie's violin had been made by Lalitha and company at the instrument workshop; the one Helen had been playing had been given to her by Pat Wallace, Lisa's mother.)

Helen looked at the back of the neck, and there was the 'H' that signified that it was Helen's creation.

Helen looked up, wearing a serious face, and shook her head. She could remember _something,_ she clarified later, but not as much as they were hoping for.

Then, she played a few notes, and stopped, and looked at Cindy, wide-eyed. It was very clear that Helen had remembered a little of her playing ability, and they all looked at Cindy.

Cindy smiled. "Well?" she asked Helen. "Would you like to . . . skip violin for today? Or shall we have a short lesson, anyway? I think the girls should have just a little practice, Helen . . ."

Helen nodded vehemently. She was immediately the mother, and _of_ _course_ the lesson couldn't be skipped.

Helen played quietly, trying not to look puzzled or confused, but as they played the chorus tunes, it was clear that this was a _slightly different_ Helen who was playing along with them. They were presently playing the most difficult pieces that they usually played, and though Helen played them simply, without any extra expression or technique—much like she used to play, back when she was teaching the kids some three years ago, just after Maryssa had persuaded her to begin teaching the kids again—it was absolutely clear that Helen had reacquired a great chunk of technique. It was difficult to tell just how much, because Helen was downplaying it.

Then Helen removed her glasses, and said softly that she had to get a new prescription. Then she realized that her announcement must seem strange to the others, and she smiled, and Erin was amazed. It was the smile of the old Helen!

"Yes," Helen said to them, after a while, "at least the violin is coming back." She nodded to Cindy, who smiled; and Helen smiled back. "Don't get your hopes up too much; I can't remember much, kids. I wish I could!"

She wiped away a tear, but she was smiling.

Erin said, quietly, "Don't worry, Mom, it's OK." Then she explained that of _course_ they would like Helen to remember everything, but having a Helen who remembered a little was pretty awesome!

They managed to set that problem aside, and soon they were playing beautifully; and Allie and James were playing amazingly well, and they played some favorites, and Helen and Cindy played lower parts for some well-known pieces, and soon the kids were asking to play pieces in three parts which they had played when they still lived in the Primrose house. James and Allie had never played those then, but Allie and Erin had taught themselves those pieces, because the parents of some of their friends in the neighborhood had wanted to hear them.

After a while, they were all played out. Helen blew her nose, and called for the kids to put their violins away before they ran out to the street to play, and after they had left, Helen looked at Cindy, and Cindy took her in her arms, and Helen wept tears of joy.

"That's it," Helen said to Cindy, sniffing loudly, "I don't need any more, Cyn . . . I could never be any happier than this!"

"You called me 'Cyn!' "

"Did I!"

Cindy was so pleased, she thought she would just float away! The two women sat, and just smiled at each other.

"No people, just a few places, hardly any events, . . . but I remember some things! Tennis, violin, . . . Cindy; . . . just the _best_ things! Oh Cindy; I don't know what to feel . . . I'm greedy for more!"

Cindy's face became serious. "I have an idea," she said.

"What?"

"Shall we look at . . . the Dvorak concerto?"

Helen's eyes grew wide, and she nodded.

Soon, they had the concerto on the piano, and Cindy played the introduction, and Helen took up her violin—Pat Wallace's violin this time—and with few mistakes, and beautiful tone, played the solo part, and very soon, this time, _Cindy_ was in tears, and they stopped, and they hugged each other very, very tight. It seemed very much as though Helen was a musician again!

As they had done more than a decade ago, once Helen verified that she could still play the piano very reliably, they took turns to play the violin and the piano, grinning from ear to ear like idiots, in seventh heaven.

They heard noises, and turned around to see Erin, James and Allie and their friends staring at them in wonder. They had crept in, unnoticed, and were appreciating the fine entertainment, taking in stride the fact that until that day, Helen had not been able to play anything even close to what they were hearing now, in terms of difficulty.

"Play more! Play more!" said the street kids, and Helen and Cindy obliged them with a couple of encores.

## Isolde and Helen

Early in the morning, Lorna called the hotel, but the visitors were still asleep. Rain had woken up, visited the toilet, and fallen asleep again, since Isolde was still fast asleep. When they contacted Lorna, she hurried over, hustled them out to get a decent lunch, and then called the Newberry house, which still had a land line. (This was the line that Vicky sometimes pretended to inspect!)

Erin answered, and very quickly a visit was arranged. Erin was still thoroughly excited to see Helen playing the violin—and the piano, of course—just as well as she ever had. But the excitement of a visit from Isolde Wells drove that clean out of her mind. Soon they were frenziedly cleaning up the house, and their street friends were helping! They put water to boil—Isolde was perfectly happy drinking coffee, but they had learned how to brew tea, and Isolde would have tea whether she wanted it or not.

Soon, Lorna's Volkswagen's characteristic sound was heard, and they opened the door, and the visitors were treated to some brilliant grins as they got out of the car.

Helen came out onto the steps, and greeted Rain with a warm embrace, after which Helen was introduced to Isolde Wells.

Isolde had not imagined what Helen would look like, and she was dismayed by Helen's appearance. In her previous visits, Helen had always looked wonderful; that had initially been one of the big factors that had drawn the younger musician to Helen; her grace and her elegance, though her manner had been completely unassuming. Now, Helen still had a lot of charm, despite the scarred face, but she was plainly dressed. Isolde, as always, was dressed in a tunic and Indian skirt, with her hair in a band, and carrying a capacious shoulder bag.

Helen graciously introduced the visitors to Cindy, explaining that it had been Cindy, who, in large part had taught Helen modern violin technique, a couple of decades ago. "Please come in," she said, taking charge of the hospitality right away, after which Cindy told Helen to sit down and visit, that she and Allie would get the tea and the snacks.

Rain, once she was made comfortable, told Helen, with a smile, that Helen was looking well. "Of course, you always look wonderful, Helen, but especially wonderful today!" Helen politely responded that Rain did, too, considering how long the travel must have taken.

"I wanted to bring them over in the morning, but they slept late," said Lorna, with a mock censorious look at the Britishers.

" _I_ was up earlier," protested Rain (Evelyn), amid some laughter. There was some talk about where they had been put for the night, and about the flight.

"Helen," said Isolde, a little bashfully, "you must know all about your concerto, and all that!"

"Yes," said Helen; her face showing her interest; "I was told a lot about it, but I'd love to hear the story from the beginning!"

Isolde took a deep breath. "I got a call from the Birmingham folks—the Chamber Orchestra—saying that they wanted me to play the Dvorak," and Cindy and Helen quickly glanced at each other. "Then they asked if I knew of a relatively unknown piece I would like to premier, and I immediately thought of the concerto you had written!" Helen nodded. "Of course, you probably don't remember writing it, but I expect you knew that it existed?"

Helen shook her head. "No, I have amnesia," and everybody nodded, "so I didn't recall anything about it, but once it was mentioned, the girls remembered the whole business. They actually remember seeing you holding it in your hands, and so forth."

Isolde was nodding, looking at Erin, whom she recognized with a smile. "Well, I sent it over, and," she shrugged, and smiled. "We played it! Helen, if it had been a larger audience, it would have been a sensation! But, even with the small orchestra, and the small audience, it went down _really_ well, and the Woodfords had been there," she said, acknowledging them, "and I have been playing it around Britain, everywhere, with small orchestras! But now the big orchestras are getting interested, but it might take a little rewriting. It really has the _feel_ of a work for a chamber orchestra, but . . . anyway, I wanted come over and say Hi, and tell you _personally_ what a gem it is, and tell you how . . . _privileged_ I feel to be able to say: _it was written for_ _me!"_

The visitors applauded Isolde's sentiments, and Cindy brought out the refreshments, and they described how they had heard and seen the video that Marika had brought. The children were dying to bring up the whole topic about how their violin lessons were going, but Helen's recent explosion of skill level was confusing them, and when Erin and Cindy exchanged glances, they telegraphically agreed to not bring the subject up! Innocent little Allie, meanwhile, had forgotten all about it, and was simply enjoying the presence of Rain, and of course, Miss Isolde, and, not least, Aunty Lorna.

It was mid-afternoon, but being midsummer as close as made no difference, it was still blazing light, and Isolde got to her feet, and exclaimed that she had brought her violin, and wanted to get it out of Lorna's car. Lorna followed Isolde out, with a grin, and soon they were back, and Isolde had spotted the lovely new piano, and had asked if she might play it, and Helen said yes, of course she might, and the entire party drifted over to where the piano was, and Isolde tuned her violin to the piano. James hurried to where his violin was stored, and it was becoming a music party. Isolde noted that there was a cello in the corner, and Helen could hardly contain herself for wanting this impromptu music fest to take place.

At first, Helen was frustrated, at being uncomfortable about getting up there and playing with the others, but she disguised it well. (That more than anything else convinced Cindy that Helen had had a major breakthrough; but there was no specific memory with which Helen could describe how much memory had gotten through.) When Erin pulled out her violin, Helen was quickly distracted from her frustration, with the prospect of showing those who were gathered there how well Erin played. Helen never thought of Erin except that she was her daughter; there was no feeling at all in the big blonde that Erin was merely an adopted child. Then Allie walked up, her eyes shining, her three-quarter-sized violin ready to go, and Helen simply swelled with pride.

They played many well-known pieces for violin ensemble, and Isolde assigned the parts with a sure hand, as soon as she had a fair assessment of how well the children could play. After a while, Helen lost her awkwardness, and she was soon revealed as a capable pianist, indeed the most capable pianist in the room! James wanted to play the Pachelbel _Kanon_ , and Isolde suppressed a groan, but they got to it, with Cindy playing the cello line. James had actually learned this piece well, and with the music in front of him, did a fabulous job. Isolde gave him the leading line, giving Allie the second line, and taking the third line. It was quite an interesting piece to play, except for the poor cellist, of course! Lorna and Rain caught each other's eyes, and laughed, each knowing just how the other felt, being unable to join in the music party!

They played it again, with Erin, Helen and Isolde instead, while Lorna watched and listened with increasing insight into what was going on. (To the casual observer, the design of the _Kanon_ was not immediately obvious, because the sounds of most violins were so similar. But here, with the violins placed encircling the piano, the counterpoint was a little easier to follow.)

Of course, that wasn't the only well-known piece they played; everyone suggested tunes they could play.

"Can you stay to supper?" Cindy asked, having conferred with Helen, and Lorna headed out to the kitchen with them, as Rain pointed out that they could always send out for Pizza.

They improvised a meal with what was available, and everyone had a wonderful time. Lorna had arranged to meet with the Impromptu group the next morning, which was Sunday.

The following day, when Helen and company arrived at the rehearsal hall in which the Impromptu practiced, and often performed, none of the awkwardness that Lalitha had anticipated was present. Helen, with no memory of the hostility that the Impromptu had felt toward her at one time (and subsequently repented), there was nothing to interfere with her fascination with the occasion. Isolde greeted the musicians with pleasure, and soon plans were put together to perform a number of works, since Isolde's repertoire had evolved quite dramatically. Most importantly, Isolde asked them whether they would consider featuring the Nordstrom Concerto. At this time, Pavel (who had been the most uncomfortable at having Helen perform with them during the dark times) had become much less a dominating figure than he had been before, and the orchestra had another conductor, a talented young woman, who had played double bass at one time.

Elly was now a regular, and she greeted her students, Helen, Erin, Allie and James with great enthusiasm, and quietly debriefed them on what had gone on. There was such a hubbub that she could not follow all the details, but Erin described how Mom had suddenly picked up the violin and surprised them all. Erin had introduced Elly to Isolde, since the last time Isolde had performed with the Impromptu, Elly had still been in school.

With a sigh, Helen joined Rain, Lorna and Cindy, as they watched the preparations. This was going to be the Dvorak, which was one of the reasons Helen was so frustrated. Cindy, too, wished she could be playing; she had still not been invited to participate with the orchestra in anything, essentially because she had been busy with Helen-related matters.

They were off, and they were impressed with the new conductor, a tall, handsome woman called Brooke Arbogast. They were quickly distracted from their various preoccupations, and sank into the beautiful music they were hearing.

Next, they took up the Nordstrom Concerto! Helen was taken by surprise, but the orchestra was into it in short order, and it seemed that they had actually rehearsed it already, much to Helen's surprise. Before they had started, they had turned to Helen and acknowledged that she was the composer, only after which they had taken off.

For Helen, listening to the piece live was a startling experience. Able to hear every detail of the piece—since the Impromptu sort of surrounded the listeners, and the sound separation of a live performance beat listening to it on a recording—it was a revelation to Helen. Helen may have written it, but she hadn't ever heard it live.

And then, to Helen's complete amazement, Erin was invited to step forward, to play the lovely second movement! Isolde came to join Helen and Cindy and the others, as Elly beamed around her, proud as anything to have her student acknowledged so dramatically! The young teenager had learned the movement perfectly, even if her violin was only a Nordstrom, and not an amazing Stradivarius, such as Isolde owned.

As they got into the complex harmonies of the latter half of the movement, Isolde leaned close to Helen and declared that Erin was amazing. Indeed, Erin's tone was incredible; it sounded as a solo violin should, threading its way through the music in places, where in addition to the solo violin, there were also, on occasion, a solo viola and a solo cello, so that it was almost a concerto for orchestra and string trio! But soon the violin began to climb higher and higher, and Helen could barely restrain herself; it was generating so much tension.

At the end of the dazzlingly lovely movement, there was a brief silence, followed by great applause, and Brooke turned to the little audience and grinned, and said, "How about that! What do you think, eh?" and Helen's pride knew no bounds!

Isolde bowed to Erin, who grinned her patented grin, and took her seat once again in the first violins. The concerto was finished off with Isolde playing the solo violin, as Helen and Cindy simply stared at each other, and at Elly in the orchestra, whose grin was threatening to split her face in two. Elly and Erin had arranged this little surprise for Helen and Isolde!

Helen, Allie and James hurried up to the orchestra, and Erin ran into Helen's arms, and Cindy and Allie were all smiles, so proud of Erin that they had no words. _You were awesome,_ whispered Allie, as James stood by, still too stunned to react.

Helen was dying to play, but it seemed that it was not to be that morning. Isolde had heard Helen play the previous evening, but evidently everyone was reluctant to put Helen on the spot. Erin was a kid, and there was no shame if she had stumbled, though of course she hadn't. With Helen, a stumble could be a big obstacle to being recognized as a major musician.

## The Audience

Rain—Evelyn Woodford observed the controlled chaos with much interest. Rain was no stranger to orchestra rehearsals, but she was fascinated, especially since Erin had now become a violinist of a caliber that she had never expected. The youngster's performance of that movement not only showed how well she played, but it also showed them all what a magical piece of music it was! It seemed to Rain that everyone needed to make a _much_ greater fuss over the work than they were; they were hearing it not for the first time, but not even Isolde's performance had been as magical as the one they had just heard.

Also in the rehearsal hall was Sita, seated near Helen and the younger kids, Lorna and Cindy, trying to get her head around the amazing music she was hearing, and the sheer talent she was seeing. For a few years she had dreamed vague dreams of stepping into the role that Rain had relinquished, and then Maryssa had taken up, and now Cindy seemed to have assumed. She shook her head; it seemed that only a musician could breathe the air that Helen and her children breathed. She cautiously glanced around her, to see if her frustration was being observed, but no one was watching her. She saw Rain Woodford's hopeless gaze, and Lorna's tightly pursed lips, and felt both jealousy, and compassion. To do what Sita wanted to do was not for the likes of her, or even Vicky, who she _knew_ dreamed of being Helen's lover. It was not a _lover_ that Helen needed; it was a companion, an intellectual equal . . . someone who could appreciate all that Helen and the kids could do, and give them the praise and the admiration that they needed and deserved.

Just then, Cindy's eyes went over the gathered women, and were caught on Sita's face, and Sita just _knew_ that Cindy understood exactly what calculations were going through Sita's mind. But to her surprise, instead of the disappointment or the jealousy she expected to see, she only saw pleasure and encouragement. Cindy was a very _what you see is what you get_ sort of person. Apart from that, Sita knew very little about Cindy, except that in large gatherings in Philadelphia, Cindy had occasionally made an appearance, and usually a very low-profile one. She smiled back.

After Helen had properly expressed her delight in how well Erin had done, and made sure that Alison and James were included in the rejoicing, she found Rain waiting to talk to her, and soon after, Lorna and Sophie. Helen's head was in such a whirl that she could not respond intelligently to _anything_. The confusion had begun on the trip out west, and there was almost nothing that could help Helen regain her equilibrium. Isolde's visit made matters worse, and so did Rain's. Every moment, Helen had to remind herself who these people were, and it took a lot of effort for Helen to keep to a minimum the number of moments in which she just stared blankly. This was information overload of the worst kind. Helen told Erin she was going out for a little fresh air, and they slipped outside.

## Cindy and Sita

As Sita drifted towards the doors with the same intention as Helen—it was getting to be quite a humid day, and it was warm inside the church building—she saw Helen and Erin heading toward a garden bench. Helen had put on just a little face color, and had really looked lovely. But now her back was to Sita, and the younger woman headed toward a lovely shady tree, dropping her fixed smile with great relief. She could not help but think that The Goddess was definitely in Helen, lighting her from inside.

"Hello!"

Sita started. It was Cindy, smiling at Sita. Compared to Sita's five feet and a half, Cindy was shorter, and Sita had to smile down at her.

"I know you're Lalitha's sister, but we've never had a chance to talk!"

"I know! Cindy, I'm so pleased that you've come to stay with them! Elly was doing a wonderful job with the young ones, with their violins, but Elly says that you're in a class by yourself!"

Cindy quickly declared that her reputation was vastly exaggerated. "But I'll have more time, really. Between the two of us, I think we can push them a little faster. Not too fast, though."

Sita nodded, and agreed. She imagined it must be a nervous business to have the responsibility of teaching such talented kids.

Cindy looked right into Sita's eyes.

"Helen was a brilliant violinist, _and a fabulous soprano!_ You must have heard that that was true. And the other things," Cindy said, still in a quiet voice. "But Sita . . . Helen is more than just a musician." She looked up at Sita, and her voice dropped lower. "A person like her comes along once in a generation! I . . . I had been kidnapped by this . . . gangster, and raped, and forced into prostitution." Cindy looked solemn, and it was impossible to disbelieve her. Sita felt shocked; she had known none of this.

"Oh god! You're serious?"

Cindy nodded. "Then I met Helen on the Internet. It was a chat room . . . you probably don't know what that is." Sita shook her head. "She called herself Tiffany. Anyway, she kept asking me for information: where did I live, what were the streets . . . obvious things that could help me escape! And then, one amazing day, the man who was keeping me prisoner got shot, when he was in the car with me; I got out and ran. And Helen was coming towards me!" Sita watched, while Cindy just stood and trembled, and Sita put her arms around Cindy, until she was calm again.

"Why did you tell me this?" she asked.

"Because . . . I have always felt that Helen was more than human!"

Sita understood perfectly. She didn't describe her belief in The Goddess; she had to know Cindy better before she laid such an unusual idea on Cindy. It turned out to be a good decision.

"See, I had been a nun. Somehow _I_ had got amnesia, and Helen looked after me so gently, so . . . delicately." Cindy was anxious that Helen and little Erin should not discover them, and interrupt the discussion. They silently went around the corner.

"My name was Sister Mary Catherine O'Shaughnessy. Helen helped me figure all that out. I regained my memory, and I was desperately in love with her." Cindy looked into Sita's eyes. "When I look into your eyes, I remember how I felt back then. She inspires love in particular people.

"With me, it was over in a few months; she went off to Canada, and lived with a woman there; then she was with Marsha Moore for a while . . . Marsha adored Helen, but she sent Helen back to the college, to get her degree. I knew very soon, that our time had gone. I had to help Helen in specific ways: to become the violinist, to meet her cousins, whom she had never met before, to keep her steady when she first became famous, while she was still a kid; it is such a huge temptation to go _crazy!"_ She laughed silently. "But she fell in love with these people, and I stepped away."

Sita nodded. Somehow, when Cindy explained how things were, it didn't seem particularly self-sacrificial. It was quite clear that Cindy knew that she was not helping, after a certain point, and there were other things she could do instead.

"Then Lalitha came, and . . . I thought that was a good thing. I did not meet your sister, but I _know_ she was a wonderful influence on Helen." Cindy looked into Sita's eyes, again, and Sita held her breath. It was not the Goddess that was in Cindy; the former nun was a very special person, and saw into people's souls, despite her frightening innocence, and Sita wanted to know what she was seeing. But Cindy was lost in thought.

