 
# Table of Contents

The Story So Far

Helen at Westfield

Jason

Los Angeles

Seattle, and Annie

Ferguson, and the Girls

Back to Work

The Gibsons in Baltimore

Parent's Weekend

Mademoiselle Rain

The Plane

Romantic Strategy

Transporting Sophie

Thanksgiving

Carols on the Mall

New Plans

Berlin

Lady Evelyn in the UK

Christmas in Westfield

Kansas

Woodford

Lorna

With the Impromptu

Natasha

Lorna Moves to Westfield

Peter Lawrence

Yves's Concerto

The Tripod

James's Progress

Author's Note

#  The Story So Far

Helen Nordstrom was a concert violinist and an internationally known all-round musician, who had specialized in the study of the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. (J. S. Bach is a composer whose music is one of the cornerstones of classical music.)

Helen had been a quiet teenager, keeping mostly to herself. On her way to college, she met a beautiful woman, Janet, who catalyzed the emergence of Helen's sleeping passion. Helen fell madly in love with Janet, and never quite fell out of love with the wonderful woman. But, once Helen was in college, she had intense affairs with a dozen girls, all of whom went on to find other companions, but just like Janet, did not quite go out of Helen's life.

A couple of years before this story begins, Helen had an enormous brain tumor removed, and found herself—initially—almost a total amnesiac. At that time, she met a family with two young children, Gena and Alison, who, a little later, lost both parents, and Helen adopted the two girls. Helen's memory came back essentially completely, and she settled into a complicated existence, looking after the two girls, and taking graduate courses at university, in a doctoral program.

For various reasons—mostly having to do with certain of Helen's indiscretions during her college days—a family court ruled that Helen was unfit to keep the two girls. Helen found herself in hiding with the girls, running from the law, and for little more than a year lived disguised as a man, under the name of Steven Johnson, holed out in a tiny town in Southern California.

Meanwhile, a divorced mother and her daughter, Penny O'Brien and little Erin, had met Helen and the girls while they were still making their way west, and thrown in their lot with her. This was mainly because Erin was musically talented, and Penny wanted to place Erin under Helen's tutelage. Penny had terminal breast cancer, and died a year later, in March, leaving Helen with the custody of Erin as well.

While Helen was in hiding, Helen's home university had awarded her a master's degree in music performance, and a doctorate in musicology. Before Helen and the girls had gone underground, she and the beautiful model, Michelle Smith, had been lovers. Michelle had joined Helen and Penny in hiding.

Helen had become pregnant from a casual encounter with a young man, Jeffrey Gibson. A little after Michelle joined them, Helen was very pregnant indeed. But Michelle had been apprehended by the law one night, around Christmas, and once again Helen, Penny and the three children were on the run.

They found themselves in Minnesota, where the kind principal of a private school hired Helen as music teacher, and Penny as a housekeeper. A few months later, Helen had given birth to a healthy baby boy, James. Despite the pleading of the little boy's father, Helen refused to marry him. The teachers and the students grew to love Helen (or Elly, as she had called herself,) and by a series of accidents, she became Acting Principal.

Finally, the law caught up with Helen in the village of Ferguson's Creek in Minnesota. She was allowed to keep custody of the three girls, under very strict conditions.

Leaving the music program in the capable hands of Jeffrey Gibson, and the school in the hands of Janet Kolb, Helen departed Ferguson, leaving the older girls to continue attending the school, Ferguson School, and leaving the little girl, Alison (Gena's baby sister, who was now two) with Gena and Janet.

Helen and Michelle were finally reunited after Helen was granted custody, and given a pardon for evading capture. But their relationship was a casualty of the stress of those events, and Michelle and Helen broke up.

Helen and her old friend, Dr. Nadia Van Der Wert, who had been on the faculty of Helen's undergraduate school, responded together to an advertisement by a little college in Western Pennsylvania, and were hired, to the delight of the two women, and the great satisfaction of the school, which was pleased to have gotten the services of such a well-known pair of new faculty.

Helen was also a regular on a successful new television series called _The Galactic Voyager_ , about which we will elaborate as the topic arises!

# # #

# Helen at Westfield

It was early morning of the Friday of the first week of classes. After her little boy James had finished nursing at her breast, Helen laid him in his playpen where Nadia knew where to find him, and went off to shower. By seven, Helen, Nadia, and little James were all dressed and ready for school, and they set out.

The quarter mile was just about as much as Nadia could walk comfortably. She was more than eighty years old, and her spindly legs couldn't handle even her tiny weight on long walks. James was snug in a so-called _papoose carrier,_ a sling on Helen's back, from which James could peer out over Helen's shoulder, and chew on Helen's hair.

The Music Department occupied a wing in a corner of the Academic Building, which also housed the practice rooms, and the usual things that one found in every music department anywhere: a library of music scores, a record library, an electrical equipment room, a room for choir rehearsals with risers, and lots of pianos. Every professor had a piano in his or her office. Helen and Nadia constituted two-thirds of the Music Department, the other third being Rich Wilson.

The babysitter, a student, was waiting when Helen and Nadia got in. Nadia kissed James and said " _Au revoir, mon ami!_ 1 _"_ and went into her office, and Helen got the little boy settled, and carefully getting her notes together, hurried off to her early morning class, Music Theory I.

[See you later, buddy!]

In her morning class, there were a few unavoidable minutes of talking about _Galactic Voyager_ -related matters which had nothing to do with music theory. (This was the TV show in which Helen had a recurring role. From experience, Helen knew that it was better to let the kids get all that out of the way while she set out her notes and her equipment; if she cut them off, she hurt their feelings, and that interfered with the lesson.)

Helen was a musical all-rounder. She had gone to college on a choir scholarship, but discovered that she was an amazing violinist. By the end of her long college career, she was in great demand as a solo violinist, but also as a lyric operatic soprano. (For years, the members of the public who knew her as a soprano, and those who knew her as a violinist, were mostly different. Now, of course, she had a new fan following because of the TV show, some of which had no idea that she was a music professor and concert violinist.) She still had a busy schedule of violin concerts all over the US, and occasionally abroad, but had mostly given up her singing. Her voice had dropped after little James had been born, but Helen loved to sing.2 Helen had founded a choir and small orchestra of amateurs while she was still in graduate school in Philadelphia, but for various reasons had had to leave the choir and orchestra to fend for itself for nearly two years.

[2 Helen's character in the TV series taught songs to young children, so Helen's ability to sing was known.]

Helen's TV science fiction series aired weekly on Saturday nights at 9 PM. It was set in the future, on an enormous space vessel called _The Galactic Voyager_. On the show, Helen played a musical celebrity—of the distant future, of course—Cecilia Yorke, who had been put aboard this vessel. Once a month or so, Helen had to go to Seattle, Washington, to be filmed in the various scenes in which she would appear. The kids in her class were more interested in the _Galaxy Show_ than in her various appearances as a concert violinist.

"So, on Wednesday we were looking at examples where Bach was using the _melodic minor_. Let's look at some examples, and see whether you can spot the _leading note_ , first, without the music on the screen. Obviously, anyone can do it with the music, right?" There was a little nervous laughter. "OK, here we go!"

She went on to harder exercises, after which they started writing some basic harmony examples on paper. Music Theory I at Westfield was a rich mix of music appreciation and Theory.

By the time she finished the class and got back to her desk, James was beginning to fret. A few young students had followed Helen to her office and they simply had to coo over the baby, and the friendly little boy gurgled back at them like a miniature dirty old man! Helen smiled and thanked her babysitter, and arranged for when she would be needed again.

"When do we get to see James's dad, Dr. Nordstrom? Are you divorced?"

Helen put down her materials and turned to her students with an exasperated smile. Before she could answer, one of the girls realized that her friend might be getting just a bit too curious for good taste. "Andie, that's a bit personal."

Helen shrugged. "I was not married to James's dad, Andie. He lives in Minnesota, and his name is Mr. Gibson, which is why James is James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson! Right, my boy? Right!"

"Man, what a mouthful! What's it again? _James John_..."

At ten, Helen had an orchestration class for seniors, and that was a lot of fun. When she finished and got back to the office, the secretary Rita had a message for her.

"Dr. Nordstrom, your Philadelphia office called!"

Helen had her own corporation. Becky Singer, the head of Helen's Corporation had got into the routine of calling Helen as soon as her first class was over, around nine.

"Hello?"

"It's Becky," said the well-known voice, soft and husky as always. Becky was a shy, retiring woman, but was a wonderful financial manager. She didn't try to be sexy; her voice was just that way. "Got a few minutes?"

"Yeah, this is a good time. Shoot!"

Later in the morning, a new gadget was delivered to Helen's office, which was what Becky had been describing to Helen, in addition to reminding Helen of her upcoming concert commitments.

Helen and James joined Nadia in her office for a lunch of sandwiches and salad, which they had hurriedly put together early morning.

"One of these days, we will have to go into the Cafeteria, Cherie," Nadia said, between chews. "The faculty will think we are avoiding them, and that's not good."

"I know, but there just isn't time!"

"Oh, there is. Your next class it at, what, 2:00?"

"Yeah," said Helen with a sigh. "Anyway, I have bad news."

"Bad news? What?"

"Concert on Thursday, in L.A. You have to cover for me."

Nadia grinned. "Theory I, huh?"

"And Orchestration. They're working on some simple things... it's just the second week of classes!"

Helen talked some more about what would go on in the recitations, and promised to have two complete lessons ready for Nadia, all on PowerPoint, and with all the musical examples on a single CD. Nadia laughed and said that when she had been in the Conservatory, all they had was a piano and a blackboard. Anyway, she said, she would improvise; at her age it was impossible to stick to a _PowerPoint_ presentation without feeling ridiculous.

"Do you get to visit the girls sometime next weekend?"

Helen's three adopted daughters were Gena, fifteen; Erin, eleven; and Alison, almost three. They were, with James, the apple of her eye, and it was almost more than she could bear to have them live far away in Ferguson, Minnesota, with her friends Janet Kolb and Cindy O'Shaughnessy. When Helen had begun teaching at Westfield, Gena and Erin had begged Helen to let them stay at Ferguson, and keep Alison with them. Baby James, of course, had to stay with Mama. But Mama pined for the girls, especially Allie, whom she loved dearly, but _everyone_ loved little Alison. None of the girls had even seen Westfield yet.

Helen's afternoon class only met on Mondays and Wednesdays, so after Nadia had finished with a couple of meetings, and Helen had gone through the huge volume of mail—some of it fan-mail—that had come in for her from Becky, they were free to head off home. Still, it was nearly four when they actually left.

As they walked past the football field, Helen and Nadia were surprised to be hailed by a number of enormous fellows in football outfits.

"Dr. Helen! Dr. Helen! Hey! Come and watch us practice!"

Helen laughed. She had done her share of watching football practice as a girl, and had quickly learned that it was not as exciting as an actual game.

"Come on, Cherie, let's just go and chat with them for a minute!"

"Oh, okay," said Helen with a sigh. Little James, in the sling on her back was getting quite heavy.

There were now about a dozen grinning football heroes on the other side of the fence, waiting for the two women. "Are you coming for the game Saturday?"

"Er, whom are you playing?" asked Helen. They told her. It was a pre-season friendly game. Nadia offered to bring Helen along.

"What's the little guy's name?" they wanted to know. Helen told them that he was James, and they helped to get him off the carry sling, which was normally quite a difficult job for Helen to do alone. It helped to have a six-foot friend helping her.

Helen and Nadia watched patiently, while the team put on a show for them, which unfortunately did not work out as they had hoped!

Once the women got home, Nadia went in through her front door, while Helen dragged herself up the steps and through her front entrance. The two apartments connected at the back. Helen set the excited little baby in his high seat, while she got herself a drink of water.

Helen found it hard to get through a weekend, when she was all alone. Being without a relationship was hard on _anyone_ , but Helen found it harder than most. She had recently been bereaved; Penny, the woman who had shared Helen's life for the past two years, and who had been a major reason for Helen and the girls having been able to come through their anxiety-filled months in hiding, during much of which Helen had been massively pregnant, had died in the spring, and her former girlfriend Michelle had broken up with her. Before that, she had cohabited with a lovely Indian woman, but had had an affair with a babysitter, and wound up alone. The babysitter, a beautiful teenage dance student called Lorna, had moved in with Becky, while the Indian woman had found a new partner and settled down with her. But they all lived in different parts of Philadelphia, and Helen was torn between visiting her office in Philadelphia, and having to endure Lorna's attentions; and staying away, so that Becky and Lorna could 'gel' as a couple.

At thirty-three, Helen suffered with unbearable lust. She could barely sleep at night, lusting after practically every woman she knew, especially sweet, beautiful, frustrating Lorna. Thus far, she had avoided looking very closely at the lovely young undergraduates at the college, though she was sorely tempted.

She had done grocery shopping on Thursday, and now she fixed up a meal for herself and old Nadia. Soon Nadia joined her, to make a little pasta, and put a salad together.

"You look beautiful, Cherie, even when you're tired! What it is to be young!"

"Oh Nadia..." Helen never knew what to say to the childless old lady who lavished all her love on Helen, but was strict with her in many ways. "You must have been young once! I'm sure you were as cute as anything in your time!"

Nadia chuckled. "Cute, maybe," she admitted. "But _beautiful_ , no."

Nadia offered to take James off Helen's hands for an hour or two. _Do whatever you like,_ she had said.

Helen changed out of her work clothes, and looked at herself in the mirror, and only saw some of the excess weight she had put on while she was pregnant and not quite lost. She had been quite slim before she had become pregnant with James, but Helen was now a hefty 190 pounds, though she didn't look heavy because of her height. She got into a leotard, and picking up an exercise video, headed to the work room at the back. She didn't want to disturb Nadia with her pounding on the floor.

It was still light when they had dinner. James had looked thoughtful, and harangued Helen with what sounded like a question.

"What are you asking, James? You've got to learn to talk, little boy; we can't go on like this!"

Nadia studied her little boyfriend. "You know, Cherie, I have a feeling he wants to know where the girls are. _Mon ami_ , are you inquiring about your sisters?"

"Huh?" asked James, looking alert.

"Are you missing Allie, James? Remember Allie?"

James pounded on his high seat with his spoon, declaiming mightily. The two women stared at each other, startled.

"He's too young to think of things like that!" murmured Helen, looking at her little boy.

"Who knows, Cherie? You're a genius, and Jeffrey is a genius, so who can tell what sort of a genius this one is? Isn't it so, Mr. James?"

"Oh Nadia, stop it." Helen blushed. She rose from the table, and gathered some of the dishes. She was _not_ a genius; she was just an excellent violinist. It was all practice, practice, practice, and an amazing ear.

"I heard you playing the _Partitas,_ Cherie. Theory is one thing, but your keyboard technique is excellent! I have no more to teach you. The pupil is now the master."

Helen hated when Nadia got on that track. It was very gratifying to know that Nadia liked Helen's harpsichord playing, but all this praise was too much to have to live up to.

Early the next morning, Saturday, well before sunrise, Helen put on a spectacular pair of running tights she had bought a few months before, and was pleased that they still fit. She was going to run. She didn't need to wear such sexy clothing to go jogging out here, in the middle of nowhere in Northwestern Pennsylvania, but her hormones were still raging in her veins, and she was going mad with undirected lust.

Leaving a note to Nadia that James needed to be checked on, Helen slipped out of the house, and after stretching briefly, began to run, away from the town, into the surrounding farms and woods. Faster and faster she ran; this wasn't jogging. An hour later, thoroughly exhausted, Helen stumbled back up the porch steps, sweating profusely. The kids across the street were up early, and were staring at her. She gave them a friendly but tired wave, and got inside, closing the door.

"There, James, Mama is here! Helen, Cherie, what is this fantastic getup? You look like... Wonder Woman, or something."

Helen laughed, a little embarrassed. Nadia wouldn't say anything more, but the remark hit the target. The suit was just a tad too spectacular.

"I have another one, a little less... fantastic; I had better tone it down!"

"Oh, I don't care, Cherie. Goodness, at this rate you will disappear completely! Drink some water!"

Helen was already at the faucet, and she drank slowly.

An electronic organizer and a new personal laptop had been delivered to the Music Department office on Friday, and Helen had a lot of fun synchronizing the computer to her Philadelphia office, and her organizer to the laptop. Pretty soon, all her commitments for the next few weeks showed up on the handy little gadget. The following week, Helen was playing in Atlanta, and the following week at Lincoln Center.

The kids across the street came over around ten, and asked to visit with James. Evidently Nadia and James had made friends with them, and Helen watched them walk around with James, showing him everything in their yard. James was making a valiant effort to be interested. Nadia had said that they would take good care of the little fellow, and suggested that the older girl might make a good weekend babysitter. "She is sort of a Princess, Cherie. James will learn excellent manners."

"Can't do any harm," murmured Helen, setting out her music. She would practice at the harpsichord for half an hour, then the violin. After a while, the girls brought James back, and Helen heard Nadia taking him from them and talking to them, while Helen continued. She would let Nadia keep the baby until she called Helen for lunch.

At two, of course, Nadia had to haul Helen off to the football game. Helen put on a colorful top and a wrap-around skirt that flattered her shape, and picking James up in her arms, set out with Nadia for the football field. The Cheerleaders spotted her, and it turned out that many of them were either in Helen's freshman class, or were roommates with someone who was. Helen was presently surrounded with people anxious to chat with her. The bleachers were filled with a combination of students, and townsfolk who were rabid Westfield College football fans. Helen knew just enough about the game to see that there were some serious weaknesses in their game, but not enough to tell exactly what they were. The Cheerleaders cheered like crazy, but the home team just barely eked out a two-point lead at the end of the match. The fans were disappointed. It was a good opposing team, but Westfield should have won the home game handily.

Late in the evening, the young lady across the street, the Princess, came over to call, and asked whether Helen and Nadia would attend their church the next morning. The two women politely declined, and the young lady returned home disappointed, but with great dignity. She really had the manner down; Helen felt thoroughly ashamed for not going to church at the request of the princess!

# # #

# Jason

By late Sunday night, Helen had got ready all the materials she would have to give Nadia to cover for her the end of the week, while she was off in California. On Monday morning, again, Helen put on a somewhat less spectacular running costume, and having carefully warmed up, set out on her circuit.

Very soon, she practically ran into a handsome young fellow running in the opposite direction. Helen was sure she knew him, so she ran back, to see him running back to meet her.

"Miss Helen! I didn't know you ran!"

"Er... I know you from somewhere!" Helen said, with a puzzled smile. She had barely begun running, but the young man had apparently almost finished his run, and was out of breath.

"Oh, I coach football, Miss Helen! Hi, I'm Jason! Jason Downey!" he said, offering his hand. He had a firm grip when Helen shook hands with him.

"I ran this way on Saturday; I thought I'd try that way, for a change!"

"Oh, I'll join ya!"

"Are you sure? You look pretty pooped!"

Jason was already jogging in the direction Helen had pointed out. "Oh... it's only two miles... I gotta get back... to running ten miles again... Miss Helen... I'm totally out of shape..."

"Come on, I'll race you!"

"No, no... that's all right," panted Jason, but he was running strongly.

Jason was a really sweet guy. Helen had slowed down, and they had run briskly in a circuit that brought them round the college, and into a residential part of the town, where Jason politely and sadly took his leave. But, he said, at least Helen had succeeded in making him run nearly twice as far as he normally would have.

It was a thoughtful Helen who jogged back home to shower, dress, and head to work. Running with Jason was going to be a lot of fun, if she kept up with it.

## Nicole

That morning, James was going to a new permanent babysitter, Nicole, a young woman who was expecting her own baby sometime soon. James had to be taken to Nicole's tiny house on Market Street, and introduced to her. James had an eye for pretty girls, and Nicole satisfied his criteria, despite her being very pregnant indeed. "He'll be fine, miss," said Nicole, smiling sweetly. "I'll call you if there's a problem."

At lunchtime, Helen scooted across the way to Nicole's house, leaving Nadia to fend for herself, and visited with her little man, who seemed not too excited to see her. Nicole was seducing him very successfully. Helen reproached him, deploring his lack of loyalty, and he fired back a lengthy explanation in his baby babble, as to why Nicole was superior in many ways.

When Nadia and Helen headed home after work, having picked up young James, they passed by the football field yet again, and this time the cheerleaders were practicing on the side, and set up a yell, calling Helen over.

"Miss Helen! How did you like the game?"

"We _won!"_

"I _know_ you did! I was there!"

"Miss Helen, if you come to _every game_ , we're going to win _every time!"_

Helen laughed, but by this time, the boys had noticed her, and they let her know that they were going to do something spectacular for her. Helen and Nadia watched patiently, and smiled at the little show. It was their star running back, making a spectacular run for it, and he left the defense in the dust.

"That was a lot better," said Nadia to Helen as they resumed their walk home. "So _that's_ how they do it; sometimes the throwing, sometimes the running."

"Right," said Helen, feeling bad that she hadn't made an effort to explain the game to Nadia. They hardly watched TV, so Nadia had little exposure to any sort of football outside watching their team live as they played.

# # #

On Tuesday, Helen ran, keeping an eye out for Jason, but she later learned that he only ran three times a week. Meeting her at football practice on Tuesday afternoon, he promised to run with her the next morning. Helen blushed and said that he didn't have to, but he dimpled at her, and said, _of course_ he was going to.

"You have made a conquest, Cherie!" murmured Nadia, as they walked home.

"Oh Nadia, you know what I am! Boys don't interest me!"

"I know, Cherie; but one hopes!"

Helen shook her head and smiled ruefully. In her Junior year in college, when Helen was not quite nineteen, she had taken pity on a beautiful man, an operatic bass, Kurt, who she had known was homosexual. But they had truly loved each other, and had secretly gotten married, at the insistence of Kurt's dying mother. For several months they had been very happy, but eventually things had fallen apart. Kurt had even dropped out of the opera circuit, and Helen had blamed it on herself. They had had vaginal sex only once, and neither of them had enjoyed it. The misadventure had left Helen deeply wounded, and, as far as Helen knew, had completely destroyed Kurt. Nadia knew only bits and pieces of that story, but she knew that Helen's fluency in German had to do with an unhappy early relationship.

Two years ago, attracted by the charismatic and beautiful young graduate student that Helen had been, little James's father Jeffrey Gibson, who had been still in college, had spent a week in Helen's apartment while visiting Philadelphia on break. One night of casual sex that Helen had carelessly granted the shy young man had resulted in the unexpected pregnancy. Helen still maintained her connection with Jeffrey, who taught at Ferguson school with Janet, and was now married. But Helen had never really been in love with Jeffrey, though he had pestered her for months to marry him, once he learned that she was expecting his child. _All my lovers_ , Helen mused, _if laid head to toe, would reach to the Moon_. Helen had to admit she was promiscuous. She had had relationships with three men, and close to twenty women. She loved every one of them. She was not only filled with lust, she had feelings of love waiting to burst out of her, and she was afraid that she might turn her eyes on young Jason one day, and ruin both their lives.

On Wednesday morning, Helen had failed to set her alarm, but something woke her almost at the usual time. It was quiet noises out on the street. The whole house was asleep, and Helen stumbled into her Spandex running tights, and hurried outside. She found Jason seated on the steps, patiently waiting for her.

"Jason!" He turned round and gave her a brilliant smile. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Oh, no, Miss Helen! I just got here!" He jumped to his feet. Helen smiled at him, appreciating his little white lie; she had heard soft scuffling on the gravel for a good ten minutes.

Helen stretched for a few minutes, and then they set out.

"So, what are your chances this weekend?"

"I don't know," said Jason with a sigh. "We seem to lose important games, but win the other ones."

"Whom are we playing?" Jason told her. This was a game they wanted to win very badly.

The route they had taken brought them to the fields on the other side of campus.

"Well, I have to hurry," said Jason. Suddenly, they saw three of the football team fellows jogging laconically around the football field.

"Hi, Miss Helen!" they called out, more softly than they normally did.

"Good! Keep it up!"

"Miss Helen, you should go wake up the sleepy-heads!"

"Yeah! Go bang on their doors!"

Helen slowed to a halt, slightly winded.

"What do they mean: sleepy-heads?" she asked Jason.

Jason dimpled at her. "They're supposed to put in a half-hour of weights in the morning, Miss Helen! They're usually late, so they only get in a couple minutes!"

"Well, no wonder they can't win the games!"

Jason laughed. He explained that they came in throughout the day and put in their stint of weights, but Helen argued that it was the principle of the thing; it was better for team spirit if they were all doing it together!

On impulse, Helen decided to go into one of the dorms and wake the kids up herself. Jason was alarmed, and said that it was a crazy idea. Helen marched up to the door of the closest dorm, which was a co-ed one, and ran into one of her buddies on the girls' cheerleading team.

"Miss Helen! What're _you_ doing here?"

Helen blushed. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing; I'm trying to get the football team out to the Gym, to work on their weights!"

The girl's eyes opened wide. She led Helen to a room at the end of the hall, and pounded on the door. "Hey, guys, wake up!" There was swearing, and the girl yelled back at them, saying that Miss Helen was waiting for them.

"It's me, Dr. Nordstrom," Helen called in. "How about getting dressed, and coming out to work on your weights?"

There was a shocked silence, and the door opened, and two enormous half-naked guys, and a girl in a T shirt stumbled out. "It is her!" they told each other. Helen was already on her way to the next room occupied by football players.

Like a Pied Piper, Helen triumphantly led the wide-awake boys dressed in sweats out to the Gym. Fortunately for her, they were mostly all of them in a forgiving mood, and they were in fair good spirits. A number of cheerleaders were in the crowd, making half-hearted cheers as they marched.

The weights room was full to bursting with highly amused guys and girls, either stretching on the mats, or working on the machines or the free weights.

When Helen had announced her intention of raising the team, Jason had laughed and wished her good luck, and run off to his apartment in town to clean up and dress. He had already shaved before he ran, Helen had noticed. When he showed up in his work clothes of dress shirt and tie and nicely pressed pants, he was completely stunned to see the scene in the weights room.

Helen's classes that morning went smoothly, for the most part, with the customary break for their sandwich lunch, and the usual call from Becky. Helen was told that Lorna was dying to see her, which only made Helen sigh, and promise to visit soon. (Lorna was off at the Ballet. She was in the Junior Company, and was determined not to miss a single class or rehearsal. She had already attracted a lot of attention in some minor solo roles she had been cast in, and that had made her even more anxious to be the perfect member of the company.)

"Robin is now entering your dates directly into the calendar," Becky had told Helen. Robin was a young Brit whom Helen had never seen, who had somehow gotten hired to take Helen's invitations to perform with various music organizations, and to filter them before they were passed on to Helen. Helen got final say whether to accept an assignment, but Robin learned quickly what sorts of invitations Helen would accept, and which ones she would turn down. Helen had nodded as she indicated to Becky that she had heard and understood, but her mind was already on the weekend's assignments.

# # #

Early morning on Thursday, Helen got up, cleaned up and nursed James, and got dressed for traveling.

"Well, _mon ami_ ," said Nadia to young James, "Look after your little _Maman_ for me, okay?" James solemnly assured her that he would. Helen was packing some last-minute stuff into her enormous bag. "I can depend on you?" James nodded, completely taking Nadia by surprise. "Cherie, did you see that?"

"What?" asked Helen, absent-mindedly.

"Oh Cherie," Nadia murmured impatiently, "it's no use talking to you today!"

"Yeah," said Helen, her thoughts elsewhere entirely.

Helen had to drive down to Pittsburgh in her old Cherokee, with James strapped to his car seat, and tearful all the way. The plane was at noon, and Helen did not know her way around Pittsburgh very well at all. She had got a map of the city and its vicinity, and discovered where the airport was: well south and west of the metropolitan area. Despite her anxiety about getting there on time, she still managed to be distracted by the occasional pretty young thing who whizzed past in her convertible, her hair flying free, or sometimes hair cut short, but long earrings marking the head as belonging to a woman. To Helen's hungry heart, they all seemed lonely and in need of comforting, while her head sarcastically observed that they wouldn't be driving so fast if they were. It was an overcast day, and the rain began just as she began seeing signs for the airport. After a false start or two, she got her car parked in Long Term Parking, and got into a shuttle with the tearful baby strapped to her back, and her garment bag, baby bag, and violin case clutched in her hand. After she had been fairly well wet down, the rain stopped. Helen could not lean back into her seat, because the baby was there. Helpful passengers offered to help her, but she said it was better to keep him there. James smiled at the closest lady, indicating his approval of her.

Knowing in advance that Helen would be stretched to her limits in getting to her flight, Becky had put her in First Class, and once she had got into the terminal, it wasn't hard to get checked in, through security, and into the plane.

After the long, long flight, in relative comfort, Helen arrived at the dismal Los Angeles airport, was met by a young man on behalf of the orchestra, and whisked off to the hotel, while her phone impatiently informed her that there were messages for her.

It was a nice new hotel, and once she had been checked into her room, cleaned up the fussy little boy who was desperately tired but just hadn't been able to get to sleep on the plane, and put him to sleep in her bed, Helen called for a reasonable supper, and checked her messages. It was now too late to call Philadelphia, but she was told that, of all things, a national hardware store chain wanted to feature her in a TV advertisement! There was a message from the symphony to call them when she got in, and Nadia asking whether she had arrived safely.

Despite her fatigue, Helen dreamed all night of long, emotional discussions with her dead lover, Penny. She also dreamed of the girls, Gena, Erin and Alison, and at least that was wonderful. She missed those kids as much as if they had been flesh of her flesh. Helen had been told that Alison had tried to call her every day the first half of the previous week, but Janet and Cindy had told her that Mama was busy, and needed time to get ready for classes, which was true. Alison had sorrowfully accepted that.

# Los Angeles

In the morning, Helen was woken by James talking to her. She woke up with a start, and hurried to change the little guy and nurse him, and after Helen had put on something suitable for exploring, they headed downstairs to see what was to be seen. There was a huge breakfast offering, which Helen decided to avail herself of. They did eat pretty well at home, but it was too tempting to see professionally prepared food, which was also served by a chef, with a smile. James drooled over the food, and Helen passed him a few morsels, and when she was done, she fed him from the little jar of baby food she had brought down. (She never went anywhere without all his supplies in a special bag, which was what had made it awkward getting into the terminal in Pittsburgh). It was just about seven, and she hurried back upstairs to shower and change.

Becky explained about the advertising deal when she called the office.

"They've heard that you're handy, and want you to make a commercial for them!"

"Who are these people?" Helen demanded. When Becky explained, Helen realized that it was a chain that she had known well in Minnesota, but they had had a different name there. They were in the process of re-branding themselves to be recognizable nationwide.

"I'll do it; I like them," said Helen. "They helped me when I was remodeling the Ferguson house!"

"Yes; that's what Lorna tells me! Here, she wants to talk to you. She's home for lunch!"

" _Helen!_ " Lorna's perky voice came over the phone. Helen smiled.

"Hiya, kid!"

"Why don't you visit? I haven't had a chance to see you for, like, _months!"_

"Well, school keeps me busy, and James keeps me busy, and..."

"Okay," she said, sounding defeated. Helen felt bad; by now Lorna must know Helen was avoiding her. She was maturing fast, and she was very bright, and she was figuring out some of the reasons for why people did what they did. A few months ago, she would not have let Helen off so easily.

They arranged how Helen would contact the company in L.A., which was where their advertising office was located.

When Helen got off the phone, the hotel phone rang; it was the Symphony. Would Helen be available for a brief rehearsal at 10? Helen said she was, and explained that she had a little boy with her, and they said they would figure something out.

The rehearsal went well; James was moderately well behaved, Helen found herself getting along well with the conductor and the orchestra, which was rather surprised at how approachable she was. Helen took a break halfway through to check on James, but otherwise they breezed through the Dvorak Concerto and the Bach A minor, and they prepared an encore just in case the audience demanded one.

"I'm doing a commercial for the Hardware Store," Helen announced, between movements.

"What? What did you say?" The conductor was not sure he had heard correctly. Helen smiled and repeated it. "That will ruin your hands! Helen, you can't be fooling with tools that can hurt your hands!" Helen laughed.

# # #

## Hardware

The early afternoon was taken up with the commercial. The director took some time getting to know Helen. He was not only the director of the commercial, but also a dedicated home improvement fan.

"Don't you guys have a real home improvement project somewhere?" They had just shown Helen a studio set with a fake door in which Helen could install a lock.

"Let's see what you can do with this one!" he said.

"Do what? It's all ready to go!"

"That's true; I know: take the door off its hinges."

"Are you serious?"

They nodded, looking very serious. This was obviously a test.

Helen handed James off to one of the fellows, simply borrowed a screw driver, removed the pins from the hinges, and had the door off in a few seconds, and the guys grinned and applauded.

"Now look into the camera, and tell us how much you like the The Hardware Store!"

Helen was stunned. She looked around, and spotted the well-disguised camera. "You filmed the whole thing?" They had. "Okay; I love the Hardware Store, just so long as they give me a _warning!"_ she said, pretending to scowl. They made her say it again without a scowl, with James on her hip, looking thoughtfully at the camera, and that was the commercial.

Between the Hardware Store and the Symphony, they arranged to show Helen around the town. She had briefly lived in Bel Air with one of her numerous lovers, the lovely movie star Marsha Moore. But L.A. had changed enough that Helen was surprised by its new appearance. She was more interested, now that she was no longer totally distracted with Marsha; back then, all she could see had been her beautiful lover. When they had decided to break up, Helen and Marsha had agreed to give each other lots of space. That had been more than twelve years ago.

## The Concert

At six, Helen and James were ready for the limousine. The hotel guests who were in the lounge wondered who the woman with the long golden braid was; _could it be Helen Nordstrom?_ She was carrying a little boy and a violin case, and that confirmed their suspicions.

Over a couple of years, Lorna had insisted on supervising Helen's wardrobe, and had helped Helen acquire a number of fabulous dresses just for concerts. (Lorna had actually been on the payroll, as _wardrobe mistress._ ) Today Helen wore a beautiful backless dress in a platinum shade with just a touch of iridescence. The orchestra, when asked, had enthusiastically supported Helen's choice! She wore a black shawl against the chill of the strong breeze, and little James was also dressed handsomely to escort his Mama.

It wasn't a stretch limousine; just a nice old Lincoln, and Helen chatted to the friendly young fellow who drove her out to the concert hall. James was introduced to a young lady who had volunteered to keep him just offstage, and Helen tuned up, watched by the conductor and the Concertmaster, who were clearly excited in anticipation of the program.

After the usual tuning ritual, and a few announcements, the Concert was underway. The opening number was the Bach concerto, and only a small string orchestra was on stage with Helen. There was a little harpsichord for continuo, all that the concerto really needed.

Helen was using steel strings today, as were the orchestral strings. Helen had considered asking to speak to the audience before they began, as she had done when she was younger, but she was beginning to realize that it diverted the attention of the audience away from the orchestra, to her. The management would have probably considered it all to the good; glamour was all, in these matters. But Helen was getting cautious.

When the solo violin entered with its sweet opening line, all eyes were on Helen. From then on, it was a gradually building momentum, a wonderful feeling of inevitability, as Bach used every rhetorical device to make the movement irresistible. At the end of the first movement, the audience was simply dying to applaud.

Helen smiled over the crowd as they paused for a few seconds between movements. The slow movement was merely workmanlike, as far its writing went. Helen worked hard to try to raise it to the level of interest of the preceding movement. There was plenty of opportunity for sweet violin sounds, and a few lovely moments. Helen remembered times when she had played the piece with a woman she loved in the audience, and she could turn the movement into her personal message to her girl, putting into it all the love that burned in her heart. Today, though, she was so utterly out of love that she could have cried. Her kids loved her, she knew, but it was not the same.

The last movement, though, was a mad riot, and one which Gena and Erin loved! The memory of the girls put a smile on her face, and soon the audience was grinning as the playful movement made everyone rock in their seats in time to the music. It was essentially a jig, and the violinist must feel the madness in her very bones, and if she did, the audience would find it irresistible! And that was how it was, and the orchestra caught the magic, and they brought the house down.

Helen stood there and grinned at the audience with delight, forgetting to bow. Finally, as the conductor gestured towards Helen, and the people in the galleries stood up to cheer, Helen gave them a graceful curtsy, but motioned them to be seated, reluctant to go offstage in the traditional manner of taking curtain calls.

"That was a lot of fun to play!" she said, from the heart, and there was more applause, more cheers, and some laughter. "I thank you! Thank you," she said, and bowed her thanks.

After a brief visit offstage to check on James, which gave the rest of the orchestra a chance to take their seats, and move the harpsichord aside, Helen reappeared to more applause, and they played the Dvorak violin concerto. Helen had fallen in love with the work when she had first heard it while in college, and had been determined to learn it and play it. At that time, she had specialized in Baroque violin and consort music, and had made her reputation in playing period instruments, some of which she had made herself, in the pioneering period instrument workshop at her undergraduate school. But one day she had been given a steel-strung modern violin, and she had learned to master it with determination, and today she was one of the foremost violinists for music of every period.

The orchestra announced the somber introduction in octaves, as Helen stood in front, watching them with interest. When she wasn't playing, she watched the orchestra, both because she was a conductor herself, and was interested in what was going on, and also because she felt that it directed audience attention to the orchestra, which was important. As the solo violin entry approached, Helen got ready, and announced the rhapsodic phrases and flourishes, trying to fight the tendency to get totally absorbed in the music, and lose awareness of the audience. But she caught sight of James and his lady friend, who had crept forward to get a better view of Helen. She was touched by the absorbed expression on both faces. The music was in a style that would appeal to a young person in the age-group of about sixteen to twenty-six, which included the young lady. James, she assumed, was watching Mama. He must have remembered what she had been wearing, and realized it was she.

The concerto was a sweet, earnest, unpretentious piece with great energy, but also great tenderness, and Helen could not resist putting her heart into it. It seemed to embody the yearning any young person might feel: the showiness was present, but restrained; but the passion was also present, even if in a restrained form. The whole LA Philharmonic had a big sound that worked well with this piece, in contrast with the intimate sound of the smaller group.