Sita let out her breath in a sigh.

"I, too, have stories I could tell!" she said, and Cindy smiled. There was amusement in that smile, but not judgement. "Maybe another time!"

"Yes, there's no hurry! But I felt that you had . . . Helen's best interests at heart, and we had to join forces to help her, and the little ones! What precious things they are . . . I wonder where Alison and James have gone . . ."

"Oh, I bet they're hanging out with Suresh and Megan Grace," Sita said.

She _wanted_ to say that if Cindy would renew her relationship with Helen, Sita was on her side.

They walked silently back into the church, to make sure that the youngest Nordstroms were not feeling abandoned. Sita's heart felt a lot lighter than it had felt in a long time.

## The Semple Street House

Isolde chose to visit with Lalitha and company, while Rain and Lorna returned to the hotel for a while. Rain wanted to get back to the Newberry house, and debrief the children, but everyone was tired.

Before Lalitha could bring up the subject, Isolde marched right into it.

"It has to be awfully lonely for Helen, without another adult," she said. She blushed, because she had practically driven off her boyfriend Kevin. She missed him, but she was more relieved, really. It was worth it, to have more control over her environment. But of course, she did not bring up any of that.

"I'm happy that Cindy is there," Lalitha said, glancing at Sita.

"Oh . . . I sort of assumed that she was a visitor. And she's a musician, isn't she. That's good for the kids." She thought for a bit, and shook her head. "Erin is _phenomenal,_ " Isolde declared, and they all were quick to concur. "She's as good as I was, at that age;" she dropped her voice, "possibly better, actually." The Philadelphians' eyes grew wide in amazement, and they made soft sounds of disbelief. Lalitha decided that Helen had to be persuaded to give the little blonde a really good violin; there were several in Helen's house.

"A few months ago, I would have been really worried," Lalitha said, talking about Helen again. "But we took her on a sort of tour, of all the places that should have memories for her, and . . . though there were no big memories that came to her, she looks, and sounds, and behaves as if her . . . _personality_ is slowly coming back. I don't know what to think of that," Lalitha finished, shaking her head. It was not the best time to talk about The Goddess, and so forth; but Lalitha often explained things to herself in terms of divine intervention.

Luckily, Isolde was a relaxed, comfortable person, and the Indian family quickly understood her world, the ideas that formed the basis of her decisions and her concerns, and soon they began to talk freely of the kinds of things that would help Helen and her children to take charge of their lives, and help the talented young ones to advance in their various musical interests. Listening to the Indian women, and even to the crazy little Trish, who had no musical talents whatever, Isolde began to feel comfortable that, if they saw any need that Helen had overlooked, they would jump on it. Cindy had noticed that James needed a bigger violin, and Isolde said she would check out the situation, and make a recommendation.

Despite Cindy's concerns about Helen's needs, _Sita_ was thinking about her own needs. She obviously couldn't blurt out that she had once been deeply in love with Helen, despite the painful choices the latter had made, which obstructed the path Sita had seen to her own happiness. She had been in love with Sharon Vuehl; then she had found herself gradually falling in love with Helen Nordstrom instead, only to find that Helen had unresolved feelings for numerous women, especially Lorna, Rain, and Maryssa. She wasn't sure that Isolde had no designs on Helen either, except that it seemed as if Isolde was actually blind to the possibility that Helen might be bisexual. Did she know that there was such a thing as alternate preference? Isolde seemed like someone who believed that all these things that were in the news so much, lately, were merely theoretical possibilities, or even mythical things, like elves.

Presently, to Sita's surprise, Lalitha brought up the subject of Isolde's love life! Lalitha was by no means a gossip, and though there were times when Lalitha was not above poking sly fun at people, here Lalitha was cautiously trying to be helpful. Suresh and his little daughter were off on a walk, and Trish was busy elsewhere in the house, so the two sisters and Isolde had a certain amount of privacy. Isolde was startled, and briefly considered heading the line of inquiry off at the pass, but then, with a sigh, she realized that there was literally no one with whom she could talk about those matters. Her mother had died when Isolde had been not yet twelve, and her father had died a few years ago, and Robert, her brother, was useless, and her various aunts, who were fantastic (or, at least, competent) and sewing, were not any use in matters of the heart.

With some reluctance, at first, Isolde—having extracted promises of silence from the women—labored over her misadventures with Kevin.

## Hotel

Once Lorna had headed towards the lovely hotel suite, they talked it over, and decided to head off to a place Lorna knew that served moderately healthy meals, and wasn't very full on weekend afternoons.

They ordered, and as they turned to each other, each of them knew that what was uppermost in the mind of the other was their own loneliness.

"You look well," said Lorna, thoughtfully studying Rain's face and hair, and the slightly different facial ornaments she happened to be sporting.

Rain quickly covered her cheeks, and then dropped her eyes. It was hard to set aside what she perceived as her plain features, compared with what she considered Lorna's utter perfection. "I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up," she said.

"I'm not kidding, Red," said Lorna. Rain cautiously raised her eyes to meet Lorna's gaze. It seemed that these days Lorna's eyes were more piercing than they had been. Lorna's eyes had always had the ability to look right through Rain, but they seemed to be even more intense now, so many years later. "Look at me!" Lorna's voice was soft and persuasive, not harsh. Rain looked up. "You look wonderful. Your eyes, especially! Rain . . . we were fools not to hang on to you! I was a fool all round."

They talked about what they were doing, and they talked about Helen, and about the old days. Rain had never described to Lorna exactly how Helen had aggravated Rain, and driven her off, and then, one time, been so wonderfully kind that Rain had wept. Rain had been sick with a horrible virus, but Helen had tended her so sweetly, that Rain had wondered whether the previous weeks had been some twisted nightmare. Then Helen had become merely very inconsiderate indeed, and that had been the end.

Lorna described how she had come back, and tried to reconnect with Helen, but in her case, it had been Lorna's libido that had destroyed everything. With Rain gone, Helen just could not keep up with Lorna's needs (and even before; Rain had blamed Helen's and Lorna's in-your-face sexual encounters on Helen, quite unfairly) and Helen had begged Lorna to go back to New York. It wasn't that Helen did not want Lorna, but that either Helen and Lorna both needed to go to New York, or Helen had to let Lorna go.

Even now, if Rain wanted to come to New York, and be Lorna's woman, they could be very, very happy. But Rain had tasted independence, and even if she had been unhappy for most of that time, and longed for the physical comfort that Helen and Lorna had given her, Rain could not go with Lorna.

But the puzzle that remained for them was Helen. The Helen they had seen after the amnesia was a stranger, quite different from the old Helen, whom they had adored, and hated, and resented so much. The Helen they saw today was a talented, intense woman, on the brink of rediscovering her former brilliance, but also an ordinary woman, a mother, doting on her children. Before their eyes, Helen was reinventing herself, and this new Helen had none of the worst character traits that the old Helen had had. But were they still inside her head, waiting to be revealed? Helen had staggered into a chair a little after she and Erin and Sophie had come back into the warm church which the fans were struggling to cool, and Lorna had murmured that it was a hypoglycemic episode, and Erin had efficiently dealt with it, dispatching Allie to fetch a glass of lemonade and a little ice, and fanning Helen' face. They had all gathered round Helen, but she had recovered, and sent all of them away except for Allie and Erin, and presently Helen had stood, and talked to the conductor woman, Brooke somebody, and Isolde, and had looked fairly OK.

## Isolde On a Mission

Isolde decided to stay for a week, and Olive invited Rain over to spend some time with her.

Isolde's decision to listen to the Nordstrom children play violin for her was received with sheer delight, from both of their instructors. James received a nice full-sized violin, and Erin was promoted to the violin made by Helen herself. Erin was pleased, because the violin that Helen had made in her twenties was a brilliant violin, compared with even old Italian violins. (Erin did not know that Helen had, in her possession, another violin given by Patricia Wallace, which was a _Guanerius,_ built by the violin-maker _Giuseppe Guaneri_ of the 18th century who was as well-known as the famous _Antonio_ _Stradivari_.

Isolde was installed in Helen's house, which had plenty of room. Gena and the gang had arrived late the previous afternoon, and Marcus and Kristen had flown off to be reunited with their families. Now all three of them needed to find employment. They could all get basic jobs moderately easily; or they could get jobs that they enjoyed, but which paid very little; or they could keep looking for perfect jobs, with the salaries that they imagined they deserved.

"Gena, darling; I might have been able to exert some influence before, you know, the . . ."

"Don't start worrying, Mom; I'm going to start looking on Monday. I want to go back to campus, and pull out my file at the placement office, for a start." Most universities and colleges helped their graduates to find employment, particularly with the assistance of letters from the faculty, and alumni, who might be hiring for positions such as those the new graduates were seeking, and this was what Gena was talking about. Helen had spoken to Gena about employment long ago, and had stressed that it was valuable to have experience as an entrance-level worker. Knowing that Helen had worked in housing construction for years, this advice was considered highly reasonable by Gena. Gena, though, was not as big and strong as Helen, and so could not plausibly follow in her mother's footsteps as a construction worker.

"I wonder whether Maryssa would be able to help, or Marika, or even Janet . . ."

"Or Aunt Amy!"

"I suppose that's possible . . ."

" _And,_ I must ask _Miss_ _Mallory Pearson_ whether she would write me a recommendation!!"

Isolde was delighted to get reacquainted with Gena, now a grand old lady of twenty-one, and to hear all about what she had done in college. Isolde had never been to college, but she had, like Gena, attended a prestigious private grade school, and become a recognized soloist right away. Now she regretted not having the qualifications to teach her own students, except informally.

Sometime later, Gena and Isolde were able to "go shopping", but the actual purpose for the exercise was for Isolde and Gena to talk quietly about Helen. They found a quiet corner in a restaurant, and ordered something to drink.

"Are you having a good visit?" asked Gena, politely.

Isolde took a deep breath, and said yes, she was. They looked at each other, both of them deciding to get straight to the point.

"I told Helen what a _brilliant_ piece of composition that concerto was," Isolde said, just a little breathlessly. She made a gesture with her hands to express that there was little more to be said about _that_. "Then, last night—you heard about last night?" Gena shook her head; they had just got in very late, and slept through the rehearsal with the Impromptu. "She got out her violin, and . . . it's all there. All the skill with the violin. She can't remember all the pieces she used to play—she knew most of them from memory!"

"I knew that. What did she play last night?"

Isolde described it. Then she described what Erin had played, and Gena was amazed and pleased. Then she described that Helen had played the Sixth Brandenburg, and Gena nodded thoughtfully. "Cindy was telling me that they had run through the Dvorak! The first movement, and they didn't finish it, but . . . That's enough proof for me, Gena; her violin skills are totally back."

Gena sat back, unable to comment on the situation. They wanted _their mother back,_ but having _the violinist, Helen_ back was _such_ a wonderful thing, anyway! Gena tried to put this into words for Isolde, and Isolde nodded. Of all the people in Philadelphia, outside of Helen and perhaps Lorna, Isolde and Gena were probably most on the same wavelength.

"As soon as I saw her, I started thinking . . . Just how much of her did I _have to have back?_ I mean . . . I'd like her to _remember me,_ definitely." Gena nodded slowly; that's what most everybody wanted. "Then, I wanted, I guess, the _violinist_ back, and I think we've got more than we could have expected!" Gena nodded vigorously. "Then, I wanted her to be able to _conduct!_ Gena, she is _such_ an amazing conductor. I've played with a dozen conductors over the last, I don't know, five—ten years; but there's _no one_ who is quite as good as Helen! They're _all good,_ don't misunderstand, but Helen was _phenomenal!_ Helen understood the pieces _just_ the way I did. You understand? I suppose that's a matter of preference, but . . . I have to be honest: _that's what I would like._ " Gena nodded, smiling.

They all wanted a lot from poor Helen, but they already had a lot more than they could have hoped for, as Isolde had said.

"You probably want her to be able to compose some more, too!" said Gena, laughing.

"That's not so funny, Gena. If you heard Erin play that second movement . . . you wouldn't laugh. People can write violin concertos, but . . ." Isolde's eyes were shining, and she had a look of sheer awe on her face, " _nobody_ could write something so . . . beautiful," she continued. "It was half . . . your mother, and _half, your sister!"_

"She's good, I know," Gena began.

Isolde shrugged. "It shouldn't be just _my_ opinion," she said. "We've got to get Erin playing the concerto soon, and I _wish_ Helen could conduct it!"

They talked at length about what it would take to push Helen into a mindset in which she might consider conducting at all. Unlike playing a violin, waving a stick at an orchestra took a mental attitude, a degree of confidence, that Helen was still far from feeling. It was using the body in an essential way. Isolde was surprised to hear that Helen had picked up tennis once again, and almost within a single day, gotten all her instincts and her skills back.

"The closest thing is . . . _dancing,_ " Gena suggested.

"Did she dance?"

"You know, it was her, in _Limelight,_ right?"

"Helen?"

"Yes!"

"No, it was Sharon Vuehl!"

Gena just sat and smiled at Isolde enigmatically. Isolde looked cross, and Gena let it go.

"Anyway, I think Lorna could get Mom to dance like that," Gena said, not feeling inclined to explain the whole long story about the Sharon Vuehl business to innocent Isolde.

## Lorna Teaches Dance

It was the next day before Gena got a chance to talk to Lorna about the idea of getting Helen started with dancing. Lorna's eyes went wide with the possibilities. Apart from the possibility that dancing might trigger a memory in Helen that could lead to more memory recovery, it could certainly help Helen lose some of her inhibitions to conducting. They had already asked whether Helen would like to try to conduct the Impromptu, and she had backed away from that _very_ quickly. So they decided that they would not bring up the connection between dancing and conducting; anyway, it was not a connection that was commonly understood, just something that had originated with, of all people, James. James had declared that conducting was just dancing with the orchestra, and they had all agreed, just to humor James. But that had been five years ago, when James had been barely three.

"I was wondering whether you'd like to get started back in Ballet, Helen!" Lorna asked, shyly. She felt a little more bashful with Helen now than she had ever been. When Helen had run her Cherokee into that boulder a few years ago, Lorna had told Helen that she believed that she could never love Helen again, because she looked so different from the Helen she had known. She didn't, but Lorna was feeling angry at Helen, and in any case, Helen had already begun a relationship with Maryssa. Helen, of course, could probably not remember that conversation, but Lorna did.

"That's right; you're a dancer, a ballerina!"

Lorna nodded, blushing. "We could get you a leotard, and it would be good for the girls, and even James, to do a little exercise at the bar! This afternoon?"

Of course, they had to plan the ballet exercises and the tennis practice so that they could both be done by the kids, and Sophie readily agreed to divide up the week into Ballet days and Tennis days.

Helen's ballet clothes had all been given away by Maryssa, for some unknown reason, probably having to do with being too small or too big. After all Helen had been pregnant, at least for a time.

When Lorna gave them their first lesson, Cindy and Isolde were pleased to see Helen go through the moves as if she had never stopped doing them.

"Now, don't stare, you girls!" Helen called out, blushing, but she never paused. Lorna started the moves—which Gena, Erin and Allie were familiar with, but which James was doing for the first time. He seemed perfectly comfortable doing the exercises, but they expected that the minute his boy buddies learned he was doing ballet, it _might_ result in some humiliation; their part of Philadelphia was not the most enlightened, as Lorna knew well.

Things were going so well that Lorna added a little sequence to a tune that she had on _tape_ , of all things, which she had used with the little ballet class she had started in Westfield some summers ago ( _Helen and the Flowershop Girl_ ), which gave the students an idea of how a ballet sequence was put together.

When Lalitha and Sita were told about the little experiment with dance, and how it related to conducting, Sita had an idea.

"You know, the Philadelphia Opera Company invited Helen to conduct _Die Meistersinger,_ or something like that," Sita said, blushing. "She did a great job; it was a packed house!" she said, and Suresh nodded confirmation. "There was a video, and they gave a copy to Helen. _Movies!_ You never tried movies! Maybe a movie of her dancing . . ."

They had not shown Helen any movies, except _Helga_ , and some of the _Galaxy_ movies, which Helen had not watched very carefully.

Marika, when Lorna called her, said at once that they had a wonderful movie of Helen conducting Isolde in the Brahms Concerto, and Marika promised to send out a DVD of that performance the same day.

## The Concert

It was inevitable that Isolde would have to perform the new Nordstrom Concerto. The ideal venue was Temple Hall, a concert hall more than twice the size of the little church in which the Impromptu performed their small-scale Baroque pieces. When completely rearranged for a concert, the church could seat at most 300 people. Temple Hall could seat 750 easily, and occasionally it had accommodated more.

Lorna was put in charge of publicity, and their publicity machine went into high gear. When Lorna approached the local TV stations, they got an enthusiastic reception. There was a lot of interest in hearing Isolde play Helen's concerto, but even more interest in hearing Helen play anything she dared to play; the 'Welcome Back, Helen' theme was gaining momentum. When Isolde and Lorna and the others asked Helen whether she would like to play anything, she was at first dismayed. But Cindy suggested the Dvorak, and indicated that it was a favorite of hers, and that she would dearly love to hear Helen play it. Helen said she'd think about it, but within a day or two, it was settled.

The Impromptu said they would rehearse if necessary. Isolde decided that they would both run through the two concertos, just so Helen wouldn't feel singled out. When Isolde heard Helen, she smiled; Helen was totally back, as far as being a violinist was concerned! In addition, the Impromptu played some of the items they had been rehearsing most recently, to fill out the programme. Finally, at Helen's request, Erin played a movement suggested by Elly. (Erin would have loved to have played the whole Nordstrom Concerto, but it was decided that it would happen another time.) Brooke conducted everything.

The day of the concert arrived, and Helen and Erin were dressed grandly, as befitted soloists, and Isolde, too, looked glorious. When they got to Temple Hall, they were surprised to see that TV cameras were positioned to record the entire performance, and a control booth had been set up in a corner of the hall. Marika would be given a copy of the recording, as Lorna had arranged.

Lorna was the auditorium announcer. Reading from a script, she described the circumstances, and introduced Isolde, and Brooke Arbogast. They tuned up, and the opening bars of Helen's concerto rang out, as Cindy watched Helen closely.

She could tell that, by now, Helen could remember the opening theme of the concerto, and she was sure that, within a few weeks, Helen would have the whole thing memorized.

Isolde played from memory. The Impromptu was in great form, and Cindy had to admit that this new conductor girl was excellent. Cindy had seen Helen conduct once or twice, but back when Cindy and Helen had lived in the Little House, the cottage near Helen's undergraduate school in which she had first lived and gone to college, Helen was still far from being a conductor of any sort. But years later, Cindy had seen Helen conduct now and then, and, Cindy thought, Helen was a more persuasive conductor than young Brooke was.

Isolde was into the slow movement. Though the first movement was a lively, energetic, tuneful movement, the second movement was lovely in its harmonic complexity. The suspensions, the alternation between full orchestra and interesting smaller groups, kept the tension high. The last movement was highly rhythmic, and there were antiphonal parts in it that were both exciting and appealing, with bits of musical humor, which got the audience smiling.

Isolde received a standing ovation, a well-deserved one.

Then it was Erin's turn. Lorna introduced the young violinist, who stood blushing, but was quite uncowed. Erin was playing Helen's Guanerius, an amazing violin that Helen had been given by Lisa's mother, Pat Wallace. Erin launched into her solo movement with the unbelievable confidence that she was beginning to be noted for. The movement lasted some seven minutes, and at the end of it, the audience went wild!

Lorna introduced Helen as the founder of the Impromptu, and the composer of the first work on the programme. "Helen Nordstrom, in addition to being a multi-faceted musician—and a dancer, please remember!—was also an actress in a TV series, now going into its fifth season. She was in Seattle to tape an episode, when she collapsed in the studio, and was taken to hospital, where an enormous brain tumor was removed. As a result, Helen suffered massive memory loss. But over the last two years, she has regained some of it, and we are happy to see that her violin skills are intact! I present Helen Nordstrom, playing the Violin Concerto in A Minor, by Antonin Dvorak!"

The unison opening phrase sounded out, and the lovely concerto unfolded, as Helen's violin eloquently sang with the orchestra. She negotiated the double-stops with confidence, and everyone had to wonder whether Helen was remembering the notes, or whether she had taught herself the piece just over the last several months. Whichever it was, the music was as seductively melodious and beautifully performed as Helen had ever played it. The expressions on the faces of the TV crew, especially the more senior members, was priceless! One could believe that Helen's absence from the musical scene had been regarded with sadness, and her return was regarded with great rejoicing. Helen smiled and nodded, but her reserve did not entirely depart; she seemed to doubt that all the enthusiasm would remain after the audience departed and the event was concluded.

## Gena and Isolde make Plans

Isolde was scheduled to fly back to the UK in a couple of days, with Polly Woodford, and so Gena spent as much time as she could, playing with Isolde, an intense young woman who had never spent a lot of time _just playing,_ in the sense in which Gena used the word. Helen said that Gena should take the job search seriously, though Cindy was of the opinion that the search could wait until the visitors were gone.

By the time Isolde was saying her goodbyes, and hugging Gena and Helen and Lorna, sniffing emotionally, and saying how much she was going to miss them, Helen was dancing very well indeed; though she used her legs in preference to her hands, a complete reversal of how she had danced in her youth, when everyone had remarked on how expressively Helen had used her _hands._ (Helen had studied South Indian Dance, _Bharathanatyam,_ which only Lalitha knew about.)

After Isolde Woodford was off to London, the Philadelphians once more brought up the possibility of conducting with Helen, and just as anticipated, Helen firmly refused. She could not imagine facing an orchestra and leading them. Possibly, she could lead them through some Bach, she said, since she had gotten familiar with a lot of Bach music in the last year or so, and more since Cindy had moved in with them. But Brahms, Wagner: _no!_

## Conducting

Marika's DVD arrived, and Helen watched herself, fascinated. Nobody had played _Die Meistersinger,_ either in its entirety, or excerpts, for Helen, pending the arrival of the DVD. Helen watched the video, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. She absolutely _loved_ the music, and the action on the stage, and she kept glancing at the book in her hands for the English translation, since the video did not have English subtitles, or any fancy post-production features. But Helen simply delighted in the music.

Right after they had watched the video, the kids needed to run off on some errand, but Helen, Cindy, Sita and Sophie sat and talked about the opera.

"My goodness, Cherie," Sophie said, still a little dazed. The sound system was quite good, and the last chord simply resonated in the large room, and they felt as if they had been there. As is the case in these sort of situations, the Helen in the video seemed superhuman, somehow, and Sita remembered how she had felt at the performance, which the whole gang had attended. "I can't even _imagine_ being able to do something like that!"

Sita stared at her, aghast. The last thing they wanted was to raise the bar for Helen even higher than it was.

"Why, Sita? It was awesome, no?"

Helen was overwhelmed. "I don't think I could do something like that, the way I am now," she said in a tiny voice.

"You know what? I was wondering whether you might like to lead some singing, with the neighborhood kids, Helen. Just pick up the guitar, and teach them some of the songs you used to sing, back when you were in St. Paul, with Heikki, and your cousins," suggested Cindy.

Helen's eyes brightened.

Sita jumped in, sounding as casual as she could. "I think Iris had hopes that you would do something for the kids; and you started last year, but somehow once the weather got cold, the thing fell apart!"

"That would be a service, wouldn't it . . ."

Cindy smiled. Helen loved the kids on the corner, who played in the little _cul-de-sac_ in which Helen lived. She mentioned one of the kids who loved to sing, and another one who had an excellent voice.

Sita shot a glance of pure gratitude to Cindy; it had been just the right thing to say, to prevent Helen from dwelling too much on her lost confidence.

## Helen Leads Singing

The very next day, Sophie was watching when Helen went out the front door with her guitar, and called to the kids, who always played on the street, with Allie and James, and often with Erin.

"Hey, Alicia!" Helen called cheerfully. "I'm going to do some singing. Wanna come?"

Alicia loved Helen, and was game for anything Helen wanted to do. The adults had concluded that Alicia longed for more adult company; she played with the kids only because all her adults were busy!

Helen sat on a stool, and tuned up quickly. In no time at all, they had launched into one of their favorites, and Helen was strumming away, grinning at Sophie, and at Cindy, who had come down to see what the noise was about.

Shortly, attracted by the energetic singing, kids in the neighboring houses had come over. The accompaniment of the guitar was a major attraction; when Helen had led singing in the neighborhood a little more than a year ago, her dexterity on the guitar had not all come back yet. Now, with her rhythmic strumming that she remembered from her youth, the kids were singing far more energetically. Soon there were more than a dozen kids singing, and clapping away.

When Gena arrived home, about fifteen minutes later, she was pleased at the scene that met her eyes, and the jolly sound of the singing. She hurried inside, and brought out a collection of words of songs she had saved, and they began to look through it for requests.

# Everyday Life

Helen and Cindy went out once a week grocery shopping. When she and Maryssa had been together, they had gone to a very specific store; but Cindy began to explore all the available places, and based on the recommendations of the Indian contingent, and Elly and Morgan, they were expanding their circle of food sources. "Some stores have good produce, other stores have good fish, and bread, and meat, I suppose," Lalitha said, immediately backed up by Trish. Sita nodded, and said that she would love to try to bake bread at home, but the most highly recommended bread flour was not stocked at Sita's favorite supermarket.

"Tell me the brand, and we'll try and find it for you," promised Cindy. She loved doing this sort of thing.

Erin joined the expedition, which consisted of Helen, Cindy, and now Erin—it seemed always to end up being a jolly adventure, somehow—and they set out in the new station wagon. (Erin had become the designated driver.)

Once they arrived at their first destination, Erin wandered off to find hot dogs, and other teen delicacies, while Cindy and Helen were stuck getting the staples. Cindy disliked going shopping for groceries all the time; she believed in getting most of what they needed for a month all at once, and then getting odds and ends they unexpectedly needed from the corner convenience store. This was only possible because Cindy kept careful track of their supplies, and made them fix and eat any supplies that seemed to be languishing in the pantry, such as tortillas, or frozen pie crusts.

Helen had gotten away from getting Erin or Allie to do little tasks for her; since they had started playing tennis, she seemed to have enormous reserves of energy.

Erin returned with some nice choices for the grill, and they headed back home, telling Erin that she was in charge of the grill materials, and no; she could not invite everyone in the neighborhood for a picnic just yet; but perhaps later in the summer she could!

Cindy was in her fifties, but somehow had a really tight body. Perhaps because she had never got pregnant, or perhaps because she was so active, she was still youthful-looking, and Helen admired her lovely auburn hair, which had been cut short when she had first arrived, but had grown past her shoulders by the summer.

As was Cindy's preference, she loved to shop at used clothing stores, which were numerous in their neighborhood, and Helen urged Cindy to select clothes of a better quality and cut. Cindy, too, bought clothes for the kids with a critical eye to quality, just as Lorna had done for Helen's clothes a few years before. Helen naturally went in with Cindy to try the clothes on, and found herself looking at her with more than casual interest. Among other things, Cindy had beautiful skin, completely unblemished, which was unexpected in a woman of her age. Helen helped her with fasteners, and with managing the clothes, and Cindy was filled with the pleasant little intimacies that resulted.

"What do you think?" Cindy asked, modeling a skirt that showed just a little more leg than her clothes normally did, and Helen nodded strong approval. Helen had always liked short skirts, in Cindy's memory, so _that_ preference, at least, had survived Helen's surgery. "Helen, go get yourself something! A nice pair of shorts?"

But Helen hated shorts; Cindy remembered when Helen shook her head firmly. She was going to get a short skirt, too.

## A Sweet Encounter

Back at home, once the shopping was put away, Helen ran into the shower; she was perspiring—it was a warm day—and she luxuriously caressed herself as she applied the rich lotion soap that was one of the few things that Cindy insisted on pampering herself with, and had encouraged Helen to use.

Suddenly needing to use the toilet, Cindy went in the open door, and saw Helen taking a shower, caressing her naked body sensuously through the glass shower doors.

"Oops, Helen; I didn't know you were here!"

"Oh . . . it's okay . . . I guess I left the door open; I'm sorry . . ." she said softly, and turned toward Cindy, displaying her body quite shamelessly, Cindy thought. "I was admiring you in the changing booth, Cindy; you look lovely." Her voice sounded breathless, and Cindy could tell that Helen was actually trembling.

Not expecting such a direct remark, Cindy blushed furiously. She was staring at Helen, her eyes wide, not knowing how to act. "You look really . . . pretty," she said, her chest feeling tight. Helen had looked at her all that while, preoccupied with their strange interaction. Helen's hands went to her hair, and began to gently squeeze the water out of it. Cindy went closer, and slid the shower doors open, and the two women looked at each other, feeling the intimacy very strongly.

When they had first met, decades ago, Helen had been still in her teens, and Cindy in her late twenties. Helen had been quite open about sex at that time, and quite comfortable in the nude. Now, very ready for a relationship, if not desperately so, something impelled Cindy to slowly get into the shower, and pull Helen's face down into a kiss. It became more passionate, but they could not release each other for a long time. Cindy's heart was racing, which it should not have been doing; she had kissed Helen many, many times, and been kissed by her.

"I've got your dress all wet," whispered Helen.

"It's all right, Helen," she whispered back. "Kiss me again!"

"I'm going to w-wrap myself in a towel," stammered Helen.

With shaking hands, Cindy pulled a towel around Helen, and tugged her into her room, furtively looking around in case any of the children were watching. Nobody was in sight. Cindy tugged Helen onto her bed, and carefully closed and locked the door, and stared at her, full of desire, but at a loss how to proceed.

With a noise of annoyance, Cindy made Helen sit on the edge of the bed, and took the towel from her, and wrapped it around Helen's dripping hair. Then she pushed Helen down on the bed, and drew off her own dress and her brief underwear, which was particularly skimpy. " _Don't look!"_ she commanded Helen fiercely.

"Why?"

Cindy sighed. "Oh, Helen," she said, and joined her on the bed, and suddenly they were holding each other tight, and kissing like mad, each of them enjoying having a soft, warm body in her arms once again.

Helen lay on her back, gently holding Cindy, panting for breath. She caressed Cindy's back, and Cindy forgot everything except to show her love to Helen, and to unleash the passion that she had been keeping in control all these years. She had dreamed of Helen for so long, but when it appeared that Helen's attention was filled with other girls, Cindy had kept herself happy with anyone who came to her; most recently Michelle, who had given up on Helen once Helen had fled to Ferguson.

In a half-hour or so, they lay on their sides, gazing at each other hungrily, their hearts just beginning to slow down.

"Oh god, I've wanted to do that for so long!" Cindy said, feeling as if she wanted to giggle. Helen smiled, her heart still beating like crazy, and caressed Cindy's face, and ran her fingers through Cindy's hair.

After lying in bed for an hour, caressing each other, Helen nervously headed out to her room, thoroughly confused. She dried herself carefully, and put herself together as well as she could, and slipped quietly into the kitchen, to join Cindy, and put away the remains of breakfast, and to get started on supper.

For a while, they concentrated on supper. Helen did not meet Cindy's eyes. Cindy's nerves were jangling, but she was not so preoccupied as for the humor in their situation to elude her. She looked up into Helen's face, and quickly gave up ideas of jokes; Helen looked utterly embarrassed.

Finally most of the work was done, and they had to wait a few minutes while food cooked. Cindy slowly turned towards Helen, waiting for Helen to turn around and look at her. When Helen finally did, she covered her face, and turned bright red. She drew in a breath, and let it out in a tight sigh.

"I shouldn't have done that," said Helen, as if in apology, taking her hands away.

" _Why?"_ asked Cindy, also a little pink, but with a smile.

"Now . . . we're going to be awkward with each other," Helen said very quietly.

Cindy went to Helen, and put her arms around her. "No, we're not," she said softly.

"Yes, _we are,"_ Helen insisted, clearly upset. She shook her head, and by her body language indicated that she was far more embarrassed than Cindy had realized.

## Awkwardness

What was going through Helen's head was complicated.

When Helen had finished her course of chemotherapy, and her hair had begun falling out, she had called Melanie—with whom she had resumed her relationship, after Dr. Amy Salvatori had rudely driven the girl away—and reported the situation to her. Helen had said that she wanted to see Melanie again, because the meeting in the hospital had been so frustrating. "I don't have any money," Helen had told her, "you'll have to come to Philadelphia just for me."

Melanie had assured her that she would do so.

She arrived at the house in Newberry when Sita happened to have been there. (It was in early December, and they had all agreed once they had moved into the house, that Helen should not be left alone. At that time Helen had been unable to look after herself at all. Sita had the day shift, and Maryssa took over in the afternoon, after she got back from her work at the library.)

Sita, of course, had never met Melanie, and wasn't quite sure exactly who she was. She wasn't much the wiser by the end of that visit, but Helen introduced Sita to Melanie, and brought drinks for them, and then Sita had an idea; she was helping Helen with her Christmas gift shopping, and she suggested that the three of them could go out to the mall.

"I can't go out like _this,"_ Helen said; her hair was coming out in clumps, and Sita had helped her cut it very short, at Helen's request. The other two girls said that of course she could, and improvising a scarf for Helen, set out for the mall. It was in the mall that Melanie, in a moment when Helen had been distracted, stumbled on the realization that Sita was the legendary movie star who had played the Princess in _Merit_. Sita, who had successfully encouraged the family and everyone else to completely forget that she had been the actress, indicated with her finger to her lips, that Melanie should not mention that fact.

"Doesn't she know?" Melanie asked, in a low voice, indicating Helen, and Sita shook her head.

Presently Sita said: "Did you know that she was also my co-star?" Of course Melanie was stunned; the masquerade was a closely-guarded secret, and only a few close friends knew. Sita confessed that she had been in love with Sharon Vuehl, but since the surgery, she was effectively a widow. Helen had no clue that it was Helen who had starred in that immortal movie. (On the trip out West, of course, Marsha had let the cat out of the bag.)

When they had finished shopping and gotten back home, Helen had disappeared upstairs, ostensibly to put away her purchases, and then they had been stunned to see her descending the stairs with a saree draped around her, and nothing else. Helen had known all about sarees at one time, but no longer. Sita had rushed to the stairs to cover up the nearly nude Helen, while Melanie stared at the two of them in stunned embarrassment.

"No, no, Helen; that's not the way you do it. Excuse us, Melanie!" Sita had said, and bustled the confused Helen upstairs, dressed her properly, which took a little time, and then had her walk down the stairs again. As always, Helen looked queenly.

Of course, Helen and Melanie had wanted to know the right way to wear a saree, and Sita had to smother an exasperated sigh, look for a saree for Melanie, and show them. Of course, Melanie looked stunning.

The peculiar mix of personalities on that occasion was problematic. After each of them had worn a saree, somehow things got complicated, and it turned into a sort of orgy. There was a lot of kissing at first, which ended up with, of all things, Melanie and Helen both being very intimate with Sita. Sita, who had had no sexual outlet since that night in California, let it happen.

Sadly, after Melanie had concluded her visit, and apologized to both the other girls sincerely, and taken the blame, and admitted that it had been something that had had no hope of ending well, the following day, Helen had tried very hard to repair her relationship with Sita.

Helen adored Maryssa. Melanie spoke to Helen often on the phone, and discussed all sorts of intimate matters with her, and as Melanie described it, was Helen's 'shrink' via the phone. But Sita had been her buddy, her friend, the one she depended upon in many ways. But Sita was now a little distant, still trying to sort out the implications of their little spontaneous carousing. Helen was heartbroken, because she loved Sita so very much, even if it had been a Platonic relationship, on Helen's side, anyway. It had been a Platonic relationship at that time even on Sita's side; Sita could not think of Helen as the same Helen as she had been before the surgery; she was too radically changed. But . . . Sita had been shocked at how she had responded to the other two girls being intimate with her, and had been trying to backpedal. Helen had learned the following lesson: _intimacy leads to awkwardness._

She was frustrated. She had been coming to love Cindy so much, and . . .

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Cindy asked, softly.

"I'm so afraid . . . that our friendship will suffer; you and me!"

Cindy enclosed Helen in her arms, and Helen was still trembling. By now Helen knew that strong emotions made her tremble; but she also knew to check to see whether she was due for a meal, because being a diabetic, she had to have meals at regular times.

The trembling was getting worse.

"Don't every worry about me, Helen," Cindy said softly.

"It c-could be s-sugar, too," Helen got out. It was early; but this sort of thing happened when Helen was emotional.

"Oh, my goodness," Cindy said, and quickly found some orange juice, poured it out for Helen, and watched her sip it.

It took a long while for the sugar to hit the bloodstream, unlike on previous occasions.

## A Visit with the Medicine-Man

As soon as things settled down, it was decided that Helen needed to have her medication recalibrated. Maryssa was consulted, and they heard her sound very concerned. "Oh no; I should have spoken to someone about that," she said. "Cindy, Helen needs to see the doctor every six months. Shall I call?"

Cindy said she could call, and took down the number. She was told that the doctor considered Helen a special patient, and would take calls at any time. Cindy, once she was established as a reliable and authorized agent on Helen's behalf, was told that the doctor's office would call in the morning with an appointment.

It was actually two appointments. Helen had to go in for a set of tests, and a few days later, for an office visit. Helen's treatment was adjusted, but unfortunately, it meant a more complicated medication regimen. Helen very soon felt very much better. She also needed new eyeglasses, which meant that Helen could see a lot better.

Helen did not tell Cindy about that strange visit with Melanie and Sita, but she told Cindy that she personally believed that the kind of intimacy that Helen and Cindy had indulged in created interpersonal problems, which Cindy knew perfectly well, just as most adults do. Cindy had forgotten that this Helen, the Helen she was living with, was effectively a woman in her thirties. She had progressed from being a teenager, just after the surgery, to where she was then. But in matters of the heart, Helen was painfully dragging herself from her teens to her mid-thirties; it was a miracle that she could even _explain_ to Cindy _anything at all_ about her psychological difficulties.

Cindy was upset. At her age, though, she could take stock, and slow down, and analyze the situation, once she was aware of where everyone else was. Helen had not rejected her; in fact Helen was anxious that their little spontaneous fooling around would get in the way of their relationship.

Cindy told Helen that she was going to take a walk, and walked over to the home of the Indian family. Only Sita and Trish were there; Lalitha and Suresh were away at the community college where Lalitha taught.

"A couple of days ago," Cindy began, "Helen and I . . . went . . ." She made the mistake of looking up at Sita at that point, and realized that she was about to lay something fairly major on the innocent (as she thought) young Indian woman. Sita always had an air of innocence, just as Lalitha did; it never seemed that the two sisters had any sort of carnal knowledge.

Sita understood a great deal from Cindy's blush.

"It's all right, Cindy; I'm not as . . . innocent as I look!" She said it kindly, and with essentially a straight face, and Cindy nodded.

"Well, you seemed to have guessed my . . . problem, anyway. But Helen . . . she seemed to take it really hard. She told me afterwards that—well, that she expected that it was going to make things _awkward_ for us. Well, of _course_ it would—initially—be a little awkward," Cindy blushed, "for women who don't have sex regularly." She sighed. "I guess I answered my own question!"

Sita thought hard, and then turned to look at Cindy. "Did she give you any reasons for saying that?"

Cindy shook her head, looking at Sita with puzzlement. "I guess it means that . . . she must have had some romantic encounter—since the operation, I mean—because she _couldn't_ be remembering anything from _before,_ right?"

Sita looked at the ground, and slowly shook her head. She sighed. Melanie was far away, and Helen had gotten out of the habit of talking to her. Sita had, too, ever since she had blamed the entanglement with Vicky on Melanie. It was getting to be clear that it was that unfortunate orgy with Melanie and Sita that had made such a huge impression on Helen.

"I could talk to Helen quietly, and see whether anything is troubling her," she told Cindy. She didn't feel too confident about being able to do this delicately, but if she didn't, Helen would be in worse shape.

Cindy sighed. "Anyway . . . her endocrinologist saw her, and she has to take some different meds, now."

Sita frowned. "Is that common? I thought her diabetes had settled down, and nothing more had to be done?"

"I talked to Amy, and she said that the disease progresses, and they have to tinker with the dosages from time to time. The last time was just after the surgery, apparently."

Sita nodded. "Thanks for telling me." She tapped her temple. "The more of us who're aware of that, the less likely we are to forget to keep track of it, I suppose."

"The doctor's office took down all of our numbers, and the next time she's due for tests and stuff, they'll start calling from the list, so that sooner or later they'll hit on someone who can get Helen into the office and get her checked. They keep track of her eye exams, too, apparently, and they wanted her to get a dental checkup."

Sita made a face. "I haven't gone to the dentist in about . . . ten years."

"Me neither!" said Cindy, laughing.

## Sita and the B Minor Mass

Sita dreaded re-connecting with Helen. Keeping Helen company a year ago had not been a problem, except for that business with the sarees. Helen had been heartbroken soon afterwards, but Sita had taken a deep breath and told Helen that she had forgotten all that, and that had been essentially the end of it. Helen had taken her at her word, and smiled like the sun, and they had been 'fine', as Helen said.