The first movement faded continuously into the slow movement, which was a perfect jewel of melody, and Helen had a wonderful time playing it, with all its sonorous chords with solo violin and woodwinds. This piece, more than any other, made Helen want to compose. Dvorak held out the promise to anyone: _you can do it!_ Helen felt as if she could have liked Dvorak as a person more than any other composer, though Johann Sebastian Bach's music was in many ways almost her whole life.

The last movement, energetic and rhythmical, enabled Helen to break out of her introspective reverie and focus more on the audience, and on her little boy, who was behaving so beautifully. He tended to occasionally make a remark, but thus far she had heard nothing from him, and she was sure that the young lady watching him would be quite startled if he did make a sound, and she would know about it. But it never came.

After the rousing finish of the Dvorak, and an enthusiastic cheer from the audience, Helen made her escape for the brief intermission.

"He started talking, miss! I hope it couldn't be heard!"

"I was watching your face, but I didn't notice any indication that you had heard him say anything!"

"It was right at the end! He said: _Mama!!_ And very loud, too!"

"Oh, James, what are we going to do with you?"

"Mama!" he exclaimed, with glee. His Mama was his goddess, as was only right. Helen picked him up in her arms, and turned to the orchestra members who were waiting to talk to her.

There were a few refreshments, and a quick toilet break, and it was on to the last part of the concert, which was the demanding Tchaikovsky.

Helen had suffered acute amnesia when she was thirty, when an enormous benign tumor had been removed from her brain. It had not been clear whether the memory loss had been caused by the tumor, or whether it had been an independent occurrence. Helen had been told that she had performed the Tchaikovsky with the L.A. Philharmonic in her youth, but she could remember nothing of it. It was quite possible that someone in the audience had heard her playing it before, and Helen was acutely conscious that it was quite possible that she had been a better violinist before the memory loss. Her first three years in college were a complete blank in her memory; she had forgotten most of the people she had known in college except for a very few such as Janet and Cindy.

She knew she had the gift of playing sweetly, but sweetness was not what the Tchaikovsky demanded. It was a bold, heroic work that often sounded angry and ugly in order to be expressive. But Helen could sometimes switch off her mind from trying too hard to play well, and just concentrate on the music from a technical point of view: how to play a phrase as the violin demanded. She had never _taught_ the violin, except to Gena and Erin. Sometimes she wondered whether it was she who played the violin, or whether it sort of played itself, even in impossibly difficult works like this one. For a year or two, she knew, she had had a reputation for being the best interpreter of this concerto. She felt her body getting ready to start trembling at her worry that she might not be as good as she had been.

Suddenly it was over, and she was getting a standing ovation! Helen stared at the audience, completely stunned.

"Helen Nordstrom, ladies and gentlemen! _Doctor_ Helen Nordstrom!"

Helen blushed. "Please don't," she said softly, turning pleading eyes at the conductor.

"Why not? You've earned it! Be proud of it!"

"No," said Helen, shaking her head, turning to smile at the audience, and to bow, accepting the cheers.

She had to leave the stage. A standing ovation could not be savored with the insolent pride that was sometimes excused as a response to polite applause. Helen was ushered off the stage by the conductor.

"Brilliant! Brilliantly done, Helen! You know, it isn't easy to make the Tchaikovsky so persuasive! Truly, you must have Russian ancestry!" Helen laughed, searching the conductor's face for a hint of sarcastic intent, but no, he was Russian himself, and he was simply being appreciative.

"No, just Scandinavian..."

"Norwegian?"

"Swedish, a little Norwegian, and Finnish, I know!"

The conductor shook his head, smiling, completely under Helen's spell. Helen, too, was feeling light-headed, somewhat overwhelmed by the conductor's charisma.

The audience was cheering louder than ever. They murmured to each other that they had better get back on stage.

Feeling emotional, Helen walked back to face the audience, and impulsively decided to talk to them. She politely asked the conductor whether she could say a few words. He said yes, most certainly!

She motioned for silence, and for them to sit down.

"As you know," she said, "I spent a year in hiding, in the rural part of Southern California!" There was silence. The story was well known. "The court had ordered my children to be taken away from me, and I hid, rather than have that happen!" Helen suddenly realized that it was possible that some members of the audience might not have sympathized with her decision. But it was too late to stop now. "Eventually, of course, I was allowed to keep the girls, with the warning that if I did not behave..." there was some laughter, showing support of Helen, she felt. She decided to be encouraged by it. "... If I did not behave, I would be sent to jail." Silence. "So far, I'm behaving!" There was an explosion of laughter. "But I love this state, for providing, however unwittingly, a refuge for my little family!" There were smiles. "I can't tell you exactly where I hid; I want to be able to hide there again!" That provoked a little more laughter. "But I loved that little town! I would like to play an encore, for you, and for my friends in that little community!"

It was the _Romanze_ , a lovely pastoral by Dvorak, which, scholars believe, was written on the occasion of the death of his wife. The two had been, by all accounts, a loving couple. The oboist who opened the piece, was wonderful, and Helen continued the sorrowful melody, which occasionally rose to impassioned heights, but seemed to relapse into hopeless resignation. Helen did not want to dedicate it to her Californian friends because of its sadness, but because of its loveliness. It couldn't be helped that it was sad; they had planned to play it before Helen had decided to make her announcement. What could be done? Helen played it as perfectly as she could, and the audience expressed their appreciation with restraint, and the evening was over.

Helen was exhausted. It was close to ten o'clock, Pacific Daylight Time, but it was past midnight according to Eastern clocks, and Helen's biological clock, and certainly little James's personal clock. He was fretful, and Helen felt fretful, but of course could not show it. The orchestra invited Helen out to celebrate, but she begged off. "It's very late, by my time," she said, and they understood at once. James turned to regard all the uncles with annoyance clear on his face, and they laughed. They helped Helen get her things together, told her in no uncertain terms how much they loved her dress, and sent her off to the hotel.

Helen had barely enough energy to make sure James was clean and dry, and put him to bed, and carefully hang up the expensive gown before she crashed. Her plane was at a little before nine in the morning.

Her alarm woke her up at seven thirty, but for the same reason that she was so exhausted at night, she was quite awake early in the morning. James and she had plenty of time to get ready and get packed, and they were shuttled out to the airport, and were airborne with no trouble. A couple of hours later, they were landing in Seattle.

# # #

# Seattle, and Annie

Filming the TV series was always fun. Helen had never considered herself an actress, but this role fired her imagination. It was all about how a great musician a few decades in the future, had volunteered to be put into hibernation, aboard a space vessel, which was heading out on a voyage of discovery. The idea was that, for the sake of the mental health of the pioneers on the ship, cultural resources had to be provided. In the TV series, Helen's character, Cecilia, was revived on route, and found herself truly influencing the shipboard population in positive ways, and using music to build cultural bridges, and creating a way to make life more harmonious, literally.

Usually Helen arrived at the studios late on a Friday night, so her early arrival this weekend meant lots of opportunities to film Helen doing things that they usually did not have time for. In addition, Becky had invested a substantial portion of Helen's personal fortune in Galaxy Studios, which had conceived the TV series, and now produced it completely independently in Seattle. The series had been so successful in its first three years that the Galaxy investment was one of Helen's most successful.

Among Helen's costars was Annie, a childhood friend of Helen's. Once Helen had been settled into the little room in which she always stayed at the Studio, Annie came to greet her, and pick up the baby, and hug Helen.

"Oh, Annie!" Helen said, and held her tight, unable to let go.

"Sweetheart," Annie said, understanding. "It's going to be fine! It's going to be all right..."

Helen finally let go, and sat down.

"It's pretty bad, huh?" asked Annie.

"It doesn't seem so bad most of the time," Helen said, her voice drowned in tears of self-pity. "It's just the nights... I can't stand it!"

"I know, I know," said Annie.

Annie's problem was that she was married, of all people, to Helen's father. Helen's mother had died in a freak accident when Helen had been twelve. A few years later, when Helen had gone to college, Annie had married Helen's father. But now Annie realized that it had been _Helen_ she had loved for all her life, and _not Helen's father_. But she could not bring that out into the open, and she had come to terms with the situation, and not being the emotional type, she did not see her life as a tragedy. At any rate, this was not the time to bring it up. Helen's falling apart was making it difficult for both of them. Annie just kept quiet, murmuring a word or two of comfort.

After a while, Helen pulled herself together. She reported in to the sound stage, was given a script, and filming began, with people taking turns to keep James entertained. After a little more time, Helen became distracted by the story line, and gradually forgot her private misery.

One weekend a month, Helen went in for an entire Friday night and all day Saturday, filming. When she had lived in Ferguson with all the children, she could give the studio part of Sunday, too, and she often took the girls with her, especially if Galaxy (Studios) had planned some event for Helen to participate in, such as a concert of folk music. On the series Helen was in, _Galactic Voyager_ , her character was often required to teach the kids on the spaceship folksongs of Old Earth. On the show, Cecilia (the name of Helen's character) was adored by one and all, and there was a new generation out there across America that had no idea that Cecilia on the _Galaxy Show_ as it was called, was a world-famous violinist and rising conductor, not to mention a wonderful operatic soprano, who had sung such roles as Eva, in _Die Meistersinger_ , Papagena in _Magic Flute_ , Susanna in _Figaro_ , and Eurydice in _Orfeo_ , all when she was hardly twenty. Very few, of any age, knew that she was a professor at a tiny Pennsylvania college. Helen's students, of course, knew by now, but word was slow to get around, and many students at Westfield only knew Helen as a new professor who was much loved by her classes.

They filmed for four hours straight, broke for a lunch at the fabulous Galaxy cafeteria, filmed for three more hours, after which there was a break of a couple of hours, then filmed again until ten at night.

Amanda Magnus, a new addition to the cast, was a lovely blonde teenager who played Cecilia's cloned daughter. In the story, Cecilia who had been put in hibernation on board ship, had been "thawed out" to help with a major cultural crisis on the _Voyager_ , because young people had become bored with the confinement on board the spaceship, enormous though it was, and some of them were becoming involved with pointless vandalism, and the ship leadership was at a loss as to how to channel their destructive energy. Reviving Cecilia was a desperate measure, which seemed to have succeeded in giving a focus to the creativity of the shipboard youth. Cecilia was multi-talented, and led the young people in art, theater, music and dance projects, and for a while all seemed to be well. But the leaders were anxious about Cecilia's health, and since, like Helen, Cecilia was a lesbian, they decided to create a clone, so that if Cecilia was to come to harm, her genes would live on in her "daughter". The young actress Amanda and Helen were cautiously making friends, anticipating having to work closely with each other in future episodes.

# # #

# Ferguson, and the Girls

James was up early on Sunday, and Helen and he were seen off by plane to St. Paul, Minnesota, where Cindy, a family friend, who lived with Janet and the children, and Gena and Erin, Helen's older adopted daughters, awaited with the family minivan to pick Helen up, and take her to Ferguson.

Gena threw her arms around Helen and gave her an enormous hug, and immediately took James from her arms. The little boy had trouble recognizing his foster sister, but being the friendly fellow he was, was soon grinning at her.

"Mom, he's gotten _heavy!"_ exclaimed Gena. She was short, barely 5' 2", with straight, fine blonde hair worn in a short braid, and large blue-grey eyes that were wide with excitement at present. Erin, a merry-faced strawberry blonde, waited patiently until Helen was done with Gena, but Gena drew her forward, ever considerate of the most recent addition to the family, before James, of course. They had met Erin only a couple of years before, when Erin and her late mother Penny had joined the little family on their escape to California. Penny had died of cancer in the spring, and left Erin to Helen's care. Erin was shy and retiring, always eager to please, and Gena was usually on the lookout to make sure her new sibling was never left out.

Cindy 3 was the last to give Helen a hug, and then they hurried out to the parking lot and piled into the aged minivan, all of them talking at the tops of their voices, attracting curious glances from the other passengers being picked up at the terminal.

[3 An old family friend]

When they arrived at the lovely old house in Ferguson, all was chaos for a time. Little Alison flew into Helen's arms with her customary cry of _Mama!_ It was always amusing to watch those two greet each other after a long separation. Then there was Janet, her eyes shining with amusement, and Elly and Tommy, the "Twins", born on the same day on Christmas Eve sixteen years ago, and Janet's mother Elly Senior, a lovely woman in her late sixties.

They had most of a day to enjoy the happy reunion, while Helen told them stories about her first two weeks at Westfield, and the girls told Helen how things were going at Ferguson. Jane had just taken the reins of the school as Principal over the summer, and Elly and Tommy had started there in the Fall.

"Elly seems to have taken the school by storm," said Elly Senior, young Elly's grandmother.

"Yeah," said little Elly, "that would be me. That's what I do, I take things by storm. All in a day's work!"

"A little humility is a good thing to have, young lady," remarked Janet, her mother. Elly's strong personality tended to overwhelm anyone she met, and Janet worried that the girl would acquire an unhealthy tendency to exploit that fact. Little Elly did have some of her lovely mother's features and talents, but her devastating charm came from her grandmother, Grandma Elly, or Grelly, as they called her sometimes.

## String Quartet

Nothing would do but they had to sit Helen down, and show off the music they had learned, so everyone got comfortable, and Gena, Erin, Elly and Tommy got ready to play a string quartet arrangement of a well-known romantic piece. Elly played the viola, and Tommy the Cello. As they set out on the opening phrases of the well-known piano piece that someone had transcribed beautifully for string quartet, the look of patient interest on Helen's face slowly turned into one of amazement, and Janet and Old Elly, who had watched Helen grow up from a sweet-natured teenager into an internationally recognized personality could tell that Helen was stunned. Gena played First Violin, and had the melody. But the members of the quartet were playing with such skill, that it was almost a single voice. In mere weeks, Gena had progressed from being a fair violinist to being a really good one, and an ensemble player, to boot.

Then the girls glanced at each other, and to Helen's further amazement, for the second sentence of the piece, it was little Erin who had the upper voice, and Helen's mouth hung open. Gena's playing had been excellent, but the sweetness of Erin's tone was stunning. Helen tried to look at the instrument she was playing, and it was not the three-quarter size Helen had taught her on, but a full-sized violin, in fact, Old Elly's own violin. But it was not just the violin: Erin was playing _brilliantly._

The next several bars were difficult; they modulated into a minor key, and posed considerable intonation problems for a violin student, and Helen watched to see whether Erin would hand the upper line back to Gena, but no; she kept it, and played it beautifully understated, but with lovely intonation, so well that the chording of the quartet made the section ineffably beautiful. Tears were pricking at Helen's eyes.

Gena took over the melody again for the last quarter of the little piece, which involved just a little elasticity in the rhythm, and the two violins were playing _double-stops_ 4 for the big chord at the climax. It wasn't perfect, but it was very, very well done! Helen leaped to her feet.

[4 _Double-stops_ are _chords_ played on a string instrument.]

"Wow! I'm amazed! Goodness; I had no idea you were progressing so fast!"

"Isn't Erin doing super well, Mama?" asked Gena, eyes shining.

"Gena, keep quiet!" Erin was saying, blushing. But clearly the younger girl was playing just as well as Gena.

This group of girls were total insiders into bowed technique; Gena had been inspired by the two older girls, Elly and Tommy, when they had met that summer, after many months apart. As always with children, advancement was not continuous, but took place in leaps, and Helen had just witnessed another leap.

There was far too little time. Helen had to sit and listen to Alison's complaints about little perceived injuries she had suffered, and Helen had to explain that most of those were not intentional, and that she would speak to the culprits about them. Helen made a point to thank Cindy for doing such a fabulous job with teaching the violin, viola and cello to the four girls. Cindy was the official instructor of the family, though Old Elly was quite proficient with anything smaller than a Cello.

# # #

# Back to Work

Her plane home to Pittsburgh and Westfield was at four, and very reluctantly the girls hugged James, and hugged their mother, and Helen had to leave the sad young ladies to board her plane.

The flight crew, as always, recognized Helen, and tried to make the trip as pleasant as they could. Landing late at night, an exhausted Helen dragged herself, her violins, her luggage and her little boy to the old Cherokee, and then set out for the two-hour drive home. Nadia was waiting up for them, and too tired to do anything except cleanup for bed, they went to sleep.

## Football, and Tennis

Helen skipped her run on Monday morning, much to poor Jason's disappointment. She went downstairs in her robe to ask Jason to run without her, which he did with reasonable cheerfulness.

When she went in to her first lesson, she learned that the football team had won their all-important first game of the regular season, and the victory was ascribed to Helen's interventions!

The lesson went moderately smoothly. As Helen was getting ready to return to her office, some of the young ladies came up to the teacher's table.

"Oh, Miss Helen, if you would only come support girls' sports, too!"

"What do you mean, _girls' sports?_ What do you guys play?"

"Tennis, of course! Didn't you know Shelly and me, we play Tennis? Like, Shelly is _Captain!"_

Now, Helen had a soft spot for the game of Tennis. In her youth, in fact, Helen had actually taken a clinic offered by the USTA for would-be tennis instructors, and had made friends with one of the best coaches in the business, Gary Martin. She had played a lot of tennis in her teen years, but had not held a racquet for a long time. (Note: Helen had met little Gena at a tennis club, where she had been a ball girl.) She promised to come out to watch the girls practice the following day. Evidently they practiced at the same time as the football guys, but somehow it seemed that nobody paid any attention to them in the courts on the far side of the football field, because everyone was watching the guys, and the cheerleaders.

Helen had to take care of some business right after classes, so she had to hurry home.

"I promised the tennis team that I would support them at their practices," Helen confided to Jason on Wednesday, while they were stretching.

"Oh no, Miss Helen! You _gotta_ come support _us!"_

"Jason, I'll come get your guys out in the morning, but I want to go support the girls in the afternoon! Don't be greedy!"

Jason turned his charming grin on Helen, but conceded that it was only fair that Helen should encourage the girls. "They sure need it," he admitted.

"They suck, huh?"

"We-ell, let's just say they don't do good at matches."

Helen did come round to root the sleepy football players out of their beds, but somehow some of the tennis girls also happened to hear Helen calling the boys out, and joined the army headed to the gym.

"What are you going to do?"

"Is doing weights really hard for girls?"

"Listen, don't try anything without checking with your coach!"

"We could run," they said to each other.

Her music classes had managed to stay with the program while she was gone, but a couple of times the conversation drifted to tennis, while they were supposed to be writing interrupted cadences. Helen stubbornly kept them at it, despite their complaints that the keys were too hard.

Nadia was now well known among the faculty, but Helen was so busy with keeping up with the Philadelphia office, her students, and her business affairs, that the number of faculty who saw her was small, and she was getting a reputation for being reclusive. She had missed two official events: one where new faculty were introduced to the college at large, and the September faculty meeting, where they had been ready to introduce her to the faculty. She could be seen on TV, of course, on Galaxy, and now on her commercial for the Hardware Store, but the faculty were resentful that they didn't see her more often at College events.

James was now accustomed to having his vegetables with Nicole, which meant that Helen and Nadia could finally have lunch with their fellow faculty in the cafeteria, which is what they did on Wednesday. Some of them were meeting her for the very first time, and it seemed to Helen that they were pleased to discover how approachable she was. Many of them were interested in music, and had been bashful about bringing up the subject for fear of being rebuffed. She soon found out that her commercial with the Hardware Store had already hit the tube, and people who had never actually seen Helen outside of _The Galaxy Show_ had seen her taking a door off its hinges.

After her senior class, she hurried through her mail briefly, and then headed out to the playing fields.

Tennis started somewhat earlier than football. When she arrived at the nets, the girls were desultorily hitting balls at each other.

"Hey, it's Miss Helen! She came, after all!"

"What did you think; I wouldn't show?" Helen demanded indignantly.

"Yeah!" they replied, cheekily.

"Lend me a racket, someone," Helen said, scowling.

Their eyes popped wide open. "You _play?"_

"Sure; doesn't everyone?"

It came back to Helen quickly. She had always had an excellent eye, and luckily she managed to get the ball back to the girls every time without having to move her feet very much, because she was wearing the wrong kind of sneakers. The girls dutifully pointed this out, and Helen admitted that she was taking a risk. (Moving sideways, wearing running sneakers, could result in a fall.) Now that they had her on the courts, they wanted to talk about anything _but_ Tennis!

When the coach arrived, she was surprised and pleased at Helen's presence. Helen got permission to help the girls warm up on a back court, and the coach arranged that everybody would get their turn with Miss Helen for at least ten minutes.

When Helen finally set out for home, her blood was pumping, and she felt far better than she had for weeks. She needed vigorous activity, and it helped her far more than simply keeping up her exhausting schedule of teaching and music. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had known this, but with the complicated events of the past couple of years, she had forgotten.

# # #

# The Gibsons in Baltimore

That very week, Helen had a concert in Baltimore, after which she had promised to visit James's grandmother, Olive Gibson in Maryland.

When Helen had learned that she was pregnant more than a year ago, she had considered keeping the fact secret from Jeffrey, James's father. It had been nine long months, and Helen and Jeffrey had not communicated at all. As far as Helen was concerned, when she had packed Jeffrey off back to college in Rhode Island, she would never see him again. The pregnancy had been a total surprise. But as the delivery date drew closer, it had seemed mean to keep it a secret, and Helen had called him. Soon afterwards, Jeffrey's mother, Olive, had arranged to speak with Helen on the phone, and somehow, the two women had made friends. Jeffrey was an able musician, and so was his mother.

Helen squeezed as much as she could into her class on Wednesday, and did some catching up on Thursday during her recitation. She taught her two classes on Friday, and headed out to Washington D.C. with James. As always, this involved driving out to Pittsburgh, from where they took a flight out to Baltimore-Washington Airport. (She could have driven, but it would have been a six-hour drive.)

Presently she was at the home of Olive and Walter Gibson, Jeffrey's parents—who were, of course, James's grandparents—being enthusiastically greeted by Olive, and shown into a large room with a lovely old crib that was just perfect for the young scion.

"When are they picking you up?" Olive asked, getting down to business.

"In half an hour," Helen said, with an apologetic look. "I gave them the address."

Helen took a shower, and got dressed in a gown that met with Olive's approval. The doorbell rang, and Helen had to leave, leaving James with Grandma Olive and Grandpa Walter.

## Sophie

Sophie Cocteau was a tennis player who was beginning to gain worldwide attention on the women's tour. She had met Marsha Moore, a famous Hollywood actress, who had at one time been the lover of Helen, when Helen was still in her teens. Even now, after more than a decade, Marsha kept an anxious eye on Helen Nordstrom from afar. Helen was an adult now, but to the insightful eye of Marsha, she was still a work in progress, and minor changes in Helen's circumstances could make the difference between great triumph on the one hand, and shocking disaster on the other. (Marsha had helped Helen when she and the girls were on the run from the Law.)

Marsha had talked to Sophie about Helen's situation, and earnestly requested that Sophie should meet and make friends with Helen, and keep an eye on the musical genius, steering her away from potential false steps with women admirers who might not know what they were getting into with Helen.

Hearing that Helen was giving a concert in Maryland, Sophie had driven up from North Carolina, got a room in a hotel, and got herself a ticket to the concert. It was the first time she had attended a classical concert in the USA.

Sophie was blown away by the concert.

Expecting something such as she could hear on her little portable stereo, but louder, she had been stunned by the immediacy of the performance, and the charisma of the soloist. Sophie might not have been quite so overwhelmed if she had been in the habit of watching the Galaxy Show, but she hadn't.

After the concert, Sophie managed to meet Helen. She had brought a letter from Marsha Moore to introduce herself. Helen said she was staying with friends in Maryland, and Sophie offered to drive her out, which was an excellent idea. On the way, Sophie and Helen discovered their mutual interest in tennis, and agreed to get together the following morning.

They talked some more, but they were getting close to Olive's house, and only had time to exchange phone numbers, when Helen had to get out.

"I will call you!" Sophie promised. Helen had said she must play a set or two with Sophie, and the latter's eyes had lit up. She had asked whether Helen was any good, and Helen had said that she had played a long time ago, and then recently hit for about an hour with her students.

"Who was that?" Olive asked, as the little car was speeding away.

"Someone I met at the concert, who knew a friend of mine, as it happened," Helen said, and after a brief doubtful look at Helen, Olive took up her favorite topic of James, noting that his teeth were coming in with a vengeance.

"Are you going to be busy tomorrow?"

"Well, there is the concert, at seven," Helen said, covering her impatience, but Olive was kind of cute, and Helen just couldn't get annoyed at her. She had to smile at the enthusiastic old bird, and the mood perked up a little. "I promised Sophie, who just dropped me off, a game of tennis tomorrow," Helen said, remembering.

"Oh, don't tell me: that was Sophie _Cocteau?"_

"As it happens, yes; you've heard of her?"

"Are you kidding? She was a major sensation at the French Open this summer! I don't suppose you were watching!"

"No... it was quite a mess at Ferguson, and I missed all that. I haven't watched tennis for a couple of years, Mrs. Gibson!"

Olive was annoyed at the relapse into formality. She bustled about picking up toys that she had tried to give James to play with on the living room rug. "Now stop that, Helen; I think we're past the 'Mrs. Gibson' thing."

"Oops, sorry!" Helen grinned at her. "For a minute I was back in May!"

"Oh Helen!"

It surprised Helen again just how much Olive had decided to love her, despite the fact that she had refused to marry Jeffrey. Jeffrey had gone ahead and married a really beautiful girl, Barbara, whom Helen had introduced to him, and the couple was deliriously happy. Part of the reason Olive had been halfway resigned to matters as they stood was because Barbara and Jeffrey suited each other so well.

"What time are you going to go playing Tennis?"

"I don't know; where are there courts around here, and what would be a good time?"

"I can get you into the country club, Helen, but there are public clay courts, if young Sophie would like them better, and you know what: the early morning tomorrow would be the best time. Call her right away, and say 7:00 in the morning, if she can get up that early. Are you an early riser?"

"Actually yes; I usually run around five-thirty every other morning."

"Holy mackerel, Helen; what a god-awful hour to go running. I'm not sure it's healthy!"

Helen laughed.

They talked for quite a while. Helen began to see Olive as an interesting person in her own right, which was helped along by the older woman's sincere admiration for Helen, which was thankfully kept well restrained. But the trust building up between the two women was put gravely at risk when Olive revealed that she had actually scheduled a gathering after Helen returned home after the concert the following evening, hoping to get Helen involved in the activities. (Having Helen stay with her was a huge coup for the outgoing woman who loved music so much, and she had initially been utterly frustrated that she couldn't actually do anything with it. As far as Olive was concerned, a musician who wasn't actually playing some instrument every waking moment was wasting their time.)

At first, Helen had said that she could be exhausted by that time: nearly eleven at night. But Olive and she talked it over, and Olive reluctantly agreed that her circle of friends would be happy just to meet Helen briefly, and let her go up to bed while they played a quartet or two.

Once Helen had checked in on Jamie, who was fast asleep, and taken a quick shower and changed into her nightie, she pulled out her phone, and shut the door carefully, but did not lock it. Helen carefully dialed Sophie's number which she had copied into her phone while Sophie had been giving it to her.

"Hello?" said a sleepy voice.

"You in bed already?"

"Helen! What's up?"

"Listen, are you up for a little tennis tomorrow early morning?"

"Sure; where?"

"It's clay courts!"

"Awesome!" Sophie's speech was definitely American Teenager. "Where is this?"

"Oh dear; I forgot to ask Olive... I'll have to find out in the morning. Apparently they're public courts near here."

"I'm going to look in the phone book." There were sounds of someone getting out of bed, and puttering around. It sounded like a small motel room. "There's nothing listed, Cherie. It must be not _very_ public!"

"I guess it'll have to be around seven, then; if I find out sooner, I'll call you."

"Okay! See you in the morning!"

Helen smiled to herself as she rang off. She hoped Sophie had a spare racket she could use. She was too tired to go looking for rackets at this time of the night. Helen had big hands, she had a hard time with rackets whose grips were too narrow.

Early in the morning, Helen was awoken to the soft sounds of James calling her from his crib. He had given up crying in the morning a long time ago, and simply called to his mother with soft cooing sounds that usually made Helen feel wonderful. Before she could bestir herself, the door opened, and she heard the rustling of a robe and the shuffle of soft footsteps.

"Hi there, little fellow! Good morning! How are we doing?" asked Olive, who had slipped in, hearing James's voice.

"Hi, Olive!" called out Helen, softly.

Olive and her grandson were soon watching Helen, seated on the edge of her bed. "Oh, Helen," she said, smiling down, as Helen rolled onto her back, and pulled the covers up modestly. It was just a little chilly, but not as cool as it would have been at home. "Why do you deprive some lucky person of this sight, early in the morning, dear?"

Helen blushed. Olive was just a little too forthright in her adoration, and Helen couldn't come up with a clever riposte. "Oh, who would want me," said Helen, smiling mischievously. "No, I'm just too busy to have much of a private life," Helen said, finally.

Olive smiled at her for a minute. "Is there anything brewing between you and this young lady?" she asked, very softly.

"Oh!" Helen sat up with a start. "Olive, tell me how to get to those clay courts! We've planned to play there in a few minutes... like, in ten minutes!"

"Helen! Do you have a racquet? Tennis shoes? What... how..."

It was confusion, but Helen managed to nurse James for a few minutes, and get into a pair of shorts and a sport bra which she had packed just in case, while Olive drew a map for her, and dug among her things for an old racquet Helen might have been able to use. Shortly there was a distant knock on Olive's ancient front door.

Helen kissed her boy, and hurried downstairs, with Olive following close behind. Sophie stood on the front steps, looking bright and cheerful. She pulled Helen into a quick hug, and reached out to shake Olive's hand.

"Hi! I'm Sophie!" she offered.

"So pleased to meet you, Sophie! I don't think Helen is quite ready to play; it looks as if you'll have to get her some equipment!"

Sophie laughed and agreed, and they were soon on their way to a store that might be able to supply what Helen needed. Sophie, not being completely familiar with the Maryland suburbs of Washington, needed Helen's help to find her way to the large 24-hour department store, where Helen was able to find court shoes to fit her large feet. Sophie's racket size was just a tad too small, but they found a way around that, and soon they were at well-hidden clay courts that were completely deserted.

Helen was getting a little excited to be back on the courts again. She had played on clay courts only a couple of times, and loved the feel of them. They started off slow, rallying back and forth, and Sophie quickly realized that Helen was an experienced player, with very reliable strokes. They gradually began to hit harder, finding the corners, and Helen had to run.

"You're not even out of breath! What, are you some sort of stealth athlete or something?"

Helen giggled. "Oh, you athletes; you think nobody else can play your game!"

Helen loved the surface. Helen took a few serves, making Sophie whistle, and then Helen returned a few of Sophie's serves, which she kept quite gentle, no doubt hoping to surprise Helen later on.

They began to play, and Helen barely held serve. She gave Sophie as hard a time as she possibly could, but Sophie, too, easily held serve. Things proceeded similarly, with each of them holding serve, until Sophie broke Helen once, and Helen immediately broke back. They went into deuce a number of times, after which Sophie tightened her lips and turned her game up a notch. She didn't expect Helen to do the same. Helen's competitive spirit was now burning fiercely, and she did not see Sophie, a friend, across from her, but a vicious opponent who was denying her a point. But finally, the set went to Sophie, as it had to.

Sophie marched up to the net, all indignation.

"You didn't tell me you could play!" she yelled, and it was not entirely intended in fun. "You're supposed to be a musician!"

By this time, Helen was regretting her ire, and was all rueful smiles. She laughed disarmingly. "I'm sorry! I turned into a monster when you started playing so well!"

"Started..." Sophie was speechless, until she broke out laughing. "I thought I was playing well all along!"

Sophie impulsively pulled Helen into a long hug, and then held her away and grinned at her. "You're totally awesome! Helen, you have to play more! You know, I could just see your game coming together, in that first game! Cherie, why are you wasting time with this violin business?"

"Wasting time with the violin?" Helen stared at her, her hands on her hips, disbelieving her ears. "I studied that damn thing for twenty-five years, I'll have you know, Sophie! You just don't pick one up and start playing, you know!"

"I'm sorry, Cherie; I guess you just picked up the racket and started playing like a pro!"

They argued back and forth, and decided to have breakfast out at a diner, having cleared it first with Olive, who reluctantly approved of the plan, but begged Helen to be back as soon as she could, and suggested she could bring Sophie with her.

Over breakfast, Helen and Sophie sealed their blooming friendship. For the first time, Helen had gotten to know a girl who expected nothing from her, but was willing to listen to her woes, and was full of fun, a girl with an almost oppressively sunny disposition.

"Tell me more about yourself," Helen asked her, feeling as though it was time to stop talking, and start listening.

Sophie smiled at Helen, and Helen smiled back, thinking how easy it was to like this girl, so different from the usual hard-as-nails women Helen had imagined professional athletes to be. With a sigh, Sophie gave Helen a brief account of her childhood. Apparently she had been brought up by her father, her mother having been neurotic and self-absorbed, suspicious of Sophie's father, and constantly quarreling with him, and accusing him of alienating her from the child, Sophie. But then, her mother had changed, and gradually become an entirely different person, taking an interest in both Sophie and her father, and they had enjoyed five years of perfect happiness. But her father had suffered a massive stroke, lived for six months in a coma, and then died. But they had savings, and Sophie and her mother had lived in a tiny apartment in moderate comfort, until Sophie had finished school, and been discovered by a Russian coach, and had turned pro.

Back in Olive's comfortable living room, they sat around and played with James for a while, and Olive begged for stories from the Women's Tour, as they called the group of professional athletes who traveled from tournament to international tournament, competing for money and fame on the courts of the capitals of the world. Olive slyly asked Sophie whether she had studied music, or learned an instrument, and she innocently said that she hadn't, and expressed regret. "My Maman could not afford lessons for anything, you see? We were poor, and if not for this famous tennis man, Viktor Andropov, I would be a secretary somewhere, maybe. Or, teach tennis at a club. I was good at tennis. Good at school, too, you must understand. But there is too much, _too_ much competition for good office jobs."

"I know, I know," said Olive, a look of understanding on her jolly face. At that time, the employment scene in Europe had been in the doldrums. "So, how did it go, girls? I forgot to ask about how Helen had done! I see you've got some colorful sneakers, at least!"

Helen looked with strong disapproval at her feet; she had never liked any shoes whose design were not in good taste, and this pair was definitely a little too flashy. Sophie giggled, knowing that Helen had bought the pair with great reluctance. "It's meant for younger people," she admitted, "but it was a good value, and they fit her!"

"I'm going to look for a nicer pair," Helen insisted. "I can't be seen in these. They're a disgrace." The other two women laughed, and assured Helen that this was what tennis shoes looked like today. Plain white ones were very hard to find.

Presently, Sophie took her leave, politely declining an invitation to lunch, leaving Helen and Olive to discuss the music that might be played that night.

# # #

After the second concert that had been scheduled for that afternoon, and which Olive had attended with little James, Helen was allowed to leave quickly, and she found herself in Olive's home, greeting her many musician friends, who had come to meet Helen, in addition to participating in the evening's performances.

Meanwhile, Sophie spoke with Marsha Moore.

"What did you think of her? Is she looking fairly well?"

"Marsha, this woman is gorgeous! I had no idea! I have seen the Galaxy thing, right? Like everybody else, but... Marsha, she is actually completely different!"

"Oh, sure. You know something; I'm stunned by how well she does on Galaxy. She totally becomes the part."

"There is little bit of Cecilia in this Helen, just a tiny bit. Or, I should say, a little Helen in the Cecilia character. I can see that. But... wow. She is a big, big star!"

"Glamorous, huh? That's good; I saw her briefly October of last year, and she looked terrible. She had dyed her hair—well, that's no surprise; I taught her how to do that. She looked very much on the defensive, and I was very concerned. So, she's looking well, then?"

"Looking is one thing, Cherie; she was... Marsha, she was very sad inside. She was holding it tight, Marsha. You were absolutely right; I think I got to talk to her just in time."

Sophie heard a long sigh over the phone. Marsha, as far as Sophie had gotten to know her, had great empathy, but she was careful about giving herself away so much that she would lose her ability to be of use. What made the great actress most happy was to keep a motherly eye on her fellow celebrities, especially those she felt were worth supporting. Sometimes the empathy and the restraint were at war with each other. Sophie was just a little too young to have been aware of the brief Marsha-Helen partnership a decade ago, so she had only what she was hearing to go on.

"She must be lonely," Marsha said softly.

"Very much, mon Cherie," Sophie said. "It is so hard to, you know, avoid getting too involved! And she plays tennis so well! She almost beat me!"

Marsha laughed heartily. She had forgotten the tennis connection. Helen had been a very tough competitor in her youth, and Marsha had usually gotten the losing end of a game. "So, do you want to play tennis with her, or not?"

"It's not relaxing, for sure. She wants to win!"

"Well, she might tone it down, if you make her understand that you don't want her to play to win."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"Just... stay in touch with her, Sophie. I can't do that now; if I get back in touch with her personally, it's going to become a big deal. You know?"

Sophie understood, and they planned out just how far Sophie should go.

Helen had participated in Olive's musical evening with gracious enthusiasm. Now Olive was winding down the evening. Helen had played in a couple of Mendelssohn chamber works for strings, which had triggered off deafening adulation, and then they had got a quintet together with an excellent clarinetist who was visiting, and it had been sheer poetry. At the moment Helen was standing at the back, enjoying a Mozart serenade with all winds, with James in her arms, refusing to go to sleep.

"How about singing something?" Olive was asking Helen, and she smiled. Olive drew in her breath: it looked very much as though Helen would oblige.

"Do you have the Brahms _Wiegenlied?"_

"Brahms's Lullaby? Isn't it just... I don't know; doesn't everybody just sing it?"

"No, no; it's actually in a collection... let me look..."

It was the first time Olive learned how much Helen could do with her computer. Luckily, Helen had brought her little printer along; it had become a habit with her. But what Olive had was a quite elaborate photocopier, which enlarged beautifully! Helen was able to find a chamber arrangement for flute, clarinet and lower strings, and soon it was printed out and ready for when the Mozart would be done. The Serenade ended with a lively Rondo, which Helen and James listened to from the back of the large room again, with the audience occasionally glancing back to smile at the pretty picture the two of them made, with Olive going about arranging for the last performance of the evening; and then the piece was over, with much genuine appreciation and applause.

Most of the evening, Helen had sat at the back, listening, occasionally going off to change James or get him a bottle; and the performers who had been disappointed when Helen left the room were mollified by her appreciation. Then Olive announced the piece they had gotten ready, while the little ensemble took its places, with smiles of anticipation.

"OK, this is going to be lovely. Helen has requested to sing for us Brahms's Lullaby, in what appears to be a very authentic arrangement. This is going to be Schmaltz, but _very authentic Schmaltz,_ and I know at least one person who's going to appreciate at least half of the piece, before he falls deeply asleep! My grandson, James!" There was a little laughter, shushed by James's faithful fans, who did not want a ruckus, and knew Helen's very reasonable objective.

These were professionals, and they simply had to retune, but it was accomplished efficiently and quietly. Presently, the cooing calls of the flute and clarinet floated out, eliciting surprised soft exclamations from the audience. James was in Mama's arms, deploring how warm she was, as always, but just awake enough to wonder what was happening, and pleased to be high enough to be able to see all around him.

Unexpectedly, Mama's soft voice sounded, high and sweet as he remembered, vibrating through him, as he turned his blue eyes up and gazed at her forgetting all but how much he loved her. Brahms's light, fanciful arrangement caressed the melody, which Mama sang with such focus, intent on conveying the unique beauty of the original setting, so frequently adapted beyond recognition. The cello punctuated the tune with a soft repeated note that reminded James, as well as the other baby girl who had been brought in with her parents, that it was time to sleep, and the lights had been lowered, except for the lamps lighting the music stands.

The second verse had been harmonized slightly more fully in this version, and Mama sang it in English. The audience marveled that Helen retained so much of her vocal ability, though her voice had dropped so much that she had to sing it in the key of E Flat. It was a simple song, and was over in no time. But James had drifted off to sleep, and Olive warned the gathering, using gestures, that they must keep as quiet as possible, and Helen smiled out over the guests, with her little boy clasped lightly to her breast, knowing that he got very hot, even when he was dressed as lightly as possible, in a diaper and thin vest.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said to those nearest to her, and gracefully walked up the stairs and disappeared from view.

"Oh, Olive, that was so lovely! You've got to get her down again! You must!"

"Oh my! I've got most of it recorded on my little voice recorder; do you think she'll mind?"

Olive couldn't help looking at Helen thoughtfully, marveling at how easily she had moved into the role of daughter-in-law. When Olive considered that Helen was a major celebrity in two worlds: the world of classical music, which Olive was concerned with, and the world of everyday people who watched television on Saturday evenings, and tuned into the adventures of the _Galactic Voyager_ and its determined but anxious, and far from intrepid crew, it was hard to believe that Helen could become such a simple woman, being the perfect guest. Helen was a household name, or fast becoming one, but she wore her fame with a certain skepticism that was refreshing. And here she was, being a regular girl, helping tidy the home of her little boy's grandmother, after an hour and a half of being subjected to pure adoration, far more intense than at any of her concerts.

The concert-going crowd expected to see someone famous be a soloist; they expected a certain sort of perfection, and that was what they got. In contrast, Olive's musical evenings were attended by people who were either professional musicians themselves, or amateur musicians, and they were in the habit of making their own music for their own satisfaction. When they had heard that Helen Nordstrom would be visiting, there had been almost insane delight, tinged with concern that Helen would be too aloof. But there had been little or no aloofness; there had been a little shyness, and some lingering reserve, but Helen had been game to perform anything they wanted, within reason, while some of the younger folk had made friends with James, and kept him distracted.

"Helen, thank you for participating this evening. Sit down, listen to me."

Helen finished what she was doing, and came over to sit across from Olive. "I enjoyed it, Olive! What a wonderful thing it is, that you do for your friends! They're very lucky."

"Now don't turn Professor on me, young lady; I'm trying to say how grateful I am. Don't patronize me!" Olive was smiling, despite the words.

"You're very welcome!"

It was a wonderful visit, for the simple reason that Olive just loved having Helen in her home, as much as she loved having James. Sunday morning was a time to relax, but mid-morning they called up Sophie, who happened not to have returned home yet, and went out to the neighborhood tennis courts—just ordinary hard courts, this time—all four of them, and Olive got the opportunity to watch the two younger women play a few games, until people started turning up, and Sophie was recognized.

Helen and James returned home presently, and life resumed.

# # #

# Parent's Weekend

!t was traditional at Westfield to set aside a week as _Parent's Week_ , usually a little before the middle of the semester., and it was combined with a special reception for parents of Freshmen, who were encouraged to meet with the instructors of their freshmen. There were usually many musical events for the benefit of parents. At the end of Parent's Week was the Long Weekend, and Friday was a holiday.

Some weeks before all this was to take place, the Dean had been expressing his frustration at the fact that the school had still not been able to showcase their latest faculty asset, namely Helen Nordstrom.

Someone had gotten the idea of extracting, from the school band (which had thus far been mainly for Half-Time entertainment during football games) a select concert band. "That's something I never considered, because it's so much extra work to teach them things worth performing at a concert," Rich said. A big Parents' Day performance was being planned. "There are a number of students who are good players," Rich revealed, "but we don't have the instruments to loan out to them that some other schools do."

Helen suddenly paid attention. One of the most interesting projects that Helen had been involved with in her college days, and which she had revived while in graduate school, was an instrument factory that turned out reconstructions of 18th-Century period instruments, in a small facility in Philadelphia. It was managed by friends of Helen's, many of whom had been trained by the old instrument-maker who had drawn Helen into period music performance, which was what had started Helen off in her remarkable career in the first place. The little factory chugged along, turning out a couple of instruments a week, and had recently expanded into brass instruments. They had numerous instruments that were too flawed to sell, and were often loaned out to beginning performers in their little orchestra, but of course eventually the performers acquired good instruments of their own.

# # #

## Becky Calls

When Becky made her routine call one morning, Helen was startled by what she had to say. "Helen, what do you think about a photo shoot sometime?"

"Photo shoot? What for?"

"We don't have any up to date publicity photographs for your CD inserts. There's an event in Pittsburgh that you have been invited to, and you can get the photos taken while you're there. I can set up the whole thing for you easily."

"When is this event?"

Becky told Helen. It was the Saturday of Long Weekend.

"I want to get to St. Paul for the Long Weekend, then back to Pittsburgh for this event, then back to Cleveland to pick up Nadia... Becky, I just can't cope with all this driving around. It's not worth it anymore!"

Becky seemed to be laughing.

"OK, Helen, listen. We've been working behind the scenes, and we've decided that you need some staff over there."

Helen had to agree. She could sure use some help, to keep track of her concert schedule, as well as her family obligations.

"I don't want a dozen people here, duplicating the Philly office," Helen said, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Just two people. A transportation manager, and a personal assistant. And we've already found them for you!"

Helen was dazed by this high-speed implementation of planning that seemed to be taking place around her.

"Two people sound OK, I guess; but . . . Who _are_ they? Where did you find them?

Becky described how she had discovered these people, both right in Westfield.

The personal assistant—still tentative, since Helen would have to approve of her; they would be working too closely together for Becky to risk appointing her without Helen's participation—was originally from Philadelphia, but now settled in Westfield. She had attended the college, and met and married a man from the town. The marriage had not worked out, but she got along so well with her former in-laws that she had settled down in Westfield, and now worked at the Westfield Public Library.

Helen would meet the personal assistant the following day.

That night, Helen was talking to Sophie on the phone, when she remembered that she had an interview with the young woman who was to be her personal assistant right after her morning class. "I have a meeting with a new assistant, Sophie. Oh god, what if I fall in love with this woman, too?"

"Do you fall in love with every girl, Cherie? What nonsense is this?" Sophie was getting both irritated and alarmed. The problem was running away with her.

Somehow, Sophie managed to persuade Helen to prepare carefully for all her classes for Monday. You must be completely ready, she told Helen, just in case some complications come up. To her relief, Helen agreed, and hung up.

The next day, Helen headed back to her office after her morning class, and was intercepted by Rita. "There's a lady waiting for you, Miss Helen," she said, looking anxious.

Helen turned towards her office, and a young woman who had been seated outside her door got to her feet.

"I'm Elizabeth Schoorman 5," she said with a smile. "Miss Singer sent me!"

[5 Schoorman is pronounced 'Scoreman,' or at least that was how Betsy pronounced her own name.]

# # #

## Betsy

After Helen had calmed herself, she found it easy to talk to Betsy Schoorman, who seemed to be a really nice woman. She was divorced, and lived right in Westfield with her two daughters, Karen and Carol. She was a native of Philadelphia, and she and Helen talked a bit about the city in which Helen had gone to graduate school.

Helen explained as much about her work as she could, and she could see Betsy pick up the information very quickly. Becky had already talked to Betsy about what she would have to do, and once Helen had finished, it all made sense to the young woman. She had taken notes, and she left Helen, promising to be back the next morning.

# # #

## Orchestra Strategy

It was a few days later, and Helen was just back from her early class.

"Becky wants to know whether you want to make a contribution to the school," said Betsy, in her quiet voice. Helen studied Betsy's face, still learning the ins and outs of reading the young woman's body language. "She thought it might be expected, because we haven't given them anything at all, yet..." Betsy blushed, still a little uncomfortable about using "we" when talking about Helen's business organization.

"Hmm." Helen wondered how much she should draw Betsy into her thinking about musical activities. "It's so frustrating being here, because the school just doesn't have an orchestra," Helen said, trying to convey how frustrated she was, without whining. After all, Betsy probably had never known the life Helen had had as a leader of an orchestra.

But Betsy surprised Helen. "Oh, I know, Miss Helen," she said, eyes brightening. "I did see you with your little orchestra in Philly, one time," she said, with enthusiasm. "Westfield had a tiny orchestra when I was going here. It was just a few violins, a cello, and a couple of flutes and stuff." Helen was astounded. "It all depends on whether the kids coming in have learned violin; it changes so much from year to year!"

"I wonder whether we can improve things by offering a donation in a specific way?" Helen mused. "Like... I could donate a set of instruments which the College could lend out..."

"Miss Helen..."

"Just 'Helen' is fine, Betsy, really."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!" she blushed.

"OK, I'll give you a week to get over it!"

"I'll try!"

"Go on; why not donate instruments?"

"Oh, that's fine. A basic set of instruments would be great, especially if they're instruments the kids are unlikely to own."

Helen saw her point at once. The bottleneck was not the instruments, but the _students who could play them._ But Helen thought that it might be better if Betsy got to make the suggestion. "Yes? Did you have an idea beyond the instrument thing?"

"It might be a better idea to offer scholarships for students who could play certain instruments. That way, you're not going to end up with, like, a million kids playing flutes, which you would get anyway, and you could get your string players, and... whatever you need!"

So it happened that Helen told the President that The Nordstrom Fund would donate a few crucial instruments, such as an _oboe d'amore_ , two natural horns, a harpsichord, a lute, and two baroque flutes, and several thousand dollars in music scholarships for students who could play basic orchestra instruments: all the strings, and the rarer woodwinds that did not usually figure in college concert bands, such as oboes and bassoons. Now, if the plan worked, Helen would have a little orchestra that could perform most of what interested Helen, and she would also have an experimental orchestra with which her students could try out their orchestration exercises, which of course the students would love (but the orchestra would heartily dislike).

The last piece in the puzzle would be to possibly create a small period vocal ensemble to sing Baroque and Renaissance works, which would be good for the students, and interesting for Helen. She and Nadia would have to quickly put through a curriculum proposal to establish such a thing, because the entire body of the faculty had oversight over new courses and programs. "There won't be any difficulty, trust me," said Rich, "the choir is just too big as it is, and some of the kids in it are bored to tears with the basic same-old which we have to stick to, for the sake of the plodders. So far I've been able to take a sort of middle path, but..." he shook his head. Obviously the College choir was dying of its own popularity.

The three weeks left before Parents' Weekend were busy for everyone. Helen's Renaissance Brass were learning a few pieces, and Helen was coaching a dozen singing majors to sing a festive chorus accompanied by the brass. The singers were the very best in the school, and could sing practically anything from music, and now Helen was concentrating on ensemble and intonation. On Sunday night, they would put it all together, and see whether they were good enough for the parents!

Betsy announced that the plans for the instrument gift and the scholarships had been received with pleasure by the College President, and Becky was on board. "The school wants the scholarships to be an annual gift!"

Helen sighed. "Well, we knew that. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"I just wanted you to know. Marika and Lisa want you to write the liner notes for the Purcell CD before the holidays. They have cover art, but they want you to check it out, and see whether you have some ideas."

Betsy was really awesome. Helen was getting a lot more done just because Betsy kept her at it! How did ordinary people manage without personal assistants?

# # #

## The Wind Ensemble

When Parent's Weekend came around, the series of events for students and parents culminated in the concert by Helen's Renaissance Brass, and the applause was very gratifying indeed. Afterwards, the students brought their parents around to meet Helen, who took time to speak with them at length. One parent, in particular, turned out to be the father of one of the students in Rich's band, but this parent had been totally blown away by Helen's little group.

## Major Spiegel

"We just started two weeks ago," Helen revealed, "and I guess the kids were inspired by the music! It's practically one instrument per part," she said, wondering whether it made any sense to discuss technical matters with a parent who probably had absolutely no idea about brass instruments.

"It sounded perfectly wonderful," said the man, gravely. "Let me introduce myself; I'm Jim Spiegel." He offered his hand, and Helen shook it, tucking her baton under her arm. "I'm in charge of the band of the U.S. Marines, in Washington!" Helen blinked. A musician parent! "I would very much like to get you involved with the annual holiday concert of the Army, Navy and Air Force Bands! Would you consider that?"

At first, Helen thought he meant that Helen should provide him with ideas for music, but no; he actually wanted Helen to _conduct the bands._

## An Invitation!

"I would be _delighted,"_ Helen said, glowing, and he laughed. He said he wasn't surprised; it was a lot of fun. He had seen Helen conduct the Baltimore Symphony, and had been very impressed. He had been in line to speak to Helen then, but had been too late to actually get to Helen, and had been unwilling to push.

"I should have written or called, but it hadn't quite clicked that you were teaching here," he said. "Young Jim mentioned about a great new music teacher, but I didn't make the connection!"

"I don't think he's in any of my classes," Helen said, turning to look at the young fellow who was earnestly talking to some of the girls in Helen's group.

"No, he's not; I think he's friends with some of your students, though!"

Helen nodded. "I would love to participate," Helen said finally. She gave him her e-mail address at the school, and he gave her his card, and took his leave.

# # #

# Jim McDowell

A week or so earlier, Helen had learned that there was, in addition to a transportation manager, _a private plane which could seat twelve people._ Helen was stunned. She was informed that if she gave the word, she could be flown in and out of Westfield by plane in a fraction of the time it would have taken by car!

"A _plane?"_

"Sure! If you lived in a major city, Helen, you wouldn't need one, but in Westfield..."

"Okay, okay. Who is this guy, anyway?"

The gentleman Becky had found was a Westfield native called Jim McDowell, who was a retired commercial pilot. There was a tiny airstrip in Westfield, which Jim had kept up for years, hoping that someday he could afford his own plane. Initially Becky had approached him simply as someone who would chauffeur Helen in the Cherokee, so that she would not have to deal with parking and all the hassle at airports. But Jim had suggested the plane, and had seem so eager that Becky had run a few figures, and decided that they could break even with the plane, and save a _lot_ of time.

Helen got to meet Jim later that morning. He was a tall fellow, in his late sixties, with an old-time charming manner, and Helen and he took an instant liking to each other.

"It's a really nice propeller craft," he told Helen, "brand new paint job, and when I drop you off for the flight to St. Paul, I'll take possession of it. If we get there early, you can take a look at her!"

"How will you get back, if you drive the car out there?"

But Jim had that all figured out. Helen took some time getting her head around the plan, but it sounded good. They would try out the new plane on the Long Weekend, which was the weekend at the end of Parents' Week.

# # #

# Mid-Term Long Weekend

Once the parents had left, Helen's friends among the faculty came to speak to her, and she chatted with them for a while, observing Nadia and Nicole with Allie and James out of the corner of her eye.

A few students had snuck off with their parents after the concert on Wednesday. As she should have expected, the few students who remained paid total attention for three quarters of an hour, after which they completely refused to listen to any new material.

After class they all followed Helen to her office, and stayed to chat. Most of what they wanted to know was whether Helen was _actually dating anybody!_ Helen just could not get her ire up at the invasive questioning, but complained softly that they should not take liberties with people's feelings. They nodded solemnly, but then grinned, as if to say: you wouldn't get mad no matter _what_ we do!

"Cherie," said Nadia, when they got home, "I'm wondering, what will you do over Mid-Term Weekend, when I'm gone?"

"Gone? Where are you going?"

"Oh, Helen, you haven't been listening all week! I told Norma and Cecily I would spend the holiday with them. You have to help me get over there, Cherie. I don't want to have to take a bus."

"Oh no, I guess I'll drop you off. When are you leaving? When do you have to be there?"

On Thursday, after the morning's classes, Helen, Nadia and the kids packed themselves into the willing old Cherokee, filled it up with gas, which the old thing sucked up as if there were no tomorrow, and set out. Once she was on the way, Helen cheered up. She loved to be on the road, especially with company, who could hand her snacks and drinks while she enjoyed the driving. She replied to her old friend's chatter with half her mind, while she surreptitiously stole glances at the young women who occasionally passed her on their way West. Helen had to admit it: she hungered for a female body to hold, a pair of lips to kiss, an ear to spill her heart out into: Helen wanted to be in love once again.

She dropped Nadia off, greeted Norma Major and her cousin Cecilia warmly, and got back in the jeep with the baby, and glumly headed back home.

"Cherie, you can e-mail me anytime," Sophie had said, the last time they had spoken. "This e-mail business, it is perfect for me. I write what I mean, and I read what you mean, and there is no hurry, no rush to find the words, to try to guess what you are thinking... But if you want to call, call." That was some weeks ago. Helen had written, and Sophie had written back a couple of times. Now, with Nadia safely with her friends in Cleveland, and James fast asleep, Helen felt her loneliness weighing her down.

"Have you never felt as if you want someone to love, Sophie? After I give the children all the love they need, there is still love inside me, with nowhere to go! It actually hurts me!"

Helen stared at what she had written, and thought hard about deleting the whole thing, but then her hands sent it off of their own accord. It was too late now; Sophie would know how desperate she was, and Helen could never face her again.

Now she had to get ready for the visit to Ferguson, which was long in the planning. Just as she had packed the last bag with all their clothes in it, there was a knock on the door. Wondering who it could be, Helen went downstairs with James. It was two of her students!

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded, taken completely by surprise.

"Oh, we're staying over Long Weekend, Miss Helen! Hello, James!"

"Well, come in! Sit down; I'll get you some soda..."

"How about some beer?" asked one of them, grinning.

Helen shook her head. "A Coke? Pepsi?"

Helen was actually packed and ready, and could afford a few minutes to chat. While they were talking, the phone rang, and Helen picked it up, to find that it was Sophie.

"Hi, Sophie!"

Sophie asked how Helen was doing, and Helen quickly switched to French.

_May I speak in French?_ Helen asked quietly.

But certainly! Do you have company?

_Yes, a couple of my students have just paid me a surprise visit,_ Helen revealed.

_We can talk later,_ Sophie said quickly. _Your e-mail sounded... shall we say, as if you needed immediate attention!_

_Well,_ said Helen, _I can't lie; I want to talk to you at length. Maybe once I get to St. Paul?_

That will be fine. I will be available throughout the weekend. Call me!

Helen thanked her, and hung up.

# # #

# Mademoiselle Rain

"Miss Helen, were you talking Spanish?"

"No, idiot, that was French! Can't you tell French when you hear it?"

"Wow, Miss Helen! You talked so fast! Are you French? Have you lived in France? How come you know to talk French like that?"

"She must have learned it in school, Andie!"

Helen explained that she had friends who were French, and had learned the language when she was younger. "Don't you girls speak a foreign language? When I was in college, we had to take a year of a foreign language, and the music majors had to take _two_ languages!"

"Wow! I can say a few words in Spanish pretty well, like, Hasta la vista, baby!" she giggled.

"I can speak German, from high school," said the other one.

"Miss Helen! You know who you should go meet? It's Miss Rain!"

"Oh, yeah! Oh, Miss Helen, you absolutely _must_ meet Miss Rain!"

Helen was puzzled. "Who is this Miss Rain?"

"She's the French tutor! You know, when you learn a foreign language, like, you have these _tables?_ Didn't you have _tables,_ Miss Helen, where you went to school?"

"Yeah, Miss Rain does the French conversation table. She's awesome! You could talk French to her!"

Helen gradually pieced together that there were persons on the staff, not exactly faculty, but someone who was responsible for a large part of the conversational French program which students taking French had to participate in. Apparently there were conversation sessions in every language that was taught, and they took place in the evenings in the student lounge or in the cafeteria, and they were called the French Table, or something like that. The two girls were so insistent that Helen should meet this woman that Helen's curiosity was piqued.

"Miss Helen! _Look!"_ the two young ladies said in an urgent whisper. After some confusion, Helen learned that _Mlle_ Rain was actually taking a walk down the road just then, and was approaching Helen's house! The girls practically hauled Helen out to the street.

Helen saw a thin girl with sharp features, wearing a stiff skirt and a heavy sweater. walking towards them. She had spiky, jet black hair, too black to be natural. Helen could see the glint of a piercing in her eyebrow, and possibly in her ears. As she drew closer, she looked a little uncertain, probably not knowing what the girls wanted of her. Helen was unsure whether she herself could be recognized by everyone at the college. She had gathered from the two girls that this Rain was somewhat reclusive. She was still a moderate distance away.

"Do you know her well, you two? What am I to say to her?" asked Helen softly, though she was intrigued.

"She's real friendly," said Andie, confidently, though the observation hardly reassured Helen, given the air-headedness of the source.

The approaching woman slowed down, and turned aside slightly to greet them.

" _Bon jour!"_ she said, with a sardonic smile, and proceeded to speak to the two students in French. _Are you staying for the Holiday?_

"We don't talk French, Miss Rain! I'm doing Spanish, and Stacy does German! You'll have to talk English!"

The woman switched to German without a pause.

So, Stacy! Let it be German, then! Are you going to be here for the break? Perhaps we can meet, and practice our German sometime!

"Oh, Fräulein Rain... Only if we have to!"

In German, please!

While the linguistic battle proceeded, however friendly it was, Helen had the opportunity to size the woman up. Thus far she had only smiled at Helen fleetingly in passing, to acknowledge her presence, and to let her know that Rain knew she wasn't a student.

"Miss Rain, you could talk French with Miss Helen, here!"

Introduce me to your friend, Stacy. You know how to do it, by now.

_Fr_ _äulein_ _Rain, this is Miss Helen. Miss Helen, this is Fr_ _äulein Rain!_

Helen simply had to play the game!

_I would prefer to be introduced as Dr. Nordstrom, Stacy. So pleased to meet you, Fr_ _äulein!_

Rain's expression changed at once. Helen realized that the woman had not recognized her at all.

_I did not know you spoke German, and so fluently! Do I detect... the speech of D_ _üsseldorf?_

Helen was startled. She did not know what regional accent she had acquired, because she had learned the language during the time that was missing from her memory. She had no time to get into details. She simply shrugged, and gave Rain a rueful smile.

_It is a long story, Fr_ _äulein! If you detect a dialect, it must be so!_

"She talks French, too! Talk to her in French, Miss Helen!"

_Be respectful, dear. She is Dr. Nordstrom,_ said Rain, in excellent Spanish, as far as Helen could tell, not knowing the language well enough to say.

Andie was mortified. "We just call her Miss Helen!" she said, blushing.

Rain smiled and held out her hand, and Helen shook it. She had a pretty smile, and Helen had difficulty disguising the fact that she found the young French conversation specialist intriguing.

_I'm about to leave for Pittsburgh, to spend Long Weekend with my other children,_ Helen said in a hurry. _You must excuse me!_

_Perhaps we could meet again when you return!_ Said Rain, grave-faced, and Helen quickly agreed, and they took their leave of each other, and Helen went back in the house with James, leaving her students to Rain.

When Jim showed up shortly afterwards and knocked on the door, Helen saw no sign of the two students or Rain. They piled into the spacious old Buick, and set off for Pittsburgh.

The big excitement in Pittsburgh for Helen was being shown the new plane, which she could not believe was actually theirs. It was a lovely old machine, of Seventies vintage, freshly painted, very carefully, and Jim assured Helen that it had been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Once Helen had studied the plane as closely as she could, given how much of a hurry she was in, she thanked everyone, and was hurried over to the commercial aviation side of the airport, and presently Helen and the kids were settled in their seats, headed for St. Paul, and Erin and Gena.

Despite the prospect of being reunited with the two older girls, Helen's head was full of Sophie and Rain. The thought of Sophie was like a soft breeze, refreshing, simple and pleasant. The thought of Rain, though, was strangely disturbing. Her voice was utterly musical, and her French and her German impeccable. If Westfield could afford a conversation specialist of that caliber, Helen thought, their modern languages program must be amazingly good. But as a person, Rain, however intriguing, was a closed book. She was most definitely a Goth chick, Helen could tell. The piercings and a small tattoo Helen had noticed on her ankle, as well as the dark lipstick and the makeup declared her to be so. The black blouse had been mostly concealed by the heavy patterned cardigan she had worn, but the heavy pleated woolen skirt could have been worn by anyone. It was very stylish, if severe, and her hose and flat shoes were traditional, even preppy. What an enigma!

But she took her duties seriously, obviously. Helen liked that. It was something to think about, that language instructors could never be off-duty, in this day and age. The kids were far too lazy, linguistically speaking; Rain went about with a sort of cloud of total-immersion wrapped around her.

# # #

Ferguson

With Jim's help, Helen easily caught the plane to Ferguson. The flight was uneventful, and it was early evening when they landed.

Helen stepped off the plane with James on her hip. A little later, she was greeted by an enormous welcome committee, consisting of Old Elly, Janet, the Twins (consisting of Helen's step sister Tommy, and Janet's daughter, Elly), and Gena and Erin. They immediately mobbed Helen, and stole Jamie away, after smothering Helen with kisses. They were in Ferguson in about an hour.

When she got to the house, she was in for yet another surprise. She saw, in addition to Cindy, her father, John Nordstrom, her stepmother, Annie (who was, of course, ironically, her old high school classmate, and who also had a role on _The Galaxy Show_ ), and her half-brother, Little John, now a tall fifteen year old!

"And guess what! We're all coming back with you to Westfield, right after breakfast tomorrow!" yelled Gena and Little Elly, the official family noisy people. Somehow, between Becky in Philadelphia, and Janet and Old Elly, plans had been put together for the family to come visit her in Pennsylvania.

Helen remembered her commitments in Pittsburgh. "I'm supposed to be in Pittsburgh on Saturday," she said, worriedly. But Old Elly said, looking a little doubtful, that Becky had mentioned something about that, but it hadn't been considered very much of a problem.

"Oh!" Helen grinned, remembering something else. "Guess what! You're not going to believe this!"

"What?"

"I own a _plane!"_

There was dead silence.

"Are you sure that's wise, Helen? It must be expensive."

Helen covered her cheeks, which were quite red. They had never considered themselves in the class of people who actually owned planes. This was a big step for them, and Helen had not prepared herself to defend the purchase to the family. "Apparently it wasn't a huge amount of money, and... I suppose, if it got too expensive, I could sell it..."

John Nordstrom nodded. "There are some small planes in the hangars back in our airfield, in Kansas," he said. The Nordstroms lived in rural Kansas, and though personal aircraft hadn't been part of Helen's experience (except briefly while she had spent some time in Canada), they were not unheard of among wealthier folk who lived in rural areas.

"Do we get to see it?" asked Little John and the Twins, at once. Helen said, yes, of course they would.

Once Helen had spent time with her father, and Little John, Gena, and Erin, and been subjected to the adoration of the Twins, who loved her dearly, Helen had to be restrained from trying to cook dinner single-handedly. They had to show Mama their reports from school, and regale her with stories about Elly. Tommy was a quiet girl, for the most part, and in the last few years, Elly and Tommy had become a couple. But Elly was quite a character, unlike her soft-spoken and very sedate mother, Janet.

# # #

## Talking to Sophie on the Phone

Because of the time difference, Helen and Baby James were ready for bed before the others. Early the next morning, Helen went on her usual run, which was interrupted by many Ferguson residents who remembered her from her stay there. When she got back, after she had fed James, she put through a call to Sophie, who was happy to hear from her, and told her about the intriguing _Fr_ _äulein_ Rain. Sophie was interested, but wanted to know more. Helen realized that Sophie wasn't going to give _Fr_ _äulein_ Rain her full endorsement until she was thoroughly certain of her worthiness!

Helen was amused and touched. Lorna, the young woman who was now Becky's girlfriend, had been fiercely protective of Helen when she had first started looking after Alison and Gena for Helen while Helen was in grad school. (She had come by every day, early in the morning, around six, and helped get them fed and dressed while Helen ran her three mile circuit in the morning, after which Lorna, about fifteen at that time, would go off to school, while Helen took Gena to her school, and headed off to the University with Alison.) Now Sophie was getting just as fiercely protective of Helen, and she hoped that they would not get into a relationship that would destroy them both, as Helen sometimes feared would happen with Lorna. To be honest, desire for Lorna still smoldered in Helen's belly, ready to burst into flame at the slightest provocation, but she hadn't seen Lorna for almost a year, which was a good thing.

"So who's that?" the Twins wanted to know, having sneaked up on Helen without her knowledge.

Helen glared at them. "What did you hear?"

"Just Sophie this, and Sophie that! Obviously someone whose name is _not_ Sophie, right?"

Helen sighed. Sooner or later they would find out.

"It's Sophie Cocteau."

" _What??_ Are _you kidding?"_

"The tennis babe?"

"I don't know about _babe_ , but she plays tennis, yeah," Helen said with a scowl.

Right away the two girls were running around the house screaming that Helen's latest squeeze was the tennis babe Sophie Cocteau.

At first Helen was frustrated, but the Twins had a dozen magazines that showed Sophie, and soon Helen was distracted by how attractive Sophie was in the photos. She was built just perfectly, the perfect athletic female, very tightly put together, but with a somewhat plain, cheerful face, which could, no doubt, be made to look sexy very easily with makeup and a good hairdo. On the courts she wore her short, straight brown hair simply tied back, nicely framing her oval face, and Helen had to admit, emphasizing her pretty brown eyes. In some of the pictures, her eyes were slitted, watching her opponent, or getting off one of her impossible kick serves.

"So tell me about your house," asked Dad.

Helen told him every little detail about how she had fixed it up. She had already told him all this over the phone, and he had given her advice, but he knew she would love to talk about it anyway, and he listened, his eyes twinkling. Helen told him how she had fixed up Nadia's apartment comfortably, so that she could do most of what she wanted without going up and down the stairs.

"Got all the furniture and fixings you need?" he asked, artlessly.

"Dad, don't worry about anything. I can get used furniture from around there, I just have to look."

"What happens when we all come down to visit? You're going to need a nice big table!"

Helen looked at him in dismay.

"Oh dear!"

John Nordstrom laughed his quiet laugh. "We'll see what we can do," he said. Helen looked at him thoughtfully. The Nordstroms were a poor family, and Helen's father had no financial resources whatsoever, except for his tiny Kansas farm, which was being managed at the moment by Annie's son Bo and his wife. Helen knew Dad wanted to get back as soon as he could. But things had begun to sour between Dad and Annie; and Janet and Cindy were quietly planning to be ready if and when Annie decided to ask for a divorce. But Helen knew better than to talk to Dad about Annie.

"I'd like you to come spend some time with me in Westfield, Dad! Is there any chance you could come, get me organized? Can Bo hold the fort for a while?"

John Nordstrom shifted in his seat, threw a brief suspicious glance at his daughter, and smothered a sigh. "Have you heard anything?"

Helen shook her head vigorously, but Dad knew by the way she colored. Helen was an unconvincing liar.

The next day, when they all headed out to Westfield, Annie and Old Elly stayed behind. Annie had privately asked Helen to keep her father with her for a few weeks, and Helen had agreed, feeling terrible. Annie had hung her head, mumbling that Helen needed not worry about what happens between her father and Annie. Helen had talked a little more, and then gone off to talk to Old Elly about the issue. Old Elly was usually a wonderful person to talk to about this kind of problem. In this case, Old Elly confessed, she herself might be part of the problem.

Becky had arranged for all of them to fly to Pittsburgh on Saturday at noon: Helen and the four children, the Twins, Janet, and John Nordstrom. There were tickets for Annie and Grelly as well, but those two were headed out to Kansas separately, to put things in order there, but mainly to arrange for Annie to move to St. Paul.

The Pittsburgh flight was uneventful, but when they arrived, and got out of Baggage Claim, Jim McDowell was waiting for them with a big smile. "I have a van ready for you," he said, and all their stuff was piled in the back of the enormous van, and they drove around to the private aviation side of the great big airport, and found themselves gazing at a dazzling white airplane.

# # #

# The Plane

From close up it looked huge, but compared to the jetliner which they had just got off, it was tiny. The travelers were formally introduced to Jim McDowell. The weather was dry, and they had no difficulty getting up the steps into the plane, and getting their belongings battened down in the various areas Jim had set apart for luggage. "Well," he said, "we'll see what she can do today! A full load!"

"Good thing Mom isn't along," said Little John, facetiously. (Little John's mother was Annie.)

"Yes, I was expecting eleven passengers, so I guess someone stayed behind!" Helen changed the subject quickly.

Clearly, distributing the weight was a big deal. It took almost half an hour until Jim was satisfied with the luggage storage. John Nordstrom Senior was invited to sit up front with Jim, and everybody else got seated and fastened their seatbelts, and Jim contacted the control tower. They had a small runway separate from the commercial flights, and presently they were given the word to move out and wait.

Helen watched fascinated. They taxied out to the runway, waited for another plane to take off, then there was some waiting while Jim talked intermittently with the control tower, and then they were taxiing out, and they were on the runway, the propellers making quite a noise, and they were off.

"We're up, but we weren't going very fast at all!" Helen observed to Janet, who was sitting by her.

"I think that's something special with propeller planes," Janet said quietly. They had been asked to wear the headgear which would keep them in electronic communication because of the high noise level, but Helen and Janet had taken them off.

After about twenty minutes, Dad, with whom Jim had been talking, got out of his seat, and came to trade places with Helen. Helen eagerly headed forward to sit by Jim, as the older kids looked on enviously. Helen turned, hearing little Elly say something on the lines that it wasn't fair, and called out, "Hey, it's my plane!" at which Elly stuck her tongue out.

"Wanna fly her for a bit?"

"Oh, no, Jim, that wouldn't be safe, would it?"

But there were dual controls, and Jim got Helen to hold the stick for several minutes, and commended her for doing a good job. Helen simply loved it! In half an hour, she was completely hooked.

Jim pointed out the tiny airstrip on which they would land, circled round, and touched down with only a slight bump.

"Whoa! That was awesome!" yelled the Twins and Little John, and presently they were piling into the Cherokee and the Buick, which were waiting, ready for them, and just as the sky went completely dark, they rolled up to the little house in which Helen lived.

Early the next morning, Helen and Janet walked to the little neighborhood grocery store and got supplies for the weekend. Helen was leaving Janet and Dad in charge of the family while she went down to Pittsburgh for the meeting and the photo shoot. Presently the visitors woke up, still being on Mountain Time, and sat down to the big breakfast Helen and Janet had cooked up. Then it was time for Helen to head out with Jim once again, in the new plane.

# # #

It did make things a lot easier. Rather than the two hours it normally took to get out to Pittsburgh, battling traffic for the last half hour, they were there in half an hour, but then had to rent a car at the terminal. But having Jim there made all the difference. He deposited her at a small hotel near the university, and Helen settled in, while Jim headed back to attend to plane-related matters.

Helen called Becky, and got a startling piece of information. There was a knock on her door, and when Helen answered it, it was Lorna.

"I figured that you would never let me see you, so I asked Becky to let me come over!"

"But, Lorna, what..."

"I'm just going to help you dress for the meeting, and for the photo shoot, and then there's a party, did you know?"

"What party?"

Lorna shrugged, and gave Helen a big hug, and a soft kiss on her lips.

Helen held her by her shoulders and looked at her, upset at several different levels. "Lorna," she said, in a quiet, reasonable tone, though she was very upset and angry indeed. Upset and angry did not work with Lorna, Helen knew well. "You're Becky's girl. All the silly things we do together have the potential of making a tragedy for everybody. You have to be mature about what it means to have a long-term relationship with a woman. You're not just having an affair with Becky. This is serious. You're making a life together."

Lorna let Helen have her say, then she sat down on the bed and gazed at Helen, choosing her words carefully.

"You don't really understand how I feel about you being all alone. I can feel your loneliness all the way in Philly! I'm not a child, Helen. You're used to thinking that I'm a kid, and that I don't know."

"You can't... have sex with me, and still be Becky's woman."

Lorna was very hurt, but this time she just tightened her lips, and stood up, and said she would just go get Helen's clothes, which she had brought with her. Helen couldn't say whether she had accepted Helen's ultimatum, or whether she was just avoiding the issue. She had taken the room next door, and came back with an enormous garment bag with a number of pieces which she proceeded to hang up.

"Thanks," said Helen, dully.

"It's OK," said Lorna, barely audibly.

Helen remembered to take a good look at her; after all, she might not see her for months, after this visit. She was dressing more grown-up, now. She wore a reasonable length skirt and a shirt in a soft fabric, and a tie, and fashionable boots with heels. She moved like pure music.

"Go on and undress; you've got a meeting in a few minutes. Becky said I should come along as your assistant."

"It wouldn't interest you; it's just the directors of Amy's foundation."

"It's not for you, Helen; Becky wants to put me on the board."

Helen was startled. "She can't; not until you're eighteen!"

"She knows. It won't happen until next year."