She had not spent much time with Helen for more than a year, and now Helen was clearly pleased to have Sita visit.

"How nice to see you!" Helen said, but there was a subtle difference. Whereas before Helen would simply glow with delight, this time Helen was pleased, but it was not an overwhelming welcome. "Come in, come in," she said, and led the way to where she had been doing, of all things, the crossword puzzle from a local newspaper. "I took the day off from the workshop," she said, which Sita knew, because she had set it up to have them encourage Helen to take a day off.

"Where's Cindy?" Sita asked, and Helen replied that Cindy had some business in the City. "I hope you don't mind me not coming round too often; I thought that Cindy and you should have some time to yourselves, and anyway, Sophie was visiting, too, and . . ."

"Oh," Helen said, indicating with a gesture that Sita was not getting in the way at all. This was all new behavior. Sita was beginning to realize that this was a new Helen.

Normally, Helen would have said _Guess what!_ and informed Sita about whatever new discovery she had made, but now she was waiting to see what Sita would say.

"Have you made any progress with the violin? I have to say, when Isolde was here, I thought, that concerto . . . Helen, what a wonderful piece of music!"

"The Dvorak, or . . . mine?" Helen blushed slightly; she just didn't want to assume that Sita was talking about either one, particularly.

"Yours!" It was a little strange, after treating Helen essentially as a child, to be suddenly faced with an adult Helen.

Helen shook her head, a little awkwardly. "I still can't get used to the idea that I wrote that thing," she said softly. "I remember tiny bits of the time I wrote it; trying to keep Isolde away from it until it was all finished! That sort of . . . memory." Sita nodded. "The amazing thing is that I _still_ can't play it all the way through! I play a few bars—from the orchestral score—and then I notice something . . . and then I have to stop and—you know?—check it out; and every time, I can't think of an easy way to improve it!"

"It's perfection!"

"No, no; it's that my musical skills are still not all there. I'm puzzled why I—went a certain way, but, but I just _know_ that if I tried something different, _now_ , I would ruin it."

They talked some more, and this Helen was easy to talk to. It was not trying to keep up her side of the conversation with a precocious teenager, but talking intelligently with an adult, who was doing more than her share to make the conversation flow.

Sita suddenly remembered that she had been given a recording by Vicky, which Sita had brought home, and played on the high-end portable stereo Helen had herself bought for Sita long ago.

Helen's eyes brightened. "I don't suppose you remember the title of it?"

"It was by the Impromptu. Do you have any of their recordings?"

"Oh, most of them," Helen said, getting lightly to her feet.

She led the way to a set of CDs in a book-case, and Sita saw it quickly; it had a distinctive green and blue CD case, and she picked it out. Helen took it, and looked at it with interest.

Of course they had to play it, and Sita urged Helen to advance to the track that she had liked the best.

It was heavenly. The recording was of the Bach B minor Mass, and the track was of a line from the Creed, and it was a duet for Soprano and Alto. Sita just sat there her eyes wide open, lost in the music. As is often the case, one listener can be led into the music by the sheer delight of another, and so it was here. Sita's rapt attention soon had its effect on Helen, and she was immersed in the intertwining lines of the two soloists for the full four minutes or so. Sita was amazed at the quality of the stereo system, which Helen took completely for granted. At the end of the track, Sita was so bold as to pause the CD player.

"Oh, goodness," Helen breathed, "that was something _else!"_

Sita shook her head. "I had thought I was the only one who was impressed by it! There; I've interested you in one of your own performances!"

" _My_ own?"

"Apparently you sang _and_ conducted!"

Helen checked the credits once again, and looked at Sita, wide-eyed. "I could _never_ do that again," she murmured. "I'd just like to _sing_ it," she said a little later. "Let's hear it again!"

The two of them sat and listened to various tracks, and Sita was sorry to see that Helen was quite unfamiliar with any of them, but was getting to enjoy them even as she watched. She felt utterly sorry at the sight of Helen, who had been such an insider into all things musical when Sita had first met her, so tentatively tiptoeing into the appreciation of a recording that had actually featured her as a soloist. She sighed, and Helen immediately looked up. Helen set the CD insert aside, and focused on Sita.

"Oh Sita . . . I forgot to ask you how things were going for you! How is Lalitha doing? I see everyone every week, but I never remember to ask you what you've been doing, or _anything!"_

Sita laughed. "Not a lot has changed, actually. Suresh has gotten a job with another company, with a little better pay. He had been in a temporary position, but now it's permanent."

"And what is his training in?"

"He says it's _power systems,_ which I think means electricity generation, or something like that."

Helen's eyes narrowed, and she said that she could almost remember knowing what that sort of thing meant, at one time, but not any more. She looked right into Sita's eyes, and in a low voice, said "Sita . . . it's painful to be on the brink of remembering something, and . . . it just doesn't _come_ , you know?" Sita nodded, sympathetically.

"How is Cindy settling in?" Sita asked, trying to look innocent.

Helen tried to smother a blush. "Pretty good," she said, quickly. "She's great," she added, nodding. "Good company!"

Sita kept a straight face. Helen wasn't going to volunteer any information. And there was absolutely nothing more she could elicit from Helen, without being painfully obvious.

"I'm glad you stopped by," Helen said, as Sita was getting ready to go. "I keep forgetting that I have lots of records in the house, and I should just sit down and _listen_ to it. _Nobody_ is going to lead me through it, unless I take it into my own hands and just _do_ it. I had forgotten I could sing classical music! That's such a waste!"

"Did you notice Gena's name in the credits?"

" _Gena?_ Really?"

"Yes, just look!" Sita smiled. "I'm going to call Gena, and Erin, and Cindy, and tell them to remind you to go through your music collection!"

"That's true . . . But they're so _busy!"_

It was a thoughtful Sita that walked home. Without her noticing, there had been a completely new, interesting, in many ways _sophisticated_ Helen, working with her in the instrument factory.

## Talking with Maryssa

When Cindy was gone somewhere, Helen called Maryssa, and asked whether she could come by. "I have to talk to you," she said, sounding so guilty that Maryssa decided to come on a visit. "Do you need to be picked up?"

Maryssa wanted to bring little Gertie along, and it was decided that maybe Trish could take a few minutes out of her day to do it. The little Indian family acted as though they were Helen's—and Maryssa's—personal slaves, but it was now an established relationship, especially since Helen didn't drive, and Erin was away somewhere just then.

"Something—weird—happened on Saturday," Helen started off, and Maryssa had an idea of what it might be.

"Go on!"

"I . . . Cindy and I got into bed, and . . . you know. We got naked, and . . ."

Maryssa looked steadily at Helen, and smiled; but there was something sad about her smile.

She got Gertie comfortable in her little port-a-crib with a little red rattle, which she promptly put in her mouth, and got comfortable. Helen eagerly drank in the sight of the physically much-improved Maryssa, who sank into the overstuffed chair Helen offered her, and sighed with satisfaction.

"When I left here, to go with Larry . . . I was sure that you would be able to handle it okay. But very soon, I saw that you were really, _really_ unhappy." Helen tried to say something, but Maryssa gestured for her to wait. "By then it was too late; if I came back, you, and Larry, would _both of you_ have been hurt and upset, and I knew that _I_ would have been upset as well. I decided that I would visit you often, and make sure that you would stay on an even keel. But what with the pregnancy, and all the work that went into getting Larry's house organized for both of us, _and_ the baby, I had to let you fend for yourself!" She finally dared to look at Helen, who was clearly miserable, but was holding up fairly well. "Then Cindy arrived, and . . . I could just see that, coming back and checking on you would look to Cindy like . . . interfering with her plans."

Helen sort of half-gasped. "I never thought that Cindy wanted to . . . be that way with me!"

Maryssa smiled, and there was some amusement in it. "Oh Helen, what are we to do with you?" Helen looked a question at her. "When Cindy visited some time ago—before the surgery, of course—I could tell that she . . . well, that she was in love with you."

Helen hung her head. She had got the same impression, but much later. How Maryssa could have arrived at that conclusion was a mystery to her. Meanwhile, Maryssa was studying Helen, and was wondering what to make of the fact that Helen, who had never had any hesitation in sharing a bed with any woman, before, seemed to be so guilt-ridden with having been intimate with Cindy.

"I still have strong feelings for you, Maryssa! I feel so horribly, horribly guilty . . . It's hard for me to look at Cindy's eyes. I try to keep my voice, you know, light, and . . . not upset, but my face is so hard to control . . ."

"Helen, look at me!" Helen reluctantly raised her eyes to look at Maryssa. "Sooner or later, you will probably choose someone special. It was me, at one time, and . . . there were others, too, but let's set that aside for the moment. But I went away with Larry, and you have no duty to love me that way, darling! You're free, and you can love whomever you want. And, to some degree, you can . . . have sex with anyone you want, too. I don't mean _millions_ of people, but, you know, one or two! Too many, and you make life hard for everybody, especially the little ones. When you and I were a . . . _couple,_ I slept with Larry. You probably don't remember, but I kind of asked you first, but perhaps I shouldn't have. So I'm not blameless either, and _you_ certainly needn't feel guilty! Be gentle, be nice to Cindy, and if it begins to get serious, tell the kids what's going on. They've seen you have relationships with several women, and they'll be ok with it."

"I'm not sure I _want_ to start an . . . affair, I suppose . . . with Cindy!"

"Well, take your time, and make sure! I haven't had a lot of experience, but I feel that it's unkind to have sex with someone if you don't really plan to . . . you know? To love them, as well."

"Oh, I love Cindy like _crazy!"_

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know," said Helen, sounding mournful.

By the time Maryssa was ready to return home, Erin was back home, and they dropped Maryssa and little Gertie off. Helen was feeling a lot less stressed out about having a relationship with Cindy.

But that didn't mean that she was ready to jump back into bed with her.

## Vicky is Frustrated

A few days later, Sita was once again off to Baltimore with Vicky. Inevitably, despite Sita's determination to stay off the subject of Helen until she had figured some things out, it came up.

"What was all that stuff going on in Temple Hall? I heard that Helen had been playing with the orchestra! I thought she was learning violin from the basics, or something! Now, all of a sudden, she's a soloist again?"

Sita felt a little annoyance building up. "I suppose she's getting some memories back; on that California trip . . ."

"What California trip?"

Sita had no excuse not to tell Vicky an abbreviated version of what had happened to Helen. She did not tell Vicky that Sita herself had been present at probably one of the most significant instances of Helen remembering something. "There was a student that Helen remembered; I suppose that's a big achievement," she wound up.

"And then she came back, and picked up the violin, and boom! Is that what happened?"

"Actually, Isolde Wells paid a visit to Philadelphia, and I think that made a big difference."

Vicky was beginning to get annoyed; she clearly felt that a lot of stuff had been going on without her knowledge. It had, but Sita had never pretended to be keeping Vicky informed of every little detail.

"I have to see her . . . I can't _take it in_ that she's made so much progress so quickly . . ."

Sita could not avoid hardening her heart. Vicky needed to keep focused on her treatment; Helen would recover without Vicky's intervention.

"I should have told you about that concert," Sita admitted. "I'll make it a point to inform you the next time Helen is planned for a performance."

After a little thought, Vicky nodded.

"They're going to let me bring several doses home with me," Vicky told Sita. "In a few months, they'll let me bring home enough each time for three or four days!"

"I expect that's progress, yeah?"

"Well, obviously. I only need to go in twice a week, then."

Sita nodded. Going up four times a week had been a nuisance, but Sita was worried that something might go wrong, and Vicky might regress somehow. She had read some worrisome stories about that sort of outcome.

"Don't think I don't appreciate what you're doing for me," Vicky said, very softly. "I can hardly wait until I'm off the . . . medication."

"I know," said Sita. "I know."

# Finding Employment

## Gena

It took poor Gena a couple of months to find a job, but a middle-school in Philadelphia needed a substitute music teacher, of all things, and though Gena did _not_ have a teaching certificate of any kind, she had college-level music training, which was acceptable to the administration.

The kids were troublesome, but they were fond of Miss Gena, who got them singing some fun songs, and thought of interesting musical activities for them. Apparently kids these days were not satisfied to simply learn a song, but had to have some additional motivation before they would cooperate. Some classes were better than others, and most days Gena would come home exhausted, but satisfied with how the day had gone. Occasionally, though, Gena would crawl home close to tears, and the family would have to console her.

"Middle school is tough," Cindy said, while Helen simply looked on with sympathy, but with nothing to contribute. "I must say, sweetheart, that a lot of the bad temper you might be seeing could easily be because of things that are nothing to do with you; things that happen in their homes, you know?" Gena brightened up and nodded. The poorer folk of Philadelphia, who lived in the very neighborhood in which Helen and company lived, were invariably battling to keep body and soul together, and the adults often thoughtlessly took their frustrations out on the children.

## Marcus and Krissy Get Jobs

Incidentally, Marcus was also hired in a Philadelphia school as a substitute teacher for an elementary school, and was a security guard three nights a week, which was hard on him. The one who, on the face of it, had the easiest work was Kristen, who was a junior clerk in a law office. She had to wade through pages and pages of legal decisions, and write them up. It was good training, but she often came home with a headache.

The three of them had taken an apartment near the Newberry house, and a lot of their income went for the rent of the place. However, they spent their weekends mostly at Helen's, when they had the energy, or sometimes slept through the entire weekend, only getting up for meals.

## The Triplets Join the Ranks of the Employed

That fall was a wonderful time; so many things got straightened out, but many of them were working furiously to accomplish important things, and in some ways hard times are just as wonderful as easy times, and often more memorable.

Marcus earned a lot of money. Not as much as he would have liked, but still, enough to convince him that life was not going to be as worrisome as he had expected. Gena earned very little, but the students loved her, and the administration of the two schools at which she taught had to take her seriously. Parents gave good reports of her to the principal, and some of the parents were her fellow-teachers. Gena had been a sweet girl, and was now a sweet woman, and was soon something of a pet among her colleagues. The young men among them were unhappy with the fact that she could not return their amorous overtures, but she was never obnoxious about it. When she persuaded Marcus to come in to school for an event, the guys stopped bothering her. Marcus had lost yet more weight; much of his baby fat had burned away, because of his busy schedule, and the ruthlessly healthy diet that the girls forced on him for most of the week; and he kept working out when he had the time, and his shape was getting a lot better.

Financially, Kristen was doing best. She was meticulous in her work, and that was just the attribute that made life for her bosses easier. There were no mistakes; all her references were accurate, and her remarks were succinct, and she was in great demand to assist with the most difficult cases. Kristen's degree had been in commercial law, and she had a minor in technical writing, so she was the biggest powerhouse among the three of them. Marcus's choices had been a lot more whimsical, but given his family background, they made perfect sense. Gena was an athlete and a performer, and she was fully prepared for the sort of life she aspired to, but it was turning out to be physically more demanding than she had ever expected. Rushing about, attending rehearsals here, and teaching classes there, it was more burdensome than Helen's packed schedule in her college days, which had been punishing, until Helen played hooky the end of her sophomore year.

The three young people, pooling their resources, could afford a better home than the apartment they had rented, but they just didn't have the time to look. It was almost Thanksgiving before they had the idea of handing the problem over to Becky Singer, who agreed to help find more comfortable accommodations for them.

# Singing

Helen was seated with Cindy, talking about plans for the week.

"Sita was by, and we listened to the B minor Mass!"

"Oh! Well? What did you think?"

"Oh Cindy, it was gorgeous! It was like . . . like melted sugar!" Helen shuddered with the memory of the pleasure of the experience. "I wish I could sing like that!"

"Who was the soprano?" Cindy asked.

"Oh, it was me, sorry! I should have told you!"

"Oh, Helen!" Cindy shook her head, unable to explain. When Helen was at her best, as a young soprano, _nobody_ could sing like her. As a violinist, she was brilliant. But as a soprano, she was absolutely thrilling! Cindy merely wondered whether her voice had aged well; she was only too well aware that most lyric sopranos had to give up their repertoire in their forties, when their voices lost their flexibility. "Have you spoken to Norma Major?"

Helen could not remember who that was, and Cindy had to remind her that it was the lady living in the little house in Ohio, who had been Helen's voice teacher.

"I doubt that she could do much for me, Cindy; and she's probably busy!"

"Unless I'm mistaken, she's partially retired; she isn't busy at all! I'll call her up, and sort of explore the possibility!"

"No, no!"

"I'll check with Gena, first."

"Oh . . . okay, then . . ."

It was a little tense. Ever since that unexpected, impromptu bout of intimacy they had shared after the trip to the used-clothes store, there seemed to be a little strain in their relationship, though Helen tried very hard to pretend that everything was as usual. Right after it happened, Cindy had started off thinking that Helen would react to it as the Helen of old would have: a brief acknowledgment of the incident, and then onto the next thing, whatever it was. But _this_ Helen had evidently taken it big, and was puzzling over how to get over it. Did she want _more_ intimacy? Had it been a brief explosion of frustrated libido, which Helen regretted? For Cindy, it had only been a tantalizing taste of what she wanted a lot more of. But here, they were talking about music, again.

## Norma Major

Helen was surprised to get a phone call from Cecily and Norma in Ohio. She had hoped that Cindy would not bother the two old ladies, who were now approaching eighty.

"Helen! I read in the papers that you had played the Dvorak Concerto with your orchestra sometime in August!"

"Hi, Norma! Yes, Isolde Wells paid a visit, and . . . I don't know exactly how it happened, but yes, I . . . I have been playing with them!" Helen was embarrassed that she had not been reading the newspaper; if she had, she could have replied more intelligently.

"What about the singing? How is your voice, dear? Has it dropped significantly?"

"I don't really know; I . . . do sing, a little; mostly folk songs!"

"You know, you sound really good and strong, somehow! That seems a silly thing to say, but . . . I do think that being in good health means that you can start singing without difficulty! Did I say that right . . . Oh Helen, my mind isn't what it used to be, when I talk about anything except music!"

"Oh, I just remembered! I was listening to the Mass in B minor, and—I think it was something like: _Unum Dominum—_ I can't remember . . ."

"Oh yes; that was the duet for soprano and mezzo, I think I remember. Yes, that does sound like something you would like! Listen, er . . ." She seemed to have muffled the phone while she consulted with someone—Cecily, presumably. "Helen, we're coming over. There's a concert at Penn of someone we know, and it would be lovely to spend some time with you! It's been ages since we've been able to get away from here; actually, it has been, what, more than twenty years . . . Poor Cecily; I've kept her imprisoned here, poor girl!"

"Oh, I wish we had just a little more room in the house! You could have stayed here!"

"Don't worry, Helen. That lovely girl, what's her name? . . ." There was a brief silence, while Norma consulted her cousin, . . . " _Lorna!_ She was the first one we spoke to, and she's making all the arrangements. We deal with her all the time, for the rent, and so forth."

Anyway, once she had learned that Lorna had taken charge of getting the two ladies across to Philadelphia, Helen relaxed. She knew that Lorna would make the trip as comfortable as possible, and probably put them up in a convenient hotel. Cindy was pleased at this turn of events, and she mentioned it to Sita.

Sita had arrived in the US a little too late to have seen or heard Helen, the soprano. Not knowing very much about vocal music, but having heard Helen sing in the B minor Mass, she was curious to hear Helen sing. She knew subconsciously that to her, the pre-amnesia Helen was a slightly different person than the post-amnesia Helen; having talked about it with her sister and with Cindy, she knew there were good reasons, psychologically, for Helen to be that way, because some of the events of the last few years before the surgery were traumatic. They had all begun to believe that the Helen who was with them now was unhurt by those traumas, mentally; though it was impossible to tell, really. At any rate, there was no sign of the terrible depression that had led her to announce her retirement from the concert, opera and recital stage.

Norma and Cecily were brought over by Lorna in her Beetle the following day, and they were so happy to be with Helen, and Cindy was so delighted to have them in their home, as were the younger children, that Helen could only be just as pleased to have them visit.

"This is a lovely home, Helen; you've arranged it so beautifully!" said Cecily, looking around approvingly. Helen looked around, and had to agree that the colors and the décor was tasteful and either fresh or elegant, depending on the room. The kitchen was a large, friendly room, leading on from the living room and the dining room, very much as the layout had been at the farmhouse in Westfield (where Amy, David and little Ruth lived now). The piano was in the living room, which doubled as a music room. "Norma, did you notice the lovely new piano?"

Of course, Norma had to walk over, and try the piano. She decided that it was an excellent piano, and Helen could only tell her that Maryssa and Elly had got it a few years ago. "Elly would be happy to tell you all about it," Helen said, "It was a major adventure for her, and for Maryssa, from what they told me!"

Norma was not a big pianist; she could accompany most pieces that her students needed to sing, but was not as proficient as even Helen, really.

"Have you sung _anything_ recently? Would you sing _Mein gäubiges Herze_ for me? You used to love to sing that when you were a freshman! You must have the music lying around here, somewhere . . ."

Cindy knew exactly where it was. All the vocal scores were stacked together, out of the way in a corner, since the pre-surgery Helen hated to see them lying around. Now Cindy retrieved a piano reduction, and set it in front of Norma; and Helen, terrified, regarded the score with deep suspicion. Playing the violin at sight was one thing, but _singing?_

"Oh, Miss Norma, I must try something a little easier first . . . I don't even know what would be an easier song!"

"That's perfectly fine; perhaps some . . ." Norma was flustered with Helen's panicked reaction. ". . . If you had a collection of easy songs for beginners, that would be appropriate . . ."

Eventually, Cindy brought out a book of folksongs and ballads, and Norma played _Loch Lomond_ , which should surely be a comfortable song for Helen to sing!

They all sang it together, and the simple, beautiful tune drew them in, and Helen found herself singing the slow-paced melody without any anxiety.

They all smiled at each other; the tune was so satisfying to sing. _Once again!_ they called, and they did sing it again. Then there were other familiar songs, at various pitch levels, some of them quite a bit high pitched.

Helen sang increasingly difficult songs by sight, songs that they knew well, but which were apparently quite unfamiliar to Helen.

Then Norma decided to try playing the song at a slightly higher pitch, and Helen sang right along. Norma kept raising the pitch, and Helen had no trouble whatever, until they hit a high A, and it was just a little too difficult for her. But the look on Helen's face said that this was a nice new challenge, and Helen wanted to be able to sing the song that high! There was a big grin on Norma's face, and a look of fascinated admiration on Helen's face, at the sight of Norma transposing the accompaniments on the fly! Helen was clearly unaware that she could easily do the same just a few years ago.

"Oh, that was so much fun!" sang Cecily, who also had a lovely, light soprano, in contrast to Norma's voice, which had sunk to a lovely alto. But most interestingly, it was clear to all of them that Helen's voice was still a bright soprano, even if its range needed to be stretched significantly. Helen could sail up to a high C in her younger days, just a few years before; and she was within shooting distance of that range.

The following day was the recital that Norma and Cecily had planned to attend, at the University. It was a young fellow who had graduated from the College in Ohio, who was a gifted bass. Cindy and Helen joined the old ladies for sight-seeing around the City, after which they went in to the University area, attended the recital, visited a little with the boy who had sung, and dropped Norma and Cecily off at their hotel.

That Saturday, Norma and Cecily had been brought over by Cindy, who had had to go grocery shopping after they had been dropped off. Helen was happily singing an easy Mozart aria, just to warm up, when Gena and company turned up, which they often did, hoping to steal a bit of breakfast.

The girls were first, and were surprised to hear singing. Shortly afterwards, Sita got a call, letting her know that Helen was singing. Sita hurried over, by which time Helen had started on another Mozart aria, this time one that was more challenging. Helen could sing a little higher, now, and a high B Flat was comfortably within her range. Her upper range was spectacular, but there was an amazing warmth in her lower register as well!

Helen smiled briefly at her audience, and continued with the singing, which demanded a lot of attention. Each day, she would reprise a song she had worked on the previous day, and went onto newer songs, working through the beginner's repertoire, and into the songs considered of intermediate difficulty.

Sita watched and listened, and unlike Gena, she had never heard Helen sing, and was completely bowled over by the quality of Helen's voice. It was no longer the sweet treble that had hit the ears of Elly that Saturday long ago, when Helen had been just back from surgery, and had remembered a song while she was cleaning the bathtub; this was a mature, controlled soprano. Helen had never sung the dramatic soprano repertoire; she was most definitely a lyric soprano, but given that, despite that she was a light soprano, it was a strong, agile voice that caressed the ears. Hearing Helen speak, Sita had expected that Helen's singing voice would be angelic. But it was startling to hear just how angelic it was. Norma was now making Helen sing from _Messiah_ and the _Christmas Oratorio;_ in fact, Norma was making Helen sing the songs that were Norma's favorites, and had been Helen's favorites in College.

About an hour and a half later they broke for drinks, and Helen walked past the little audience, and blushed. "Well, what do you think?" she asked.

Gena replied at once, "Totally awesome, mom! Keep going! I'm enjoying this so much! I feel like jumping in and singing!"

Helen was startled. She knew Gena could sing, but had not realized just how much of a singer she was.

"You didn't tell me you could sing!"

"Oh, are you kidding? Her degree was in musical theatre, and that sort of stuff! And she's been training this little children's choir!" said Kristen.

They went with Helen into the kitchen, to get the tea brewing, and to chat with Cecilia, who was trying to help. Then Helen asked Gena to sing something, just for Helen to see what sort of singing she could do, and Gena walked up to Norma and said that if she had something Gena was familiar with, she would sing it for them. Gena's training had certainly included the songs from musical theater, but it had also included mainstream soprano repertoire, and her voice coach had not neglected well-known arias from lyric opera, and even Lieder.

Gena and Norma consulted, and Gena pounced on a song by Schumann, to Norma's great satisfaction. Presently, the listeners were treated to Gena singing, with her pure soprano, a song that had once been a favorite of Helen's. It lasted a mere six or seven minutes, and Helen had to leave everything and listen.

"Gena . . . that was _wonderful!"_ Helen could find no more words, so beautiful had it been. She had to run up to her daughter and give her an enormous hug. "How come you never sang these songs at home?" Helen demanded, sounding indignant. Gena laughed, and shrugged. She tried to explain that, flying in and out of the house during holidays, it was difficult to prepare and to sing full-voice, especially as they were concentrating on violin most of the time.

Sita was gazing on the Nordstrom women, slightly stunned. Gena's artistry was unbelievable, and being so young, her voice was still amazingly elastic and agile. Gena was also very musical indeed, and though as a violinist she was only average, as a vocalist, she was amazing.

What set Helen apart, really, was not just her beautiful voice, but her versatility, and more recently, her conducting skills. But Helen the Soprano was wonderful, especially to one who had never heard her sing _live_ before.

## Tennis, Anyone?

All this while, Sophie was keeping Helen's nose to the tennis courts, to coin an unhappy phrase. As the tennis season went into high gear, Sophie could only spare a day here, a day there, but while she was in Philadelphia she made contact with numerous tennis fanatics, and arranged for them to play with Helen when possible.

The tennis professionals had access to good private courts, which Helen could probably afford, but not comfortably. Helen's game became really excellent, and then leveled off. Though the tennis folks were a little disappointed—noticing that Helen was a far better player than other women in her age-group—as always, they were more interested in their sport, than in the subject, Helen Nordstrom. Some of them knew who Helen Nordstrom was, in a vague way, but most of them had no idea. In fact, most of them thought she was just an aging athlete.

Sophie's objective, of trying to trigger some memories, was partially successful. But Helen's friends had a vague notion that her improved physical condition had _something_ to do with her memories leaking back into her head. By the end of September, Helen's speech and manner was definitely what they all remembered of her from before; her speaking voice was as seductive as ever, her smile was as glorious as ever; in fact, more glowing, since she had forgotten the experience of the horrible accident which had left her with that dramatic hairline scar on her face. This was a Helen who had not experienced what the 'old' Helen had thought of as her decline; in fact, this Helen was pleased with all that she could do.

## Impromptu Performances

The Impromptu eventually got around to auditioning Cindy, without Elly or Lalitha having to twist any arms. They were now quite comfortable with using early-19th-Century instruments on occasion, such as to play Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann and Brahms, and even Mozart. Their professionalism had always been excellent, but with Brooke Arbogast's increasing experience, the entire group was earning a regional reputation. Brooke had had very little experience when she had started directing the Impromptu. She had been eager to try, and had wide tastes, and with her natural charisma and sense of rhythm, she had taken to conducting very quickly. She had never taken conducting classes, as Helen had, and she was a lot younger: in her late twenties. But soon they started playing more interesting, and more difficult works, a few of them even outside their usual period. They were beloved of many of the professional musicians of the city, who often bequeathed to them various exotic and valuable instruments.

Most importantly, once Cindy's talent and experience were recognized, they featured her as a soloist in concertos. Helen's extended family now contained two excellent violinists, Helen and Erin; a violist, Elly; and Cellists Cindy, and Tommy, wherever _she_ might be. By Thanksgiving, they had performed some interesting works, including the _Sinfonia Concertante_ for violin and viola, and the Brahms Double Concerto. Alison, of course, was a little too young to be a member of the group.

# October

Gena could play the piano quite well, significantly better than Cindy. Many of the songs Gena could sing had accompaniments that were quite difficult, and now they began to realize that Helen and Gena could accompany each other in that repertoire. Norma had talked to mother and daughter seriously, and impressed on them that there was no alternative to keeping up with demanding music; if Gena was familiar with the most challenging solo soprano works, the instant there was an opportunity to sing it, such as, for instance, to substitute for someone who was sick, Gena could rise to the occasion. And, to be ready, she ought to perform in public, so that it was known that she was capable.

This was just what Gena needed; the music scene, and the musical theatre scene was only partly driven by professionals. Semi-professionals accounted for the rest, especially since there was so little financial support for all-professional musical theatre.

# Sita Muses

Sita was extremely grateful to Gena for having alerted her to the recital going on at the Newberry house. She had had a conversation with Helen just a week or so before, and Helen had been unsure of herself, eager to talk things over with Sita, but when Sita arrived back home, she was convinced that Helen had been unable to tell her what her biggest concerns had been. Helen had been so relieved to talk to Sita anyway, that the latter had departed feeling as if she had been a great counselor. This morning, however, Helen had apparently arrived at a point where she had regained much of the amazing mastery over the voice medium; the utter confidence in her voice, which Sita had never experienced until then.

Some are gifted with lovely, fabulous voices, but never achieve the degree of control over the voice and the technique that such a voice deserves. Others have incredible control; they often rise to great heights _purely_ on what they achieve with their limited instrument. But Helen had both the voice and the almost effortless, unthinking control over it, that had thrilled audiences for a more than a decade. Helen's technique could certainly be used at a conscious level when necessary; she could match vibrato with a second voice, to sing a duet where the agreement between the two voices was almost uncanny. But she could also set her conscious artistry completely aside, and let her subconscious take over, and cause her audience to float with the effortlessness of her singing. That day, Sita heard every sort of singing from Helen, but mostly songs that required less than the effort Helen was capable of, therefore she seemed superhuman.

She had never expected to be so moved by vocal music. On Christmas night, a year ago—in fact, on a significant occasion in which Sita had confessed that she probably had never fallen out of love with Helen—Sita and Helen had sat together on the kitchen steps, with Helen in bitter tears, and Sita weeping in sympathy. A compilation of video clips of arias and choruses was playing on TV, titled _The Best of Messiah,_ and Maryssa and Lalitha and the rest of the gang had been so sure that Helen's singing would have been excluded from it that they had tried to downplay the event. But the little ones had been so eager to see it that Helen had put the program on in defiance. Very soon, it seemed clear that no performance of Helen would be featured, and Helen was utterly downcast. As never before, Sita began to realize why Helen had been so devastated to have to sit through that harrowing compilation. Listening to Helen _live_ (in contrast to _recorded_ ), Sita realized that Helen's disappointment and frustration was not mere arrogance; Helen had _known_ how brilliant a soprano she had been, and thinking back, Sita had a vague memory of how the montage of recordings they played that Christmas showed only a little of what it _could have_ been. (Actually, it had been quite wonderful, and in the end, _two_ of Helen's performances had indeed been included, much to Helen's satisfaction, and the delight of the children!)

For several years Sita had admired Helen, but not knowing Helen The Soprano, it had not seemed inconceivable that they could have been a _couple_. Helen and she had toured parts of Georgia and Florida, and Sita had enjoyed that more than almost any time she had spent doing _anything._

During the filming of that movie, _Merit_ , Sita remembered a few occasions when she had been held in the strong arms of Sharon Vuehl; riding together on a horse, running from a mob and scrambling over a wall; at first Sita had subconsciously tried not to enjoy those moments. (Helen had secretly trained for that movie, and had been in top physical shape.) But after a week or two, her lonely soul had realized that the cautious physical affection Sharon Vuehl had extended to her had to be grasped and enjoyed, before Sita retreated into her own mental convent, because it was not part of her culture to _go out and find intimacy._ Sharon had given her just as much intimacy as Sita's protected upbringing could allow her without emotional overload. Thinking back, she had wondered how Sharon, whom she had considered a woman of limited intellect, could have controlled herself so. (To support the deception, Helen had deliberately made Sharon out to be of limited intellect.)

Some months after the filming of _Merit,_ Helen had been visiting in Woodford, and learned that Sita needed her in London, to participate in a special magazine photo feature, to earn a little extra cash for her foster-sister, who was a social worker. After the shoot—for which Helen had to carefully make up as Sharon, of course—Helen had had to stay the night with the Maunders (the missionary family that had brought Sita with them back to England). In the night, Sita had crept into 'Sharon's' bed, and they had made love. That night, Sita had felt the ambiguity in Sharon. Helen had felt extremely guilty at taking advantage of Sita's innocence, and said something about it, and she had bitten her tongue, because she had used _Helen's voice_ when she had said it; not so much the voice quality but the choice of phrase. Sita could not remember enough detail to recognize the mistake. But in hindsight, it was becoming clear that she had been consorting with a goddess without knowing it. It was unfortunate, but her personal metaphysical beliefs were only too efficient in leading her to this understanding: Helen was superhuman, and _pursuing her would only lead to grief!_ That was the result of her musing.

She had neglected Helen for the sake of helping Vicky, and now it seemed that it was just as well: loving a goddess was a foolish idea.

## Vicky Makes Progress

In the treatment plan which Vicky had been enrolled in, each patient was assigned a psychologist (since the problem was partially psychological). As Sita had expected, Vicky's counselor had told her that too much hand-holding was detrimental. The psychologist was aware that the two women were romantically involved, and Vicky awkwardly reminded him of that. All the more reason, the psychologist said, to slow down how much time you spent together. It was agreed that Sita needed only to accompany Vicky for every other visit to Baltimore. Vicky's present dose per day was just half of the dose she had started out with. "But now," she told Sita, "they're going to slow down the rate at which they tail it off."

Sita was frustrated. "Why? Why not tail it off at the same rate? Then we'll be done much faster!"

Vicky took the car out. She resented the parking fees they had to pay, and was usually in a poor mood on the way home. She actually had quite a lot more disposable income than before she had started treatment, but these sorts of feelings are seldom logical, Sita decided. Vicky felt put upon for the entire business; it was hard for her to accept that no one had got her addicted but herself.

Sita's emotional world was moving too fast. In the good old days, when Helen had been a sort of infallible authority, Sita had felt comfortable; she had never put the feeling into words, but in the back of her mind, she had come to think of Helen as someone who could fix any problem, starting with Sita's problematic visa, which Becky had worked on at Helen's behest. But ever since Helen's surgery, Sita felt that things were out of control for Helen, and therefore for Sita too. Being the one who had been assigned the job of keeping Helen company in the mornings had felt extremely strange to her; she had often looked at Helen impatiently, trying to suppress a feeling that Helen wasn't trying.

As she got to know Helen better, she began to realize that in fact Helen was trying very hard, even if she did not make a fuss about it. Above all, Helen had wanted to try to be the best mother she could be to those kids; that was all she could see as her duty. She didn't really _need_ to have Cindy there to keep house for her; she had learned how to do that in somewhat of a relaxed way, but she saw the advantages of Cindy's style of ultra-scientific housekeeping. As soon as Sita had remarked that Iris had hoped that Helen would give the neighborhood kids some musical training, Helen had been on the job; Saturday afternoons she led the kids through a large repertoire of camp songs and folk songs, which she had to learn first, and then teach the kids. She saw Erin playing the guitar one day—which she could do fairly well—and encouraged her to do more of it, and they even acquired a gut-strung (nylon-strung, actually) guitar, so as not to hurt Erin's fingers.

Compared to the effort Helen was putting in to her own rehabilitation, Vicky's effort had, at first, seemed puny. Within a week or two, though, Sita had realized that you just couldn't compare people in that way; it was all relative. An enormous effort for one person could be a simple matter to another.

## Halloween

Olive, from Maryland, was impatient to see the Nordstroms. Around late October, they bullied Gena into joining them in a visit to Olive's home, and Cindy joined them. It was a wonderful visit, filled with music from beginning to end, culminating with a crazy Halloween celebration, where Gena took the young people Trick or Treating, with herself dressed as a superhero. There were just a few visitors at Olive's house, where Helen and Cindy joined Olive to hand out sweets, but it was a lot of fun for Gena, Erin, Allie and James to meet other kids on the streets, dressed up as all sorts of characters from the movies.

## Program Notes

Helen's rapidly exploding ability to sing and to play the violin was confusing Sita, and each visit to the Nordstrom home made her somehow _hungry_ to relate to Helen in a deeper way.

One astonishing day, when Sita visited the Newberry home with Trish, to drop the children off after their usual weekday treat of tea at Trish's home, Sita decided to stay and visit with Helen and Cindy, while the kids were getting ready for their violin lessons. Unexpectedly, when Helen brought Sita her cup of tea, she brought up the possibility that they should try and find work in addition to working at the instrument factory.

"I know Lalitha depends on us, but I can't help feeling that we could find jobs to—you know?—supplement our income. I see Marcus working two jobs, and all the extra work Gena does with that little drama group for kids, and I feel I could do more!"

"I can't think of what _I_ could do," Sita said, with a frown.

Helen looked somewhat disconcerted, but not knowing Sita's educational background in detail, and afraid to embarrass her, Helen piped down.

"The Impromptu paid me for playing the Dvorak, when Isolde was here," Helen said, not certain whether Sita would take it the wrong way.

"You know, that was so well attended, I wouldn't be surprised if the ticket sales brought in a reasonable amount of money . . ." Sita mused. She was beginning to think of matters that didn't usually cross her mind. "Helen, I wonder who wrote the program notes back when you used to play with them?"

"I don't know! Lalitha would probably know something like that . . ."

It turned out that it had been Helen herself, before the Impromptu leadership had decided not to have Helen play with them; more recently they had not printed programs at all; except when they played something they had played before, and re-used the old program notes that Helen had compiled.

Shortly after this conversation, Mary-Beth and Brooke had firmly taken over the leadership of the orchestra, and in a couple of days, they had decided to distribute printed programs at all their performances, and also decided to sell a semi-annual newsletter for any of their regular audience members who might be interested in new developments with the group and its projects. Lalitha, Sita and Helen were appointed as the Programs, Newsletter and Notes Committee, to their delight, with power to pay anyone who worked for them, provided the Newsletter broke even!

Something that seemed a natural thing to do was to go through Helen's personal library, and find what sort of printed resources she owned. Sita quickly found the manuscript of an early book Helen had started to write, which summarized a lot of the background information for Bach's music, which she had abandoned in favor of a celebrated book that had come out later, which had all the same content. There was a sort of musical encyclopedia, and a book about ten years old, that was essentially the Lives of the Great Composers. That was about all Sita thought she could handle, but she noted some others to which she could return, especially a book of Opera, which summarized the stories of about twenty most popular operas.

The Impromptu had already started preparing for the holiday season, and instead of the big classics which they had performed under Helen, they decided to present smaller works, popular carols, traditional carols, and a few ancient carols, with which they could do a wonderful job with the early instruments. They checked with Helen, and she was all enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Marika and Lisa were sending Becky requests to find someone who could write liner notes for CDs that they were in the process of getting ready for publication, and Becky hesitantly asked Helen whether she might want to get into that sort of thing again. "We could always find someone else," she said, in case Helen panicked.

"Oh, we can do it, Helen, you and I," said Sita, confidently. She had discovered a strong interest in music, from Medieval music all the way to the late Romantics, and spent a lot of time at the Newberry house, which had a nicer stereo system than the one in the Semple Street home.

Best of all, Olive decided to cancel the usual chamber-music events at her home for that Thanksgiving, and to visit with Helen and company instead! This was an exciting idea, and when the Nordstroms got back, with Cindy, of course, they decided to seriously clean up the house, do a little painting, helped by Trish, Suresh and Sita, and new drapes were bought, broken tiles replaced, and new carpet for the bedrooms that needed them.

After most of that was done, Helen was in an exceptionally happy mood, and when she turned around, Sita was standing near. Helen put her arms around her and gave her a nice big hug.