Helen shook her head. Lorna had been just a kid when she had been babysitting Gena and Allie. _She's a woman,_ Helen thought to herself, _she should know better than to throw herself at me._

Lorna pushed her into the bath, asking her to freshen up before she put the new clothes on. Lorna hated Helen putting on clothes when she was all sweaty. (She had dressed Helen for a year while Helen was still in grad school, when Helen had been in great demand for concerts around the country.)

It was annoying to feel Lorna's hands on her body, but Lorna was being very restrained. She had Helen dressed and ready, and helped with her makeup, and Helen was disconcerted to see that she looked a lot better put together than she had been in more than a year. She missed Lorna's constant attention to Helen's appearance. She smiled at Lorna in acknowledgment, making her just glow with pleasure.

Helen was surprised at how much of the meeting Lorna was absorbing. The charitable foundation (which Helen and her surgeon friend Amy Salvatori had put together to provide surgery for poor infants) met once a year, but there was plenty to discuss.

There was a break, and Lorna had numerous questions for Helen, and she realized that the girl was taking a serious interest in the charity, and was very concerned about the finances of it which were being badly hurt by the poorly performing stock market.

Lorna took Helen out to lunch after the meeting, and she took her responsibility as the host almost comically seriously. But she knew what she was doing, and she had a credit card, and they had a good time. They had a few minutes before the shoot began, and they headed back to the hotel.

Somehow, once they were in Helen's room, and Helen was undressed, the two of them found themselves in bed, and Helen was helpless against Lorna's knowing hands and her clever tongue, and Helen was soon practically senseless with an overdose of pleasure. Helen had always needed a lot of sex, and so had Lorna, and Helen had known it was a mistake to let Lorna anywhere near her, but Lorna was impossible to control, certainly impossible with Helen's state of mind being the way it was.

"You needed that. I needed that," said Lorna, her face inches away from Helen's. Helen began to weep, and Lorna was weeping too, in sympathy with Helen. But Lorna dried her eyes impatiently, and watched Helen, her arms crossed, waiting for her to pull herself together.

She fetched some preparation she had brought along to get the red out of Helen's eyes, scolding softly to herself, walking about the room completely and fabulously naked. Helen could hardly keep her eyes off her. Helen washed up, and Lorna tried to dress her again, while Helen impatiently pushed her away. But Lorna scolded Helen, and got her ready, and got herself ready, and they were soon at the studio, where Helen had a two-hour photo shoot in every conceivable pose.

Lorna's plane was mid-afternoon, and Helen called Jim and had her ferried out, with her several bags. Lorna was annoyed that Helen did not come to see her off at the airport, but Helen begged off, saying that she needed to rest before the reception that evening.

She called Sophie, and brought her up to date with Lorna and her attentions, both welcome and unwelcome, and Sophie sighed. "As long as you're alone, Cherie, this sex thing is going to happen. I don't know what to say."

"What's there to say? I'm a slut, Sophie; I'm an orgy waiting to happen!"

"It takes two, Cherie."

"But she's a kid!"

"Not exactly. But we will work on the problem, okay? Try to stay away from her, Helen. Not because sex is bad, but because look, you are so broken up after it happen!"

"I know."

# # #

## The Pittsburgh Reception

The reception, which took place at the very hotel in which Helen had taken a room for the day, was given by a musical society related to the Pittsburgh Symphony and the several universities in the Pittsburgh area, and orchestras in Pittsburgh. It was for up-and-coming composers in the northeastern region of the US, to make their work known to the musical organizations, with a view to getting their works performed.

Feeling angry and frustrated at losing control of her life and her affairs, and annoyed with Lorna, but also loving her very much, Helen moped in her room until just before the reception was to take place, and then putting on one of her favorite pieces of clothing, a clingy silk calf-length gown in rust red, and a black denim jacket over it, Helen left her room in search of the reception. It was just getting under way when she arrived, and stood just inside the doorway, wondering how to proceed.

Luckily for her, she was spotted by a musician colleague from one of the major universities of the city, and was walked over to where the chair of the Pitt music department was talking to a number of senior faculty.

They were discussing two young people, a man and a woman, who had both just completed their graduate work, both in composition.

"He's coming, I know it," said a junior professor whom Helen knew from her graduate school days, talking about the man. They broke off from talking about the two enfants terrible, and politely asked Helen how things were coming along with her, and argued with her about why she chose to study one of the most studied composers in history, while she could so easily study something more closely related to violin, and so on. Helen explained that the choice grew out of her early love of singing, and then she had to defend why she hardly sang anymore. Just then, the two people who had been talked about came in through the door, dressed deliberately down, in the manner of young geniuses of the time, as a protest against formally dressed authority. Helen smiled, since she herself had made a gesture towards dressing down with her denim jacket.

Presently the two young people came to the circle in which Helen was standing, and were introduced around, and Helen had to listen to a certain amount of ribbing about her TV series.

"I think it's a great idea," said one of the older folks, "making a statement about the value of the arts."

"I don't have a problem with the concept," said the young woman, "except for the terrible writing for the woman—what's her name?"

"Cecilia?"

"Yeah, her. What a vapid personality! It can't be _you;_ I mean, that's _impossible_. I don't see why a musician should be portrayed as so disgustingly naïve!"

Helen controlled her annoyance; as it happened, despite her sexual promiscuity, which embarrassed even Helen, her other values were quite conservative and altruistic, and naïve, as the woman would have called it. It was just that the character Cecilia wore her naïveté like a banner, whereas Helen kept her innocence more private.

"Miss Nordstrom is very Old Guard," said the young man. "She doesn't approve of the cynicism of her younger colleagues!" He laughed. "She represents Old Man Bach, since he can't be present in the 20th Century!"

Helen finally spoke. "I don't approve of cynicism in _anyone,"_ she said peaceably.

"I could have sworn that you would have nothing to do with modern music. I could have sworn that you would think music written after 1920 is cynical in its very creation." That was the young man, whose name was Bill Yves.

Helen couldn't quite let that pass. Honestly, she cared very little for music of the latter half of the 20th Century, but she didn't want to be assumed to condemn a piece without ever hearing it. "You hardly know me," she said, gently reproachful. The young people had forgotten that the gathering was not just the people they knew well, but was a larger circle, and Helen resented their assumptions and their familiar behavior. "I would dislike a piece only after I've heard it!"

"For instance, if someone were to write a concerto for you, would you play it?"

"Certainly. At least once!"

"If I were to write one, would you play it?"

" _Anyone,_ including you! If you wrote a good one, and if you would consider suggestions to make it more playable, I would certainly play it!"

" _Done!_ I'm going to write one, and you have to play it! Or you'll have to accept that you're prejudiced against modern music!"

Helen was picked up by Jim later that evening, and she was thoughtful all the way home. But by the time they circled to land in the poorly lighted airstrip, Helen had forgotten all about Bill Yves's threatened violin concerto.

# # #

## The Family Inspects Westfield

The folks at home had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, despite Helen's absence, and they deplored having just one day left to enjoy the sights of Westfield and its vicinity before they had to leave.

It had been arranged that Alison would stay behind with Mama. (Recall that Alison was adopted; in fact, she was Gena's biological sister.) When they piled into the plane on Sunday evening, Jim, as was becoming the routine, got Helen to sit at the controls up in front with him. But after everyone leaving for Minnesota had been dropped off at the commercial side of the terminal, Helen turned to Jim.

"Now, how do we get Nadia back from Cleveland?"

Jim turned and started walking back towards the shuttle that had brought them around to the check-in counter. Helen, James, Allie and Grandpa John followed. "How would you like to get a little more flying in?"

Helen's eyes brightened up. "I guess Cleveland isn't that far by air, huh?"

# # #

## Flight Trainee Helen!

But Jim had a bigger surprise: he had signed up Helen for Pilot's License Training! Once she took the paper test, all the hours of flying she was logging would count towards her pilot's certificate. "But isn't it very difficult?"

"Well, there's mathematics, and some technical skills, which you will have to learn; but your Dad tells me that you're good at math!"

Helen glanced at her father, who was grinning at them both. She had a pretty good idea about the kind of mathematics a pilot would have to know, and now that she had thought about it a little, it wasn't going to be very hard, since she had taken mathematics and physics in college, and done very well. She had never realized that they would come in so useful.

Presently they were buckled in, and ready to take off. The plane had been refueled, and Helen was beginning to be alarmed at the cost of the fuel. Still, it was comparable to the expense of driving down in the Jeep; perhaps 5 times the cost.

Helen should have expected that Jim would ask her to take off. Under his careful guidance, Helen speeded up, and pulled up on the stick, to make a creditable first take off on the large Pittsburgh runway. "It's going to be a little harder in Westfield, but she's good at take-offs," said Jim.

"Who, me?"

"No," laughed Jim, "the plane! It's pretty easy to fly."

Once they were in the air, Jim insisted that they flew low enough that Helen could use landmarks to navigate. "To fly higher, you have to be able to fly using only the instruments."

"Show me how to use the instruments," Helen said at once.

"Mama, be careful," said Alison, ever concerned about her Mama. Helen was amused to see that the warning was more a token expression of concern; the young lady was not really nervous!

Helen was cautioned to keep a very careful lookout for other planes; low-flying planes were being piloted by inexperienced pilots like Helen herself, who had to be given a lot of leeway. In addition, she had to be concerned with high buildings and towers, not to mention geographical formations that could be quite high near Pittsburgh.

Before Helen could really get involved in how the instruments worked, it was time to call in to Cleveland, as they entered their airspace. Helen was allowed to identify the plane.

"So, now I'm the radio officer, huh?"

"Be serious; just call in! Go on!"

Helen cleared her throat, and turning on the radio channel, she called out what Jim had coached her to say. A second or two later, Cleveland spoke to Helen, telling her which approach to take.

"I love this!" Helen said, a broad smile shining on her face. "They seem to be so nice!"

Jim broke out in a guffaw. He was no end amused at Helen's delight at every little thing. "Do you think you're ready to bring the plane down?"

"Land it? I've only flown it less than half an hour, Jim! Is that legal?"

"Well, I'll be on the controls, too. This is how you get started, Miss Nordstrom!"

It was the most frightening maneuver Helen had undertaken yet, especially since Helen happened to know that landings were the most dangerous operations in flying, something she had not brought up. She had figured that if Jim didn't know that, nobody would.

Once the plane rolled to a stop, Alison and Grandpa cheered, and Helen turned and blushed, since they had to know that it had really been Jim who had landed the plane.

Norma and Cecily were sad to see Nadia leave, but they were slightly distracted by Helen's story of having flown the plane.

"Cherie, so are we flying back home?"

"Yes! Isn't that lovely?"

"I suppose it will be faster, no?"

"Well, let's see; it took about an hour to get here from Pittsburgh, so..."

"Half an hour?"

"I don't really know; I think about forty-five minutes?"

"In that case," said Cecilia, "let me get a better look at these two! Oh, how big you've grown, little girl!"

"It's Alison," said she, with a gracious smile.

"Of course it is! And do you remember my name?"

Alison bashfully shook her head, and she had to be told. After another quarter of an hour of visiting, the little group was ready to leave. They got comfortable in the rented car (since neither of the older ladies drove, and Helen's friend Amy was away visiting,) and were soon at the little plane, where Helen's father and Jim were getting to know each other a little better.

From that day on, Helen flew every chance she got, and Jim declared that she was an excellent pilot. She flew the plane, he said, as if she was playing it like a violin.

Once everyone was back in the little house on E. Little Farm Road, as the street was called, and Jim had gone home, refusing supper, Nadia and Dad hit it off very well. Dad wasn't one to recall the Good Old Days and sigh, but he was pleased to meet someone who appreciated old things and old traditions just as he did. And he was an excellent listener, and Nadia needed to talk, so they sat and chatted. They talked about little James.

"He says: 'Mumm, mumm' when he's hungry, that's all!" said Nadia.

"He really does!" added Helen.

# # #

Nadia and Helen walked to work, which was their habit on Mondays. Helen had prepared carefully, and her first lesson went like clockwork. It was so interesting that halfway through, Helen forgot about _Mlle_ Rain, and did a really good job with the lesson.

Helen closed the door and sat down to think. Her pulse was racing like crazy, she felt wonderful, she felt a little dazed, but time seemed to be passing too slowly. She tried to look over her materials for the class she had at 10, but she could not focus. She looked out her window, and to her surprise saw Dad and little Allie walking across the Quadrangle. At first, her reaction was to run out and down the steps to see if they needed anything, but then good sense prevailed, and she just observed them. They were looking up at the faculty offices, but they could not see Helen, despite her vigorous waving. Then a couple of students spotted them, and presently they were surrounded by a half-dozen undergrads, some of them kneeling on the grass to talk to Alison. Helen could just imagine her saying: "It's _Alison_ ," the way she always did, looking slightly cross. But she was smiling, and nodding away, so evidently there was no disagreement there!

Helen felt a feeling of pleasure wash over her. It was wonderful to feel that Allie was growing up so beautifully, and Helen would be ascribed the credit for doing it, whereas Allie was perfect with hardly any intervention on Helen's part, and the same with Gena, who was universally loved at Ferguson, as far as Helen knew from Jan's and Old Elly's reports.

An hour passed, and it was time for the next class. Helen picked up her stuff, and walked as sedately as she could out to the classroom, hoping that she did not look all red in the face. She felt as though her face must be burning.

Except for a few curious glances, which Helen answered with bright smiles, there seemed nothing out of the ordinary with the class. Helen worked them hard; the energy to do so came out of nowhere. They were so intent on the material, and the exercises they were working on, that they did not focus on Helen much at all. Before they realized it, the class was over.

"We met your Dad and your little girl out in the Quad!"

"So I noticed," answered Helen, with a smile. "What does she say?"

"She says her name is Alison, and her sisters are Gena and... Eileen?"

"Erin," Helen supplied.

"Yeah! And they're adopted?" Helen nodded. "But the little boy is yours, right?" Helen nodded again, smiling. They were so intensely curious about her!

Some questions about what was happening in _Galaxy_ followed, and finally a question about whether Helen had met _Mam'selle_ Rain, which had never come up before, and Helen indicated that she had.

"She speaks German, I learned!"

" _And_ French, and Spanish too!"

Helen nodded. "It becomes easier once you learn one language," she observed.

The student's eyes opened wide. _Can you actually speak French well?_ she asked, and Helen replied calmly in that language that she certainly did, and she would be happy to talk French any time Astrid wished. She smiled at the other students enigmatically, while they clamored to know what the conversation had been about. Astrid translated. She was actually quite good, and Helen was impressed.

The next day, Helen had a lot of time, but she was occupied with Betsy. Early morning Betsy was at her office, and Helen handed her mail to Betsy at Betsy's request. Helen had placed a little desk inside her office at which Betsy could sit if she wished, and Betsy shyly set out a few items of stationary on it, to take possession, as it were. "I'll sit here and go through your mail, while you do your class," Betsy said, smiling.

"It's recitation," Helen explained. "It's more like supervised homework than anything else! You can come watch, sometime!"

Betsy tactfully declined, but when Helen came back two hours later, Betsy had gone through her mail, and the two of them dispatched most of it in a few minutes.

"Let's go and meet Jim McDowell," Helen suggested, and Betsy got her purse, and they set out on foot. Luckily, Betsy was as comfortable walking everywhere, just as Helen was.

The McDowells lived just off the main strip of the town, in a moderate-sized old house in a little lot. They had tea, and Helen met Mrs. McDowell, the Martha about whom Jim was always speaking. They all got along well together, and Helen was pleased. When Helen was busy, Jim would have to take orders from Betsy.

They met with Nadia and Dad for lunch, and Allie and James met Betsy, and Helen could see that the kids liked Betsy very well. Betsy was a sweet, inoffensive, smart girl who was affectionate with the kids, but quietly efficient. Apart from the Philadelphia office team, which consisted of Becky and a receptionist called Flo, and Robin in California or New York, who fielded Helen's concert engagement requests and filtered them, and Helen's cousin Marika Johnson, and Lisa Wallace, Helen's college friend, who were Helen's recording engineers, Betsy had now met everybody.

# # #

# Language Table

Helen had put James to bed, and Nadia knew to keep a listen for him. Allie and Helen headed out to the College, Helen hoping to find the elusive Rain somewhere on Campus. It was amazing that they had never met over the last two months, on such a small campus.

The student lounge was fairly busy with students trying to get some homework done, but there was no one Helen knew. Looking through the glass wall of the Library, Helen could see a number of familiar faces, so she hurried away, because she had an agenda. Some distance away, she could hear a vague racket, and all the lights were on in the Student Union building, which, Helen remembered, housed the Cafeteria. Helen headed there across the Quadrangle, answering Allie's questions about what every building was.

Allie was curious to see the Dining Room of the big kids. There was a separate area where students could fill up their plates and go sit near the Television, talking at the tops of their voices while they watched football, or whatever there was to watch. The _Caf_ itself was fairly quiet, and there, in the farthest corner, Helen saw a black-clad figure, with the glint of jewelry in her ears, surrounded by a half-dozen students. The students wanted to talk, Helen could see, but they were frustrated by their poor vocabulary. This was a group of freshmen, obviously.

"Miss Helen! It's Miss Helen, _Fr_ _äulein_ Rain!"

Fräulein Rain looked over leisurely. Helen thought: _she has style_. Helen was unaccountably anxious to make a good impression, but all the complicated plans she had made to look as if she was on some definite errand were derailed, now that she had been spotted. Rain smiled, and Helen was lost. She had a lovely, radiant, tranquil smile that completely captivated Helen, and which was given a special glow by a nose ornament she wore that evening.

Helen walked up with Alison, as sedately as she could manage. So they were doing German, obviously, if it was _Fr_ _äulein_ today, and not _Mam'selle_.

"Hi, Miss Helen! Come and join us! We're practicing German! Do you know any German? Hi little girl!"

"It's Alison," said she quietly, and patiently.

_Speak in Deutsch_ , Rain reminded her students. _Ask Fr_ _äulein Doctor Nordstrom whether she speaks the language._

_Fr_ _äulein..._

Doctor...

_"Fr_ _äulein Doctor?_ Is that how it goes?"

" _Ja_."

_Fr_ _äulein Doctor, uh, Nordstrom, do you speak German?_

I certainly do! May we join you briefly?

Oh, certainly, as long as you wish! Perhaps the students will enjoy the conversation better with you and your daughter —did I hear Alison?—

_Yes!_ Said all the kids enthusiastically.

... if you were to join our group!

So Helen got a chair for herself, and seated Alison on her lap, the better to see everyone. She noted Rain's eyes go immediately to take in every detail of Alison with great interest, before she turned to her students, and asked them to introduce themselves. They were totally absorbed in the problem of keeping Helen there, which meant racking their brains for every little bit of German vocabulary they knew, with Rain's help. Helen kept her conversation as simple as she could, only departing from the basic vocabulary to direct the occasional question to Rain, or to explain something she had said in simpler words, which clearly pleased Rain.

It was soon time to stop, which one of the students noted before Rain. Clearly Miss Rain was enjoying Helen and Allie's participation as much as the kids were. These were not music students at all, but some tennis players, some cheerleaders, and kids who knew Helen through their friends. As soon as the group broke up, they clustered round Allie and quizzed her briefly, after which they ran off upstairs to join the group near the television.

Rain and Helen laughed together, and finally Helen heard Rain speak English. "What youthful energy!" she exclaimed, and Helen was shocked to hear a very distinct British dialect in her speech! It was very clear and educated, pleasing to the ears. There had not been a clue in either her French or her German that she was British. "Yes, I'm a Brit!" Rain laughed, genuinely pleased. "Surprised?"

Helen nodded. "Completely! I must say that your French and German are very good, but you must already know that!"

"Well, yeah," she agreed, smiling. "Let me walk you home!"

Helen said that would be fine. Rain bent down to talk briefly with Alison, and soon the two of them were chatting away like old friends, and Alison let Auntie Rain pick her up.

"Have you taught at Westfield long?" Helen asked, finally.

"No, just this Fall. And you?"

"Me, too. I guess, if I had come to the September Faculty Meeting we'd have had a chance to meet!

"Well, I cut that one, too," Rain said, with a grimace. "There was actually a sort of clinic for new faculty, which I went to; you know, benefits, medical insurance, and so on. You weren't there at that one either, I know!"

"Yeah; I've been... pretty bad. Next year I'm going to do all that. I must get to know all the faculty."

"The students were telling me that you're a concert violinist? Is that true?"

"Oh. Yes," Helen said, and smiled awkwardly.

"And they seem to have you confused with a TV actress! Do you have anything to do with this woman who stars on _Galactic Voyager?"_

"Yes, that, too! It's me... or 'It is I,' if you prefer!"

"Oh!" Rain waved a laconic hand. "I must watch an episode of that for myself! Because I insist on being told the story in German or in French, unfortunately it gets a little garbled in the telling! Of course, they're absolutely _dying_ to get the story across, but they just don't..."

"Have the vocabulary! Is this just this evening, or earlier?"

"Oh, since around lte September, when I hit on the idea of TV series to get them talking! Oh, by the way, my name is Woodford. Evelyn Woodford!"

"Helen Nordstrom! Actually, Eleanor Nordstrom; Helen is sort of a nickname."

They laughed over the fact that they neither of them had introduced themselves properly, and Allie told Aunty Rain that her brother's name was James, but he didn't talk very much yet.

"I'm sure we'll get him talking pretty soon," Rain said with a smile.

When they found themselves at Helen's doorstep, Helen and Allie excused themselves briefly, when Rain declined to come inside, and Helen handed Allie over to her father, and came downstairs.

"I'll walk you halfway back," said Helen, and insisted when Rain declared that she could get back by herself. "Then we each have an equal chance of being attacked by some crazed citizen of Westfield!"

Rain actually lived in a room in one of the dorms, so Helen only needed to walk her to the point where the street lights began. They said good night, and Helen turned back, while Rain headed into the College.

It was a strange feeling. Helen felt as though something was happening between the two of them, but she had to be careful. Any feelings she had for a woman had the potential for being a horrible misunderstanding. Thus far, Helen had to admit, every time she had begun to feel something for a woman, mercifully it had turned out that the woman was interested in return: it had either been a lesbian, or bisexual. Helen would have described herself as the former, since all her relationships with men had been platonic, with really no exceptions. She had loved both women and men, but never felt that crazy feeling of wanting to be with them all the time, as she was feeling now, with Rain. She wanted to turn back, and find Rain in her room on any pretext.

"Well, I met her again," Helen said to Sophie that night. "Sophie: I'm so afraid this is going to be one of those crazy things... I can't stop thinking about her!"

"Cherie, try to be calm; tell me what you feel. I want to know for sure that this is not some little crush."

"No, no; it isn't just a little crush, Sophie... I want to go back and talk to her... I want to go back right now!"

"But how does she feel, Cherie?"

"I don't know! I want to go back and ask her!"

"Tomorrow. Let's see what happens tomorrow."

A few days later, when Helen had just finished up her freshman class, she was startled to find Rain in the hallway outside her classroom.

"Hello!" she said, unable to keep the pleasure out of her voice.

"I just had to come by and see where your classroom was! Mine is way over on the other side of the building!"

"Come in, come in!" said Helen, confused, as she led the way into the lobby of the Music department, and offered Rain some coffee, which she gratefully accepted. Feeling awkward, Helen introduced Rain to her secretary Rita, after which they stood and grinned at each other awkwardly.

"I'll just look into your office, and then be on my way," said Rain, blushing. "You must be busy!"

"Oh no, I just, well, you know; mail, that sort of thing," Helen said.

Rain drank her coffee, while Helen spent a breathless hour with Betsy, in the middle of which Rain departed.

# # #

# Football Strategy

The next day, Helen had a lot of time, but she was occupied with Betsy. Early morning Betsy was at her office, and Helen handed her mail to Betsy at Betsy's request. Helen set out a little desk inside her office at which Betsy could sit if she wished, and Betsy shyly set out a few items of stationary on it, to take possession, as it were.

"Let's go and meet Jim McDowell," Helen suggested, and Betsy got her purse, and they set out on foot. Luckily, Betsy was as comfortable walking everywhere, just as Helen was.

The McDowells lived just off the main strip of the town, in a moderate-sized old house in a little lot. They had tea, and Helen met Mrs. McDowell, the Martha about whom Jim was always speaking. They all got along well together, and Helen was pleased. When Helen was busy, Jim would have to take orders from Betsy.

They met with Nadia and Dad for lunch, and Allie and James met Betsy, and Helen could see that the kids liked Betsy very well. Betsy was a sweet, inoffensive, smart girl who was affectionate with the kids, but quietly efficient. Apart from the Philadelphia office team, which consisted of Becky and a receptionist called Flo, and Robin in California or New York, who fielded Helen's concert engagement requests and filtered them, and Helen's cousin Marika Johnson, and Lisa Wallace, Helen's college friend, who were Helen's recording engineers, Betsy had now met everybody.

Helen's Dad seemed to be enjoying his stay in Westport, far from the emotional turbulence of the farm, pleased with the company of Nadia, and his youngest grandchildren, Allie and James. Helen left James with Nicole, usually, but Dad enjoyed Allie's company all day. He quickly became comfortable with Allie's schedule, and Helen occasionally saw the two of them tramping across the playing fields, from her office window. Betsy was shown them, and a smile settled on her face; they were a lovely sight. Often a group of undergraduates would accost them, and Helen could just imagine Allie responding to their questions!

Dad was an avid football fan, and Helen often caught him watching the team practices.

On Tuesday evening, once Helen was done with her recitations and headed home with Nadia, whose classes were all on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Helen had nursed little James, and fed Allie one of her favorite meals, Dad explained why the football team was not doing so well.

"They've got a great running offense," he said, "so the running defense is used to giving up on running offenses. They're getting better, because you've got them started on weight training in the mornings, or something like that?"

"Yeah," Helen nodded, not really listening.

"She went in the dorms, and woke the boys up," said Nadia, looking severely at Helen. Dad raised his eyebrows, and Helen blushed and nodded.

"Then, their air game isn't too good, and the air defense is all over their passes, because that's who they practice against!"

Suddenly, Helen was listening. It was an interesting problem, and she wondered whether there was a creative solution. For a start, said Dad, maybe they should try to put their air defense against the running team, and vice versa. "That way, they're playing against a defense that's accustomed to winning. The air defense is actually excellent."

The next morning, Jason, the football coach was again waiting for Helen for their morning runs. Helen would run every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning, unless it was a long weekend like this last one, or unless she was out of town, in which case Nadia would be by presently to tell Jason to carry on by himself.

Helen emerged, and seemed a little more thoughtful than usual. Once they started running, Helen broached the, for her, unusual topic.

"Is it true that your air defense is a lot stronger than your running defense?"

"What, the... the football teams?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know... I haven't thought about it... they're both excellent, Miss Helen..."

"But relatively, I mean," Helen persisted, annoyed at Jason's loyal dissembling. Didn't he realize that she was trying to make a point?

"Well, yeah, I guess, if you compare them, like, with yards lost, you know, that sort of thing."

"Well, my father has an idea. He was thinking that you should get your air defense team playing the running offense!"

Jason stumbled to a halt. He looked at Helen and gave her a disbelieving grin, as if to say that amateurs should stay out of this sort of discussion.

"That kinda doesn't make sense, Miss Helen. These are specialized teams, you see? In any case, they get to play every sort of offense; there is no such thing as a purely specialized offensive team, because sometimes we get a visiting school doing a trick offense, you know? The running back throws the ball deep, that sort of thing."

"So it makes sense, right?" Helen kept at him. Finally, by dint of constant argument, she got Jason to promise that he would try a little variation in the practice setup. He explained that he was not the head coach; he was just an assistant coach, and not allowed to suggest major changes in the coaching plan.

But that very evening, Dad reported at dinner that he had been completely surprised by the air defense team playing against the running offense, and actually bringing them to a halt. Helen had not realized just how much Dad loved the game of American football, but he evidently did, and soon Jason was talking coaching strategy with Dad on the sidelines, while James listened, thoughtfully chewing on Grandpa's ear.

# # #

# Halloween

When Helen announced to her students that she had decided to spend the Halloween weekend at Ferguson, they were terribly disappointed. They complained that they had wanted to come Trick-or-Treating to her home, and there was such a great outcry for a couple of days that Gena and Erin finally agreed to visit Westfield again instead.

The girls flew to Pittsburgh, from where they were picked up by Nadia, Allie, James, Helen, Dad and Jim and they arrived in the little house in Westfield after dark. They were still wide awake, and inspected the house closely from basement to attic, and were very pleased with the place. The house, which Helen had bought when she had taken the position at Westfield College, was what was called a Half-Double in those parts: two homes built adjoining each other, where the owner usually occupied one side, and rented out the other. In the case of this house, one half had actually been further subdivided into two apartments, upstairs and downstairs. It was the owner's part which had burnt down in a major fire some time before Helen had seen it, and the remaining part had been repaired just enough to make it watertight.

There had been still considerable fire damage when Helen had been given the keys. With the help of some colleagues and a couple of neighbors, Helen had remodeled the house and completely repaired it without the part which had burned down, which only remained as a large concrete block alongside the house. (Their basement, however, was twice as large as would have been expected for what was visible above ground.)

On Saturday, all the kids in the neighborhood got to know Gena and Erin by mid-morning, having looked forward to their arrival for a week. The afternoon was spent with furious shopping for costumes in the larger towns nearby, and then sewing with Nadia's help. Nadia, surprisingly, turned out to be quite excited about the whole dressing-up business, to Helen's great amusement. The three older kids and Nadia had brilliant costume ideas, and kept themselves occupied.

Meanwhile, Helen had to spend some time at the College with musical projects that her students wanted help with. Gradually the Westfield music majors were getting more interested in planning musical events, especially since they learned that Helen was willing to cooperate outside of class. Most of the musical performances involved voice, violin, flute and clarinet, outside of the school brass band. Rich was confident that once Helen's presence became well known, students with a wider variety of interests in instrumental performance would be attracted to the school.

Halloween was a lot of fun, but before Gena and Erin could set out Trick-Or-Treating, all Helen's students who had threatened to visit her, descended on them, brought there by the few of them who knew where she lived. Gena was interested in them, and they, in turn, studied Helen's adopted children with great curiosity.

"So, where do you guys stay usually? How come you don't live with your Mom?" Helen heard them quietly asking Gena and Erin. (They would not have thought twice about asking Helen these questions while in school, but they were in awe of Nadia, who was sternly presiding over the Halloween activities, and handing out carefully measured packets of candy.) Gena and Erin were explaining the situation far more economically than Helen could have managed.

"And who's the little kid?" they asked, indicating Allie, who looked rather indignant at being spoken of so casually.

"That's my sister," said Gena easily. (Gena and Allie were biological sisters.)

" _Our_ sister," corrected Erin, looking sternly at Gena, and Gena hastily agreed.

In the usual way these things worked out, Gena ended up being taken round by the undergraduates, while Erin and Allie were escorted round the neighborhood by the Jones girls, who lived across the street: Beatrice and Louisa, or Beezy and Weezy, as they were called.

A little later, the football players and Jason turned up, Jason dressed as a pirate, but the boys hardly dressed at all. Helen had worn green hose and tunic, and was clearly an enormous Peter Pan. She had minimized her bosom, and tied her hair pulled back from her face, so that she did look like a fresh-faced boy from a little distance away, an illusion that disappeared if she turned round and her hair became visible.

Jason was inexplicably unhappy with Helen's costume, and said, with a charming smile, that she should have dressed as a princess, or a queen.

"I don't _feel_ like a princess or a queen! I'm a shy, reserved, humble person, as you know, Jason."

"Oh, no, you're a total princess, Miss Helen! Ask anybody! Isn't she, fellows?" he asked his players, who mostly had just scary makeup on, and perhaps a mask or two.

"Oh man, Jason, I'm so glad she didn't dress up like some princess. I would have made a fool of myself," said one of the seniors softly, making them all laugh. One or two of the guys had enormous crushes on Helen, but they all made a joke of it.

"That's it," exclaimed Helen, "next year I'm going to be, well, something out of Disney. Perhaps Pocahontas!" That set off a major clamor, making Nadia put her hands over her ears.

"Dr. Nordstrom and I are a little too old for you chaps," she said, as she shooed them off. They left, Jason at the back of the gang, waving to Helen shyly as they departed. Nadia went indoors, shaking her head. "Cherie," she said, "I was very close to suggesting that you should dress as a medieval princess! Good thing I didn't. That poor man would not have left here."

When the time came for the girls to pack to leave, little Allie began to cry. She clung to Helen and fussed, something she absolutely never did usually. Helen looked at Gena.

"Yeah, Mom," said Gena, sorrowfully, "she's not happy over in Ferguson. I mean, Aunt Janet and Aunt Cindy are great, and Grandma Elly, but Allie misses you something awful!"

"I thought she would hate to be separated from you, and I know you'd hate to be away from her!"

"Allie, would you rather stay with Mama, or with me?" Gena asked her little sister. Various tragedies had left Gena and Allie with hardly any blood relatives in the world except each other.

" _You_ stay too!" said Alison, smiling through her tears, thinking she had found the best solution.

"But I have to go to school in Ferguson," Gena reminded her softly.

"You could go to school here! Right, Mama?" Allie asked, hoping against hope.

"Oh Allie!" Gena cried softly, hugging the little girl close. There was no one in the world who didn't love Allie, once they had met her, mostly because she never asked for much, and when she did, it was hard to deny her.

On further investigation, it became clear that Allie would be much happier at Westfield, despite Helen's feeling of guilt for splitting the two-sister team. But Gena had Erin to look after now, and Helen could see that Gena was resigned to the fact that Allie needed Helen. Gena also felt, and Helen did not know this, that someone had to keep an eye on Helen, and was hoping that Allie would keep Helen distracted, and not have Mama's eyes stray towards undeserving young women. Having met Helen's female students, Gena was a little worried, but it seemed to Gena that, mercifully, the students really did not have any designs on their beloved teacher.

Gena and Erin were duly dropped off at the air terminal, and there was a sad farewell, and the residents of Westfield, now a grand total of four, returned home in the old jeep. Helen was thoughtful all the way home, worrying about whether it would be more than she could do to take care of two little kids. Now, when she traveled to a performance somewhere, she would have to take two little kids with her. But Janet and Cindy had assured her over the phone that Alison had indeed been unhappy in Ferguson, though she had never caused any problems there, and Nicole had told Helen that she could take on a larger role in helping with the children.

# # #

# Romantic Strategy

Helen did not meet Rain again for a couple of days, but she could not forget about the enigmatic young woman.

One morning, Betsy was waiting for her as usual, this time with an e-mail from Major James Spiegel reminding Helen about her promise to participate with the Carols on the Mall. Helen and Betsy disposed of all the correspondence somewhat more slowly than they had the day before, and Helen wondered whether Betsy could sense the glorious symphony that was blazing through Helen's heart, making her feel as if she wanted to make love to all humanity. Helen kept going, trying to make sense of what Betsy was telling her, and succeeding with a little difficulty. The Christmas season was always busier for Helen than other times, in fact Helen had made a Christmas special when she was barely nineteen, in which the angels had skated their message to the shepherds. It had been a great favorite for a dozen years on Public Television, and still aired on some stations at least once a year. Helen had always loved the season, and it was often a matter of trying to balance what others wanted Helen to do, and what Helen wanted to do. And this year, there was also Westfield, and Nadia, and Sophie... and these Carols on the Mall...

Helen headed out to the senior class as she usually did, and managed to forget about Rain. When she got her stuff together and walked out of the classroom, she was surprised to see Rain seated across the way in an empty room, looking up from a book she was reading. She was blushing, but then looked down and carefully closed her book before picking up her book and her purse, and hurrying to the door.

"You must think I'm following you around!" Rain said, out of breath.

Helen laughed, blushing, and said she had planned to find Rain sometime over lunch.

"Would you like to eat in the Caf?" she asked, but Helen knew that they would be surrounded by students, and would get no privacy at all. Nadia was meeting Dad and Allie for lunch somewhere, but Helen decided to have lunch privately with Rain, if Rain seemed okay with that plan. It was a little confused, but it seemed clear that Rain would be very happy to do exactly that. She knew of a little deli in town, and the two women dropped off their things, and hurried to the deli.

It was a tiny place, but had a varied menu, and Helen and Rain got what they wanted, and went off to a deserted bench in the little pedestrian mall that was the center of downtown Westfield. They sat, and Helen took the opportunity to eat slowly, and calm herself.

After a minute of quiet munching, with only a few words between them, Rain took a deep breath and turned to Helen.

"I'd... like to get to know you better, Helen," she said, looking Helen in the eye.

"Yes, I'd like that," said Helen, the sound barely making it out. Helen laughed briefly, feeling embarrassed. "I have a reputation of... being only interested in women," Helen added, her voice sounding hoarse. She searched Rain's face for any sign of distaste, but there was none. She only nodded gravely.

"Let's start off just... friends, and not worry about... other things," said Rain.

They were both talking very softly, and the mood very gradually intensified. Helen looked about her nervously, afraid to be observed in a public square, conducting a discussion that might be viewed as very private, almost intimate.

Helen ate as much as she could eat, and put the rest of her sandwich back in her bag, and put it away and waited. Across from her, seated a decent distance away, Rain was doing the same.

"We could go for a walk, in the fields," Rain said, looking a little defiant, Helen thought. Suddenly Helen's courage came back. She felt in control, able to handle this discussion.

"Okay!" They got to their feet, and slowly headed out towards the West side of town, talking about Rain's students, all of whom seemed to be fascinating characters.

After a while, they passed most of the farms, and Rain led the way into a little deer path, out of sight of the lane along which they had been walking. Finally Rain, who had been a few feet ahead of Helen looked about nervously, and slowly turned to Helen.

"Do you feel anything?" She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. "I feel as if I'm drowning!" She kept her face and her eyes closed, and then gave a short bark of an embarrassed laugh. "You have an incredible personality, you know that?"

Helen was stunned. She shook her head slowly, unable to understand what Rain was saying. If anything, it was Rain's personality that was making Helen almost faint with something, something very close to desire.

It had been Rain who had led them into this dark little spot surrounded by enormous pines, secluded, out of sight. Helen had followed, unable to resist.