When she let go, for an instant Sita's face showed confusion, but then she smiled. "That's one thing I like about you," she said. "You're a big hugger!"

"I am!" exclaimed Helen, her face still full of joy. Then she was serious. "I hope you didn't mind, Sita."

"No, no, . . ." Sita said. "Gena hugs too!"

"That's true!" Helen shook her head, a wondering expression on her face. She mumbled to Sita that Gena and the other kids were just so sweet, that it made her humble.

When Sita headed off home—she was used to the walk, which was a moderate distance—she was thinking of what it would be like to move in with Helen and Cindy, and look after those children. On the few occasions in which Sita had been in that house, getting everyone ready for some event, the girls and James had let Sita help them with their clothes and hair and everything, which made Sita's heart warm. There was never anything like: _don't worry; I'll get Mom to do it,_ or any such rejection. Cindy, of course, never worried about such details, but simply moved in and got to work. But Sita approached such tasks with restraint and caution, until she realized that somehow the kids regarded Sita, together with Lalitha and Trish, as part of their extended family. When they had all visited Olive, around Halloween, Sita had missed them.

# Four Last Songs

The Impromptus were getting ready for the couple of concerts they had planned to give at Christmas. The Choir was rehearsing separately, until just before Thanksgiving, when they had started rehearsals with the orchestra. Gena was now singing with the choir, having auditioned for it, and Gena had a solo as well.

Unexpectedly, Helen was invited by a major Orchestra in the City, to sing a Romantic song cycle with them. "We have heard, through our secret informers, that you might consider singing with us!"

"Oh. Can you give me, like, a couple of days to decide?"

"Okay, Ms. Nordstrom, _one day!_ If you turn us down, we'll have to get someone else, but our program committee really, really wants to jump-start your vocal career again! We can talk about that another time, but . . . we hope you'll come through!"

"Cindy! They want me to sing some Richard Strauss with them! Oh God, I'm in a total panic! I don't think I've ever sung Strauss before! They're going to call me tomorrow, and I have to give them an answer!"

Cindy looked at Helen with some amusement, while Sita sat on a side, dying to know what Helen would decide. Helen certainly didn't _look_ panicked, but it was clear that Helen was flustered.

"Sweetheart, I think you've sung at least one of these before; they're just beautiful. You will love singing them, and they aren't programmed very often; this is a _huge_ stroke of luck, that they put it on the program and asked you! You can call Norma, and you can call Olive! I'll bet you anything everyone will say _go for it!"_

Norma didn't have to think; she shot back immediately: "Helen, they're easy, and the only one going to enjoy it more than the audience is _you!_ You have the power and the voice. And they're in German; I know you spoke German at one time; you do need to learn the pronunciation just right."

Becky's mother, Martha Singer (who had been Helen's mentor in graduate school) was of the same opinion, and Olive almost went berserk with delight. She was preparing to head out to Philadelphia, and was impatient to hear Helen sing.

The following day, Lorna turned up on Helen's doorstep with Norma in tow! A few minutes later, the accompanist from the Impromptu turned up, and the music was placed in front of Helen.

The song they had decided to start with was _Im Abendrot,_ At Sunset.

"Helen, we're going to take this just a little faster, to begin with. You're no teenager; you can sing it _largo_ right off the bat. But this will help you hear the arcs of the phrases, as well as _see_ them. Okay, er, Glenn."

There were a few chords, and they were into the song. Helen sang, in German, having already been coached on the pronunciation by Norma. The notes were long and sustained, and Helen immediately saw the logic behind singing it slow.

They listened, spellbound, as Helen sang, not full voice, yet, saving her breath. None of the Philadelphians had ever heard such an amazing song from the late Romantic repertoire. Because of the slow pace of the piece, most of the effort was in the accompaniment.

Helen sang it, careful with the intonation, but not giving it very much expression; she could do that as she absorbed the meaning of the words. Very soon, she realized that this piece was going to be easy, except for the demands of breath control.

When the song was over, some five minutes later, Helen was relieved, but also very aware of how difficult the song was going to be.

They moved on to the first of the four songs, and Helen was despairing. But this is where Norma's genius came in. She gave Helen ideas as to how to think of some really strange harmonic transitions. Nothing comes out of nowhere, she explained; there's usually some logical reason for a transition! Take the time and get your head around it.

But it was difficult; that First Song was Helen's least favorite, because of its wild leaps. As leaps, they were not that hard. But they always seemed to land someplace unexpected! It was towards the end of singing that first song, that the gentleman from the orchestra called back.

"Well? Have you looked at the songs?" asked the gentleman who was calling on behalf of the orchestra.

"I did sing the fourth song, which was fairly easy," Helen started out.

" _Easy?_ My goodness, the breath control for that is _very_ demanding!"

"I'm going through the first song now," Helen said, "and it's quite a challenge!"

The caller laughed. "All right, Ms. Nordstrom; take a few more days. I do believe we're not going to have to try particularly hard to find an alternate. You're going to find it easy to sing at least three of the songs; and we can work with that! Good talking to you, and we're looking forward to having you sing with us!"

They took a short break to discuss the phone call, and to have some snacks and drinks, each of them thoughtful about what lay ahead for Helen.

"Helen, I'm going to stay another day. I think you can use the help, and it's going to be a little more fun to celebrate Thanksgiving with your children!"

It didn't really seem as if Norma had invited herself for Thanksgiving, but she really had, of course. Cecilia scolded her thoroughly, but Norma smiled and said that they didn't really celebrate Thanksgiving anyway; they could easily leave the Nordstroms in peace on that day, and relax in their hotel. But Cindy would not hear of it. Of course, Lalitha and family had joined them for Thanksgiving ever since they had moved into that house.

There was a call from Olive, who said she was a few minutes away, and then everyone was there!

On the day of the performance, the orchestra had a rehearsal of the program in which Helen was to sing. That morning she was fetched by limousine, and as a special favor to her, they allowed Norma, Cecily and Olive to come along. Helen was welcomed with great respect by the orchestra and the conductor, who was a senior assistant conductor, and a handsome fellow, who was particularly interested in vocal and operatic repertoire.

As they were walking towards the recital hall, the conductor suddenly turned to Helen, and asked her, in German, _Wie geht's?_ _Sprechen sie Deutch?_ (How're you doing? Do you speak German?) Without a pause, Helen responded in German, and then halted in her tracks, and turned to look at the gentleman wide-eyed.

"I don't know from where _that_ came!"

"Oh, that's right; you do still have amnesia!" He looked just as startled as Helen. "It didn't sink in, Miss Nordstrom! But you seemed to say, over the phone, that you were able to sing these songs!"

Helen had her materials in a big shopping bag, but now she made a cautionary gesture, because her mind was filling with German. She had studied English translations of the original poems, but they had not been very helpful. Now she needed to look at the words again; her vocabulary was coming back to her!

They were presently in the rehearsal room, and the orchestra greeted her with polite applause. It wasn't that they were unenthusiastic, but that they did not want to overwhelm her in any way!

She was given a few seconds to read through the words of the first song, but then she had to sing. Unlike the orchestra recordings she had listened to at home, this one had a warm, glowing sound which caressed her ears, and she was standing turned towards the conductor and the musicians, though she was supposed to sing turned to the audience. At her request, they rehearsed the fourth song, the one with the slowest tempo. The conductor had said: Let's take it at the tempo I would _like_ to take it, and if you need to you can stop us, and we can speed up, or slow down. That was what they were doing.

The introduction was at a moderate pace, and Helen made her entry. It was easy for her to blend into the orchestral sound, as she had done many times before, on occasions she could not remember at all. As soon as they heard her voice, not too loud, but not in the least weak, as they might have expected, there was an almost visible sense of relief, and they were holding up their end, increasingly more confident that she could handle hers.

When the song was concluded with the long coda, there was a little congratulatory applause, and Helen bowed graciously. Then it was onto the other songs, each one around six minutes in length. She was forced to drink a glass of water halfway through; and they offered anything else she might prefer, and she asked for a cup of tea laced with honey, which they amazingly had ready! They joked that she might react badly to the sugar, but by now Helen knew that it was unlikely to happen, and laughed with them.

"We have some snacks for you, backstage," said the conductor, and smilingly announced to the orchestra that they could join him and Helen, provided they did not gobble up everything.

"Miss Nordstrom, I was a much younger fellow when I first heard you sing!" Helen pretended to frown at him for bringing up her age, and insisted that she was far from decrepit. "No; you sound _better._ Your voice is just a little more powerful, and your lower register is nice and warm! I congratulate myself for having the idea of featuring you tonight!"

"I'm very grateful," Helen told him sincerely. "I have, of course, forgotten all the unpleasantness that . . . ended my singing career—I believe it was soon after _Helga_ —I mean, I know it was, and I know roughly what happened, but I can't remember reading the articles, or..."

". . . Seeing the TV broadcasts. I'm glad. I was just out of college, and I was just—stunned. But that didn't stop us from reacting badly to it; I guess we were being cautious, and had you play a concerto or two."

"I'm grateful. But I have an excuse; I can't remember any of the unpleasantness, so I need not bear any grudges!"

When Helen returned home with Olive, Norma and Cecily, she left behind an orchestra and a conductor who were close to being completely in love with Helen.

"Helen, that was beautifully sung! Your voice is just a little stronger all up and down, and there's just a beautiful quality in the lower register, even when you sing softly, and nice control at the top, too!"

"I must agree, Helen; better than ever! Oh, what an experience!"

Cecily pointed out that she had not sung this well when they were practicing at home. Norma remarked that, psychologically, it was almost impossible to sing your heart out in rehearsal. "You watch," she said, "she's going to sing even better tonight!"

That night, Helen had an early supper, and sat talking with the usual gang at home, and Olive kept them all in fits of laughter until it was time to head out to the Symphony.

To Helen's surprise, the conductor of the morning came up to her smiling ruefully, and told her that the maestro himself wanted to conduct. "I'm frustrated, but, well, we have a feeling that this is going to be a major event, and he wanted to have a piece of it!"

"Oh! What a disappointment!" There was a little mockery in her voice, because she clung to the thought that though she was a competent singer, it was too much to accept that her singing was superior. Nobody realized that the memories of any great successes she may have had, had all been erased. They must have known, at some level, but not seen all the implications.

Presently, once the brief announcements were over, the orchestra seated, this time in the main symphony auditorium, and the tuning-up was all finished, the Maestro escorted Helen onstage, to great applause.

The audiences for Helen's non-sacred performances—in contrast to the people who were merely aware of Helen as a celebrity—had mostly not been actively involved with the movement to censure her. The conservative Christian right had been held with some fear in those days, and most institutions had been at pains to not fall afoul of them. But now, that political block had discredited themselves (or _itself,_ if you prefer,) so much so that it was considered safe to disregard any indignation that emanated from that quarter.

The maestro, a smiling elderly man who ushered Helen onstage, had greeted her with great pleasure, and told her that he had watched from the back when she had rehearsed with the orchestra that morning. He had apologized to the assistant conductor, he said, but he very much wanted to conduct tonight. There was applause as Helen took her place at the front, this time facing the audience. It was not a packed house, but it was far from empty. (Helen could not see them, but the Newberry gang and all their visitors, too, were in the audience, as was Vicky.) The maestro was clearly disappointed at the attendance, but he smiled at Helen, subtly conveying the fact that there were other factors that could make a great performance, apart from the size of the audience. He took a deep breath, and raised his arms to cue in the introduction. After a few seconds of introduction, Helen slipped the opening words into the mix. The audience was not expecting to hear so much power and control, though Helen was not singing loudly at all. By this time, the harmonic logic of the song had been absorbed by Helen, and she had even memorized the song. The German was enunciated crisply, surprising them.

She was now free to use her hands expressively, if she so chose, but at the moment they hung loose at her sides. She looked lovely, though not necessarily youthfully radiant. The tight curl of her hair had been somewhat tamed, and it hung behind her, gathered at the nape of the neck. Lorna and Sita had taken Helen to what Lorna considered the appropriate couturiers to buy a concert gown; evidently singing a recital required a more carefully selected costume than a mere violin concerto did. It was a black, white, and silver creation, simple in its lines, but rich with just a touch of gold lace on her shoulder straps.

The first song was over before the audience could form an opinion of the song, or the singer, except for the projection and the confidence that was just a little unexpected. The second song, too, went by without event, while Helen's voice grew in strength, but her control became even more noticeable.

The third song caught the attention. It was interesting, and dramatic, and Helen was doing a wonderful job with interpreting it; those who knew it smiled, and those who were new to it hurriedly looked at the lyrics of the song, realizing that it could be a song they wanted to hear again. Helen was clearly pleased at how that had gone, and her spell began to settle on the audience, as in her younger days.

The fourth song was the one most brilliantly orchestrated. One result of Norma having taken Helen through this one right at the beginning was that Helen related more strongly to it than to any of the others. The maestro indicated a much slower tempo than the assistant conductor had, in rehearsal. Helen had to pay attention; the breathing had to be measured carefully, but after the first few phrases, Helen realized that it would not be a problem.

The orchestration, however, was so glorious, that Helen found herself forgetting technicalities, and began to be affected by the work. Now, having been awoken to her memory of the German language, she was beginning to lose herself in the words and the music, something she had not done for many years as a professional soprano.

It was not a sad song, but there was great resignation in it, and at the end of it, Helen found her face drenched with tears. After the long coda, after the orchestral sound had faded away to nothing, the applause began slowly, and Helen felt a handkerchief pressed into her hand by the Concertmaster. She thanked him with a smile, and turned to the audience, and bowed. The applause went on and on, and Helen was ushered offstage.

"Dr. Nordstrom, that was beautiful! You are one of the greatest ornaments of this city, and we are honored to be the first ones to welcome you back to the stage!" The Maestro went on to pile congratulations on Helen, who was quite dazed. By then, the assistant conductor had made his appearance, and the Maestro reluctantly stepped back. The possibility of an encore had just come up, and it was left to Helen and the assistant conductor.

Helen could not offer any suggestions, but the three of them persuaded Helen that she could easily sing something appropriate from sight. Failing everything, she could at least sing some Bach!

It was now time to go back on stage, before the audience left the building!

The applause was nice and loud, and everyone took their bows again. Then the assistant conductor stepped forward to the microphone that had been brought on stage, and with a smile, explained that Ms. Nordstrom had agreed to sing a _brief_ encore, but that they would appreciate a few seconds to finalize matters. The audience took their seats with a laugh, and after they had conferred, and Helen apprehensively looked over the piece they had settled on.

Luckily, it was a _Lied_ Helen had rehearsed with Norma for just this sort of eventuality, _Die Engel_ , by Richard Wagner. This song Helen knew backwards and forwards, but of course she had never sung it with an orchestra.

Everyone took their places, and the maestro had gone offstage. Just before they had come back onstage, Helen had been told that they had rehearsed this song recently, and they did not expect any problems. Helen sang the song with a smile, utterly pleased with the beautiful orchestral sounds. Of course, being so brief, it was a little unsatisfying, but its pleasant mood, after the heavy feeling of the _Four Last Songs_ , was a welcome contrast.

Of course there was a lot of applause, but this time, after Helen had taken her bows, the curtain had come down, and Helen had gone backstage, and spoken briefly with the two conductors and the Concertmaster and the orchestra manager, all of whom thanked Helen profusely, and told her that they had been very pleased at how it had gone, which meant that they were relieved that she had sung so well.

All Helen's family had been in the audience. After becoming accustomed to Helen's retiring manner from since she had had surgery, the sheer unfamiliarity, the emotional onslaught of the performance had left the younger ones reeling, as well as most of the others. Gena, who had been stunned to hear the concerto, was having a similar reaction. Alison was just delighted to see and hear Mama sing; Helen had been surprising the little eight-year-old with her talents for most of her life, and she had learned to just relax and go with the flow. She trustingly slipped her arm around her mother, hoping that she would not have to travel home in a different vehicle. Erin pushed Gena forward, to enable her to talk to her mother, but Norma, oblivious to all this, was beaming approval at Helen and congratulating her, as were Olive and Cecily, and Cindy.

Lalitha, Sita, Trish and Suresh were all going back to Newberry in their car, hoping to be able to debrief Helen if they waited long enough.

Presently, everyone arrived at the Newberry house, and Lalitha and Sita and company silently slipped into the kitchen, to prepare some snacks for everyone who had gathered there. They received a phone call from Cindy, telling them that Helen had been hustled away by the orchestra folks, but that Cindy and Norma had prevailed, and insisted that the feting should be brief, and that Helen should be returned to her family soon.

It was about an hour later that Helen and company arrived, and they all gathered in the large porch at the back of the house, to talk about the evening.

More important than what they talked about, was what was going through their minds. Cindy was thrilled with Helen's comeback; she had known some of Helen's earliest successes as a soprano, in opera, both lyric opera, and one Wagner opera, where the role of the soprano was regarded to be a lyrical soprano role anyway. Norma was pleased, but quite irrationally she had expected that the performance would be a triumph anyway. She had known Helen almost than anyone in that gathering, and knew that, faced with a challenge, Helen would come through with flying colors.

Lalitha's mind was traversing through well-worn paths about the ways of The Goddess. Tonight, as never before, Helen seemed to be lit from within. Trish and Suresh set aside the experience, to savor it at leisure; of course Suresh was more likely to actually do so, since Trish's mind was usually occupied with the practical logistics of their extended family. Any time left over after all that, would be devoted to wondering about how Helen had made it happen so beautifully, as if she had been singing every day for years.

## Sita and Lorna

Sita's mind was still throbbing with the experience. A year or two before, she had studied a little German, subconsciously for the purpose of being able to understand Helen, she understood now; but after the surgery, she had forgotten all about it. She had despaired to learn that Melanie and Helen knew each other; how could she compete with _that?_

Each new aspect of Helen's talent set Sita back; she felt less worthy of Helen each time, but frustratingly, she felt hungrier than ever to bathe in the light that seemed to surround Helen.

Lorna, too, had joined them, but was staying out of the kitchen, simply because there was no room. The fresh lemonade they had been squeezing was ready, and was being loaded into a tray that Erin was holding. Elly and Morgan were just coming in, and were talking excitedly with Gena, Kristen and Marcus. As Sita looked away from staring at Helen, and turned back towards the kitchen, Lorna caught her eye. Lorna saw her sigh, and walk towards where Lorna stood, in the back hallway.

"How're you holding up, sweetheart?" asked Lorna, softly. They were the same age, but Lorna always addressed everyone as if they were younger than she.

"Holding up?" asked Sita, with a forced smile.

Lorna didn't answer at once, but only looked intently into Sita's eyes. Presently she turned, and led the way to the side entrance of the house, which led to the pathway to the back garden.

"I know how you feel about Helen," she said, very quietly. Those words, and the way they were said, told Sita immeasurably more about Lorna than she would have learned by simply watching her over several months.

"Shit. You're the second one who's sprung that on me," said Sita. Lorna thought to herself that Sita was becoming distressingly Americanized; she never used to swear. She sighed heavily; it didn't seem worth the effort to pretend to be uninterested. "I know that you, well, fought for her pretty hard."

"See these?" Lorna showed Sita the horrible scars on her wrist. Sita gasped, and closed her hands gently over the scars, as if she could heal them. The look in Lorna's eyes softened, but she gently tugged her hands away. She wanted to say something bitter, but no bitter words came; her tears seemed to choke her, and all she could do was to shake her head slowly.

Sita did not know that Lorna was just one among quite a few whose lives had been blighted by Helen, quite unwittingly, for the most part. "I don't deserve to be out there . . . with the musical . . . deities," Sita said, and a little bitterness did leak out with that.

"Does she know?"

"Not anymore," said Sita, feeling miserable. " _Sharon_ knew, but Helen has amnesia. That's something Helen doesn't need to remember." Sita no longer sounded bitter; her voice just expressed hopelessness.

"We all have only one life to live, Sita. If you love someone, and they love you back, it would make them happy for you to be together!" Lorna closed her lips tight, and Sita knew that she must have some great regrets.

Lorna had had her way—not without effort; her wrist bore witness to that—but so many had had to back down in the face of Lorna's determination to be with Helen. If Lorna had not subsequently insisted on pursuing ballet, she would not be the incredible success that she was. She was a stunning, talented beauty, and the ballet world had fallen at her feet, and she was just beginning to get the media recognition, from outside dancing circles. Nevertheless, it was painful to know that Lorna had great regrets.

As Sita listened to Lorna talk about Helen, she began to understand that Lorna felt unable to support Helen's emotional needs, particularly as they had been when the three women had gone their separate ways.

That night, many of them were so excited, as was Helen, that they hardly slept. The questions they had about how much Helen could resume her concert performances to the pre- _Helga_ level was essentially answered, if only Helen was given the opportunity.

The newspapers were enthusiastic about the concert, some of them praising Helen as they had never done before.

"Clearly," wrote one, "Helen Nordstrom's voice is back, better than it has ever been. Strauss' _Four Last Songs_ has found a new and exciting champion in Helen Nordstrom, whose customary vocal repertoire thus far had never encompassed the Late Romantic. There is much speculation whether we may hear her in _Fledermaus_ , or _Rosenkavalier_ in the near future! Her interpretation of each of the songs was impeccable, but _Im Abendrot_ was outstanding, being both heavenly and utterly heartrending at the same time. Here's to Ms. Nordstrom, and we look forward to many more opportunities to hear her sing on stage!"

That was just one of several reviews; all of them were positive, there was no remnant of the criticism Helen had suffered under, expressing her imagined responsibilities toward her youthful fans.

It was no longer in doubt whether Helen could play the violin or sing. But what Helen had enjoyed most was to collaborate with her musical friends, to play ensemble works, to bring more interesting music to her audiences. Duets, trios, multi-faceted works such as operas and oratorios: those were the things she had enjoyed most. Helen as she was now, had that desire as well; but those wonderful people who had been her collaborators of old had gotten out of the habit of thinking of her as a potential partner.

# The Holidays

The overwhelming effect of Helen's concert performance slowly dissipated. Helen arrived at the Church for rehearsal with the Impromptu, and was content to join the choir as an ordinary member, and allow Brooke to lead the singing. Their carols were sung at the Church early in December, just as Lalitha's teaching duties were winding down.

Gena's substituting had come to an end before Thanksgiving, and she was involved with holiday-related theatre matters, which did pay something, but not a lot. She was beginning to be quite a charismatic girl, and her talents were many, and she radiated that same sense of being able to do anything that Helen had at one time, but Gena was quite unaware of it.

Kristen's startling intelligence was maturing, and in her case, she was just becoming aware of it. Marcus was no slouch, but at this time, he was content to sink into the background, and allow the girls to shine, though when it came to very young children, he would forget everything, and completely take over! Gena regarded her gentle giant fondly, especially when Helen was leading singing on a Saturday morning, and think to herself that it would be lovely to have Marcus lead a bigger set of little people in a public park somewhere, once school was out. Gena now had the experience, and Marcus would certainly enjoy doing it, and they could involve Kristen somehow . . . Gena was beginning to be eager to put this plan into action in the Summer!

As always, Lalitha, Trish, Suresh, Sita and the little girl, all joined the Nordstroms for Christmas Day, and Cindy made it clear that their presence was greatly appreciated, and not taken for granted.

"Nobody has done more for me, and all of us, than you and Trish, and the others; and if I give you a million kisses, it won't begin to show you how much we love you!" Cindy told Lalitha quietly, in a corner.

"Well, you can get started!" Lalitha said, her tongue in cheek. Cindy giggled, and gave her a kiss. Lalitha gave her a big hug, and said, "You guys are so happy, it's infectious! Coming here is like a tonic."

Trish and Suresh were running around, making sure everyone got a little of the holiday fare. Many of their friends were away, spending Christmas with members of their families they had neglected in past years, in order to visit with Helen. But now they were beginning to realize that they had to spend their time wisely, and also realizing that it was impossible to have a satisfactory visit in Newberry all at once; Helen had to relate to them one at a time. So Kristen had gone home to her parents, and Marcus was traveling home right after Christmas.

# Love and Romance

What Cindy, and Lalitha, and Sophie, all had been uncomfortable with doing was to talk to Helen about love and romance. Unlike in earlier years, Helen was not slavering lustfully over younger women, nor was she falling in love with women she met in the course of her ordinary day: playing violin with the Impromptu, and preparing to sing the Opera, Lieder and Oratorio repertoire. Invitations had slowed down over the holidays, except for the carols with the Impromptu, where Helen had stood back, and urged Gena to sing. Gena had an amazing voice, quite different from Helen's, but capable of singing both the classical repertoire and the more popular songs from musical theatre. It seemed as though Gena was destined for great things in that area, and Helen seemed perfectly happy with that. But except for that single breathless afternoon in bed with Cindy, Helen had not had sex with anyone, that they knew.

Olive chatted with Helen about everything under the sun, and then quietly inquired whether there had been any prospects of romance in her life. Helen had been reticent to discuss it, but had told her that she had gone to bed with a single person on one occasion, and had implied that it had gone over really big. But she had also implied that she was too nervous about it to jump into an ongoing relationship based on that occasion.

"It could be an ongoing relationship, but not necessarily a... _committed_ relationship," Olive had explained. "Life is short, Helen; you can make someone happy, and also let them make _you_ happy, until you find someone special, with whom you find a perfect echo of yourself, a twin soul! But without that kind of perfection, you can _still_ be very, very happy, dear. I know that at one time, you and Evelyn—I think you called her _Rain?_ The Woodford girl, you know? I think the two of you were extremely close."

Helen flushed, and nodded. "I don't think that ended well, Olive. I did or said something mean to her, I think. I'm surprised she's so nice to me!"

Olive got the distinct impression that Helen did not want to pursue that path, though Olive had also gotten a strong impression that Evelyn, in contrast, might be interested in doing so.

They talked at length, and no matter which names Olive brought up, Helen indicated that she was nervous about pursuing any of these prospects. Finally, she blurted out to Olive that in her mind she felt like, well, someone in her twenties, but at other times she felt like someone in her thirties, especially because of her responsibilities, and because of the ages of her friends, who were in their fifties and older, and because of the children! She looked right into Olive's eyes, and said she _did not know how to behave_ with anybody!

Olive spoke only with Lalitha, later on, and together they analyzed what Helen must be feeling. They did not have a term to describe it, but it boiled down to the fact that Helen was dealing with interpersonal relationships like a kid in high school would: her attitudes to people depended on her age, and the age of the other person.

Most mature teenagers in modern times would begin to break away from this age-relative attitude to love and romance; but Helen, apparently, had hang-ups about those things that were more appropriate to the 1950's. Helen had never lived in that era, but somehow she had acquired some inhibitions from people of that period!

"It's something to do with the amnesia, and with the previous amnesia," Lalitha said. "She's always acted like someone who was a decade younger than her, you know. The first amnesia stole away ten years from her memory, and she was thirty, but she acted like twenty, right? But now, she's about forty-five, and she sings with the maturity of someone who's that old, but she relates to, you know, most of the girls she meets, as if she was, well, thirty, or so!"

"Will she go for counseling, do you think? It's such a waste of a wonderful woman!" Lalitha tried not to stare at Olive, but Olive seemed almost despairing. She could see that Olive was as concerned about Helen as she would have been for her own daughter. Somewhere along the way, Olive had adopted Helen as her own. So had many others, the earliest being Grelly, but they had gotten burnt-out by Helen's _antics,_ as they thought of them. But Olive, bless her, was persistent.

## Teacher Helen

By early in the New Year, Helen had decided that she had recovered as much of her violin skill as she could have been expected to, and Cindy agreed with her. Cindy and Helen together acquired several violin students by word of mouth; the violin teacher network of Philadelphia was very efficient at pairing aspiring students with teachers of the appropriate temperament and level, and Cindy had got in touch with them, and had been sent several students, and the older ones had been redirected to Helen. Elly still taught James and Alison, supervised by Cindy; Cindy taught Erin and three other young ladies; and Helen had three older students, college students, two girls and a boy. Very soon it became clear that they were in good hands; Helen had the knack for inspiring them, and presently both the students and their parents and their professors were perfectly happy about how they were progressing.

Helen had learned the Bach solo violin sonatas, and when Marika and Lisa heard about it, they wanted to record them for a disc. They came in and recorded it one weekend, and put it up for sale.

"What about your own concerto?" asked Marika.

"Nobody's asked me to play it!" said Helen, shyly.

Marika was thoroughly bemused to see Helen act so coy. "Would you like me to clear it with the Impromptu?"

"You can do that?"

" _Anyone_ can do that, Helen. They're an orchestra. That's what they do, dear."

So Brooke Arbogast was approached about it, and without much difficulty, a recording was set up for the next weekend, and Helen played it beautifully.

While she was learning it, she began to remember the process of having written it, and how she had conceived the structure of the entire work, and she could remember sitting at a table in the Semple Street house, now occupied by Lalitha, Trish, Suresh and the baby, and of course, Sita.

She didn't say a word to anyone about it, but she looked once again at the work, and thought hard about re-scoring it for a full modern orchestra. By this time she had a feeling for the issues; some works simply had to be played by an orchestra of the appropriate size. Other works could be played by large modern orchestras, and the question was: which sort of work was Helen's concerto? In the end, she decided that a large string section could indeed be used, but apart from the strings only the original instruments would work: a large brass section, and exotic bass clarinets, and so on, would spoil the balance. In any case, if Helen was approached with the idea of re-scoring, she knew how to respond.

Furthermore, Helen was beginning to feel comfortable with musical theory. It did not happen right away, because it was possible to play a lot of music without being involved with theory. But by resolutely asking Cindy questions about various aspects of pieces she was playing, and other pieces she simply liked very much, Helen had re-taught herself most of the theory she had known. Of course, it helped that Helen had always been naturally good at mathematics.

# The Endgame

In her mind, Cindy had imagined that, if Helen did not choose her, Cindy, to be her partner, then the most likely other prospect—for Helen—would be Sita. Sita could not disguise her feelings for Helen from observant Cindy; Helen needed a foil who could match her intelligence, and now that Lorna had firmly rejected the idea of re-awakening their feelings for each other, the clear choice was Sita.

Cindy often observed Helen and Sita walking in to work. Sita came to the house around ten in the morning, by which time Cindy had already headed out to the workshop. She and Sita would cross halfway, Sita would give Cindy a sweet smile and a cheery greeting, and go on to meet Helen at home. Helen, meanwhile, would have washed the dishes, put in a load of laundry, and visited briefly with Lita, the dog she loved so much. Then Sita would knock on the door, but Lita would bark a greeting even before she knocked.

Sita and Helen would sit and visit for a while, and Helen would tell Sita all that had been going through her mind. Then the flood of words would slow down to a trickle, as Helen actually noticed Sita, and thought better of burdening her with certain ideas; after all, Sita probably had her own problems!

They would put a leash on Lita, and set out for Semple again. Cindy would be watching out for them through a window, and she had convinced herself that Helen and Sita made a beautiful pair. At one time, Sita had been as thin as a rail, but over the last year, she had put on a tiny bit of weight, just enough to look perfect as she walked in with Helen. On her own, Cindy had noticed, Sita looked thoughtful and preoccupied; walking with Helen, she looked happy for the most part, but there certainly was a little tension. Not a bad sort of tension, but just a feeling of being on her toes. The dog would have seen Cindy, and started wagging her tail in greeting already. When they finally walked into the workshop, it seemed to Cindy that it was the happiest moment of the day!

Sita was frustrated with the fact that she just could not see Helen coming out and declaring her love for Sita. But having decided that she would not be the one to ask Helen to be her lover, she was stuck. What if Helen looked her in the eye, and made it clear that she was thinking of Sita in that way, but _never articulated it?_ Helen seemed unable to handle those sorts of things, as a woman her age ought to have been able to do.

Could she ask Cindy for help? Sita shook her head; it would be unfair by Cindy. Ohh! If only Cindy had a lover of _some_ sort! It seemed to Sita that Cindy and Helen were _made for each other;_ they were both musicians, they both loved children, they both had beautiful, sweet faces! They both had that inner glow, that light that made Cindy so radiant, and which made Helen look like an angel, beyond the reach of mere mortals like Sita.

"You look really mad today," said Vicky, unhelpfully.

"I can't help it. My life is shit, I'm thirty-two, I don't have a real job; I'm no use to anybody! No . . . I don't mean that literally, Vicky. That was stupid of me; please forget that you heard me say that! You're under much greater pressure than I am, I'm sure."

Vicky was quiet for a long time, and then she quietly said that Sita should feel free to make any sort of outburst while they were in the car together. Sita had done so much for her, it would be nothing at all for Vicky to endure an outburst from Sita. With great restraint, Vicky did not elaborate. She did not remind Sita that she was a saint. She did not mention that Sita had saved Vicky's life. She could sense that Sita no longer loved her, but she had decided that no matter what Sita felt about her, Vicky would be decent to her, and grateful, and that she would love Sita. Loving Sita was what was keeping Vicky on the program, and progressing steadily. Vicky had got to meet some of the others in the program at group counseling, and there had been a huge variety of people in their initially fifteen-member group, including two graduate students, a seminary student, several laborers who had been fired, a nurse, and sundry others. Since then, several of them had dropped out, including the seminarian and one of the laborers.

When they got back to Philadelphia, and Vicky dropped Sita off, Sita spontaneously hauled Vicky out of the car, and opened her arms to Vicky, and for the first time in more than a year, they embraced for a long minute, and Vicky just barely kept herself from weeping with happiness. They disengaged with almost theatrical gestures, and went to their separate homes.

## Helen Learns a Secret

"You have a cell phone! I never noticed it!"

"Oh! This one? I was lent this for a . . . very specific purpose, Helen. I suppose I'll tell you all about it one day!"

"Oo, a secret! This could be exciting!"

"Not exactly in the way you're thinking," Sita warned, with a smile.

The three little people: Erin, Alison and James, were going to stay overnight at the Friends' School for a sleepover, and Cindy had been invited as a chaperone. They were all very excited, and Cindy's face was all smiles. Cindy was excited at the weirdest things, Helen thought. But they had arranged for Sita to stay the night with Helen.

The kids set out for the school around four-thirty, with Cindy, and Sita arrived a few minutes earlier, her change of clothes in a backpack.

"Do I get to share your bed?" Sita could not help asking.

"Yes! That would be so much fun!"

"I brought some stuff to eat, when you're ready!"

"Oh, I fixed some food, but it's rather dull fare. What did you bring?"

It was one of Helen's favorite foods, and the two of them sat down and ate, Helen bursting with satisfaction. They cleaned up, and Helen took a quick shower, saying that she liked to do that before going to bed. Sita decided that she would shower, too, and Helen cheerfully gave her a towel.

Presently, they went round the house, getting it ready for the night, and then they were in bed, and Helen turned to Sita, and smiled.

"You smell lovely, Sita!" and to Sita's embarrassment, scooted close, and delicately sniffed at her. Helen sighed with satisfaction, and gave Sita a dewy-eyed smile.

Ever since she had impulsively hugged Vicky earlier in the week, Sita's arms ached to hold someone—anyone—in her arms. She could not help staring at Helen's body, so close to her, and _willing_ her to come closer, and embrace her.

Helen awkwardly tried to express that it was nice to share a bed with someone. She realized halfway that it was an awkward subject, but somehow, Helen did not feel stiff with Sita. To Helen, it suddenly seemed that she had not recognized that Sita and she were a perfect match in what Helen thought of as her _mental age._ She always said whatever she pleased to Sita, and Sita always responded perfectly. "Anyway," she continued, "we can talk as long as you want, and when you're feeling sleepy, just tell me, and I'll stop."

"You can't remember, Helen, but long ago we slept together, like this!" Just then Sita realized that she was cheating; this was like forcing Helen to remember that trip, when Sita had said: _I love you._

Helen's eyes popped wide open. "We _did? When?"_

Sita took a deep breath. "You had to give a concert in Atlanta, and I... just offered to go with you! And you were so gracious; you agreed to take me, and... you showed me a wonderful, wonderful time!"

After thinking for a few seconds, Helen said: "I'm sure I must have enjoyed your company so much!" Sita made a non-committal response, saying she thought Helen had enjoyed the trip. Her voice suddenly changed, and there was a lot of tension in it. "Sita... could you give me a hug?"

They hugged, and neither one could let go.

It felt utterly different than hugging Vicky. Helen was more substantial, but less substantial than Sita remembered from on that trip. Her muscles were softer, her hands held her tight, but not with the exact feel of her grip on her arms in Atlanta.

After a while, Helen raised her lips, and kissed Sita on her lips, a soft, gentle kiss, with lips closed. Then she began to tremble.

"Helen! Have you taken your pills?"

"Yes... yes, Sita..."

"What?" Sita whispered.

Helen held her tighter than ever. "This is heaven, Sita... Ohh... I needed that so bad... don't let go of me!"

And soon Sita was silently weeping. "I needed that too, dear," she said, stroking Helen's arm and her back.

A little later, they had moved apart, so that they could look at each other's faces in the dim light. As Sita desperately tried to relax, and to not elevate her level of arousal, Helen tentatively reached out and put her hand on Sita's breast, over her nightclothes, in an eloquent first gesture of intimacy. Sita was now trembling with tension, and Helen must have felt weird as Sita laid her hand on Helen's body. In slow stages, they began to explore each other's bodies.

Sita could not help comparing what was happening here with what had happened in London, after that horrible photo shoot. Helen, disguised as Sharon, had made love to her tenderly. But what it felt like this time was an innocent Helen, learning the ropes. This Helen had made love to Cindy, or rather, been made love to, by Cindy. But here, she was trying to make love to Sita, to be the instigator. Presently, Helen had pulled herself on top of Sita, tugged up the hem of her nightie, and had closed her eyes with the pleasure of the feel of Sita's body, mostly her legs. Sita's feelings were overloaded with the sheer wonder of Helen's weight on her, and she stroked Helen's smooth back with her hands, kissing her chest, her face, tasting her, amazed that this was a reality, and no longer a fantasy.

Oh, what if this sleepover had never been planned? What if Helen had not asked for a hug? So many things could have prevented this incredible consummation!

Sita pulled herself out from under Helen, and tugged off her plain nylon nightie, and soon Helen was kneeling on the bed, taking her own nightie off, and they were caressing each other. Sita loved that intense look of concentration, almost of worry, on Helen's face, as if she were afraid that _something_ would go wrong, and that they would be interrupted. She was determined, but she was utterly gentle.

Helen could not get enough of Sita's lovely eyes, her face, her sexy lips, her ears; Sita was a complete, divine package, and she simply glowed, and she seemed more than human, an agent of comfort, an angel. Without thinking, they fitted their bodies together, trying to believe that this was really happening. Helen kissed her lips, ever so tenderly.

"Sita... I think I'm falling in love with you!" she said. She sounded afraid, and a little defiant. It was her first confession of love in her memory. "Do you think you could... love me back... in _that way?"_

Sita had felt out of control, as if she had been hyperventilating, as if she was about to faint. But now that the time was here, Sita felt utterly calm.

"I have loved you for... a long time, Helen! A long, long time."

They put their arms around each other, and rocked back and forth, and it felt strange to Sita that their roles were reversed; it was as if Sita was the older one, and Helen was the inexperienced youngster.

Helen was intensely curious about their time together while on that concert tour some five years before. She had asked Sita about some exchange between them.

"I was loving you very much, but I wasn't yet _in love,_ because I thought I was in love with someone else."

"With whom? Can you tell me?" Helen asked, in almost a whisper.

She was so polite, so cautious! Sita realized that Helen had actually modeled herself on her own _children_ , the adopted girls! All of them were the very souls of politeness. One of the biggest puzzles that Sita and Lalitha and Lorna had pondered over was how Helen had reinvented herself, and this was an enormous insight. It was strange, to be making love to, and talking to, someone who was a blend of Helen and _Alison_. Sita flushed in the darkness.

"Yes; it was an actress called... Sharon Vuehl."

Helen's hand, which had been stroking Sita, stopped abruptly, while Helen tried to remember where she had heard that name before.

"But..." Helen turned to face Sita, her eyes wide, in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "That was me! I was disguised as her!"

Sita could barely stand the intensity of her feelings for Helen.

"Yes! I loved you as two different people! Between the two of you, you made complete mincemeat of my... heart, I suppose."

"Oh Sita..."

The sun was sloping in through the window, brightening the room. When Sita awoke, Helen's eyes were already open, and she was gazing at Sita, looking very upset indeed. Sita felt brief panic, but calmed herself with an effort. Helen seemed to have been knocked completely off balance by the events of the night.

Sita smiled tentatively. In some ways, this was a different person than the one with whom she had spent a little more than a week so many years ago, on Helen's concert tour through the South. James had only been about three, and Allie about five. But in Sita's mind, they were one. The only difference was that Helen could not recall what they had done together, though it was crystal clear in Sita's mind, as if it had been yesterday. Helen had made love to Sita in her sleep, and Sita had—quite consciously—made love to Helen, almost every night, and then lied to Helen in the morning that _nothing had happened._ But this last night, Helen had been quite awake, and Sita had let her take the lead, and it had evidently had a powerful effect on Helen.