Helen shrugged, but her arms opened involuntarily, and Rain stepped into them, and they were kissing, shyly at first, then more passionately, their arms were tight about each other, and Helen could feel the soft breasts of the Englishwoman, and feel the stud on her lip, and feel her hands gripping her back fiercely at first, and then more tenderly, and presently they were kissing each other's faces, eyes, cheeks, ears, hair... it was progressing quickly into very tender lovemaking indeed.

"This is going too fast," Rain said, having turned her face aside, gently stroking Helen's back. Helen held her fast, thinking: no, no, it's not too fast; I want more! Helen began kissing her again, wanting to say something meaningful, but unable to think of anything. And she kissed back.

It was after Helen had kissed Rain tenderly for many minutes that she allowed Rain to push her away, and gaze into her eyes.

"You're very lonely!" she whispered softly, her eyes shining. "I'm lonely, too! Let me be your lover!" she said, and Helen could hardly believe this was happening.

As they slowly walked back, shyly holding hands when they were sure they could not be seen, but moving apart as they came within eye shot of the farmhouses closer to town, Rain told Helen her life story. She had studied in France and in Germany for two years before she had come to the US, mostly to get away from England. She had a spirit of adventure, but most of all she loved kids, all sizes from the older undergraduates to little Allie. She told Helen she adored Allie.

"Tell me about yourself!" she asked, now not shy, inexplicably comfortable with Helen. "It's as though I've known you forever, and you've hardly spoken a dozen words to me! I feel as if I'm reading your mind!" she laughed.

Helen told her as much as she could remember. "My memories begin with getting out of hospital," she said. She had told Rain already about her amnesia. Rain's eyes were riveted on Helen's face as they walked slowly back. She described how she had found herself working for a real-estate developer, building homes out in California. Then this lovely Indian woman had found her.

It turned out that they had been lovers in Helen's senior year in college, and she had inquired from Helen's family where she was, and hunted her down.

She had gradually forced Helen to remember a little of their life together, in Helen's Senior year. A lot had come back, including her childhood in Kansas, and occasional glimpses of Helen's days in India, which she had assumed were hallucinations. But her family had been desperately happy to have Helen regain her memory, and she had even married the Indian woman in a Hindu ceremony. But Helen's eyes had wandered, and as she was about to get her doctorate, her partnership with the beautiful Indian woman had come apart.

"I... was very promiscuous," she confessed. "I had Gena and Allie with me, but I had an affair with at least one fellow-student, and then when Lorna came to babysit for us, Lorna and I were..." Rain had stopped, and they were by the side of the road, with Helen burdened with guilt and shame, but unable to stop telling the whispered story, and Rain unable to turn away. "... intimate," Helen continued. She nodded. "It was sex; we both needed that, but... Lalitha couldn't take it anymore. She asked for a separation one day.

"Lorna felt awful. We took the kids, and went looking for her in Baltimore, and we found her. She was living with what we thought was a teenager, even younger than Lorna. We begged her to come back! But, by then she had fallen in love with this other girl. A woman, really; she was tiny, but she was, like twenty-three." Helen shook her head. They began walking again, slowly.

Helen looked about her; she had lost track of where she was. The clock tower said it was half past one; time she got ready for her next class.

"Do you have actual classes, or just the conversation sessions?"

"Just conversation. I'm only part time; my family sends me money," she confessed, with a blush. Helen nodded, taking it at face value. "Once I get a Master's, I can teach a full load, and apply for promotion, and so on. Until then..." Helen knew all about that; it was similar in Music. There were several piano and clarinet and flute instructors who were part-time.

"Would you like to get something to drink? Maybe tea?"

"It's coffee for me," Rain said, and they spotted a coffee bar inside the drugstore, and crossed the street. "I used to smoke heavily," said Rain, "but I've given it up."

"That's great!" enthused Helen. Suddenly it seemed to her that Rain's health was important to her.

Rain got her cup of coffee, and they started out back to the College. It was time now to negotiate when they would meet again, because both women were absolutely certain that nothing was more important that meeting again, regularly, as often as possible, without arousing any speculation about their relationship, which was most certainly racing towards something very special.

# # #

A day or two later, Helen was on her front steps, with Allie and James.

Her heart gave a lurch, to see a slight figure walking up the street, in Rain's characteristic gait. Rain walked very stiffly, though there was a certain puzzling grace in her walk, too.

Helen got to her feet, and went down the steps and waited. It was Rain, all right, and she came slowly up to the waiting group, smiling, so brightly that she seemed to light up the night.

"How nice to see you! Come in, come in!" Helen gasped out, her delight clear in her voice, but softly, so as not to alert the neighbors to anything new and interesting. It was just Miss Helen greeting a colleague.

Rain was dressed beautifully, again in a woolen pleated skirt and sweater. She seemed to have an infinite variety of them, all in shades of grey, green and burgundy. Helen put James in his little seat briefly while she embraced Rain as tightly as she dared. She filled her lungs with the scent that was Rain: tobacco, which had not been entirely cleaned off her woolen clothes, and wine, and talcum powder, and just a Rain scent that Helen was coming to want in her nostrils all the time.

"This is nice," said Rain, looking around, and her eyes came to rest on little James, who was enthusiastically leering at the new Auntie. "May I pick him up?" she asked of Helen, eyes shining, and Helen nodded, struck dumb with pleasure. "Oh, he's darling! So, his name is James, I remember! Am I right?" she asked little Allie, who was studying her with evident approval.

"Yes, James John Jeffrey... Nordstrom..." began Allie, forgetting the rest in her excitement.

"James John Jeffrey Nordstrom Gibson," said Helen, one of the few things she felt she could get correct, in the dazed condition she was in.

Rain slowly repeated the names, looking at James and at Helen alternately.

"Is his father Nordstrom, or Gibson?"

"Jeffrey Gibson," Helen said, recovering some of her poise. "He was a grad student at Brown, or Rhode Island, I forget, when I was at a conference at Brown. Anyway, we hit it off, and he visited Philly, and stayed with me and my housemate at that time—Lalitha had already gone—and... I forget the details; James happened nine months later! Oh, it's a long story..."

Rain nodded. As far as she was concerned, James looked _exactly_ like Helen, and his paternal ancestor was of no importance. The four of them chatted for a while, but presently Nadia showed up, and Helen introduced her to Rain, and they talked French for a while, which Nadia liked very much.

So, dear, these Anglophones have no idea how much fun it is to talk in French! Perhaps you have just a vague idea, too!

Oh, certainly not! I know exactly what you mean, and when I can't talk French for a while, I become so impatient to get back among French-speakers, even if for just a few hours!

Exactly so! And of course, I forget that this one here can talk French. We are always talking Music, so of course my music vocabulary now is all English, more's the pity!

You should come by our conversation table sometime!

I most certainly will! Does it happen every night?

Yes, I just finished one a half-hour ago, and the next one is at nine.

Why don't we all go, Helen, Cherie?

As it happened, Helen was dressed fairly decently, in jeans and a flannel shirt, as she had been accustomed to wearing many years ago, and looked very much the dyke, quite inadvertently. Of course Helen was not familiar with this dress code, and she blissfully assumed that anyone having grown up in the Midwest would wear jeans and flannel shirts in the colder weather. Dad came up, getting hungry, and was duly introduced to Rain (Miss Evelyn Woodford), and Rain hungrily studied Helen's father, looking for resemblances, which were everywhere. Helen's build was inherited all from her father, as well as her eyes. It was her round face and blonde hair that had been her mother's bequest to her.

Rain graciously accepted an invitation to their late supper, after which they set out to visit Rain's French conversation group.

Dad had Allie, and Helen had James on her hip. Rain walked between Nadia and Helen, and Rain took Helen's hand in hers in the dark, and held it tight. When a car came towards them with its headlights blazing, they quickly let go, and let it pass, but soon the street-lamps cast a bright enough glow to make hand-holding impossible.

Rain could have no inkling about how much her affectionate ways were affecting Helen. Starved for all this since Penny had died, Helen was drunk with pleasure. In just a few days, Rain had made Helen hers quite unequivocally, and Helen could not bear to think of anything that could come between them. _Tomorrow,_ Helen thought, _I'll tell her how much of a slut I am._ Rain did not know of the mad half hour Helen and Lorna had spent together in Pittsburgh, and Helen did not want to tell her about it. It seemed as though Helen should have been able to fend off Lorna's advances much more easily. But Helen made excuses on Lorna's behalf. Lorna did love Helen. Lorna just had to learn that in this world, you could not love two women at the same time; people just couldn't deal with that.

Nadia was the hit of the evening at the conversation table. After Rain had taken the class through some preliminary conversational exercises, it was open season, and Nadia quizzed the kids mercilessly on every subject under the sun. _What was this Cheerleading all about?_ The girls struggled to explain, while the boys simply chuckled to themselves, as if they couldn't understand it either.

"Do you have to go back to your room?" asked Helen in a whisper, later that night, when they had all walked home, and Helen and Rain had put the kids to bed, and Dad and Nadia had retired.

Rain nodded, her eyes just as hungry for Helen as Helen was hungry for her.

"How can I face your Dad in the morning?" she asked, softly, holding Helen's hand.

"I could walk you back..."

"No, no, no," said Rain, shaking her head and smiling ruefully. "I haven't had time to tidy up!"

"Please!" said Helen, almost inaudibly. She kept asking, until Rain finally agreed. She insisted that Helen should come dressed the way she was. She didn't explain.

# # #

They crept like thieves into Rain's room, and Rain tidied up the room, picking up the litter and hanging up her clothes, until the twin bed was cleared up.

"It creaks," said Rain. "We have to be quiet!"

They turned out the lights, and undressed in the dark, and Helen carefully set out her clothes where she could easily find them, and she could see a vague white blur, which was Rain's naked body, with the light through the curtains. Then Rain got in bed, and stretched out her arm for Helen, and Helen cautiously lay down, and in an instant they were together, skin to skin, trembling with the madness of what they were about to do.

For a long minute, they held each other painfully tight, by tacit agreement leaching out the passion they felt for each other, but which could not be let loose in Rain's tiny room, with the sounds of students watching television in the room next door to them.

Helen only found out later that she, Helen, had been Rain's first female lover. She pulled Helen on top of her, and proceeded to kiss her madly, but completely silently. Then her hand reached for Helen's breast, and she slowed down, as though she was trying to reconcile what she was feeling with what she had imagined. After a while, Helen did not keep track of what they were doing; Rain was doing miraculously what Helen wanted done to her; her hands went where Helen was willing them to go, and it seemed to Helen that Rain was feeling the same: every touch would send tremors through her slight frame, and she would bite her own forearm to keep from crying out.

Rain was infinitely tender, and it brought forth tenderness from Helen. Helen loved the softness of a lover, though she appreciated the lean muscularity of some women as well. _I like all women,_ Helen thought to herself, as she worshipped Rain slowly and systematically.

"Oh God," Rain said in a whisper, shuddering, "don't leave me now... don't ever leave me! Oh Helen," she breathed, laying a soft kiss on Helen's breast, "you're so beautiful!"

The noise in the dorm was loud until past midnight, but Helen and Rain were in a private heaven of their own. But after a while, the noise seemed to move further away. Rain had a finger in Helen's mouth, and Helen was gently sucking on it. "They've gone to their rooms," she whispered. Her room was separate from the student rooms, and near the public television set. About half an hour later, the sound was down to a dull roar.

Rain had muttered clumsy words of love to Helen, all her stiff style given up, reduced to an ardent young teenager by the heat of her desire. Helen had been reduced to much the same state by her own emotional needs. But sometime that evening, Helen's attention had moved away from her own body, her own needs and desires, to focus on Rain, who became even more broadly three-dimensional than before. She had always come across to Helen as being larger than life. But here, they were both kids, desperately happy to find a like-minded lover. Still, Rain seemed to Helen to be a magical being. To hear from her lips that Helen was beautiful was almost painfully sweet.

When Helen finally rose from Rain's tiny bed and stood up, and stretched in the near darkness, Rain gazed on her in disbelief. It was as if Helen was some goddess from ancient times. Then Helen tiptoed to the window, and looked out, and a little moonlight, or some similar light shone into the room, making Helen look eerily like some mythical being. Rain rolled out of bed, and came to hand Helen her underwear.

With much kissing and stroking, Helen dressed in her jeans and flannel shirt. The dull garments seemed utterly inappropriate for Helen, and Rain resented the return of dull ordinariness with Helen's plebeian attire.

Helen stumbled into her home with the greatest reluctance. She wanted to stay outside, savoring the moonlight, the magic that Rain had created for her. She thought again about how tragic the girl had looked as she sat nude in her bed, refusing to see Helen out, in most definitely a major sulk, something that Helen would have deplored just a few years ago, but now she understood what Rain was feeling. Anyone who had even begun to understand that life was indeed short would know. There was far too little time to experience the magic.

# # #

"Miss Rain came by for coffee while you were in class," said Rita with a smile. Evidently Rain was making friends with the Music department staff, and they were being nice to her for Helen's sake. Not that Rain was by any means arrogant or condescending. She had just come by, she later explained, to be near Helen's office. In the state of mind she was in, it seemed comforting for her to be close to where Helen sat and prepared her lessons. Somehow she had got in the habit of helping herself to the Music Department coffee, and it had seemed superior to their own coffee in the Languages Department.

Most nights, Helen arranged to pass by Rain's conversation tables with Alison, just to see the glow on Rain's face, and the secret message of love in her eyes. In public, however, Rain never let on that there was anything except a Platonic relationship between her and Helen Nordstrom. As far as the kids knew, Helen was welcome at the Conversation tables purely because of her language skills.

Dad had been busy. He had made a complete workshop in the basement for Helen, and actually made a lovely dining table from scratch. It was absolutely lovely, simple and practically indestructible. There was all the timber he could want right in town, since Westfield was in the heart of the Pennsylvania deciduous forest, and he and Alison made visits to the lumber yards, and they were happy to oblige the charming old gentleman with the even more charming granddaughter.

Helen and Rain met infrequently, usually just before Helen's early morning class. Rain would be by, looking for coffee, and Nadia and she would exchange a few words in French, after which Helen and Rain would talk, right out in the open, making sure that no one suspected anything between them except a simple friendship. Some nights, Rain would wander up the street by Helen's and Nadia's home, and Helen would slip away for a brief stroll through the fields on the East side, and they would hold each other tight in the shadow under some tree, in complete, blissful silence.

"Dr. Nordstrom," Rain said one day, "you have the most wonderful children!"

This took Helen completely by surprise. Of course, she knew the kids were great, but it was a shock to learn that this was uppermost in Rain's mind. She made some vague sounds of agreement, also conveying her surprise at the observation.

"Will we ever... become, you know, a... an item, and move in together, and be a family?" Rain was out of breath, and Helen knew this was a big question. "I don't want to be like... you know, the girl, or women you've lived with before, and... broken up with."

"Oh Rain!" Helen was struck dumb. It made complete sense that Rain would be anxious, given that Helen had told her about the shambles that was the history of her heart. "This time, I want to try harder! I... obviously, with each one, I've felt differently, they can't be compared with you! Or even with each other..."

"And with each one, you were sure you would never leave them!"

Helen nodded, feeling like a worthless piece of crap. What was the use of being one of the most admired human beings on the planet, if she had the loyalty of an oversexed rabbit?

"For your sake, I... I would undergo surgery, if that was what you want!"

They both laughed, though it was a tragedy. And that really said it all. Helen's libido, which made her the creative genius that she was, also made her despair of ever finding happiness with one woman, and providing her beloved children with a relatively permanent second parent, which they would dearly enjoy.

"If you could look into my heart," Helen said, her voice trembling with sincerity, "you would know that I would give _anything_ , never to have my heart stray from you! I would love to love you forever, never love another human being, and be buried together. Rain, you have to understand: if I ever become—so recklessly promiscuous that it comes to the attention of the Law, I was threatened with being sent to prison." Helen swallowed. "I guess you weren't in the US when all that hit the news. I'm kind of under probation. I have to be an ideal mother, or else." She could see that Rain's eyes were wide in amazement. "I have all the incentive in the world to be faithful, so much that you'll be suspicious whether I'm being true to you just for the sake of the children."

Rain grabbed her arms tight. "You _are_ a wonderful mother! I've watched you like a hawk! I have my reasons why I want to make sure you're... as decent a woman as I've _felt_ that you are. And Helen..."

"Did I pass?"

"Yes. Based on these two weeks, I have to give you an A. You love those two kids like crazy, and you work hard to give them the best."

Helen, too, had been studying Rain, and from the little she could see, her instincts told her that Rain was one of the most decent, honest, reliable and affectionate people she had ever seen, though she was by no means demonstrative. She did not fall all over the kids, and at first Helen had thought she did not care for them. But now, little things she had seen added up. Rain had not been comfortable with kids until Allie and James had come along. She was learning the ropes _even as Helen watched_. And she was doing beautifully.

Suddenly, there was a lot hanging on this relationship. Helen decided quickly: she had to make this relationship work at all cost. This was the big one. Janet, Lalitha, the others in between, they had all been outstanding women. But Rain had something special that Helen could not quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was her anxiousness that Helen should straighten out.

Helen took a deep breath. "Perhaps this is the moment. Rain... will you throw in your... your lot with me? You know most of what you're getting. I've told you everything! Something tells me that... you're the one who's most likely to make me a decent human being. If you will have me... I'm... I'm yours. I know I'm no prize, but I love you!"

Rain was silent for a long time, but Helen knew. Her eyes glowed, even in the dim light of the early evening on this bright November day.

"Yes!" she said. "On one condition."

Helen's heart sank. But it was only fair. "Condition? Okay?"

"That... if we ever break up, and you know I never want us to break up!" Helen nodded. "That if it happens, then you will still let me think of myself as the mother of the kids!"

Helen was stunned.

Helen wanted to select exactly the right words to explain to Rain that, firstly, she completely understood why Rain would make that demand. But then, she needed to explain precisely why the thought of compromising her rights to the children filled her with so much fear, but no words came to her. It was partly that the girls had been taken away once before, but the ideas stubbornly stayed away from Helen's consciousness. When Rain challenged Helen, asking why she hesitated, she could not reply. It was a painful exchange, where Rain could not understand why Helen withheld her consent to Rain's quite reasonable demand, and Helen felt tongue-tied, and unable to explain her fear, which seemed perfectly reasonable. In the end, they simply deferred their discussion until they were in a calmer frame of mind, much to the distress of both of them.

"Will I see you sometime tomorrow?" Helen asked, in her quick speech, but stumbling over the words.

"Yes, yes, Helen. Of course!"

Rain turned to face Helen briefly, but kept walking into town, but Helen stood there, looking miserable. Rain waved at her with a smile, and Helen waved back. She had worn a skirt, and looked big and clumsy, and small and vulnerable at the same time. Rain sighed, and turned around and kept walking.

When they met at coffee the next morning, Helen had a brief watery smile for her, which she got under control quickly before she turned to Rita and spoke briskly about something Rain couldn't hear. Rain had her face under control, and Rita couldn't tell that there was anything different between them. Helen got her stuff, and hurried off to her early recitation, calling out something about having lunch together, to which Rain replied vaguely. She turned around for more coffee; she drank two cups early in the morning, a habit that had carried over from her coffee-and-cigarettes days.

## Thinking of England for the Holidays

"Have you met Dr. Nordstrom's older girls? I know she has two older children, but they're usually here only on weekends!"

"Oh, no, actually. Just little Alison, and James, of course!"

Rain was startled to see Rita studying her, while she wore her indelible smile. "You should invite her over to England, Miss Rain! The kids would enjoy a trip, I'm sure! Heck, I would enjoy traveling abroad, but nobody invites _me!"_ Rain's eyes widened, until she realized that Rita was just kidding. Still, Rain didn't doubt that Rita would love to travel, if she only knew how to set about doing it.

"I haven't been home in more than a year," she said, thinking that perhaps a visit home was overdue. "I don't see eye to eye with my parents, I'm afraid!" she said, with a laugh. Rita nodded, knowingly, as Rain gave her a cheery wave before heading out to the Modern Languages offices, where she had a desk with a couple of other instructors.

Man, she thought, she had said a mouthful when she said she didn't see eye to eye with her parents. Helen complicated things quite a bit. They would go ballistic if Rain brought a woman lover to visit, but that was another problem entirely. One thing was clear to Rain: she would fight like mad to get Helen. Helen was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her in twenty-eight years of existence, not all of which had been dull, by any means. Rain was going mad with excitement and frustration.

# # #

After Recitation, just a few students, all girls, were left while Helen got her materials together to head back to her office.

"Miss Helen, I think Miss Rain likes you!"

Helen dropped what she had in her hand and stood up and stared at the girl, who wiped the grin off her face.

"Stephanie, be careful. I think Miss Rain is wonderful, but if you start rumors about faculty, it ruins a good friendship. Don't you think?"

Stephanie nodded vigorously. What had she done?

"I would feel awkward, Miss Rain would feel awkward... I would avoid her, she would avoid me..."

"I'm sorry, Miss Helen! I was just kidding!"

Helen bent back over her materials, having calmed herself successfully. She frowned. "I know you were. I shouldn't have over-reacted. But neither of us is married, and I certainly don't want to ruin poor Rain's chances of getting a date, just because I pay too much attention to her..."

"Oh, I don't think you do! Oh Miss Helen, don't get so upset!"

Helen shrugged and managed a grin. "She is kinda cute, but that just makes it worse!" They had a good giggle, and Helen hoped that would be the end of it.

And it seemed perfectly clear that Rain would not satisfy Helen forever, and this was exactly why Helen could not agree to Rain's demand to have access to the children once it was over. Because Rain knew instinctively that she could not hope to keep Helen's loyalty permanently.

All the life seemed to go out of Helen, and with it the desire she was feeling for Rain. With some difficulty, she explained as much as she could to Sophie.

"In that case, Cherie, you should agree to it."

"What? Why?"  
"What harm will it do? She is saying she will love them even after it is over, and isn't it better to have someone permanently in their lives than have these women come and go? Aunty Rain will always be there for them, yeah? It is good, Helen. You must only hope this Rain will not be bitter about the whole thing, because that would be bad."

Helen was with Betsy in her office the next morning. "Am I interrupting anything?" asked Rain, who had just put her head in the door and smiled.

No, no, said Helen and Betsy together, and Betsy hurried off with a smile and a wave to Rain.

Rain came in, and shut the door behind her. Her face was grave, and her eyes were bright, and she looked determined.

"I love you so much!" she said softly.

"I love you too," said Helen, pulling forward a chair for Rain. She felt herself vibrating with all the feelings inside her, but the knowledge that she had resolved the problem with Rain's plea about the children made her heart light.

Rain took Helen's hands in her own, and looked into her eyes. "I've decided to forget about the... my condition about the children. Helen, I'll take you any way you'll come to me! In my life, you stand out like this enormous, overwhelming force that I have to yield to! It's torture to spend a night away from you!"

"Rain... now you're scaring me! I love you like crazy, but... it's been a long time since I felt that sort of thing. I'm old, Rain... not too old to fall in love, but..." Helen pressed her hand to her heart. "... You're not like a lightning strike, you see?" Rain nodded, listening carefully. "It's more like... the clouds suddenly roll away on a cloudy day, and there, in a clearing, is this flower, small and precious, and so full of promise... No, that's not it, either!"

They slowly rose to embrace each other. Rain wore platform shoes that made her nearly Helen's height. Helen filled her breath with the scent of Rain, which was nothing in particular, but just Rain.

"I decided that I would agree to it. Yes... if anything happens, you can see the children all you want!"

Helen watched Rain's face transformed at the news. It was great relief, and pure delight, and the knowledge that something sweet and wonderful was actually established.

"Did Betsy tell you about England?"

"Well, yes. It's complicated!"

"I imagined so. On my side, too. I haven't been home in a while, and... they've got to..."

"I know. Let's start with planning for you to meet Gena and Erin, and the crowd at Ferguson!"

Rain's eyes lit up. "That would be great! Oh, it's so wonderful to have somewhere to go during the hols!"

Helen was alarmed. "What did you do last year?"

"I just stayed here and read."

Helen could just imagine it. It sounded dismal.

"I've also been invited to Washington, D.C. to participate in a band concert, the combined bands of the Army, Navy, Air Force and the Marines."

"I could come along," Rain said, sounding interested.

# # #

# Transporting Sophie

A few weeks later, it was nearing the week of Thanksgiving, and students were making arrangements to be picked up after classes on Tuesday, and as usual, some of them were trying to persuade their parents that "Nothing important is going on on Monday and Tuesday, so could I come home on Friday?"

Helen had plans to spend the holiday in Ferguson, with all the children, and the Krebses (the family of Janet's mother, and Tomasina, Helen's step-sister) and the Kolbs (that was Janet and Little Elly, who was not so little, but a year or two older than Gena, and Little John).

Helen and Rain's escalating relationship had arrived at a sort of steady state, and both women heaved a sigh of relief; the rapid boil at which it had been a week or so before was too tiring, and too distracting. But Rain at least came over for coffee early morning, into the Music lobby area; it was her opinion that the Music staff made better coffee than anyone else in the faculty offices. This might actually have been an elaborate excuse to visit Helen; but Helen took it at face value.

Betsy was greeting Helen, who had just got back from her 8:00 AM class.

"You have a note from Sophie Cocteau!"

"Oh, yes; we're friends. She's visiting for the weekend, by the way, Betsy. I think we might go out to dinner on Friday, and I'd like you to come!"

"She's coming _tonight,_ Miss Helen."

Sophie had written that she was setting out at noon, and would be in town by early evening.

"Doesn't it make more sense to have Jim pick her up?" asked Betsy, looking uncertain.

"From all the way in North Carolina?"

It was the work of a moment to call up Jim, and find out how much it would cost. It was a few hundred dollars each trip out and back. Jim was of the opinion that Helen could use the flying time. "The gasoline cost for the young lady would be almost a half of that, I'm sure," he said. A brief call to Sophie settled the issue. She would have loved to drive the distance, but the weather was looking bad, and she said she would drive out another time, perhaps in the Spring, sometime. This trip, she said, she would be glad to be fetched by plane.

Lunch with Nadia and Rain in the Caf, with a number of faculty had been entertaining. Helen had been teased about her concerts and about her commercial, and about a game show she had participated in in early October. Helen's ignorance of popular culture had been vast, and she had laughed and said that she simply had to watch more TV. Nadia had been indignant that watching TV was considered such an important thing to do.

Jim made Helen sit down and take a written test. It was on an official form, and it was hard, simply because it was information that Helen did not drill herself on, and matters she only thought about when on the plane. Jim had made her go through the pre-flight checklist a number of times already, when they were not in a hurry, and she had to guess at a number of items because her mind was in such a whirl. When she handed it in, Jim looked through it carefully and grinned.

"Not terrible, but you have to do it again," he said. Helen was indignant, but Jim explained that the test was now administered electronically, and Helen had to make sure she did well. "You're not going to live it down if you screw up, young Nordstrom," he said, wagging his finger at her. "You'll be the laughing-stock of the entire flying community!" Helen blanched, and agreed to study up the parts she had missed.

In the plane were also Dad, Nadia, Alison and James. James had just been nursing with Mama before they took off, and was now carefully counting his toes under close supervision by Grandpa. Nadia was pretending to read, though she was curious about the plane and Helen flying it, since she hadn't had the chance to see all this in broad daylight. Alison was seated between Grandpa and Nadia, and was watching Mama and Jim closely, to see what she could pick up, if she ever had to fly someday. She did not like Mama wearing those heavy headphones, which made her look strange.

"Pittsburgh, this is NH322, on route to Charlotte, North Carolina," said Mama in her sweet voice. Alison _loved_ Mama's voice. It was like ice cream, she thought. "We're at four thousand feet, heading south." That was a lot of feet, Alison thought, feeling a little worried. What did it mean? The plane roared steadily on, and every once in a while it seemed to go straight _down_ , like an elevator, and Alison did _not_ like that _at all_.

Helen felt vaguely embarrassed about having to talk to the control towers on the radio, because she thought that the registration number of the plane sounded too much like a vanity plate. _Helen Nordstrom 322_. The Philly office wasn't above engineering something like that, with Lorna making suggestions to them. Suddenly she saw a bright red two-engine plane heading towards them at breakneck speed, and Helen's heart seemed to leap right out of her.

"I see him," said Jim calmly, just placing his hands on the controls lightly. Helen was in charge. She started climbing at once, prepared to do something different if the red plane also started to climb. A mechanical voice came over the radio calling, "Traffic, traffic. Traffic, traffic."

Helen, trying not to sound panicked, said into the radio, "A red plane is heading straight at me; I'm climbing to avoid."

Helen heard, "R-868, descend to 3000 immediately. R-868, please descend."

Helen heard a curse, and the red plane shot past below them.

"Nicely done, Miss," Jim said. "Were you ready to drop, just in case?"

"Yeah," said Helen. "Phew. Is that common?"

"That's VFR 6. Keep your eyes open, and avoid a collision. Keep listening."

"H 322, drop to 3000 feet, and keep due South to Roanoke, and let them give you instructions there. Keep well east of the airport traffic here, please. It's getting a little thinner, but keep your eyes open."

[6 VFR = 'Visual Flight Rules.' Compare with IFR = 'Instrumental Flight Rules.']

"Thank you!"

"Say you're signing off, and give them your registration."

"Oh, it's too late now!"

Jim shook his head. "The next time, say this is H-322. Keep listening, in case they give you a different route."

"What about this keep east of the airport traffic?"

"Okay, bank left... let's go that way until we're south of the city..."

Once they were past Pittsburgh and the crazy traffic near the airport, Helen banked right again, until she was on a line due south, headed for Wilmington. Stay well west of Wilmington, Jim advised, but announce when you enter Morgantown airspace.

Helen hated that near-collision, but it was a good lesson for her. You could never depend on the other fellow having good observation. It had certainly helped that his plane was red, though. Helen's own plane, H-322, was a glowing white, which was impossible to see against white clouds. So it was up to Helen to keep her eyes peeled. Relatively quickly, Helen bounced back from the shock of the incident, and began enjoying the flight. Jim kept up a constant barrage of questions from the test, especially those to which Helen had given a weak answer. Several times, other planes came close enough to H-322 that Helen had to take evasive action. Once you fly using _instrument flight rules,_ Jim said, you'll fly higher, and you'll have radar to help you, and you can fly a little faster, which makes it a little easier to keep an eye on problem planes near you.

This was something Helen understood from her Physic classes; a plane flying parallel to Helen, with the exact same speed, would always be exactly to the, say, right of Helen. If she didn't notice him, she would continue to never notice him. If he drifted closer, they would eventually collide. If Helen was flying _faster_ , only planes a little _in front of her_ could drift into her. So if she flew _faster_ than the planes around her, she would only need to keep an eye on a cone directly ahead of her. It seemed wrong to have to fly faster than other planes to avoid collisions, but mathematically, it was true.

Meanwhile, there were storm clouds over Pennsylvania, but of course Helen was leaving them behind, and after a while, they even saw lightning behind them. "Whew", said Helen, "I'd hate to be in that!"

"Well," replied Jim, "don't forget, we have to get back tonight!"

"Well, you can fly the plane!" said Helen, tongue in cheek. Jim shook his head.

"Now concentrate on getting us down, young lady." (Jim was just a little older than Dad, and never lost a chance of reminding Helen of the fact.)

"Oh jeeze. Charlotte, this is NH-322, requesting permission to land." She described what sort of plane it was, a twin-propeller 12-seater, and waited to be assigned a runway. Promptly the tower called her back, and said, "Miss Nordstrom, we've been told to expect you!" And he told her to use the big runway, and approach it from the North. Evidently there was a strong breeze from the South, despite the thunderclouds racing in from the North, behind them. (Jim had warned her that this happened sometimes, and it often resulted in tornadoes.) Helen circled to the North, lowered her landing gear, and came in just a little too fast.

"That's fine," Jim said, and indicated a maneuver to reduce her speed and also her altitude. Her flaps were down, and Helen slowly lowered the plane, all her muscles tight and painful, her teeth biting painfully into her lips. Through the corner of her eye, she could see Jim with his arms folded, and she knew he wouldn't intervene unless she was about to make a complete mess. He kept talking to her in a low voice, and she decided she could do it. She felt the wheels touch the ground, and shortly afterwards, the nose wheel, and she braked as lightly as she dared, and the plane came to a stop almost at the edge of the runway. But it had been a smooth landing.

She looked over at Jim, and he had a huge grin on his face. She had done it! And in a completely unfamiliar airfield, too! Helen felt like a million dollars. And over the radio, there was a quiet congratulations from the control tower.

"How do _these_ guys know who I am?" she demanded from Jim, indignantly, though she was secretly excited by the fact.

"It seems the Pittsburgh tower folks like you, and they talk a lot," grinned Jim, and they checked through their list. The rain was just beginning, and Helen picked up her little girl, and hurried into the shelter of the civil aviation area, followed by Nadia and James and Dad.

She was beginning to see beneath the surface of unfamiliar flight service centers, and had begun talking to the manager before Jim came in with his clipboard. They would have the plane ready in half an hour or sooner. Helen signed, and they headed out to find Sophie.

Sophie had been told to wait in the commercial aviation building near the check-in counters for the biggest domestic airline, and when they arrived on board a commandeered shuttle van, they saw her looking about, at a loss, with two big bags in tow. One of them looked really enormous. Seeing Helen, her face lighted up with relief.

"You're lucky we don't have any baggage!" joked Jim.

Helen gave Sophie an enormous hug. She had not seen the youngster for two entire months, and she had dreamed of seeing her again!

"Sophie, this is my Dad, this is Jim, our pilot and transport manager, and this is Dr. Nadia Van Der Wert, my advisor and friend..."

" _Former_ advisor! Good to see you, dear!"

"... and these are James, whom you've met, and Alison, my third! Allie, say Hi to Aunty Sophie!"

"Pleased to meet you!" said Sophie, grinning her patent Sophie grin, and shaking hands with all of them in turn, lastly with Alison, who was bashful. "So, Cherie, where is this plane, you were saying about?"

"It's over on the other side," said Nadia, pointing vaguely. _It is a tiny little thing, and I'm afraid it will never take off with all this luggage!_ said Nadia in French.

I really, really hope it will be all right. It is a surprise for my friend Helen!

Helen stared at the enormous bag, not able to make out what it was. She walked over and tried to lift it, but it was enormously heavy.

"Oh no, Jim, what'll we do with this?"

Jim checked its weight and hummed and hawed, but they could see from his mischievous smile that it would not be a problem. He said it had to be weighed carefully, and it would affect where they could sit. "It will have to go on one side, and everybody else on the other," he said, but they knew he was kidding.

They bought some food to eat on the way back, but once they got back to the plane service area, the storm broke in all its fury. Jim stared at it thoughtfully. "Boy, that's a really fast moving storm," he said, staring at the sky. But most of the storm was still north of them.

With some difficulty, they got themselves back into the plane, which had been fueled and made ready, and found a way of tethering the heavy bag right in the center of the plane, where the wings were, and Jim carefully distributed the seats around it, both front and back. Luckily Nadia and the kids weighed hardly anything, and he only had to worry about Dad, Helen and Sophie, in addition to himself.

"We're going to fly with the instruments," said Jim.

"You're flying, then."

"I guess. But once we're past the bad weather, you're flying again."

"But you haven't taught me..."

"I'm going to teach you now."

In fact, Helen did a lot of the flying. She took off, and they climbed to ten thousand feet temporarily, to the West, to avoid the center of the storm, on the advice of the tower. Suddenly, they were above the clouds in glorious sunshine, but the cloud cover was complete; they could see nothing below. Jim reported the position of the cloud layer to the tower, who politely thanked him, and he proceeded to show Helen how flying by instruments was done. "You're completely under the control of the towers, and they tell you everything you have to do. We're going to fly due north until we're dead West of Westfield, then we turn ninety degrees, and head home."

"Why? Why not go on the diagonal?"

"This will be easier for you; later on we get to do stuff like that. We also get to avoid Pittsburgh traffic, you see? That's a big deal. OK, keep her level, Helen. Use the instruments."

"When do we go back down to 8000 feet?"

"I'll tell you."

Helen had been using the instruments already; it was just that now she had to use the instruments exclusively, as well as use additional instruments that Jim explained as they went along.

This was a well-equipped plane, and had additional instruments that were useful, and optional safety features. Helen could actually feel that the plane was responding more slowly to almost every control: it climbed more slowly, and turned more slowly. In addition, the sudden dips that had bothered Alison were even more frequent, and the women found them very disconcerting. _Cherie, are you all right?_ they cried, right after they had gone through a spot where the plane dropped several dozen feet, but where the passengers felt as if the plane was completely out of control.

"I'm fine," said Helen, barely able to hear their voices through the headphones.

Though the plane seemed to be limping home, it was actually flying quite valiantly, given the load it was carrying. It was actually one of the largest private planes manufactured, but it was a workhorse, able to carry large numbers of people, had enormous range, and was one of the fastest private propeller aircraft available.

Helen could barely appreciate a spectacular sunset on her left; she was too busy keeping a wary eye on the instruments. They had dropped to nine thousand feet, as instructed by the Morgantown tower, made a wide detour around Pittsburgh, just as the sun set completely. It was still a little light, above the clouds, but now Helen had to descend through the cloud layer, to land at Westfield.

Somehow, the clouds began to thin out, and Helen was a little more confident going through the layer, though, as before, the plane tended to drop while going through a cloud. The lights outlining the runway were a welcome sight, and Helen approached into the wind, as indicated by the ancient windsock they had rigged, and Helen brought the plane down safely in a perfect three-point landing.

"What is in this thing?" asked Jim, as he and Dad manhandled the heavy bag off the plane, and into the back of the Cherokee. Sophie only looked embarrassed, and did not answer.

"So, this is Westfield!" she said, looking around. In the darkness, only the vague glow of the lights of the town could be seen. They laughed at Sophie's enthusiasm. After they had all been put safely aboard the Cherokee, with Helen at the wheel, they drove home, leaving Jim to batten down the plane. It took two people to position the heavy craft, and today Dad, Helen and Jim had made short work of it.

"It is a cute little house!" enthused Sophie, making Helen smile and shake her head. James had made friends with Aunty Sophie very quickly, and now Nadia and Sophie chatted up a storm, while Dad and Helen put together a few snacks, and set coffee brewing. Sophie, it appeared, could drink coffee anytime.

Finally they were all in bed, with Helen and Sophie sharing a bed in Helen's big bedroom, with James fast asleep in his cot.

Even as she thought, a wave of desire rolled over her for the girl in bed with her. She wanted to cuddle with Sophie, but she feared that Sophie's disinterested advice and sweet support would be spoiled if they fell into a sexual relationship. Oh, it had been such a stupid idea to decide to share a bed! Helen wondered whether she was capable of having a non-sexual relationship with any woman young enough to have sex with. It seemed desperately important to be able to do that, particularly because she was falling in love with Rain, and needed not to betray her at this crucial point in their relationship.

"Oh Cherie... the most wonderful thing about you is how you give your love without any... I don't know the word... any holding back! I think this is why you are such an angel!"

Tears filled Helen's eyes. She wanted to believe that so much, but it wasn't truly selfless, really. She had great needs, and she always hoped that each new girl she fell in love with would fill those needs, but she was not able to get what she needed. And each one tried very, very hard, and Helen felt like a dog when her eyes drifted to yet another girl.

# # #

## The Wrong Jason

Early in the morning, Helen woke to find herself cuddled with Sophie. Sophie felt solid and warm in her arms, and her pretty brown eyes were looking into hers.  
"Cherie," she whispered, "there is someone outside. I can hear little-little noises!"

"Oh!" Helen smiled. "It's my running partner! Wanna come running with me?"

Sophie was wide awake. She sat up. "Who is it? Rain?"

"No, no, one of the football coaches!"

"A guy? You run with a guy? Is he cute?"

"Yeah... I'd say he's cute! Coming?"

"Okay, sure!"

She was up, prettily tucking her stray hairs behind her ears, and looking about for her slippers. She turned to see what Helen was wearing, and her eyebrows rose in evident approval. Helen tried not to stare at Sophie's amazing body. She was tightly built, with smoothly muscled legs and powerful arms, but still feminine-looking.

"Do you have running tights I can borrow?"

"Sure. Are these too long?"

They were, but Sophie didn't care. She wore a pair of shorts over the tights, a bra and a sweatshirt, and she was ready. She had sneakers, but hadn't realized it would be this cold.

"Jason, meet Sophie; Sophie, Jason! He coaches football at Westfield. Sophie is a friend from North Carolina."

"Good to meet you, Sophie! Say, are you _the_ Sophie?"

"I think so! Are you _the_ Jason?"

"No, no! That's someone else!"

" _Cherie,_ what is this? We're running with the wrong Jason?"

Helen was giggling too hard to reply. As they ran, Helen said that Sophie would like to practice on the courts in the morning, and wondered whether that would be a problem. Jason said a call to the President's assistant would fix things up. "I don't know whether we can find someone for you to hit with, though! I'd volunteer, but I'm terrible!"

Sophie was impressed that they ran ten miles, but she kept up with them without too much trouble. She was training for the Australian Open, and was eager to get in better shape.

When Helen and Jason went into the dorms to wake up the sleepy-head football players, Sophie thought it was a riot. She banged on the doors, too, and the crowd who was following them kept yelling that Sophie The Legs wanted them out of their rooms. (Evidently The Legs was Sophie's nickname in the media.)

Sophie had a great old time training with the guys and the cheerleaders. Jason had actually managed to expand the weight training area, and there were additional machines that had been obtained over the Fall, and all of them were in use by the football players as well as all sorts of other students and faculty, though at this time in the morning, only Helen was out at the gym, of all her fellow professors. "Stretch, Sophie!" yelled the girls, when Sophie stumbled off the machines and tried to escape.

# # #

## What's in the Bag?

"Well, guess what, Cherie!" said Sophie, at breakfast. Everyone was at breakfast together today, and Helen was nursing James, who was sucking enthusiastically, oblivious to the racket around him. "You know what is in that bag?"

"No, you haven't told us yet!"

"It is a ball machine!"

Helen frowned, until she began to remember that she had seen such a thing before. It was a mechanical ball-throwing device that shot out tennis balls, for players to practice against. "It can shoot out, like, 100 balls in a minute! And then I have to pick them up again!"

It was an enormously heavy thing, and now Helen understood why. The weight enabled the device to throw the balls at the necessary speed. While Nadia headed off to the office with Helen's briefcase, Helen and Sophie hauled the heavy gadget out to the courts, watched from their dorm windows by curious students, who waved when they were noticed.

" _Cherie_ , we must not make a noise, no? They are sleeping?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter after about eight, I don't think. I remember they make quite a racket, huh?"

"Just a sort of popping sound. It grinds a little, and then, pop!" Helen nodded. There must be a sort of flywheel, which primed the spring. The gadget had to be braced, so that it had something to push against.

As soon as it was possible to call the President's office, Helen called and asked for permission to use the courts.

"Who is it again, Dr. Nordstrom? Is it someone the President is likely to know?"

"It's, er, Sophie Cocteau. He might recognize the name!"

The administrative secretary came back saying that yes, the name had been recognized, and the President was actually on his way to meet Miss Cocteau.

"Oh dear. Am I in trouble, Helen?"

"Oh, I don't think so. We hardly get any big names out here, and he probably wants to be introduced! I'm getting late!"

"Why don't you go on? I will talk to this President fellow."

"Rita, this is Helen Nordstrom. Could you put a sign up saying that I'll be a couple of minutes late? Its room 210! Oh, thanks!"

In a few minutes, President Alvin strode up. He was a heavyset gentleman in his fifties, a former English professor turned administrator.

"Hello! I'm Robert Alvin! It's great to have you on our campus!"

"Hi! I am here with Helen, I hope it is OK!"

"It most certainly is; I'm going to tell the people who are in charge to give you any help you need. I do hope you can spare a few minutes to chat with our students, and maybe hit a ball or two with them!"

Sophie nodded, smiling ruefully. Helen could see her wondering whether this whole thing would be more trouble that it was worth. "I will! Thank you very much, Mr. Alvin!" Helen thanked him, too, and the President stood back, and Sophie and Helen understood that he was hoping to see what they would do next.

Luckily, Jason, in his inevitable tie, and a smart vest, came over, grinning, and gave a polite bow to the President, and behind him came an older grounds-keeper, who seemed to know what to do. A power extension was quickly rigged, the big ball machine was anchored professionally, and the machine was fed a basketful of brand new tennis balls, and Sophie hurried to the baseline, with a brief smile and a wave at the kids hanging out of their dorm windows.

Soon the first ball popped out, all the way to the baseline, and Sophie whipped it cross-court, and got a huge cheer. She took a second to acknowledge the cheers with a happy grin, and nearly got hit by the second ball. The President nodded to Sophie and Helen with a smile, and headed back to his office, leaving the girls with the machine.

How cute Sophie was! Helen could hardly tear herself away.

_Well, I'm off, Sophie dear_ , she said, _I'll try and be back after class!_

Sophie dared not take her eye off the machine, so she called out a farewell, and continued to hit the balls.

"Wow, Miss Helen! We was watching from the lounge! How cool, you know Sophie The Legs!"

"Huh. What's so great about her legs?" demanded Helen with a fake scowl.

The lesson was pretty much a write-off; the kids just could not concentrate on new material. Helen had to make do with forcing them to do an enormous number of exercises in the short time that was left, and luckily the high-speed quizzing procedure appealed to their competitive spirit, and Helen was just barely satisfied that she had accomplished anything.

## Rain Gets Coffee

Betsy was there to meet Helen after class, as was Rain.

"Hi, Helen!" said Rain, smiling sweetly, after which she turned to chat to Rita, while Helen and Betsy went into her office.

"Did you have trouble on the way out to North Carolina?"

"No, but I got some instrument flying experience. It was exciting!"

"I bet it was, too."

"Jim has got me into applying for a Pilot's License," Helen said, but Betsy seemed to know about all that already. Marika and Lisa were asking about the liner notes again, and Helen's choir and orchestra, which was called The Impromptu Choir and Orchestra, quite inappropriately, was clamoring for Helen to conduct them over Christmas break.

"Miss Helen, I was talking to Miss Rain just now, and she wants you to travel out to England for the holidays!"

Helen stared back at Betsy wide-eyed. The door was ajar, and Helen wondered whether they were being eavesdropped. Helen couldn't think of anything more wonderful, but... there were so many issues!

"I have to talk to her about that. Dad is with me, and there's the girls, whom you haven't met yet!" Betsy smiled, and Helen could see that she was looking forward to meeting the older children, but it wasn't her way to press for the meeting.

"Well, I'll work on the rest of the stuff, and if there's anything urgent, I'll call you at home!"

"OK, great! Thanks a million, Betsy!"

"Oh sure!"

Helen smiled at Rain, who took leave of Rita, and came into the office "Well, Sophie's out on the courts, playing against a ball machine. I want to go see how it's going," said Helen.

"Why don't you change into sweats; I see some hanging behind the door, and I'll bring along your stuff for your next class, and you could, maybe, play a little tennis with her!"

Helen thought it was a wonderful idea. It would only take a few seconds to shower in the gym. She quickly changed, and Rain packed her clothes into a bag, and Helen gave Rain the folder of materials for the next class and her little computer, and they set out. "Rita, would you put up a sign that I might be late for this next class, too?" Helen said, with a blush, and Rita nodded. Rita was Helen's faithful slave.

" _Cherie!"_ yelled Sophie from inside the court, where she was busily picking up balls. She sounded out of breath. "This thing is winning against me!"

"Sophie, meet Rain Woodford; Rain, Sophie Cocteau!"

_It's actually Evelyn,_ said Rain with a smile, as she offered her hand. _I assume you don't mind speaking a little French!_

_Oh, every chance I get!_ said Sophie with a grin. _I don't suppose you play tennis?_

_Not dressed like this!_ laughed Rain. _And hardly ever, anyway!_

Helen, Cherie! You will hit with me a little?

Yes, as soon as we clear the court.

The sightseers at the windows were excited. Miss Helen is playing Sophie The Legs on the tennis courts!

They warmed up quickly, and the game was on.

"I'll let you win, because it will be too embarrassing to lose in front of your students, Cherie!"

"Oh... thank you; that's most considerate!"

"But no aces allowed!"

But Helen proceeded to ace her anyway. Helen had a very powerful serve, but after that first ace, she decided not to try that particular ploy. Soon Sophie forgot the audience, and played as hard as she could, because getting accustomed to playing half-heartedly could have repercussions for tournament play very soon.

At first, Helen was slow on her feet, because the last time she had played tennis was with Sophie, back in September. Fast footwork needed constant practice, and Helen's legs were not accustomed to it.

Helen had forgotten all about it, but as a teenager, when she had just met Janet, she had tried to serve-and-volley all the time. That was what she had seen her tennis heroes at the time do, and they had all been men. It had been with great difficulty that Janet had got Helen to invest in her ground-strokes, but it had paid off, and Helen had learned an all-round game. But now Helen had the height and the quickness, and Sophie was hard pressed anytime Helen came to the net, but she managed to get the ball past her about half the time.

" _Cherie_ , what is this, all the time rushing the net? Stay back, and give me a chance!"

"OK, this time!"

Rain could see the friendship of the two women increase even as she watched, but it was so fascinating to watch the match at close hand that she often forgot to feel jealousy. But she sighed, realizing that to be Helen's lover and partner would be to feel jealousy almost all the time. Helen exuded an almost animal magnetism, and a great part of her power was the sheer sexual attraction she exerted on everyone she dealt with, from the President all the way down to the students, but the rest of it was that stunningly unassuming sweetness that had spread to little Allie, and Rain imagined, was present in the older girls whom she hadn't yet met. Sophie's legs were now visible; she had taken off her sweats and now wore just a pair of shorts. Rain was glad Helen was covered up.

The game had to be interrupted for Helen to clean up and change, and Sophie regretfully bid Helen farewell, and arranged to meet for lunch. Rain offered to stay and watch after she had seen Helen safely off.

The whole school was in an uproar of excitement over the visit of the well-liked, up-and-coming tennis star, and Helen got a lot of reflected glory. Her advanced class, which was usually only concerned with matters having to do with Cecilia, were fascinated about Helen and Sophie, seeing a possible romantic spin on their relationship. But Helen finally got them working on something interesting, and managed to salvage something from the period. At the end of it, she was free for the weekend.

# # #

Dad was waiting for them, having put together a little picnic table in the back yard, and a tiny little table-top grill on which he was planning to cook supper. All the women expressed their pleasure but insisted that dinner would have to be very late, because they had eaten a big meal.

"Papa," said Sophie, to John Nordstrom, making him blush, "This girl can play tennis like a... like a..."

"She could almost go on the professional circuit!" said Rain, outspoken for once.

"Yes! All she needs is a little practice, a little training, and she can make real money!"

"Playing tennis, eh?" asked Dad, still not quite over the 'Papa' title.

"Yes! She is an _animal!"_ declared Sophie, still feeling inexplicably put upon, to have had to work so hard against an amateur.

"Is that good or bad, for your training?"

"Oho, that is the _best!_ Cherie, I'm telling you: you have some tricks I have never seen! Like the _guys,_ they do! Of course, the girls learn from the guys, all the time. But you," she shook her head.

"Is she really that good, or are you just flattering her?" asked Nadia, honestly puzzled. She had not been aware of Helen's athletic abilities so directly.

"No, no! This is serious! Professor, she is _really_ good. So good, she could be national ranked. This is, like, you get a rating, as an amateur, you know? Which is, what sort of tournaments you are allowed to play. So, if she rates too high, she can never play in the amateur tournaments, which is of course a bit sad. But Cherie, you never play, no? What is the meaning of this?"

Sophie was preoccupied with Helen's tennis skill, and indignant that she did not participate in competitive play. By her standards, it was _not done_ to be this good, and not apply to get _rated_ , as she called it.

Helen, of course, had been trained back at the time when she was a sophomore in college, and those years had been wiped out. Helen considered herself in those years as an entirely different Helen, about whom she was finding out in dribs and drabs. She had discovered that she could play tennis like a pro in the old housing construction days, when she had met little Gena, who had been just ten or eleven at the time, when Helen had visited a tennis court during a tournament. The little kid had been a ball-girl, and gotten hurt, and Helen had attended to her wrist, and their love affair had begun. Gena had mostly forgotten that meeting, Helen supposed, but Gena and tennis were linked indelibly in Helen's mind.

After Sophie had showered and changed, and Rain had freshened up, they sat around the table, and Sophie led the conversation as she tended to do.

"So, Cherie, are your other two kids as nice as these two? How old are they, again?"

Helen and Nadia recited the facts, with a little help from Dad. "Gena's birthday comes up during Christmas week, usually," he said, and Helen nodded, embarrassed to have forgotten it. "She's going to be fourteen, I believe. Can't believe it's been so long!"

"She's just a lovely girl," Helen said quietly. "A wonderful big sister to the others. An excellent example."

"And Erin is about ten or eleven," Nadia contributed. "Helen, you must pay more attention to that child. She's going to be a musical genius, and you can't afford to ignore her!"

Helen sighed. "I only see them once a month, on a weekend, when I'm on the point of falling asleep," Helen said, and she had to explain the details to the two visiting girls. "Normally, this would be the weekend, but I was excused from _Galaxy_ shooting this weekend."

"Cherie, are you not going for Thanksgiving because _I_ am here?"

"It doesn't matter, Sophie; term will be ending soon, and I will have them for three whole weeks!"

"Where do they live exactly, again? Michigan, or Wisconsin or somewhere out there?"

"Minnesota."

There was a silence.

"How much will it cost for us all to give them a visit? I will wait and check the last-minute fares; this is how I do... I go on wait-listing, and I get a seat, for very cheap!"

"You can't do that for a large group, Sophie, but you can get group rates if you buy early."

"Wait, we're going too fast! Nadia, what have you planned for this weekend?"

It turned out that everyone wanted Helen not to neglect the girls this weekend, and they all wanted to go with Helen. It was turning into a serious expedition, and Helen decided to put it all in Jim's lap. The good news was that they could get very favorable corporate rates because Helen traveled so much. Sophie had been about to offer to pay for all their fares, but of course she could not afford such an expense. But Helen persuaded her that it would not cost that much.

Of course, there was a day and a half more of class that Helen was obliged to do, classes in which she expected the students to not pay very much attention, because of the short week of Thanksgiving. It was usually informal competitions, and fun activities.

# Thanksgiving

But Tuesday came at long last, and Jim and Becky delivered on the tickets. Leaving the fabulous ball machine behind, they packed for the extended holiday, ready to head out to Minnesota.

At first, Rain was irked by Sophie's presence, and by the fact that Sophie's things were in Helen's room, even if temporarily. Helen did not know this, but as they got ready to go on the impromptu trip out to the Midwest, Helen got a glimpse or two of Rain's pained expression, and made a note to herself. Things were going to get crazy in Ferguson, if she didn't give Rain more attention.

Jim flew them out to Pittsburgh, which was the closest large hub from where Helen could make most of her connections, and therefore they had made an effort to make the acquaintance of the service staff there. Jim got the plane settled in, and joined the group to go out to St. Paul on the big Jumbo Jet on which they had tickets. They were flying economy class, which Helen's family did when she was not flying on business. The seats were as crowded as ever, and Helen sat with Allie and James and Nadia, while Rain and Sophie sat together.

Dad had gotten a flight out to St. Louis, from where he would fly to the farm in Kansas. Anne, John's wife, had moved out to Ferguson, to live with Janet and Cindy, while Janet's mother, Old Elly, had moved out to the Farm, to take charge of the house, and Anne's sons Bo, and Little John. Elly had volunteered to hold the fort there, to allow Anne to quietly leave John, without making a huge fuss about it. A divorce had been quietly applied for, and from the little information Helen had, it seemed that it was only a matter of time until both John and Anne were free. In Anne's heart, Helen knew, there was a little corner that hoped that Helen would someday come to Anne once and for all. They had never lived together, and Helen doubted that they ever would, but Anne seemed to feel that she was the only hope for Helen ever settling down. It would be a cruel shock to Anne to find Helen returning with two girls. But Helen was always doing this, and Anne had learned to deal with it, or so she hoped.

It was a direct flight, and as the plane circled to land, Alison and James began to whimper their distress; the equalizing pressure was always hard on James, and apparently on Allie as well. Sophie and Rain had been deep in conversation, and Jim had been reading, but now he was taking notice, and remarking on the layout of the enormous airport.

# # #

After the usual fussing, the plane was on the ground, and they were eventually at the baggage claim, and Cindy was there to meet her. She was ceremoniously introduced to Sophie and Rain, and they got their luggage loaded, including Rain's little canvas bag, and they were off to the house.

"The girls are at play practice," Cindy reported, in her soft voice. Cindy was a former Catholic Nun who had given up the order, and now lived at Ferguson as a sort of glorified housekeeper. It was she who taught the girls the violins, viola and cello. "Annie would have come along, but she decided to stay home and do her homework!" Actually, Helen guessed, Annie might have suspected that John might have come with them, and was anxious to avoid embarrassment. Anne and John were fine talking to each other, but Helen got the distinct impression that they would rather not be together with Helen there.

Rain had rather pointedly made it clear to Cindy that her real name was Evelyn, something she was doing increasingly often, glancing at Helen, and the latter was beginning to understand that Rain's 'Rain' days were about to be over; she was ready to become Evelyn again full-time. She had been pleasant and polite all along, but Helen got the feeling that all was not well. The bags had all been unloaded from the van, and Cindy had put everyone in different rooms, with great tact.

Once the bags had been hauled in, and Jim had gone down the hill to check in at the Ferguson Inn, and Sophie was settled in the kitchen with Nadia, asking questions about everything. Helen, with Allie on her hip, checked in on Rain in the third floor room she had been assigned.

## Ferguson's Creek, Minnesota

Rain turned to look at the tall blonde whom she had decided to adopt, who had switched from being the efficient leader of their contingent, into the girl-next-door, checking to see that her girlfriend was comfortable. Helen was smiling, her eyes glowing with pleasure at being able to host Rain in this lovely home.

"I'm not sure what this place is," said Rain, cautiously, after she had said that she liked her room.

"Well," said Helen, as Allie struggled to be let down, to run to Rain, and plopped herself down on Rain's bed, "we... we'd been on the run for, like, two years, you know?" Rain nodded, with a frown. She had been told some of this before, but it was confusing. "I was pregnant with James, and... well, I have cousins living in St. Paul, and they'd been looking for a place for me to stay, and this house was vacant. So my cousin Heikki arranged for us to stay here, and I started teaching music at the school over there, remember?" Rain nodded. She recalled the beautiful old school buildings they had passed on their way. There had been a steep, tree-lined avenue that rose up the hill, and the lovely old stone buildings surrounded by a stone wall, which was the school. Then they had gone past it, and a short distance away, around a bend had been this old house. "It was much smaller, then. Then, once we came out of hiding, and Cindy and The Twins came to live here, I decided to expand the house. This was earlier in the Summer! So now, it's big, a lot bigger than it needs to be, really. But we all gather here on holidays, so it's got a dozen rooms! It's sort of mine, and sort of Janet's; you'll meet her. She's at school, evidently!"

"Janet is a cousin?"

"No, no; just... a friend!"

"So, like Sophie?"

"No... more like you."

"Oh. So... you've brought me out to show me off to a former girlfriend of yours?"

"Rain..."

"Helen, I think it's time you started calling me Evelyn. That's my name."

"Evelyn..." Helen was finding it difficult to carry on, especially because Evelyn was looking so distressed, despite her valiant effort to control her expression. "... Can't I call you Rain, when we're alone together?"

Rain gritted her teeth. She nodded, afraid that if she said anything, her frustration would pour out unstoppable.

"I'll make this short," Helen said, and Rain nodded again. "I was crazy in love with Janet when I was, like, fifteen. We were together for... almost three years. Almost right away, her daughter, Elly was born, when I was a sophomore. When she was growing up, Jan, and her mother, and other members of the family thought... that it would be better for the child to be raised by... a regular pair of parents. So Jan got married, then she divorced, then..." Rain was watching her with an expressionless face. _Well_ , thought Helen, _we're going to have to deal with this sooner or later._ "She's one of my closest friends, and... her mother is now down at our farm, with my Dad, so, we're practically step-sisters."

"You're sure. There's no... leftover feelings, no slipping off to have a quickie... ?"

"Well, not anymore."

" _Not anymore._ "

"You're suspicious! Rain—Evelyn, then—you've changed things, girl! Surely, you don't want me to cut myself loose from all my friends?"

"No, it's just that—it's very intimidating to have to deal with a former girlfriend-turned-regular friend, Helen!"

"Oh god, Rain," said Helen, holding her head, as Alison quietly disappeared down the stairs, "there's going to be a lot of those. A lot!" She looked at Rain, pleading with her eyes. "I have... had sex with lots of women."

"Well, I supposed there would be, maybe, a handful. I actually assumed there would be probably a dozen. I guess... What, more than a dozen? Twenty?" Helen was shaking her head, her face white. "More than twenty?" Helen nodded slowly. "What have I let myself in for?"

Helen took a deep breath, and looked away. This was the problem she had to deal with. She loved people, especially women, and as soon as she made friends with one, they became intimate, and soon they were in love, and in bed together, and... after a while, things went wrong, and it was another girl.

In some ways, Rain was very different; she was not beautiful: that was not what had drawn Helen to her. But still, some of the women who had been Helen's partners at various times were no less wonderful than Rain. Helen was depressed.

"All I know is, that I love you like crazy right now, and... don't ask me any more. It doesn't work to shame me about these girls... or women; I'm not ashamed of them. I love them just as much as I ever did, but they're just... not with me, right now!"

Helen watched while all sort of painful emotions flitted across Rain's face.

Rain sighed, and dropped her eyes, and slowly raised them up to meet Helen's. There was a certain pride in them that puzzled Helen, and scared her a little.

"I'm not just an ordinary girl, Helen. I didn't mean to blurt this out to you like this, but, if it would make a difference... I... my father is a British peer, Helen. He's Lord Woodford. I'm Lady Evelyn Woodford!" Helen stared at her, her mouth hanging open. "I think I can take the leap to... live with a female lover, but I don't think I can deal with being left for another woman."

Helen was stunned. It was not that she had any doubts that women of the British nobility were the same sort of humans as most other women she had known, but that it seemed to her that if she and Rain were to ever break up, quite apart from the matter of visiting rights for the children, it would be an embarrassment far beyond that of breaking up a partnership with an ordinary British citizen. Helen was by no means overwhelmed by titles. But she was sensitive to the responsibility of those in high station to maintain a certain level of decorum, and she hated to put Rain in a position of possibly being embarrassed.

Can I behave well enough to be a plausible partner to Lady Evelyn? Helen's thoughts whirled round and round in a fugue of confusion and uncertainty. But the big question that eclipsed all others was whether she could be truly so happy with Rain that her affections would not wander.

Somehow, Helen's face must have reflected her despair about the question.

"It's all right," said Rain, softly.

"No," said Helen, her chest feeling tight, and her heart beating wildly. "It's not all right... my record has been... terrible." She looked positively grey. She shook her head and dropped her eyes. "You should have told me," she muttered.

"Why? Do you treat people of different rank differently?"

Helen looked angry. "It's not just your _rank_ ," she said. "If things were to go wrong, your... your people would be insulted... Rain—Evelyn," she amended, and Rain nodded impatiently. "I don't know how to behave with... a member of—I don't know—the peerage? The nobility—whatever. I can barely deal with a _person;_ to mess with an entire, I don't know..."

"A village, Helen."

"Yeah... Oh god, I feel like crap!" Suddenly Helen felt a wave of desire for Rain. She bit her lip hard. Lust was not an answer for anything. If Helen's happiness and Rain's happiness was to emerge from this entire mess, it would be from other things: not lust, not awe of the aristocracy, but from respect, and a complete belief in the sincerity of the other person. And Helen was certain of one thing: if there was going to be disrespect and insincerity, it most certainly _would not come from Rain,_ or Lady Evelyn, or whoever the hell she was.

"I love you... I need you desperately; Rain—Evelyn—oh damn... you're my only chance at happiness! And I think I can make you happy; I _know_ I can make you happy!"

And a slow, doubtful smile flowed across Rain's face, and Helen slipped to the floor in gratitude, holding out her arms to Rain, as if she were drowning, clutching at Rain, a desperate look on her face. Rain went to her, and knelt in front of her, accepting her plea.

"Oh Helen, what am I to do with you?"

Helen was breathing hard.

"Close the door and lock it. I'll show you what you can do with me!"

## A Hullabaloo

There was a big hullaballoo.

"What's going on?" asked Rain, in a whisper, still vibrating with what they had been doing.

"Oh... it's the Twins and Gena, and Erin, I suppose," Helen said, hurriedly pulling herself together. "They've probably discovered Sophie."

"Is Sophie really such a huge deal?" Rain asked, wonderingly.

Helen nodded. "She was ranked in the teens going into the French Open, and she came runner-up, and she's risen to the top ten in Women's tennis, I believe. She's quite a big deal," Helen said, as she urged Rain out, and towards the kitchen.

"Now, tell me again, who are these twins? I thought they were Janet's daughters, but now I know only one of them is, I though you said Elizabeth, or something like that?"

"Elly, short for Eleanor, actually. Jan's mother's name is Eleanor, too." Helen judged that it was not the right time to bring up the fact that her own name was also Eleanor. "The other one is Tommy, short for Thomasina, who's Old Elly's daughter. Actually," said Helen, blushing, as she looked at Rain, and then looked away, "she's my sister. Dad and Elly had a brief affair, before... you know, Annie and Dad got married. It was sort of weird. When Tommy was born, we assumed she was just Elly's and Tom's child. It only came out once Tom had died—Tom was Janet's father, you know?"

"That really is weird... now your father and Elly are finally getting together!"

"Yeah... that had to wait sixteen years, I guess. But Tommy kept Tom's name; she's still Tommy Krebs."

"I've got to see her. Does she look like you, or like Janet? What does Janet look like?"

Helen grinned at her. She could hardly wait to see Rain's reaction to her family.

Minutes later, Rain was being introduced to Tommy, Elly, Gena and Erin, and presently Helen could see that she was in love with all of them, just as Helen had guessed she would be.

# # #

## Rain Phones her Parents

Rain found herself talking to her father on an international phone call. He was surprisingly restrained. Taking courage, Rain tried again to explain her point of view, and push for what she wanted. She motioned for Helen to leave, whispering to her not to go out of eyeshot.

Her father was saying that perhaps he had neglected her. "The house takes so much of my time, I haven't really paid attention, I suppose. I'm to blame. I took the position that I'd let you manage your life... find your own partner. I didn't supervise your social life, Evelyn. Perhaps you needed that."

He sounded defeated, at a loss. Rain couldn't bear to listen to him go like that. "I'm happy you did that, Daddy... you know I'm different. You're the only one who understood me the least little bit! This is _not_ a protest against you or Mum. I really love this girl! She's a wonderful, sweet woman!" Rain eagerly pressed home her message. "If you met her, you wouldn't be so paranoid."

"Paranoid! My God, girl, look at what's at stake!"

Rain thought she would explode. She had to be polite and patient and reasonable. What was at stake was her happiness. The village would always survive, regardless of the sexual preference of the Lord's daughter.

"I'll call you later, Dad. We're both too upset right now. I was hoping to bring her to see you both."

"No, that would not be wise. I don't believe I could be at all civil to this girl, and that would be unfortunate. Here, talk to your mother; I'm going outside."

Rain groaned inwardly. "All right, though it isn't going anywhere with _her_."

He gave a bitter laugh. "What would you expect? She's been liberal and understanding, but this..."

"Evelyn?"

Mum had been crying; Rain could hear it in her voice. She spoke quietly, as if not to be overheard. Even as she got increasingly impatient with her parents, Rain was beginning to long to see them again. She had dreaded talking to them, but now she didn't really want to hang up.

"He's gone out to the pond. Oh Evelyn... it's just beginning to sink in."

"Look, you know you aren't going to throw me out, or anything."

Rain's mother sounded hurt and angry, but she spoke calmly. "Darling, that doesn't happen anymore in our family. But... it's going to be very hard to explain, especially to the people of the town."

"She'll charm them completely. She's amazing! Oh Mum, why don't you ask me what she's _like?_ She's my best friend! Even if... you know, it wasn't this way, she'd still be my friend, you know? I'm in love for the first time and the last time, and it mayn't last, but..." Rain felt incredibly frustrated. It was impossible to talk to her mother about love. She just wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm sure she's a very nice girl, love. But even the best of these yanks are poor, uneducated savages." Rain rolled her eyes. "There's one in town now, and my word, he can barely make himself understood. And he was about to be teaching English at the school for a year. Well, we've worked around that. What a worry that was. He's really nice, friendly and good looking, and he's come up and visited twice." Her mother sighed. "He talks Chaucer and Beowulf with Dad, and they get along fine. But nobody in town can stand him, but of course he doesn't know."

"Ignorant savages? Where'd that come from?"

"Evelyn, it's common knowledge, dear; look at this Scott fellow. It's going to be a while before he can communicate. He's from West Virginia, and he's very incoherent for a supposedly educated man. He's got a degree from the University of Maryland!"

"Mother, Helen's _not_ by any stretch of the imagination an ignorant savage."

"Her name's Helen?"

"Well, Eleanor. Helen for short."

"She speaks well?"

"Excellently!"

"Where did you find her, darling? I hope it isn't one of your students. That would be scandalous. Or I suppose it was one of the lecturers there?"

"Yes, the latter! She's in the music department. In fact she's the famous violinist, Helen Nordstrom."

"Oh my." There was a pause. "I've seen her on the Telly." Rain's mother was very gratifyingly taken aback. They'd never given Evelyn a chance to explain exactly who Helen was, and Evelyn hadn't been about to blurt it out without the matter coming up in some natural way. It hadn't been the fact that Helen was a celebrity that had made her love Helen, quite the opposite. And Evelyn was careful to present Helen to her parents in such a way that her fame was entirely incidental to their relationship.

"Of course you have!"

"And is she... does she..." Her mother groped for the words she wanted, and settled on: "... Is she in love with you, too?"

"Yes. Oh Mummy, you'll love her!" said Rain softly and passionately, glancing at Helen who stood at the end of the long, cold atrium, watching anxiously.

"I probably would, if I didn't know she's got her hooks into you."

"I'll call you later!" said Rain, choking, and rang off. She ran upstairs into her room and locked the door and cried, angry, bitter tears. She didn't answer Helen's knocks for a long time, and Helen went away.

Sometime later Helen came back and called her through the door. "It's the pizza you ordered, ma'am," she said in her best imitation of an Italian accent. Rain had to laugh. She opened the door and Helen scooted in and picked her up and whirled her around.

"Put me down, please!"

Helen put her down and smiled tenderly, then looked serious. Rain climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her waist and looked at the ceiling. Helen leaned against the door.

"You're an ignorant savage yank, and you're to be pitied. You're probably a nice girl, but you've got your hooks into me." Helen nodded and smiled. "You're not upset?"

Helen shrugged and grinned. "I'll charm them when I meet them!"

"That's just it! It's off. Bringing you there didn't even get on the agenda."

"But _you have to go_. I'll call you every day, but you must go." Helen's face was grave and she was clearly anxious to impress on Rain the importance of what she was saying. "If you don't, they'll associate me with not having you home, with losing you."

Rain saw at once that it was true. But her love was too new to permit her to go that far from Helen, or the kids. The very thought of separation made her want to cling to Helen, and she could see that Helen, too, was sorely tempted to jump into bed with her.

"Come to bed," Rain said, softly.

Helen was dressed like any Middle American mom, in jeans and sweater. They were nice jeans, a pretty wheat, but they didn't quite look right. Rain felt a strange protective feeling for Helen. Sometimes she was so awkward, and Rain felt like showing her what to do, how to act, what to say, as if she was some clumsy teenager. Other times Helen was—just perfect: a queen, a teacher, a mother, a sister, who knew exactly what to do. But now she was awkward. She didn't want to begin a long session of sex, but Rain knew Helen's tender heart ached for her young lover.

Helen sat on the bed next to Rain. Helen looked into Rain's eyes, her own eyes soft with love and pity.

"Sometimes parents just... lose it, you know. They forget to be perfect!"

Rain let out a long slow breath. "Well... in this case, I need nothing short of perfection." She smiled sadly at Helen. It was ironic that she had to defend her parents, and then go out and fight again. "They just don't have the... _training,_ to deal with the shit I'm throwing at them. And they haven't seen the tattoo and the piercing, either." They played with each other's hands, a safe way to make love while they talked. "I love them, Helen. The stupider they get, the more I realize I love them!"

Helen smiled and nodded. She had really looked forward to going home with Rain. Rain offered the domesticity Helen craved. Helen had thought she could finally give the children a real mother, a girl who practically doted on them.

"Your family comes first," Helen agreed. "I'm going to be shamelessly selfish. I'm going to take their side! Maybe someday you can tell them that, and they'll love me for it."

There had been an early snowfall in the Ferguson hills. They went out and played in the snow. They watched the dog Lucy gallop around and fetch sticks they threw for her, they went down the gentle slopes of the hill nearby with Allie screaming in delight, and crying "Again! Again, Mama! I want to go again!"

There were often tears in Rain's eyes. When Helen looked a question at her, she only shook her head. How could she explain that she _wanted_ the kids? How could Helen understand that? She had tried, and she knew that Helen had felt fear, and only Helen's growing love for Rain kept that fear in check.

Quite naturally, Helen was less nervous of Rain holding James and cuddling him. She probably felt confident about James and her maternal bond with him. She still felt very anxious about the three girls, especially Gena and Allie.

# # #

Rain was also introduced to Michelle and Marika, who were also visiting. She had already met Cindy and Annie.

"Michelle, may I take Deke out for a spin? I need to go see Mom and Dad; I haven't been out there for months!" Marika hauled the sleds into the shed and came over to Cindy and Michelle who were seated at the top of the steps, watching.

Michelle said sure, but Cindy suggested she should take the minivan. "It's got better traction in the snow."

"Helen," said Rain, "did you hear that?"

Helen grinned at her. "Bored, huh! Sure, let's go along!"

"But they're your family, too! Your uncle and your aunt, and all your cousins!"

"Yeah, I know! That's why we're going! I'll get the kids ready; we should all go, Gena and Erin are really fond of the old couple..."

"Gosh, if they were my cousins, I'd have gone long ago!"

Helen widened her eyes and said, okay, okay already, as she went upstairs to change James's diaper.

## The Johnsons

Marika introduced Rain to her parents with her arm affectionately on her shoulder. "Mom, Dad, this is Rain, Helen's friend, and my friend! Isn't she so cute?"

"Hello, Rain, good to meet you! So where did you find our Helen?" asked Marika's mother, well accustomed to Helen bringing in girls to meet them every once in a while. (The poor child couldn't seem to make up her mind about which girl she wanted, but she invariably did seem to find the sweetest girls. What happened to them after Helen was done with them, she wondered, already feeling sorry for Rain.) "Come, sit down and talk to me!" She tried not to stare at Rain's facial ornamentation, which was extremely disconcerting to an old suburban couple who didn't get out much.

But Rain had a wonderful grace in the way she held her head that was fascinating. She never moved her head too quickly, since that caused the piercings to wobble in their places rather uncomfortably. Her gait was still a little awkward. It was a deliberate awkwardness cultivated by her for reasons having to do with experiences in her teen years. But now, surrounded by women such as Helen, Marika, Janet and Cindy, it didn't seem so important to use such props to bolster her non-conformist image. None of this, of course, was understood by Mary Johnson. She saw an odd, awkward girl who seemed very polite and attentive.

Rain was fascinated by the old couple. Helen visited with Heikki and the other sisters, of whom two were visiting at the same time, and then raided the attic with Marika, hunting for hand-me-downs for Allie and James. But Helen's aunt and uncle were tickled no end to have a genuine English girl sit and quiz them about their families. For an hour they told her all sorts of stories about growing up in the Midwest, and being kids in the 40s, just after the Depression.

"Do you have any stories about your first ancestors who came to America?" asked Rain.