"What shall we do now?" Helen seemed on the brink of tears.

"Do?" Sita took a while to try and understand. "We don't have to do anything, Helen... it's just between us, dear; nobody needs to be concerned with it, do they?"

Helen nodded.

"I slept with Cindy, a few weeks ago... I think that there might be... expectations... At least, I have to talk to her..."

"Were you... about to fall in love with her?"

Helen was thoughtful for a minute. "I don't know. I'm almost sure that _she_ was in love with _me."_

Sita sighed. It did seem as though _someone_ would have to talk to Cindy.

## Something

Though Sita did not expect it, she should have: that Helen would feel thoroughly awkward for a while. She blushed whenever her eyes crossed with Sita, and she looked utterly embarrassed when she crossed paths with Cindy, which happened right away the following day, and frequently thereafter.

Sita could not stay away from the house in Newberry; she was irresistibly drawn to Helen. She began to notice how feminine Helen had become, how coquettish in small ways, how her eyes always seemed to have little secret messages for Sita, which Helen carefully hid when the kids or Cindy were present.

When Lalitha asked her, Sita whispered that Helen and she had started something; Sita wasn't sure where it would go. Lorna was visiting, and joined them, and declared, looking earnest, that she was very grateful to Sita. In practical ways, Helen was quite able to look after herself, with a little help from the girls. But emotionally, she was _incomplete;_ she was a very affectionate woman, and when Maryssa had gone away with Larry, Helen had only kept her equilibrium with great emotional fortitude.

"I know; I was there," Sita agreed. Trish also happened to be walking by, and joined the discussion. "But I thought she bounced back quickly!"

"Oh no," said Trish, once she knew what they were talking about. "She did a great job of pretending she was fine, but she wasn't. Thank god for Cindy," she said.

"Guess what?" Lalitha indicated with her eyes that there had been an encounter between Sita and Helen.

"Oh!"

Sita felt horrible. She had only intended to keep Helen company, but now it seemed that she had caused a major problem.

Lorna and Lalitha looked at each other, and in their inimitable way of speaking with their eyes, in code, turned to the rest of the group.

"The ball is in Helen's court, I guess. Now she knows that she doesn't _have_ to make a couple with Cindy. Let's let Helen make some of the decisions." It was Lalitha speaking. She looked at Sita, and there was understanding and love, but also a little firmness, and a warning. It was too easy to manipulate Helen's fragile mental state to get what each of them wanted, but Lalitha wanted the direction to come from Helen, because of all those who would have to live with it, she was the most vulnerable.

## Vicky Attends a Concert

The New Year saw a lot of the musical activities and skills that had gradually been heading towards Helen, the ways in which Helen had been the multi–dimensional musical ambassador to the world, all coming together. One day, Helen agreed to direct a small musical performance from the podium, and soon she was hungering for more. The day came when she was confident enough to perform her concerto with the large orchestra in the city, a performance that was carried live on national television, and which was sufficiently satisfying to establish the Nordstrom Concerto in the pantheon of exciting new works for solo violin and orchestra. It had been preceded by an extended interview (that had been recorded a few days before), which had showed a Helen who was a lot more reserved and bashful than the television audience remembered. Her speech was fascinatingly different in minor ways, but the quality of her voice was more mellow and beautiful. The utter confidence of earlier days was gone, the charisma of the actress who had created the role of Cecilia Yorke was absent, the piercing gaze of the Helen Nordstrom of Westfield College was missing. The perfection of face and form of the Helen of yore was replaced by the interestingly scarred face of a woman approaching middle age, who looked a little shorter, inexplicably.

But the new hobby of dancing, to which Helen stuck like glue because she loved it, had had its effect; Helen's movements were as graceful as they had ever been, as Maryssa's mother had tried to convey photographically. But when she spoke, there was a peculiar youthfulness, which Lalitha had explained to her circle in terms of the effects of amnesia. If not for Helen's reserve, it would have come across as immaturity.

This was the first opportunity for a national audience—and even an international one—to once again see and hear Helen speak and play, and get their heads around what Helen was like, and what she was doing, after a hiatus of several years.

Of course Sita had arranged for Vicky to attend the big concert, and Vicky had loved every second of it. The Nordstrom Concerto had been the featured item after the break. Before the break, Helen had played the Bach A minor, and the Brahms. There had been a standing ovation at the end, more because they were becoming increasingly standard, but also because the audience—a slightly different one than had attended her Richard Strauss vocal performance—was just so darn happy to have Helen Nordstrom overcome her setbacks and be back with them. Vicky had never seen Helen on stage, and was naturally astounded.

"So what did you think?" asked Sita.

Vicky shrugged. "It's as if... she's..."

Vicky could not find the words to continue. It was as if Helen had been stolen away from Vicky; kidnapped and musically trained, to be completely out of Vicky's reach.

Over the years—starting from the time that Melanie had connected with Helen, facilitated by Vicky herself—she had seen Helen slipping away from her, becoming steadily less reachable. Vicky had never actually imagined establishing a formal relationship with Helen; she had only fantasized it without conscious knowledge. She found that her desire to spy on Helen as a telephone lady was gone.

## Natasha

Far away, in Paris, Natalia Zemanova was suddenly confronted with the fact that she had neglected Helen far too long. Natasha had become the first artist exclusively on Helen's label, and Marika and Lisa had kept in touch with her, obtaining recordings of performances by her, and releasing beautifully produced CD's on their own label. When Helen had left Westfield, after the _Helga_ fiasco, Natasha had been with Helen, and had come to Philadelphia with her. But Helen's foul mood; and her constant visiting with the Brooks family, neglecting poor Amy (who had been Helen's partner at that time), had got on Natasha's nerves, and she had taken the whole family—minus Helen herself, of course—for a visit to Paris, including Amy. It had been a wonderful, wonderful time, which was tragically cut short when Helen had had her horrible accident in the Cherokee.

Until that winter, Natasha had loved Helen fiercely, so much so that Helen had believed that Natasha was in love with her. It is easy to give definitions of what _being in love_ means; but there are often instances of love that defy all categorization, and many of Helen's relationships had been that way.

When the publicity in anticipation of the Helen performance of the concerto had reached Natasha, she had made it a point to watch. Because of the time difference, it was a delayed broadcast. The following week, they showed Helen singing the _Four Last Songs,_ and Natasha had been amazed. This was the repertoire into which Natasha herself had been working her way, and here was Helen—a new Helen, dramatically different in many ways—singing it effortlessly!

## Helen and Sita

Infinitely slowly, Helen began to make clear to Sita that, in her mind, Sita was the one with whom she wanted most to have a relationship.

From where she had learned to do it was a mystery, but first, one day while walking in to the Workshop, Helen shyly invited Sita to go out to lunch. "I think Trish will look after Lita for me," she said, blushing. Sita had said that she would like that.

Helen had brought cash, and had handled the event with style.

After work, Sita had walked Helen home, and they had talked inconsequentials; Helen had talked about the kids; they had talked about Sita's _friend_ who was working hard at battling addiction, and succeeding.

Helen had insisted that they part exactly midway between the two houses.

The following morning, the talk had turned to more intimate matters, and Helen had revealed that she was feeling lonely, despite the company of the kids. Each day, their conversations became more serious, and presently Helen confessed that she wanted to be with Sita all the time.

"This is sudden, Helen... I have to think about it."

"I can't see how it could have been less sudden, Sita. I told you that I'm in love with you; doesn't it make sense that I would want to be with you?"

"Yes, Helen; I was being flippant!" They walked in silence, and Helen steered Lita along a route that would give them more time. "I told you, too, that... I had been in love with you," Sita gently reminded her. Helen nodded. She was very flushed now, but she had come to the point where she did not feel embarrassed by it. "I have wanted that for so long, that... it doesn't feel that real anymore!" This could not possible help Helen understand, but Sita couldn't help it coming out.

Helen took a deep breath. "Give me your hand, Sita!" she asked, hoarsely.

Sita was shocked, but at this point, she could not fall back on embarrassment as an excuse to not want to hold hands; it was almost the least embarrassing sort of public display of affection that a pair of lovers could indulge in.

Sita held out her hand, and Helen delicately took it in her own larger hand, which she seemed to have smoothed out with lotion, after work. Sita could feel the sheer delight in Helen.

"This feels very real," Helen said, her voice trembling. For the first time ever, Sita began to believe that she could be happy, and a tear leaked out of her eye, and Helen stopped walking, and turned to her, her face twisted in both amusement and joy, and concern. She had a tissue in her pocket, with which she dabbed at Sita's cheeks, after which she pulled Sita into a gentle embrace, right there on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, Helen remembered another occasion, when she had wiped Sita's tears away. As Helen stiffened, and they held each other so they could see into each other's eyes, Sita knew exactly what was happening, and what Helen was remembering.

"I remember something..."

"The _Messiah_ thing!"

"Yes!"

They stood, gazing at each other, not too concerned about people carefully avoiding colliding with them.

"What do you remember?"

"Just... what you said... !"

Sita could only stand there, flushed with embarrassment, but also with some pride, some defiance. She had barely had the courage to tell Helen she loved her on that crazy day in Atlanta, through the doors of the stall of the ladies' room. That Christmas, when Sita had carelessly revealed that she was not completely out of love with Helen, only the fact that Helen was so utterly broken up had made it possible.

Sita took a deep breath, and said, "I still love you, Helen! It's harder to say it now, because I keep thinking that it's for all the wrong reasons; you're so... wonderful... there's admiration, . . ."

"The Goddess!"

"Yes!"

But no; that wasn't it. Sita knew how human Helen was. She tugged at Helen's hand, and they resumed walking. Lita was turning around and grinning at them.

Before they realized it, they were going up the steps of Helen's house, and Cindy was looking at them, worriedly.

"I thought something had happened!" she said, smiling. Soon she was surrounded by the kids, who began to smile knowingly at the new couple.

# Epilogue

For days, both Helen and Sita simply blushed all the time, which made their friends laugh, but eventually they got used to the fact that neither woman was, when you came down to it, accustomed to a lot of attention; they had, each for different reasons, been private people for some time. Lalitha, and Maryssa, and Lorna, each of whom had felt possessive of Helen at one time or another, simply could not feel hostile towards Sita, because she was such an inoffensive person! About the others in their larger circle, we must talk individually.

A wonderful feature of this particular couple was how they were turned outward, their faces always smiling at their friends, rather than inward, obsessed with each other. Sita took her time moving in with Helen, but they did spend some time each day in the privacy of Helen's room, and everyone tried their best not to eavesdrop on the billing and cooing that was going on in there. There seemed to be a cheerful atmosphere in the house, for which Sita got a lot of credit. There was now a permanent smile on Sita's face; not a blush, but a look of being at peace with the world, and satisfied with her lot.

Helen bounced back a little more quickly from that time of rosy embarrassment, and everyone noted with great relief that Helen was utterly relaxed, and that every vestige of anxiety was gone. Within a few days, Helen and Sita had started working on the liner notes and CD inserts and program notes that LMN had requested of them, and Helen and Sita were teaching themselves—and Helen was re-learning—the musicology that goes into this work.

The younger kids briskly absorbed Sita into the family. Alison, the most affectionate of the lot, quickly made Sita accepted and wanted, and Sita began to feel almost like a mother, because of the quiet way they came to her for help with various problems. Erin and Sita were more friends, rather than daughter and mother; Erin had awarded that high place to Helen, and that was immutable. Gena, too, was delighted with this new development, and pondered how this relationship might be more stable than Helen's relationships in the past, especially since neither woman seemed to have as intense needs as Gena had seen with Helen's former companions. If Helen's sexual fire were to be lit, no one could predict what sort of problems might yet arise. But even then, it was quite possible that Sita would be up to the challenge. She was not at all as innocent as she had been during the filming of _Merit;_ her experiences had been just what she needed to have a balanced view of her own worth.

Cindy regarded the new circumstances with grace. Her new environment, and her new life, were both more interesting than what she had enjoyed in Ferguson. The emerging skills of Erin, Alison and James were a fascinating study, and it was wonderful to live with Helen, even if she did not share Helen's bed. Both Sita and Cindy were affectionate people, and Cindy did not lack for the warm touches that helped make up for being unable to be the sole possessor of any particular person.

Maryssa was now quite happy with her lot, and had acquired a great deal of emotional wisdom from somewhere. She soon saw that she had to prepare to lose Larry to illness, and probably death. There were no obvious signs of it, but little clues told her that his health was in decline. She worked hard to make his remaining time as healthy and as comfortable as possible, steered him away from a lifestyle that might doom him to a lengthy illness, and urged him to enjoy his little daughter, who was delightful.

As soon as Helen and Sita found each other, Lalitha heaved an enormous symbolic sigh of relief. When Helen and she had been married, Lalitha had believed it would be forever, though she had come to know that Helen would be likely to stray. But Lalitha and little Trish had been lovers for a long time, after which Trish had seduced young Suresh, which Lalitha felt responsible for, and thought she should have prevented. But, by a miracle, Trish had become a wonderful wife to her much younger husband, and those two were blissfully happy. But it left Lalitha with no sexual outlet, except an occasional few hours with Trish, which was hardly satisfactory.

When Sita unexpectedly joined them, Lalitha had at once believed that this was the doing of the Goddess Sarasvati, the Hindu deity, whom Lalitha had regarded as her personal spiritual guardian. But Helen and Lorna had found each other, and that, too, Lalitha had believed, was a union sanctioned by the Goddess. But then Rain had joined them, and Lalitha could not understand _how_ things could be sorted out. She tried her best not to obsess over matters, and succeeded for the most part. With Sita's arrival, matters got still further complicated. She knew how frustrated her much younger sister was, but felt helpless to intervene.

When Lorna and Rain departed, Lalitha could hardly believe her senses; it seemed as if this was a heaven-sent opportunity for Sita, or even for herself! She could return to the task which the Goddess had set for her: to be the protectress of the musical genius. For a while, she had been the caretaker of the children, and made Helen focus on her lessons and her duties. But she had failed; _this_ time she had to succeed.

But Helen chose Amy, and then Maryssa.

When, after Helen's surgery, Lorna had asked Lalitha to be her lover, something told Lalitha that this was the final solution for her. But that left Sita and Helen in limbo.

Was it the Goddess who had brought those two together? It had to be. To Lalitha's mind, it was perfect in its simplicity. There were others whose lives were not complete, but Lalitha felt that it was time to stop worrying about these things.

It was time for Helen to stop being the main concern of their entire group, and let Sita carry the full weight of dealing with the amnesia-prone musical diva. It had been a long time since they could laugh at the little disasters that seemed to overtake Helen, and it was time now to stop taking them so seriously. Helen and Sita had overcome many obstacles, and had been found to be extremely resilient.

Sooner or later, all the women with whom Helen had had a relationship needed to meet Sita, to satisfy their curiosity about who the lucky woman was who had captured the goddess. Wiser than Lalitha, Sita did not feel the need to _own_ Helen; she had seen that it was not possible, and with this Helen, not really necessary.

In appearance, the couple were a strong contrast. Helen was a solidly-built blonde in her youth, with warm skin tones which tanned lightly—except, of course, when she spent an entire summer out of doors. Her tightly curling hair, which had, over the years, been tortured with straightening and coloring, was now a little less curly, and had touches of grey, and was now kept at a moderate length. Over the years, those big bones had been covered far more moderately in muscle. Sita, in contrast, had a beautiful fair complexion, with fine dark fur on her arms, about which she was quite unconcerned. She had spontaneously decided to avail herself of the body-sculpting equipment that Helen had acquired over the years, especially to strengthen her abdomen. The time she had spent with Vicky had made her aware of how attractive a strong abdomen was, but she was careful not to make it known outside their home that this was something she cared about.

Sita was just an inch or two shorter than Helen, and about an inch taller than her older sister. She had a complexion relatively fair for an Indian. She had brown eyes, and pleasing features, especially naturally beautifully shaped eyebrows, and a serious expression that was now somewhat more ready to smile. Like Lorna, Sita was concerned with the quality of clothes, and chose clothes for them both that were harmonious and attractive, even if not necessarily stylish. Very occasionally, they would dress in sarees, and occasionally went out in them, to the great embarrassment of the children.

Trish was delighted with the new development, and kept begging for a feast to celebrate, so that they could dress up, and dress the new couple, and so that she could show off her beloved Suresh! Trish loved Sita to pieces—indeed Trish loved everyone in their little circle!—and loved a party at any time.

Vicky, at first, felt as if she were the one who had lost out in the entire game. Over the past couple of years, her belief that she loved no one more than Sita had increased to barely tolerable levels.

Evelyn (Rain) Woodford learned about the new couple through Lorna, and some months later got the courage to visit them, by herself. Of course the children had always adored her, and that took away the edge of Rain's feeling of loss. It wasn't that she was in love with Helen now; but that it was difficult to give up this woman who had in turn attracted and repelled her, and now seemed to have been purged of her evil tendencies! Helen had always been attracted to Rain, and loved her. The problem was that Rain had always stood for restraint and respectability, at a time when Helen's libido was exploding. Rain and Helen had both hated the fact that they could not in good conscience stand in the way of Lorna pursuing her passion for dancing. In their frustration, they had turned on each other, each in her own way.

Eventually, Helen took up conducting again. At first it was small-scale works with the Impromptu, and the occasional invitation to conduct other small ensembles in the Philadelphia area. Requests to conduct her own concerto popped up increasingly frequently, and one wonderful day, Helen conducted Erin in the Nordstrom Concerto, and with the large Philadelphia Orchestra, with the concerto re-scored—with professional assistance—to accommodate the available instruments, without changing the nature of the work too radically. It was received with great critical approval, and Erin entered the world of the professional violin soloist in triumph.

That was great encouragement for Alison and James, who just _had_ to get better at the violin, now that their siblings were such accomplished musicians! Sita, too, having been adopted by such a musical family, was determined to learn to play _something._ When Marika and Lisa visited, Lisa advised Sita to take up the recorder, which everyone except Allie and James could play (and which they all learned to play within a day or two,) and there was soon a recorder consort in the home.

This ends the Helen saga. If it was packed too densely with musical stuff, we apologize; it isn't necessary to play an instrument to enjoy music, but with recorders readily available, anyone with a reasonable sense of rhythm can easily be a performer if they choose! I intended to make Helen an attractive, accomplished girl, who was very approachable. Unfortunately she became so approachable that it created problems for her, and for me! But all's well that ends well.

The End, For Reals!

<<<<>>>>

# Author's Note

Normally, a story about a fictitious classical musician does not need an Author's Note! The present story probably does not need one either, but compromises had to be made between readability—in terms of its ability to hold the attention of readers who aren't really interested in epic fiction—and clarity, in terms of what took place when, and why.

Helen was an utterly romantic girl. She has her romantic experience around the age of about thirteen, and is baffled by it; then, when she is almost sixteen, she meets an older girl, Janet, and is intensely attracted to her. Then, some switch inside Helen is turned on, and she is attracted to, well, lots of girls. She sees a girl; the girl smiles; Helen likes her smile; the girl engages with her, e.g. asks for help with her tennis ground strokes, and _bam;_ it's a love affair.

Not only is she romantic, she is very affectionate. There is some sex, but Helen would much rather cuddle than have sex (the exception was in her mid-thirties, which is a time I have not described in too much detail).

I'm still approaching this project as if it were a conclusion to the complete set of Helen stories, rather than a complete novel on its own. Normally, if it was the grand finale of a series, that would mean that readers who hadn't read the earlier parts would have to go read them if anything wasn't clear. In this instance, it is the opposite: there is really too much information, some of which is only needed _if you had read the earlier parts,_ and wondered what happened to so-and-so.

What I should do now is to rip out anything that isn't relevant to this final Chapter of the story (using _chapter_ in the sense of a _chunk of story_ ) and make the writing as lean as possible. (I laugh just to think of it; lean writing has never been my forte!) So future 'printings' of this novel are likely to be progressively shorter.

There are numerous references to other _Helen_ books; don't let that put you off. You can look them up for extra information, but this story is complete. Having said that, however, _Helen & Lalitha_ is one of the most emotionally intense stories I have written, and I urge you to read it. (It is available for free, I believe.) _Helen on the Run_ comes a close second. It does need some tightening up, though.

Kay Hemlock Brown

 "Maestro" means _master,_ in Italian; it is just a word to denote the Chief Conductor.

 _Concertmaster_ = the head of the First Violins, who functions as the head of the Orchestra musicians, and also initiates tuning.