"Sure," said Rolf, "it was my dad. He was just a kid, about 8 or 9, and he came with his mom and dad, who were in their forties, and only spoke Swedish!"

The Johnsons simply loved Rain, in spite of her weird piercings and hair. Helen talked with her cousins, who were busy trying to find things that Allie liked to eat. Allie wasn't picky about food; she ate pretty much anything that was given her, but the clever Johnson girls, now with children of their own, were very much into stuffing little girls with as much food as they could possibly eat, and Helen did think that Allie was a trifle underweight. It was a while before she realized that Rain was debriefing the old couple in some detail.

Marika finally decided it was time they did a bit about Christmas celebrations and the program. She brought out her camera again, and the siblings obliged her with about an hour's worth of toy-making and making ornaments for the Tree, which was looking very nice indeed in the living room. Helen admired the young spruce, which was loaded with wooden ornaments, and very little tinsel. "There just isn't room," they explained, "we gave up tinsel way back! We like it this way."

Helen liked her cousins. They were all different, except Ingrid and Heikki, both of whom looked very much like Helen indeed. Heikki came in just as they were about to leave and hugged and kissed all of them very affectionately. Rain could hardly believe her eyes, since she was already amazed at how much alike Helen and Marika looked. The other girls, though they shared a strong family resemblance in terms of their tall blonde looks, were a contrast in terms of temperament and build.

"We'll definitely be back!" Helen promised, as Marika drove them back.

# # #

## Rain Phones Home _Again_

"They're just so cute! Helen, how _could_ you neglect them so?"

Helen sighed and Marika grinned. "If she did everything she's supposed to do, man, whoa."

"That's what I'm worst at: keeping in touch. I guess you and Lisa are the ones I try to keep up with the most!"

Helen was in the back with the kids, while Marika and Rain were in the nice big seats in front. Helen studied Rain from her seat, and realized how long and curly her lashes were, long, long, long. Her thin arms seemed to invite Helen's touch.

"What time will it be in Woodford?"

"Oh... around dinner time. They'll be watching the news, or maybe gone up for the pantomime... I don't know." Rain turned to glance at Helen, and then quickly at Marika, wondering how much she knew about what was going on.

"Well? How did the call go, or should I mind my own business?" Rain covered her face and gave a cry of anguish and frustration, and Marika immediately looked concerned and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Rain; parents can be difficult, I know." They drove for a while in silence. "Helen," she said reproachfully, "you seem to bring out the worst in people."

Rain groaned again, and Marika winced. "If they got to know her it'd be a lot less..."

"Frightening."

"... Exactly!" Rain was strung as tight as a bow, ready to snap, and Helen murmured soothing words from behind them. Helen gently suggested that she and Marika should avoid complicating Rain's feelings towards her parents, and Marika immediately agreed, apologizing. But Rain disagreed: "No, I'd rather you'd let me talk it out with you both. Sophie is no use, she'd never say a harsh word against anyone." She blinked hard, determined not to cry, and got herself under control.

All her life Rain had thought of her parents as being ultra-conservative stick-in-the-muds. In fact, though, they were very progressive indeed, considering where they lived. If they hadn't been, they would have beaten out Rain's eccentricities at an early age. Now, watching Helen interact with Gena with such patience, she was recalling her childhood, and the patience of her parents.

"They're not bad people," she said, more to herself than the other girls.

"Who's not bad people, Aunty Rain?"

Helen shushed her gently, saying they were talking about people Allie didn't know.

"My mummy and daddy," said Rain. Allie exclaimed that she hadn't realized that Rain had parents, and Rain replied that indeed she had, more's the pity. "No, darling, I don't mean that. Someday you'll meet them, and I want you to love them."

"What do they look like?"

"Look like? Well... different from anyone you know, darling."

"I want to see them!"

Rain felt a new urgency to try once more to talk to her parents. "I can't stand it; I must call them again," she said, clearly agitated. "This is my _life!_ I wouldn't be so frustrated by it if I didn't care about them. Would I?" They agreed with her. She rocked back and forth with the intensity of her impatience, and Helen pulled out her phone. Rain took it eagerly, and Helen watched her key in the long dialing code for Woodford-on-Avon. Helen shut her ears, smiling. Rain smiled and turned slightly away and spoke softly.

"Mum? It's Evelyn again!"

"Oh darling, I'm _so_ glad you called! Your Dad and I have been in such a state all day. You rang off without telling where you are, or where we can reach you! Dad, it's Evelyn, dear. Yes, yes, that's what I told her. Wait, you can have your turn when I'm finished. Evelyn, I've got paper. Tell me where I can call you if we need to. Darling, we're not going to be a nuisance."

Rain turned to Helen, her eyes wide. "She wants to know where they can call me. Should I give them the number at the house?"

Helen told her to give the number of the cell phone, and recited it to her, which Rain conveyed to her mother.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, dear. Darling, I... I said some regrettable things this afternoon. I'm ashamed to say that I've reviewed all of them, and decided that I didn't mean any of it. I've never had more than a day or two in my life when I haven't had to take back something silly I said, and why should today be any different?"

Rain laughed and cried at the same time, puzzling the other occupants of the van, which was just pulling off the highway. "Well, _some_ yanks, as you call them, _could_ be pretty ignorant!"

"Well, I meant about the girl. I implied that she had, well, you know, manipulated you."

"Yes. That hurt."

"Again... I'm sorry, dear. And I, for one, would be very sad if you didn't find a way to come home for the holidays. The children are putting on quite a spectacular play this year, and you're something of a celebrity, being abroad and all that, and all I hear is: when is Miss Evelyn coming for the hols? Will she be here for the carols? And so forth!" She paused to sniff, and presumably wipe her nose. "I'll send you a ticket myself, if... there's no other way; I'm sure you know what I mean."

Rain was so full of happiness she was sure she would burst. If Mummy was coming round, her father would compromise. And Rain would compromise. She could see their point of view (though she hated that she could).

"It would be nice if Dad could buy me a ticket, though I could get a redeye for a few hundred dollars, I suppose. Helen is here, and she's offering to buy me a ticket!"

Her mother seemed to get just a little stiff at that suggestion. "I don't think that will be necessary, dear. For one thing, we can certainly afford it, and for another, it's just a little too soon for her to assume financial responsibilities for you. That's just the kind of thing that we should avoid."

"Mother!"

"Well, I belong the old school in those matters. I never let your father buy me anything except the occasional meal, until we were engaged to be married. He certainly didn't buy me air fares until we'd been married!"

There wasn't anything Rain could do about that; in a sense she sympathized with her mother. The honor of the house and the village was at stake, sort of. (On the other hand, if Helen did buy her ticket, her mother couldn't really find out.)

Rain sighed. "I suppose I should talk to you-know-who."

"Be patient, darling. I'm not sure I understand, but he... he thinks it's because of the way we brought you up, darling, and... he tried so hard! He read all the books, talked to everybody who knew anything, when you were young, and we thought you were a normal, well-adjusted child, except for being just a little—you know—interesting." Rain winced. Before she could reply, her mother continued. "He's practically a basket case, I know, but he isn't talking to me. Not politely, anyway. It breaks my heart that he won't talk it over with me. That's the hardest part of all of this, that this young woman... well. It's not her fault; I know it isn't."

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we? I _am_ well-adjusted, and I _am_ normal." Rain was seething. It was an unbelievable see-saw of hope and disappointment. "I don't want pity. I want you to accept. I'm not sick, and I'm not mental. Eccentric, maybe. Oh mother... it was going so well!"

"Evelyn, dear, I only said what I thought you father was thinking! You have to make allowances for us; we're not accustomed to talking about these kinds of things. Perhaps I phrased that wrongly..." she suddenly dropped her voice. "... Oh dear, he wants to talk. Now, be gentle."

"Evelyn?"

"Yes, Dad!"

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, with obvious effort. "I have decided that your—friend—will be welcome in our house." Rain could hardly believe her ears. "But you must understand that, under the circumstances, we would like to meet her, but not have her stay here." Rain was aghast. "I just can't bring myself to bend any further. Your mother is looking forward to meeting her. For myself, I'm willing to be civil, but more than that I can't honestly promise. In a few months, perhaps, I could get accustomed to the idea that... you two are more than friends. But I'm hoping that it will all go away."

Rain's desire to burn her father's ear warred with her sense of decency and decorum. While she searched for something suitably biting to say, she heard her father confer with her mother, presumably.

"You mother reminds me that I was to offer to buy both of you tickets. Evelyn? Are you there?"

"That won't be necessary, Dad. I'm still not sure whether you're being accommodating or insulting. I'm not sure I want to come for the holidays anymore."

"Evelyn! I said she can come! Good Lord, girl, look, we'll arrange for her to stay at the Inn. It's perfectly comfortable there, that's all that needs to be done! We'll just say that we're in the middle of repairs. You know we're always in the middle of repairs. What more do you want? You must come for Christmas. You've already missed one; what will people think? When I'm gone, you have to be a leader in this community! That's more important than your personal needs. They need you. You have to begin to... well, I can only say in the strongest possible way, I would very much like to see you here for Christmas, with your lady friend; and I'll be happy to arrange for the cost of travel."

"Thanks, Dad. I have to think it over. I'll call you back soon."

"We're planning to stay up; there's something on the Telly your mother wants to watch. She says we'll be up till—what?—two in the morning." It was insane. They always went to bed at 9:30. "So you can call, well, anytime in the next four hours or so. Please consider our offer. We could speak to her and invite her directly, if that's more polite."

"I'll talk to her and call you. Thanks for everything."

"I'm trying as hard as I can, Evelyn!" He seemed pretty choked up. Rain murmured that she appreciated it, and hung up.

"Well? What did they say? I couldn't figure a thing!"

"Me neither!"

"Was that your mama, Aunty Rain?"

"Yes, dear." Rain looked at Helen, her eyes full of angry tears. "Yes, you can visit, he'll pay for the tickets and everything—which is nice—but you have to stay in the village inn. It's a slap in the face."

"Are you nuts? It's wonderful!" Being American, Helen didn't quite understand the dynamics of having to stay at an inn versus being a guest in a home that was built to accommodate numerous guests.

"No, _he wants to pretend that we're just friends!_ It will be sham for the benefit of the village!!"

Helen looked patiently at her young lover. She remembered a time when she was as idealistic and as quick to indignation. Rain had no perspective, no inkling of the immense distance her parents had advanced between eight that morning, and that moment. It spoke volumes for the people that they loved Rain so much that they not only encouraged her to come home, but welcomed the source of the problems, the evil seductress Helen.

"You've won the lottery, and you don't know it!! Tell them yes, you'll go, and I'll follow right after we spend Christmas with the children's grandparents. Yes, the Inn is a good idea, because there's too many of us. That way, they'll save face, and everybody wins."

Marika explained that it was all a matter of getting accustomed to the idea. "Mom and Dad freaked out when I brought Lisa to see them. But after seeing us together—you know?—there's something special about a couple in love; they're hard to resist, specially if they're happy and outgoing and friendly. Sometimes a couple is all wrapped up in each other; that's not very sympathetic."

"I suppose you're right. At least he offered to buy your ticket; that counts for something."

"Tell him I have frequent flyer miles, or something."

Rain called home again. This time she was alone in her room.

"Daddy? Yes, it's me. Yes. I guess I overreacted, too. I told her what you had said, and she thought it was very generous and big of you to come that far. She's coming after Christmas with her children." He wanted to know how many of them there were, and so on, clearly getting alarmed about the cost of flying them over.

"There's four children—yes, Dad, they're adopted, and she says she has ways of getting cheap tickets, and she might bring Dr. Van Der Wert, her friend from Belgium, so the Inn is the best place for them." (By this time, Nadia was almost certainly _not_ joining Helen and co. to visit Woodford, but Dad didn't need to know that.)

It was all amicably settled, and Rain came downstairs to report the triumph of diplomacy, glowing with pride and excitement. Never one for public displays of affection, Rain was itching to get her hands on Helen and give her a wonderful sloppy kiss, but the children were around, and it was too public.

# # #

Sophie had been having a wonderful time with Nadia and Janet, joined occasionally by Rain, when she wasn't involved in being introduced to all Helen's friends in Ferguson. Getting into the spirit of things, Sophie called her mother, who lived alone in a tiny apartment in the outskirts of Paris, all by herself. Solange Cocteau was her name, and she had not yet discovered the power of e-mail, so only Sophie could initiate a conversation with her, by phone, which she proceeded to do.

Sophie told her that it was Thanksgiving, about which Solange knew, and that she was visiting friends in Minnesota, among which were two French-speakers, and eventually the conversation got around to whether _Maman_ would like to visit the US this year, rather than Sophie making a very short visit to France. Nadia was listening in, and nodding vehemently; the old professor had no living relatives, and if Helen was to spend Christmas in England, as seemed to be the developing plan, she would either have to tag along, or spend it with Norma Major and her cousin Cecily, or all by herself in Westfield.

As soon as Sophie understood the issues, plans began to gel, and the old ladies arranged to spend the feast in Westfield, with Helen's encouragement.

## Plans for Christmas

Plans had to be made in any case for Christmas day. The sensible thing seemed to spend it at the farm or at Ferguson. And Olive and Dan, and Jeffrey and Barbara had to be figured in, too. And Lalitha and family, and Lorna and Becky. Helen sighed, and sat down to talk it over with Marika and Cindy.

[Helen had decided to make a Christmas Special about how various families celebrated Christmas, and Marika had already begun taking video of the Johnson's way of making wooden ornaments for the tree. Helen wanted also to record how the Nordstroms made the children buy presents on a strictly limited budget; this year, each kid was allowed only $20.]

"Twenty bucks? _Everybody??"_ The camera was rolling when Gena was told the plan. "No way, Mom; look, there's the four of you, and then there's the Twins, and Aunt Cindy, and Aunt Annie, and..."

"Gena, darling, you know what _I_ want. It won't cost you very much at all."

"Aunty Annie, I can't draw pictures for _everybody!!"_

"Well... you have to be creative!"

" _I_ think I can do it," said Erin, in her small piping voice.

"Mama, can I have twenty dollars, too, and I can buy a present for Baby James?"

That sparked a whole conversation in itself.

# Carols on the Mall

Soon, the visitors from Westfield, including Sophie and Rain, were off with Jim to Pittsburgh, while the usual residents of Ferguson had to patiently go through a couple of more weeks of school, before they headed out to Grandpa Nordstrom's farm, where they would spend Christmas.

Sophie's mother would arrive in Westfield shortly, where they would spend a week or two together, while Helen was away doing her Christmas-time performing events.

The last two weeks of the semester would be complicated for Helen. She had to finish her lessons early, make up final exams for all three courses, leave them with Nadia to administer, and then head out to Washington and Major Spiegel, and his event with the massed bands, about which Helen only knew the barest outline. Helen had e-mailed back and forth with Major Spiegel over a couple of weeks, and Helen found that she had to work hard to keep the Major on an even keel. Helen had sent out to Spiegel a number of Renaissance brass instruments, and Spiegel was to select some of his best people to learn to play them. In principle, he was on board with valveless and piston-less brass instruments, but he confessed that it was going to be impossible to get his musicians ready in time for the performance. These sorts of obstacles were routine for Helen, and she calmed the man down, and said that they could, between them, arrive at satisfactory compromises in good time.

Shortly after her last class for the week, Helen was in the plane with Jim, zipping down the runway, into the wind. In less than an hour, she was touching down at an airfield near Washington, D.C., and Helen, James, and Rain were picked up by Olive Gibson.

"Olive, this is Rain, or Evelyn Woodford, a colleague in the Modern Languages Department, and a good friend of mine! Evelyn, Olive Gibson is James's grandmother, and a quite competent musical impresario! You've already met Jeffrey, Olive's son, and James's dad."

"Hello, Evelyn! Good to have you here! You're not a musician, by any chance?"

"I'm afraid not!" laughed Rain, who had taken a liking to Olive right away. They were seated in Olives old Buick, and were presently making their way to Olive's large house.

They visited with Olive for a while, had a wonderful supper, and then retired for the evening. Both Helen and Rain had had busy schedules that day, and they were both tired.

The following morning, early, Helen called in to Major Spiegel's office, as she had been instructed, and after a quick cup of coffee, she found a car and driver at Olive's door, waiting for her.

The driver was a handsome young fellow, who introduced himself as Cody Springer.

"I've been assigned to you while you're in Washington, Miss Nordstrom. I'll mainly chauffeur you wherever you need to go, and you don't need to worry about transportation at all while you're here."

Helen let out a sigh of relief. She had expected something like this; if she had to, she could certainly handle driving around Washington, D.C., but she had never been here, and even as she watched, the traffic was getting heavier and heavier, despite the fact that it was just about 7 A.M. on a Saturday. Cody revealed that he was a musician, and played flute, oboe, clarinet, and several brass instruments as well. Helen was suitably impressed.

Soon they were at the auditorium at which they were to be rehearsing, and Helen was led to a very comfortable suite which would be where she could retreat to clean up and change at any time that weekend. "You're going to be having breakfast with the major at seven thirty, Ma'am, so there's plenty of time."

Helen thanked Cody, who was barely a little older than her senior students, she thought, and quickly put her things away.

The alarm woke her up from a short nap, and Helen, feeling very tired indeed, picked up her bag of equipment: her precious computer, loaded to the brim with music scores of all sorts, and music software that she could use to create all sorts of arrangements of all sorts of music; a printer, and sundry other items that could come in handy.

Major Spiegel was at her door sharp at a half-past seven, with Lieutenant Cody Springer behind him, both with wide grins on their faces.

"Good to have you with us, Dr. Nordstrom! You look mostly alive, after a long week, I'm sure!"  
Helen laughed.

"I'm sleepy, I have to admit, but a nice breakfast would fix me right up, I'm sure!"

"That's our plan!"

Helen was escorted briskly along a couple of long corridors, to the cafeteria. Helen said she would love a standard breakfast of bacon and eggs, and maybe a waffle, and they took their seats, observing the cheerful hullabaloo of an Air Force breakfast preceding a rehearsal.

"We've practiced all the standards, as we talked about: _Messiah,_ the big choruses; the carols, in the settings you wanted; and the popular tunes; I left the _Christmas Oratorio_ to you, as well as the German carols. The bands will be quite happy to leave it at that, but whatever else we can manage to rehearse will be fine with us!"

Spiegel had said as much in his e-mail, and though Helen had tried to encourage him to rehearse a few Renaissance pieces, evidently they had fallen by the wayside. Helen looked at Spiegel with mock reproach, and saw him wince. Helen laughed, and Spiegel knew that it was all right.

"You didn't even try any of the Schütz?"

Spiegel blushed and said that they had. But there had been problems.

They ate fast; the excellent breakfast went down easy. Soon Helen was facing the bands, occupying most of the large auditorium of the music school. The four services occupied four blocks, with the bands closest to the stage, where Helen stood, and the choruses furthest from the stage.

"How is everybody doing?" They yelled back that they were fine. Helen grinned at them. "Let's have the sopranos wave!" Half the girls from each of the choruses waved enthusiastically. "Altos?" There was more waving. "Tenors?" the guys took their turns to wave.

"You guys look lovely, but _can you sing?"_ Yes, we can, they shouted back. Helen joined them in the laughter.

Helen got the bands playing scales, each instrument section one at a time, and got the choirs singing scales on single vowels, and so forth, just as she warmed up her Impromptu choir before a concert.

After a while, they were sufficiently warmed up, and it was time to sing something familiar. With such a large chorus—indeed _four_ choruses—it was difficult to get them to sing together, but Helen gave them ways to keep together, and promised them extra help, in the form of discrete communications equipment.

They tried some more challenging, rhythmically complex choral pieces, and worked on them until they were singing much more together than when they started. Then the choirs were allowed to relax, while Helen drilled the bands.

Then it was back to the choirs, and Helen ran through a chorus from Bach's _Christmas Oratorio,_ a rhythmic piece that was fun to sing. It was a disaster. She tried it again with only a few instruments from each band. Finally, it worked best if the lines were rotated from one block to the next, sort of antiphonally, which was fantastic, and that went so well that the choirs cheered at the end of it!

"Are you guys singing this cold?" meaning whether they had never rehearsed it before. They nodded. "Well, that was a great job, for a cold reading. Give yourselves another round of applause!"

They broke for lunch, and Major Spiegel came to the podium to collect Helen.

"I had my doubts whether you could handle the troops, but," he shook his head in amazement, "that was brilliant! You handled it as if you've been conducting massed bands for years!"

Helen smiled. "Well, of course, I've been conducting orchestras, Major Spiegel, and choirs; this was just at a much larger scale!"

"Well, that's the problem! The scale changes everything!"

Helen shrugged. "I had lots of time to think about it, and it was just pure intuition; what can I say. They're very motivated!" She smiled at Spiegel. "It could have been much worse, if they were not so well prepared."

"I hope we have as much good luck with the Renaissance brass," Major Spiegel said, nervously.

Lunch was cold cuts, and Cody asked whether he could put a sandwich together for Helen, and Helen said she'd do it herself. He watched her closely while she made herself a roast beef sandwich, and she scowled at him. "What're you doing? Trying to steal my recipe?"

"Oh yeah; I just want to be ready for lunch tomorrow!" He tapped his forehead, signifying that he was noting every detail.

"Are you _serious?"_

"Sure; it could be much more frantic at lunch tomorrow," Cody said, nodding solemnly. Helen's eyes opened wide; he did have a point.

## Brass

Helen took a few minutes off to call Olive Gibson and make arrangements, after which it was time to see how the Renaissance brass instruments Helen had sent the Marines had fared. They met in the auditorium again, and Helen got them to play their new instruments as far as they were able. Helen was not an expert, even in playing modern, conventional brass instruments, and it was not easy to help them with technique. Helen, however, had a list of pieces that were easy to play with valveless instruments, and the first one was played successfully within a few minutes.

The players were greatly encouraged by their success, and a couple of the fellows were so clever that they were able to see what sort of methods would make it easier for them. Helen knew enough to be able to head them off from bad choices, and support good ones.

The second piece was also played with success soon afterwards, and this was a piece that could actually be played for the Carols. By this time, the players were so pumped that they refused to quit. By late afternoon, they had played each of the pieces Helen had written down on her easy list, as well as one chorus from the Schütz oratorio, which they could already play on their usual valved instruments, but sounded far better, with that special shine that natural instruments seem to have.

"Well," said Helen, "baby steps, you guys; next year you'll probably be able to play a lot more difficult material!" They agreed heartily, and deplored the fact that there wasn't more time to be able do more.

Spiegel had been observing how the session had been progressing, and when Cody brought Helen down for supper, he was shamefaced. "I see how much more we could have tried, now that I watched you rehearse!"

"Well, I've done this before, with my own troops," Helen said.

"The kids at the college?"

"No, no, my own orchestra in Philadelphia," she said. "They had to bootstrap themselves up from the same level of skill."

Spiegel and Helen headed off with Cody Springer, and they picked up the other bandmasters from the remaining armed services, and went to a special celebratory dinner they had arranged for Helen.

After the dinner, Cody deposited Helen at Olive's home, to join Olive and Rain who had been waiting impatiently for Helen, and who deplored the fact that Helen had left the older kids behind with Cindy and her family support team, Janet, Grelly and Annie.

"How is this business with the bands going?"

"Oh, very well, _I_ think," Helen said, looking thoughtful. She described a little of how the rehearsals had gone, leaving Olive a little vague as to what it was all about. Normally, Carols on the Mall were very popular affairs.

"Is it worth attending?" asked Olive, and Helen said, cautiously, that she thought so.

## The Performance

Olive, Rain and Helen went shopping for a suitable outfit for the performance. It was turning out to be quite a cool weekend, and Olive said Helen would freeze if she wore what she had brought. Helen was allergic to wool, so that greatly restricted their options.

Early morning, Helen was once again picked up by Cody, and brought to the rehearsal hall. The four band conductors met Helen, and brought up the matter of who would sing the National Anthem before the carols began, and Spiegel suggested that Helen should sing it. It looked like a set-up, because the others nodded vigorously. Helen graciously agreed, and they cleared up a few details about what arrangement they would use, and so on.

Helen also planned with them that each of them would take the bands and the choirs through at least one item, and perhaps more.

Soon she was putting her musicians through their paces, and this time they were on their toes. They had evidently been practicing everything she had taught them, and the choirs had been warmed up. The four guitarists who had been accompanying two carols were present, and led the group through the carols flawlessly.

The rehearsal after lunch was brief, and Helen arranged to warm-up the choirs indoors just before they went out to the Mall.

Dinner was a modest affair; Helen had warned the singers to eat, but not to over-indulge, which was standard advice, and once Helen had eaten, and cleaned up and changed into her clothes for the performance, she was led into a secret room, where the hundred or so singers were waiting for her.

"Has everybody eaten?" They called out that they had, but did not yell, as Helen had instructed them. "I'm going to sing the National Anthem, you know. Would you guys join me in the last four lines?" They laughingly said they would. "Just follow the harmony of the French Horns; that should be exactly what you need." They nodded.

Next came the usual vowel-singing, of which Helen knew some fun variants, after which they filed out, and joined the bands. Helen was conducted to a room in the Library of Congress, where the leaders were, and right on time, they went out to join the troops, and saw a sizeable crowd gathered around the seats that had been placed for the government leaders, and other notables, around the Library steps.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Dr. Helen Nordstrom!"

There was brief cheering, as the snare-drums began their roll, which was partly intended to quieten the crowd. Helen approached the microphone, and adjusted it with practiced efficiency. Taking a deep breath, she sang out the first line of the National Anthem, set at a comfortable key for her and the choir. Spiegel was conducting. It went beautifully, and as they had arranged, the choirs joined her for the last half of the verse, and she could see broad smiles on their faces! This was good. If they weren't in a good mood, things would not have gone too well.

Helen introduced herself. She said she had been graciously invited to lead this event by the parent of a student in her school, and that she had jumped at the chance. She praised the four bands, and introduced the first piece, _Sleigh Ride,_ by Leroy Anderson.

That was a total winner!

"Usually, the pieces that get people jumping to their feet are kept until the end!" There was laughter. "But here, we're going to slowly move back through time, to sing the oldest pieces at the end. But I'm confident you're going to enjoy it anyway!" Quiet chuckles.

That was exactly what they did; they sang some modern carols, and then some Victorian carols, interspersed with instrumental pieces, and occasional carols for the audience to join them.

The audience loved the carols accompanied by the guitars.

The Renaissance Brass and the Schutz was towards the end, and at the end of it all was the Hallelujah Chorus, a little out of sequence, admittedly.

A chaplain came forward to offer a prayer, and pronounce a benediction, after which they finished with a rather lively arrangement of Silent Night, to close out the event.

"Oh Helen! That was _wonderful!"_ enthused Olive, Rain, James, and Walter, who had been conducted to where Helen was talking to Spiegel and his colleagues after the carols. Helen quickly grabbed her little boy, who smiled and babbled at her, and proceeded to give all the credit to the musicians and the singers, as was proper, and once Cody had delivered Helen's baggage into Olive's old Buick, Helen was riding back to their home in style, listening to their peroration of the whole performance.

A little later, Helen, Rain and James were off to Ferguson once again. It was looking very much as though Rain would be spending the holidays with Helen and the kids, wherever they would be.

# New Plans

Unexpectedly, Helen got a message saying she was to call Betsy.

"It's Helen!"

"Oh, thank goodness! Listen, everybody's looking for you!"

"What do you mean? Who?"

"Well, Becky, for one. And Robin. He was calling you on your cell-phone, and you weren't picking up!"

Helen made a guilty face. "Oh, was that him!"

"Yes it was, and... Helen, you're going to be a busy girl over the holidays," Betsy said, and she didn't sound very confident.

"Who first?"

"Well... I'd say Becky."

Becky was a little while getting to the point.

"Helen; you're going to kill me. I hope you haven't been spending very heavily! I just used up all of our credit."

"Oh Becky, it's Christmas!"

"Well... Ha-ha! Er..."

"What did you do?"

Becky sighed. "I just got a tip a couple of hours hour ago that Remix was going on sale, and I bought it. And then... anyway, I've bought a major part of BNB. You're going to kill me!"

It was a long story, but it was a familiar one. Becky had snapped up a hot property that she wasn't really interested in, and sold it mere seconds later for twice what it had cost, and then acquired controlling shares of the largest book and media sales chain in the world. Helen now controlled practically the largest chain of book and records stores in America, and bookstores under various names in England, France, Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium. "You won't believe how happy they are, Helen. They were practically begging! And guess what: the stock has soared. Check it out. BNB is going through the roof! I got credit seconds after it started going up, and bought more. And it's safe, Helen. Because they have the floor space, they have the recognition, and they could sell anything as long as there's anything to be sold. It isn't only books anymore!"

In spite of her intense excitement, Becky spoke in her precise slow way, and it took a while to let her finish what she was saying, but the bottom line was that Helen, personally, was broke for the holidays. At least that was what Becky was saying, and she ought to know.

"Becky, if we're so rich, how come we can't get more credit? I have children,... anyway, Jeeze, I have plans, you know."

"We have corporate credit, yes; but I've spent most of it, Helen; I was wondering if you'd take Robin up on some of these proposals, you know; we need cash. I spent all my own money too."

Becky had spent all her savings for Helen. Helen was dismayed; it was too much of a responsibility to have to owe Becky half a million dollars. And Becky had not thought for a second of buying stock on her own behalf. "I just don't have the time. And the important thing is that you have controlling shares. The few that I could buy wouldn't help either of us."

The news did show that BNB shares had gone up by 80%, and there were stories that a mysterious Eleanor Nordstrom was the new owner of the chain. It wasn't long before everyone found out who it really was. It was announced by the anchor with a half-smile. "Why am I not surprised. This just in: the new owner of BNB is Helen Nordstrom! Of course, I knew that! Her real name is Eleanor, apparently. Big report on _Eleanor_ Nordstrom later tonight. The big story tonight: Helen Nordstrom, the well-known young conductor—who conducted the massed bands of the armed forces last night, by the way—has acquired the largest bookstore chain in the world, BNB. More importantly, though, the story of the oil market..."

Luckily no one was around except Helen and Janet. Janet smiled at Helen and shook her head, bemused. "I just can't believe you have all this power!"

"It's Becky, Jan! She does this trading; it's unbelievable. We own stuff you wouldn't believe. Things that have little or nothing to do with music, or anything I care about. It's just the way she saves. She says it's my pension plan. And hers, too!"

"And ours, I suppose."

Helen smiled fondly.

## Messiah

Robin was nearly a basket case. "Helen, you've got to come through here. I want you to do this, as a personal favor!"

"Okay, slow down, Robin. Tell me what it is."

"Listen, can you still sing? They want you to sing in the _Messiah_. I told them you don't sing anymore, but apparently you do, and—you won't believe this—my mother! My mother wants you to sing with them, as the Soprano soloist!"

"Wow. I don't think I've ever sung _Messiah_."

"Oh yes you have; everybody has."

"What about Norma Major?"

"Helen, she's sixty; she can't sing anymore. She wouldn't do it." It was true. "And there's money!"

Helen's ears perked up. "How much?"

"Oh, a couple of thousand pounds. I don't know where it's coming from, but there's a rumor that someone high up wants you there, too."

"High up?"

"Very, very, _very_ high up!"

"Are you serious?"

"Well, it's a rumor. But this is the performance of the _Messiah_ that the Queen attends."

Helen was flabbergasted. Of course, it could be just a ploy of Robin's, to get her to sing for his mother. She said she'd do it.

"All right; then, there's a Christmas gala in Berlin. It's money, love."

It was starting again. And Helen needed the money. She sighed.

Rain had been busy with the kids. She had helped Cindy with the bathing and the dressing, and then she and Allie had hidden away in Rain's room to wrap the presents. She had been busy with Cindy and the girls, decorating their humble little tree while Helen had been out shopping with the Twins.

"Guess what. I'm to sing in _Messiah_ for the Queen," she told Rain that night, as they wrapped their own little presents together. Helen could barely stop staring at Rain lustfully. The piercings simply drove her crazy, and Rain had threatened to take them out, unless Helen behaved more decorously.

Rain stopped everything. She was a nonconformist, but she was the most adoring of subjects of Her Majesty under the surface.

"You're kidding me."

"No, I'm serious! I just agreed; Robin called me just an hour ago, and..."

"Who's Robin?"

"You know, my agent, Robin Friend; you probably know him, he's English. He's..."

"Helen, England isn't a tiny place, we don't all know each other, contrary to popular American belief."

Helen gave up. "Well, anyway, it's true. You can call up your secret service and check, if you like!"

"Okay, I believe you! But Helen, that's got to be soon, in the next couple of days!"

"Saturday."

Rain's smile was brilliant. "That's marvelous! You could come home and meet my folks!"

Helen wasn't so certain it was a good idea. She wouldn't have the time; Berlin was just before, and Christmas in Kansas was just after.

At last the presents were done, and they tiptoed downstairs and placed them in the already high pile of presents under the tree. "Goodness, some of these look really interesting!"

"Well, Allie and James are really creative gift-wrappers!"

"James?"

"Sure!" Rain smiled up into Helen's eyes. "You have the most wonderful children in the world, Ma'am Nordstrom!"

Helen bent and kissed her. Then she picked Rain up, light as a feather, and carried her upstairs, and made love to her.

The next day, Helen and Marika sent for Lisa, and they began putting the special together. It was most likely the least expensive Christmas special ever made. All morning they outlined it, viewing and selecting chunks that had been stored in Marika's incredibly large disk-drive, and in the afternoon they filled it in with shots of Helen talking to the camera. It was ready by the time school was over, and the kids came home.

The play was a lovely, sentimental one about two shepherds, a boy and a girl, who found themselves involved with the baby Jesus. Gena was the girl, and the young fellow who played her brother was a sweet young boy from the 8th grade. They did a wonderful job, and Helen was glad she had stayed for the play. There were several other plays, all good.

Minutes later, Helen and Rain were on their separate planes, Helen headed for Berlin, and Rain for London.

# # #

# Berlin

Berlin promised to be relatively boring. Helen had to sing minutes after she landed, and she hadn't been able to sleep much on the plane. It was to be a Christmas variety show, and the songs they put in front of Helen weren't her most favorite ones. But then she was stunned to see who she was singing with: Natalia Zemanova.

Helen couldn't believe her eyes. And then she learned that Natalia had asked for Helen to be her partner. Natalia walked into her dressing room!

She was a slim, lovely woman in her mid-thirties, maybe a year or two older than Helen, with wide shoulders, and arresting, smoky-blue eyes. She looked older than Helen had imagined her. But her eyes, with heavy black or grey eye-makeup, looked beautiful and intense and warm. Helen recognized her instantly.

"Miss Zemanova! Please come in!"

She walked in with enormous grace and leaned against the table, waiting for an invitation to sit, which Helen extended immediately, and then she sat like a queen, tugging her flowing dress into place. It was a multi-layered, multi-colored sheer thing in which she looked like some Greek goddess. She sat straight, but utterly relaxed, and smiled at Helen. There was nothing but pleasure and admiration in her smile, no hint of patronage, or embarrassment, or reservation.

The first words she said were:

"You sing beautiful, and you _are_ beautiful!"

Helen blushed, as she took the other chair, her tiredness completely forgotten. "You've heard me sing?"

"Pardon?" The eyes were filled with puzzlement, and a desire to understand perfectly. She was clearly not concerned with appearances; she was not shy about getting a clear understanding no matter how long it took.

"Have you heard me sing somewhere?"

"Oh, yes, of course! I was there, at the Washington DC!"

Helen was embarrassed. "I only sang the national anthem!"

Natalia smiled. "Yes, yes, it is not coloratura, but, one octave and a fifth!" She shook her head. "But I have heard your records, Miss Nordstrom. You are first a singer. You are excellent conductor, of course! But..." she made an expressive gesture with her entire body, "... a singer is always a singer. Always! Tonight, they will hear, and you may never be allowed to being a conductor again! They will say, sing, Helen, always sing!"

Helen burst out with how she admired Natalia's own singing. With great humility Natalia acknowledged Helen's praise, praising Helen in return. Helen found herself liking the woman far, far more than she had expected to in her wildest dreams. And her dreams had been pretty wild. In her fantasies, Helen had made love to her often. But she was nothing like the person Helen had imagined herself making love to. She was intense, intellectual, overwhelming in her presence, and rather a stern woman. Helen, apparently, could do no wrong in her eyes.

Very cautiously, Helen found that Natalia was more at home in French, though she said very firmly she would continue in English if Helen preferred. Helen assure her that she was perfectly at home in French.

_You certainly speak fluently,_ she admitted in that language, in sincere appreciation. _Have you spent much time in France?_

Not much, Helen said, but I have friends who speak the language, including my friend Sophie Cocteau; you must know her by reputation?

Is she a singer?

A tennis player. She is number one, currently!

Oh, yes indeed! I recall the name now! We call her Sophie, just one name!

Yes!

They talked for a while, mostly about music and musicians, and about Nadia and her work, with which Natalia was very familiar. Helen was asked to call her Natasha— _my friends call me Natasha,_ she said with a smile—and she asked what Helen's friends call her. Helen explained about her name, and Natasha's eyes grew wide. She thought Helen should have used her proper name professionally. _It has a ring to it,_ she said!

It was time. Helen hadn't quite finished dressing, and Natasha tactfully withdrew, rather than offering to help with Helen's clothes. A few minutes later, they were on stage.

Helen and Natasha sang the duet from _Hansel and Gretel_ , and brought the house down. They found that they sang very well together, and their voices matched perfectly. Helen sang the higher part, and Natasha the lower.

Helen enjoyed herself tremendously. They sang excerpts from operas, continental carols, excerpts from oratorios and cantatas, and traditional German favorites. The two men who sang with them, a German and an Italian opera singer respectively, were very famous, but in the way of things, the women stole the show. As they took their bows and curtsies, Natasha put her arm through Helen's, and Helen was filled with pleasure. Natasha wore perfume, and Helen's breath was filled with it, a sexy, spicy scent.

Afterwards, Helen was introduced to Natasha's boyfriend, a charming French doctor. _This is Pierre, my partner,_ she said, quite matter-of-fact-ly. _We plan to marry in the spring!_

Helen shook hands with Pierre, who seemed very nice. They asked if Helen had a place to stay, if she didn't, she was welcome to stay with them in their suite. It turned out Helen had not been set up with a hotel room due to an oversight, and Helen went with Natasha and Pierre as their guest, with a fat check in her purse.

In Helen's honor, they sat up late watching TV. They were a very old-fashioned couple, and avoided intimate behavior except for an occasional kiss. As soon as Natasha had made Helen comfortable in her room, Helen fell fast asleep.

She woke out of a dreamless sleep to Natasha's gentle touch.

Helen dear, she said, it is nine in the morning. What are your plans?

Helen sat bolt upright, and looked alarmed. _I have to be in London by four,_ she said.

Are your flights all arranged?

Helen said she believed so. She checked her notes, and found that she was booked on a flight to London at 2 in the afternoon.

Oh, then you have time, but what a pity; it would have been fun to take you round Paris!

Helen called the airline directly, and arranged to fly to Paris first with Natasha, and then on to London in the afternoon. Her contact in London assure her that she needed to be there no later than five in the afternoon, for rehearsal, ready to sing two hours later.

Pierre was busy all morning, and left the women to look after themselves. _He is a sweet, innocent man,_ Helen said. Natasha retorted, _he's a gynecologist; how innocent can he be?_ Helen laughed heartily, while Natasha smirked in the most delicious way. She had a sharp sense of humor, and would laugh readily, but was very reticent about poking fun. Sometimes Helen could see that she was dying to make a disparaging remark, but she never did; she only smiled to herself, and sometimes with Helen.

By lunchtime, they had bought beautiful clothes for all the children, using Helen's credit cards. Time and time again Helen expected to be declined, but the cards seemed bottomless. Natasha, infinitely generous, offered to buy things for Helen, but Helen declined. They were presents, she said, and Natasha understood perfectly. Finally, Helen bought a beautiful, tiny piece of jewelry for Rain, a fine gold chain with a pendant with seven beautiful colored stones, and Natasha expressed her approval eloquently. Helen thought that it would finally put her credit to the test, but it, too, went through. It wasn't that expensive. They were semi-precious stones, and small ones. But the workmanship was exquisite.

You will look so beautiful in that, she said, smiling. You look so young!

_It isn't for me,_ Helen said, her muscles tightening. _It is for a friend._

Natasha's face showed understanding. Helen was both relieved and embarrassed, and she dropped her eyes, blushing.

_There's nothing wrong with buying a gift for a woman_ , she said, her face neutral. _She will look lovely in it._

_Thank you for understanding,_ Helen said quietly. _It's important to me._

But Helen noticed that after that Natasha didn't put her arm round Helen, or link her arm with Helen's as she used to do. They continued to go round the shops, but Helen was miserable. She struggled to be cheerful, and gradually Natasha seemed to forget the incident, and what she had learned from it. They headed home after a lovely light lunch near the river, and sorted through Helen's purchases.

_Let us wrap them!_ Natasha said, and they did, in the French way, so different from the traditional American style Helen was used to.

_So,_ said Natasha, as they finished wrapping, _how did you get the children?_ Helen explained, and Natasha listened sympathetically. _Well,_ she said, _you are lucky._ She sighed, and said that she and Pierre were planning to have children as soon as they could. Helen said that she was sure they would be beautiful and handsome, since their parents were. It was the first time Helen had suggested that Natasha was attractive.

Natasha stopped what she was doing, and not quite looking at Helen, asked if Helen found her attractive.

Of course! Doesn't everybody? Helen was surprised. She said that she had always thought Natasha was a real beauty.

_Ah,_ said Natasha, _it is one thing to be beautiful to men, and quite another to be beautiful to women!_

_Well,_ said Helen mischievously, _in my case perhaps it isn't too different!_

Natasha looked straight at her, surprised. She declared that she hadn't for one second thought that Helen was not an ordinary woman, or that she was masculine in any way. _I know women who are — like that,_ she said, _and they have a certain look in their eye. Oh yes, I know that look very well._

Is it uncomfortable?

Yes. Very.

Helen decided to clear the air. _Natasha_ , she said, _I'm not going to come on to you. Singing with you is too important for me to jeopardize it by making you uncomfortable! I hope you will choose me to sing with you if the chance presents itself._

_Choose you! Cherie_ , said Natasha, _there is no question of me choosing you, but the other way round!_

Helen laughed, the mood lightened once more. She said that nobody asks her to sing anymore.

Natasha, as reply, put on the news on TV, and sure enough, there was the two of them, singing away, and the comments were that Helen Nordstrom had taken Berlin by storm. It seemed that Helen could never stop taking places by storm. _But,_ said Natasha seriously, _it will be my pleasure to suggest your name whenever I can. I thought that I would do my part to get you started again. You see, I knew you had your troubles. But they are over now! Your voice is not as high and as light as it was, but there is more body to it!_

Helen thanked her sincerely. After they had rested for an hour or two, Natasha saw her safely on board the plane to London.

# # #

# Lady Evelyn in the UK

Rain, meanwhile, had landed in London, and been met by her parents. They looked noticeably older than when she had seen them last, a year and a half ago. Her father still was slim and distinguished-looking, with his thin graying hair and rimless eyeglasses. Her mother had more grey in her spiky black unruly hair — _that's where I get my lovely locks_ , she thought. _Dad's everything, and Mum's hair._ Her father was a small-made, fine-featured man, if rather frail, physically. Her mother was short, but amply-proportioned. Her hair, though, was a disaster. She sighed as she walked over to them, her bags in a cart; at least she didn't have her mother's fat genes. Or at least, they hadn't manifested yet.

Rain herself was a shock to her parents. When she had left home, she had hair dyed red; now it was dyed black. The piercings were all new, and her parents looked at her aghast as they recognized her coming out of customs and she was close enough for them to see the ornaments.

Her father quickly took hold of himself and put on a mask of polite welcome. They hugged her, and they walked out to the tube together. A train would take them very close to the village, and then they'd take the car.

In the tube, nobody took any notice of the three of them. Girls with pierced eyebrows were everywhere, and Rain's piercing was more tasteful than most. And nobody could see the more exotic piercings anyway.

They changed trains, and it was late afternoon when they arrived at the station in the closest big town, and took the car.

"I think she looks nice, dear," said her mother, staunchly. "I've seen a lot worse."

"They _can_ be taken out," her father said.

"You two look good," Rain said, determined to be pleasant. "And it's dry; that's a first."

"It's been raining for days, but it looks promising for the week."

"Anything happening tonight?"

"Well, lots in London and Birmingham, if you'd like to go. Did you sleep at all?"

Her Dad was being so pleasant, Rain could hardly believe it.

"Oh, I can hardly wait to see the house!"

In spite of everything, they found themselves talking pleasantly, a lot more pleasantly than they had been when Rain had left. She found herself enjoying talking to them. She thought how well they spoke, how nice they looked, how lovely the countryside was, how smart the children, how well-kept the houses and gardens. She was glad to be back, and she was amazed that she was. And her parents were pleasantly surprised, and she could tell, though they hid it well.

Her mother was overjoyed when Rain helped with supper, and expressed her pleasure. "I _always_ helped, Mum, don't fuss about it."

"Well, I'd forgotten, then," Mum replied agreeably. "So, what's she like?"

"Oh, did I tell you? She's singing at the Royal performance of the _Messiah_."

"She? But why not one of our own women? My word,... George, listen to this: Evelyn's friend Helen is going to sing in the _Messiah_ for the Queen! What's this country coming to?"

Dad came over. "What's this? There must be a reason."

"Well, she was puzzled, herself, and she asked. And..."

"Maybe she's really British. You never know, do you. So many Brits go out there and never come back."

"Mum, as I said, she asked, and..."

"Somebody got ill, and everyone else is booked."

"No," contradicted Rain, annoyed, "someone at the Palace seems to have wanted her!"

They looked at Rain thoughtfully. Generally the Royals preferred indigenous talent, as it were, but some of the younger ones...

"When is she singing?"

"Tomorrow, and we've got tickets, I forgot to tell you, in the invitees section!" Rain hurried to her room and came back with the number she was to call, and got out the phone. A polite voice explained to her where she had to go to get the tickets, and Rain thanked her. "All done! We just need to go ten minutes early!" Her mother looked at her father hopefully, and he just looked put out.

"I'm sure we're free, George."

"I thought we had something planned?"

"We were going to try to get tickets for the _Messiah_ through Fred, remember?"

"Well, Evelyn seems to have solved _that_ problem."

"Right, so we can go! You were going anyway, weren't you, and I've saved you the trouble of calling Fred, whoever that is!"

"Your Uncle Fred, dear; he gets us tickets to things all the time."

"Brilliant!"

Rain had a wonderful time settling back into her room. The room she had so despised in her school days as poky and dark, was actually a neat, cozy place with absolutely plenty of room, and all her familiar possessions that she had sworn she would never look at again. Then she saw her teddy bear, and sat on her bed holding him, missing Helen and the children horribly.

She wandered downstairs quietly, after rearranging her room just the way she liked it. She imagined Helen meeting her parents, and she was so sure they would hit it off well together. Helen was so great with people! She'd charm them both. She met her mother coming up, and at once they began talking about sprucing up the place for the holidays. Mum had begun the few decorations she did every year, but Rain was surprised by how many new ideas she had, after being at Ferguson for those few days.

"You know what they do over there? They make swags, just bunches of pine or fir branches that fall off the trees, and a ribbon, and _ta-da!_ An instant decoration!"

"Oh! My Gran used to do that; I stayed with her one Christmas when everyone at home was down with something, and I thought it was very festive. A few holly berries,..."

"Yeah!"

They went out into the garden, and found all the twigs they needed, and some holly berries, and came back inside. But before long Rain was yawning. She had been going on sheer excitement, but now she was exhausted. "Take a nice warm shower, dear, and go to bed. I'll leave some snacks out for you." Rain smiled at her mother. It was cute the way she fussed. Rain had thought it was silly when she was younger, but it didn't seem so terrible now. "Your cousin Rachael was out in Australia for a few weeks, and she had the jet-lag something awful for several days. They just left snacks out for her, and she slept when she wanted and was up when she wanted, and it all worked out fine!"

" _Hot_ shower?"

"Oh, yes! We got that installed in March, didn't I write?"

"You probably did, I don't remember. Let me go look!"

It was ingenious; a little gizmo heated the water right in the pipe, and they didn't waste a lot of energy keeping gallons of water warm in the cellar, or wherever. Rain remembered the design from her German stay. No more messing around with immersion heaters.

She had a lovely warm shower, and snuggled into her bed. She was asleep in minutes.

# # #

# Christmas in Westfield

Far away, in Westfield, Nadia came home after administering the last of her and Helen's tests. She would grade as much as she could, and then concentrate on entertaining Sophie and her mother, Solange. Sophie had driven her to work every day, and picked her up, but today was so warm she had called home to Sophie, to say she would be walking. "Are you sure?" Absolutely sure, Nadia had replied.

It seemed a very long distance, and Nadia's legs ached. She rounded the turn, and there was Sophie with the jeep! It was a happy sight.

"I could have done it!" gasped Nadia, getting in.

"I know," said Sophie. "Let's go out to Fry's and get a Christmas tree!"

"Oh, good idea!" said Nadia. So there was a purpose to bringing the car out.

It was a five minute drive, and they came back with the prettiest little Christmas tree, about four feet tall, just the perfect size for the small house. The stand was all ready, and Solange was ready to help with decorating it. Weesy stopped by and helped a little, and so did Skip, one of Nadia's special friends. Skip was of the opinion that they needed to put an angel at the top, rather than the star they had there. _It's gotta be an angel,_ he said seriously. He promised to find them one. Solange laughed as Skip hurried away. _Little boys are always looking for their angel,_ she said in French, which is what they spoke when no one was around.

Isn't it funny that it disturbs him so much? It doesn't look right to him without the angel!

_Men are like that,_ said Solange.

_Everyone is like that,_ chided Nadia.

Sophie smiled at them. It was going to be a wonderful Christmas with the two older women, and all the children popping in and out. She had missed Helen at first, but it was shaping up very nicely. She assumed Helen would join them shortly after Christmas, and they were determined to have the house decorated nicely so that Helen would see that they had had a good time.

# Gretchen

They were taken completely by surprise when a tall, slim girl turned up the next day.

"Gretchen!" exclaimed Nadia, and embraced her warmly. "You are so thin! Come, eat, my goodness, where have you been, what happened to you?"

It was a different Gretchen, grave, quiet, subdued. Her story was sad. She told them everything from the time she met Bert Frederickson. She had been in St. Paul until a couple of weeks ago, and then she had worked her way back to Westfield taking buses and hitchhiking. _I should go home, she said, but I don't want to._

_But all you had to do was call_ , Nadia said, _and we would have sent you a plane ticket!_

She looked away, embarrassed. _I forgot the phone number, she said. Anyway, my mind does not work very well_ , she continued. _I was looking for a town called Ferguson, and I suddenly saw a bus to Westfield, and remembered._

Sophie introduced herself, and apologized because Gretchen's room had been used by various people at Halloween; Helen's father, she thought she remembered. Gretchen said it didn't matter. _When does Helen come home?_ she asked. Sophie said Helen was in St. Paul with the children, from where she was flying to Europe and back, and would be here by a little after Christmas.

Gretchen shrugged. _I am in no hurry,_ she said.

Skip came back with an old angel ornament. It was a rather sorry looking thing with a broken wing, and rather grubby.

"Oh, we can clean him up," said Nadia cheerfully.

"It's a girl!" said Skip.

"I meant, we can clean _her_ up, pardon me," said Nadia. But when they carefully washed the ornament, the broken wing came apart. Their attempts to fix it only made the entire wing come off, and Skip was extremely agitated. Apparently it was his own personal angel that he had been hoarding for a number of years, ever since she had been deposed from his family Christmas tree, and Skip had rescued her from the trash.

Sophie looked inquiringly at Gretchen. She had a hunch that Gretchen might have the skills to repair it. Gretchen took the angel and said she'd see what she could do. "No guarantees, okay?" Skip nodded.

Unfortunately Skip insisted on supervising the repair. He was very particular about what materials Gretchen used, and Sophie watching discreetly winced more than once when Skip grew agitated at some choice of Gretchen's. " _Blue??_ We gotta get a white piece of wire! Don't you have white?"

"Okay, I'll scrape off the plastic; there, it's black. It's invisible."

"Okay,... yeah, that's good."

When Gretchen was finished, the ornament was much improved. It was delicate, still, but would serve for a few seasons if it wasn't abused. The cleaning had improved her much; honestly, thought Sophie, a grubby angel didn't make a lot of sense.

Skip thanked Gretchen shyly, having gazed adoringly at his angel for a while. It was clear that he had wanted a tree for his angel, rather than an angel for their tree. Sophie thought Gretchen's smile was beautiful. She hadn't any inkling that Gretchen herself had been the angel in Helen's very first Christmas special.

# # #

# Helen in London

When Helen got off the plane at Heathrow, and got through immigration and customs, she found a reception committee waiting for her. She was whisked, through rain-drenched streets, to a hotel in London, and as soon as she had cleaned up and changed, she was whisked off again, through streets as wet as before, in a gorgeous Rolls-Royce to the rehearsal at the performance hall, where she was introduced to three of the best-known British soloists, and the absolutely best-known conductor of Baroque and early music in Britain, David McIntyre. Helen's pleasure at the opportunity to sing with them was evident. "I have wanted to meet you all for so long!" she said smiling, as she shook hands with them. "I hope I'm not very late!"

"No, just in time, actually!" said the tenor, Tony Johnson, a tall man in his late 40s. "It was all pushed back for you!"

Helen blushed and said "Oh dear! I didn't mean to disrupt everything."

"Not everything, just the rehearsal time," assured Edith Milburn, the contralto, with a smile. Helen smiled at her gratefully.

They were very quickly on stage, with the orchestra tuning up noisily in the background. This was the pre-eminent choir and orchestra for the Baroque repertoire in England, and Helen not only had their recording of _Messiah_ from a few years back, but she was dying to watch them work. Edith told her that, indeed, the soprano had taken ill with bronchitis. After that there was no time to talk, as David launched them into the Overture.

They did only enough of each solo number to make sure that it was under control. When Helen's first solo came up, they let her sing it through. David nodded to her, and she got ready, and reading from the notes, sang it. It consisted of four sections, a recitative, a brief accompanied recitative, another ordinary recitative, and then another _accompagnato_ , all telling of the shepherds. When she was finished singing, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath of relief. It had been at the very top of her range, and Helen's voice hurt. She knew she couldn't sing so high for an entire evening. Edith nudged her and said it was super, and Helen smiled again with gratitude. Edith was a friendly soul, and Helen appreciated her being there.

"Very nice," said David. "I just wanted to see how comfortable you were with it. Let's keep going, please!"

As the choir sang the chorus, Helen watched carefully at how David communicated with them, and how they sang. There were things she hadn't ever done, but there were also things that she did that seemed overlooked or not considered important. But by and large, she had to admit that they did an incredible job. Their continuo group was quite lean, in contrast to Helen's continuo, in Philadelphia, which was proportional to the other forces: just a harpsichord and gamba for a flute solo, an organ, harpsichord, theorbo, cello, bassoon and bass for full orchestral pieces.

Suddenly it was time for her coloratura aria, "Rejoice greatly," one that she enjoyed hearing, and loved to sing. And best of all, it wasn't pitched very high. The violins played the skipping, perky introduction, and Helen took a deep breath and launched into it. In seconds she relaxed in the sheer pleasure of singing it.

Next came the almost eerily beautiful duet for alto and soprano, with texts from both the Old and New Testaments, depicting the _Messiah_ as a shepherd.

Edith did her part beautifully. She had a beautiful voice. Determined to match her tone, Helen sang as beautifully as she could. Again, as she relaxed, it got easier. But it was such a heavenly experience that Helen began to tremble, and Edith reached out a kind hand to steady her. The ornaments flowed effortlessly from Helen's heart.

When she was finished, there was a slight pause, and Helen opened her eyes to see them laughing at her.

"A trifle overcome, were we?" said David with a grin.

Helen blushed and murmured that they shouldn't be unkind. "I don't get to sing this very often!"

Helen had expected that they would sing the first part, the Hallelujah chorus, and that would be it. (The _Messiah_ was a two-hour long, three-part work, usually performed only in a shortened version.) As it happened, they included a long soprano aria that was sung about half the time. Helen was startled out of her seat when she heard the violin introduction. David smiled and continued. He had seen Helen having a good old time singing along with the choruses, and was amused by it.

Helen scrambled to find the music, though she could have sung it from memory; it was an aria her mother had loved to sing. Again, Helen threw her heart into it, and she didn't realize that she was unconsciously using her hands to emphasize the words, as opera singers often do, and everyone was watching her hands. Unlike many opera singers, Helen was also a dancer, and one of her many gifts was the gift of using her hands to express herself. She did this rarely when speaking, but increasingly frequently when singing, and it was becoming something of a characteristic.

As the orchestra finished the final _ritornello_ , they burst out with applause. Helen looked up, with a puzzled smile, as she heard Edith clapping loudly next to her. "It wasn't _that_ good," she murmured to her.

"Oh absolutely marvelous," she said, "but it's your hands!" Edith mimed what they were cheering, and Helen blushed again.

"Oh, stop blushing, Helen!" David was grinning hugely, and it only made Helen blush all the more. It was a good minute before it got quiet enough for Helen to be heard.

"I don't know _why_ I blush," she murmured, "It's just a silly habit!" That caused more laughter.

"Let's go over the big chorus," he said, turning to it in the score. He talked to the choir seriously, impressing upon them the need to be careful when singing it—the Hallelujah Chorus. He believed that its very familiarity led choirs to sing it badly. Helen found herself agreeing with him, and nodded emphatically, catching his eye. He observed, half in jest, that no less an authority than Ms. Nordstrom seemed to agree with him, and Helen said a few words in support of him. Perhaps, she suggested (with suitable humility, carefully deferring to the maestro's judgment) if the choir regarded it to be an _orchestral_ piece, it would let them achieve a better balance. David seemed impressed by her paraphrase of the view held by most choral conductors. They had rehearsed it once before, she learned, and they went through it again, slowly and less loudly than they would sing it that evening. It sounded beautiful. It was a large choir, around 30 singers, but they were very precise and well-drilled, and the choir had the cleanness and nimbleness that marked the very best choirs. The soloists obediently kept silent during the chorus, knowing that nothing would prevent them joining in that evening!

The choir and orchestra was dismissed, and David McIntyre chatted with the soloists and Helen for a few minutes. Helen longed for them to acknowledge her as a scholar, but it was always Miss Nordstrom, or Ms Nordstrom, or Helen. She chastised herself for being so vain, but she longed to be consulted about various details of the performance. She swore to herself that she would be judiciously restrained _if_ consulted.

Just as she had given up, David turned to her with an amused smile and said, "Well? I know you're dying to tell me what you think, so let's have it!"

"Me?" Helen asked, feigning surprise, but delighted at the opportunity. "Oh, it sounds wonderful!"

"Oh, come on, now, you must have an opinion about something or the other! I've never met a conductor worth her salt who'd keep quiet about the _Messiah!"_

Helen's only thoughts had to do with the continuo, especially with the alto aria. Cautiously she broached the topic obliquely.

"I thought Edith was wonderful in "O thou that tellest," she said, turning to her new friend, and smiling. If Edith felt the way Helen did, that would be her foot in the door. Through the corner of her eye, she could see David smiling in anticipation of what Helen was trying to do.

Edith took the bait. With an eloquent gesture of confusion, she said that the accompaniment felt too thin. "I really miss the full orchestral accompaniment of the earlier times," she exclaimed.

"But that's the way it's scored, Edie! It's a simple, lightly-scored, Baroque aria. The rest is all Mozart, or whoever!"

"Well," said Helen, "it's strings and continuo, right?"

David laughed. He was an incredibly sharp fellow, Helen decided.

"And there's a lot of latitude in what constitutes the continuo, David, so you could give her a _little_ of what she wants!" Now, if they asked Helen what she meant, she could show them the possibilities for filling out the accompaniment in a compromise between what was in the score, and what Edith remembered from her childhood.

"Well, Chris, we have the violins, the harpsichord, and the cellos..."

"That's all," said Chris, the harpsichordist, pleasantly.

The score called for strings, continuo, trumpets and drums, and in some versions, organ and oboe. Discussing the instrumentation, they agreed with Helen's contention that during Handel's lifetime, he might have supplemented the sound with an improvised organ part, particularly if there had been a small chest organ.

"Well," said Chris, "by some strange coincidence, here's a little chest organ, by Jove!" He looked around and managed to hail a violinist just as she was about to leave the stage. "Miss Pearson! A moment please!"

Helen was 'persuaded' to show what she meant. They would do the aria with just the harpsichord, the single violin, and the organ, with Helen at the keyboard. Edith opened up the music, and Chris took his place at the keyboard, and the nervous Miss Pearson sat at a music stand, and David conducted, after Helen had found some stops that looked promising, and quickly tried them out.

Helen thanked her lucky stars that she had experimented with organ continuo. Also, she had played this particular accompaniment dozens of times for Janet.

Edith put her heart into it. Helen played the unfamiliar instrument with increasing confidence, but restraint. If David felt that the organ was too obtrusive, that would ruin everything. If he felt there could be more organ, that would be a success.

Meanwhile, the others sat and listened with increasing interest, nodding to Helen and Edith. At the repeated phrase _Behold your God_ , Helen abandoned her total restraint, and embellished it with bold echoes of full orchestral versions she had heard.

When it was finished, Edith looked flushed and excited, and the three instrumentalists looked at each other, and saw approval. The other soloists were unanimous in their endorsement of the performance, but Helen knew that vocalists were often not the best judges of such things. Everyone looked at David.

David looked thoughtful. "And then, we go straight into the chorus... we'll need some continuity there." Helen smiled at Edith, who looked thrilled. Apparently it was going to work!

"Helen, could you write that down? We'll help you, Chris and I. It's very nice. It's also very familiar!"

"Sounds like Ebenezer Prout, but a lot less florid," said Chris, grinning.

"Ebenezer Prout, yes. Is that what it is?" he asked Helen, and Helen said that she imagined it would be. At any rate, she could alter the Prout edition very easily and give them what she had been playing.

It was done in less than a minute, thanks to the tools Helen had with her in her bag. (Their own copyist had left a little too soon.) David enjoined Edith and Chris to come a little early that evening. "Everyone involved be back in an hour; the rest of you be back at seven!"

The four soloists had planned to eat out together at Tony's club which was not too far, and that's where they went in Tony's lovely Jaguar.

"That was very slick indeed," said Tony, with a grin. They all agreed that the arias sounded too lightly accompanied, and that Handel filled-in with an organ accompaniment sounded plausible. "But even if that wasn't the case," said Tony, "that's the whole point of the continuo, as I see it. It allows some latitude in how it's instrumented." They all agreed with him. "So, if we agree that the arias should be approached with a lighter touch, which is reasonable, at least the continuo could supply a little — what am I looking for, here..."

"Fullness," said Helen.

"... Yes, or at least some interest and continuity. Seems an appropriate function for _continuo!"_

Helen having called in to Robin, Becky, Olive, and her father, to check on the holiday arrangements, joined the others at dinner, a traditional English roast beef dinner. "I can eat anything, and I know there shouldn't be a problem, but I just get so nervous _expecting_ trouble..."

"Me, too, I just scare myself silly!"

"Yes, the whole idea is to convince yourself that you're eating exactly what you need to be eating!"

The conversations was pleasant, and Helen quickly found herself forgetting to worry about the children and everyone else who seemed to depend on her for leadership. Becky and Betsy and Jim would transport whoever needed to get wherever, and the rest of them knew to ask them. Only Rain was out by herself, and Helen wasn't going to talk to her until after the performance was safely over.

They dropped Helen off at the hotel, and she got washed and ready. She had performed for the President of the United States, and performing for the Queen shouldn't be that different, she thought. But it was. When she had asked Edith, she had been breezily told that anything would do. But Tony, the oldest of them, and the one who had performed before royalty the most, had been nervous and unsure. "I just wear the usual, but for a woman... maybe you should ask someone. Edie, you should be more helpful, dear."

Edie shrugged. "I just wear whatever I have, but I'm not the best-dressed woman in London, or anything!"

Helen called Robin, and he called his mother, who called Helen. Helen had completely forgotten that Robin's mother would have been at the rehearsal.

"I'm a viola," she said, in a lovely contralto voice. "It was so lovely to have you sing with us! How can I help you?"

"Well, I'm wondering what to wear!"

"Oh dear! There's hardly any time to shop now, is there! We have to choose from what you have!"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of anything else! Let's see, I have a bright red strapless..."

In the end, it was decided that Helen would wear a grand off-white ankle-length dress and a matching shawl. As soon as she had got into her dress and applied a touch of lipstick, she was told that her ride was ready. They wanted her early. With a sigh Helen picked up her purse and her kitbag, which contained her computer and her music. Minutes later, only slightly damp, Helen was backstage with Owen Jones, the nervous organist, Chris Newcombe, and David McIntyre. It was an hour to the performance, and the audience was beginning to gather outside the doors.

"Let me try it," said Owen.

"I don't think he should be pressured, David," Helen said to him privately. "Tell him to play any old realization he wants. It's too last-minute."

David nodded. "Yes; the thing is to get him to relax." David went out to Owen and told him essentially what Helen had suggested.

Owen and Chris started playing, and soon it was clear that Owen was getting happier with the idea. He modified the music to suit him, and announced that he could do it. With Helen's help, he had a nice clean copy of the piece, exactly the way he liked it. He looked at Helen gratefully, and she gave him a sweet smile. Who knew? Some day she might conduct in England, and it would be helpful to have all the allies she could get. A conductor was only effective to the degree that she was able to inspire confidence in her musicians.

For three quarters of an hour Helen hung around backstage, as the personnel slowly gathered. She talked to any of them who approached her, and many did. "It's always full, sold out in advance," they told her, and a large proportion of the seats were the Royal Family and their guests. She met Robin's mother, a handsome woman, still attractive at around 60 years. Finally it was time. Most of the audience was in place, and the choir and soloists were assembled, ready to go on stage. The orchestra had just filed out, and there was discreet tuning, nothing like the racket Helen had heard in the afternoon. David announced last-minute instructions, clearly not as relaxed as he liked to appear to be, and then the choir marched in to take its place, 36 men and women impeccable in their tuxedos. There was quiet applause, then more applause as the soloists came on, led by Edith, followed by Helen, Tony and Philip, with David McIntyre at the back. The Royal Family was just taking their seats, and Helen saw the Queen clearly, and Prince Charles, and several youngsters whom she didn't recognize. They bowed to the Royal Box, and took their seats as the audience, too, sat once the Queen was seated.

In the audience, three people watched her with interest, in addition to Helen's anonymous Royal admirer. They were Rain—Lady Evelyn Woodford—and her parents.

Polly, Rain's mother, studied Helen with great excitement. She felt extremely uncomfortable at Rain's relationship with the striking blonde soprano who had just walked on stage in the most stunning-but-not-too-bold evening gown. But she had learned to think of them as simply friends. That's how she would introduce Helen: Rain's dear friend. She scrutinized Helen's face for any trace of _Lesbianism_ that might show on her face: a look in her eye, punk hairstyle, a pierced eyebrow or something equally strange... and presently she found it: a number of tiny piercings on her left ear. But she only looked calm and relaxed and inoffensive. Her eyes scanned the audience briefly, smiling briefly in response to a smile from someone in the audience, perhaps, and then she turned to the conductor, leaving her music on the stand. They could barely see her, covered by the tall stands, but they caught tantalizing glimpses of her, and Rain's parents were impressed by the dignity of her bearing.

The orchestra played a big chord, and everyone stood, and Helen stood with them. Then the orchestra began to play God Save the Queen, and everyone sang along, including Helen, who blushed, not knowing exactly what to do. She scanned the sea of faces, but Helen couldn't see Rain anywhere. Then the audience sat down, and so did Helen.

Rain was still too young to have pleasure in spying on a loved one without being seen. It was agony to be so close to Helen and not be recognized. She felt like waving, standing up, doing anything to attract Helen's attention! Again and again Helen's eyes scanned the crowd, but she had no way of guessing where Rain would sit. They were, in fact, near the Queen's box, and they could see the grand old lady, and occasionally hear her.

Just as the music was about to begin, Rain noticed tiny microphones everywhere. It was now the custom to record these events, because the Queen's hearing was failing, and she insisted on listening to the music afterwards all over again. The overture began, and immediately Helen's expression changed to one of attentive listening. She was completely still, except for her fingers, which tapped nervously on her knee. And Rain, at last, began to move her eyes away from Helen, to her program, and to the rest of the choir and orchestra.

Those were not the only three who watched Helen closely. Helen was, in fact, the one everyone in the audience was most interested in. The lovely American musician, so popular in England 15 years ago, had not performed in England since then. She had performed in America and in Germany and Japan, but stayed away from England, much to the acute disappointment of her British fans. No one believed that it was an intentional slight, but the disappointment was nevertheless very deep. But as soon as the audience saw Helen, all their hurt was forgiven, and all questions about why an American had been chosen to sing at the annual Royal _Messiah_ were laid aside, and the British love affair with Helen resumed.

Helen herself was taken by surprise by Edith singing: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son." Her aria was here and Helen had been day-dreaming. Helen looked intently at David and Owen, but they seemed utterly calm. David invariably affected an air of complete confidence on stage, and tonight he stood, head held high, ready to cue the orchestra into the aria. When the recitative came to a close, they began the ritornello for the aria. For a while Helen thought that Owen had decided to sit it out, but then she heard the slight ring in the air, and the soft flute-like sounds of the chamber organ. It sounded just beautiful in Owen's skillful hands. And then Edith began to sing, and it was all worth it. Even if the subtle changes were inaudible to the audience, it made a world of difference to Edie. The joy in her voice was almost tangible. Owen had had time to make sense out of the accompaniment, and wove it into the violin line with intelligence and musicality, and they began to feel that certain something in the air that signaled a performance to be remembered. When the choir joined in, Helen was on her feet, silently applauding her friend Edith, and helping her to her seat.

"Thanks!" said Edith, simply.

"You were fabulous!" whispered Helen, her eyes shining. Next to her, Tony grinned and imperceptibly nodded approval. Edith was in heaven. She was one of the foremost contraltos in Britain, and she was accustomed to being excellent in what she did. But tonight she had outdone herself.

When finally it was time for Helen to sing, Rain was on the edge of her seat, with practically everyone in the hall. Helen rose gracefully and approached her stand, and smiled briefly at the audience, the conductor and the orchestra. This was not the bold, fearless, charismatic conductor whom Rain admired grudgingly; this was her friend Helen, self-effacing, unassuming, polite, respectful. This was Helen as she was at the College.

Helen sang without her music. "And there were shepherds abiding in the fields," she sang, "keeping watch over their flocks by night." Then with more agitation, she sang how the angel of the Lord appeared, and announced the birth. She seemed to be the very angel herself, serenely joyful, allaying the fears of the shepherds with graceful gestures of her hands as she spoke, and Rain trembled visibly. Her mother steadied her with a gentle hand as Rain gazed on her beloved, and Polly Woodford felt deeply disturbed.

And suddenly, Helen said, with increasing excitement, seeming to both speak and to sing the lines, there was a host of angels singing praise to god, and she fell silent as the choir sang. She remained standing for the brief chorus, and they went straight into the next aria, the coloratura "Rejoice greatly, o daughter of Zion!"

Helen sang beautifully, as always. She enunciated very carefully, all the s's and t's sounding crisp and clean, and the trills and figurations impeccable. The joy and the ecstasy in Helen's face was riveting, not one eye strayed from the figure of the soloist as she sang the showpiece that had so little to do with the birth of Christ, but a lot to do with the sheer musical delightfulness of the work.

The next number that caught Rain's attention was the lovely duet by Helen and Edith. It was a complete change of mood, and Helen emphasized it by standing somewhat behind Edith while she sang her recitative, and her part of the duet, and stepping forward for her part. This time Helen showed how effective she could be in long, sustained notes, and the persuasion she could put into words that needed it. David McIntyre moved the piece along at a tempo that permitted at least a slight approximation of the rhythms of theatrical speech, and Helen's intelligence guided her in inflecting her singing perfectly, as she sang "and ye shall find rest unto your souls," pouring just the right degree of emotion into the words.

When Helen sat down, she left the audience stunned, uncertain as to what had transpired. It had all taken a little under fifteen minutes, but fifteen minutes of Helen was a little overwhelming.

The chorus that followed the duet marked the end of the first part. What remained was essentially an extract of the rest of the work.

Somewhere during the next few items, Helen recognized Rain, seated between a distinguished-looking middle-aged man, and a woman built on generous lines who sat ramrod-straight and tall in her seat. Rain looked beautiful to Helen's loving eyes, and it was all she could do not to stare at them. They, in turn, were quickly aware that Helen had spotted them. "I think she's seen us," Polly murmured to her daughter under her breath. Rain's response was to dig her mother in the ribs.

Soon it was time for the Hallelujah Chorus, and everything was forgotten in the excitement of standing for it. On stage, the soloists sang along with the choir, their faces wreathed in smiles. It took the usual four minutes, and only the very educated ears in the audience was at all aware of the careful preparation that had gone into it.

Annual events such as this one tended to be cultural and traditional events, in which the meaning of the words and the celebration was lost in the pleasure of the returning celebration itself. Annual events were comfortable things, a bulwark against the ceaseless, fearsome change that surrounded everyone. The Messiah, in particular, was a comfortable, satisfying reminder to all that at least _some_ things remained the same. The audience, in particular, was not looking for something better than they had last year. For the Hallelujah Chorus, it was not so important that it should be done perfectly as that it should be sung competently. Nobody actually heard it.

Then Helen stood to sing the long, meditative, disturbing aria based on a letter of St. Paul, that early religious intellectual after whom was named both the great American city, and Rain's mother.

For most members of that audience, perhaps, the words of the aria had never made sense, but now Helen sang it with conviction. Her conviction was in the music, not in the words. But when it came to the lines: "But now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep," at least they were intelligible, if not credible, and Helen sang them earnestly. And if the words meant little to Helen in the literal sense, she was still able to apprehend a little of the emotion by which Handel had been taken when he wrote the music. And the emotion she did understand. It was the pleasure in the knowledge that even death could not separate him from the love of God.

Helen's voice soared as she repeated the phrase: "For now is Christ risen," as the music clung to that simple assertion with which the ancients sought to circumscribe the finality of death.

It was a difficult aria to sing because of the text. It was scored awkwardly, with just violins and continuo, but there were those who loved it dearly, and these sighed with pleasure as Helen sang her last notes, and the violin brought the piece to an end.

The next few pieces were far more satisfying. They spoke of the last trumpet, and there was a duet in which the alto and the tenor demanded, o death, where is thy sting, grave, where is thy victory? The chorus replied with the next verse. Then there was one last wonderful chorus of benediction, and the work came to a close.

The audience gave them a standing ovation. "Oh goodness!" exclaimed Tony to Helen under his breath, smiling broadly. "I thought that went _very_ well, don't you?" They stood to acknowledge the applause, and Helen nodded, flushing with pleasure.

"I assumed it was always good!"

"Oh no," said Tony, "I can't ever remember it being this good! Oh goodness!" he exclaimed again as they bowed.

David finally announced to the audience that they would perform the Hallelujah Chorus once more, "and you're all invited to join in," he said and turned to the players.

Helen was surprised by how well they sang. She exchanged smiles with Rain as they sang, and they each imagined that they could hear the other's voice, in the ear-splitting noise.

After the last Hallelujah, the choir and orchestra rose to applaud the audience, and the event was over. As the audience began to file out, Rain turned to her parents, her eyes shining.

"I think she's waiting for us! We could go over and say hi, couldn't we, Mum? Dad?"

"I'm sure she'll have things to do," said her father with a tight smile. "Let's wait until she comes to Woodford, Evelyn."

"Oh, what's the harm in just talking to her a bit, George?"

"Polly, she..."

The words died on his lips as they turned to see Helen coming towards them. She had escaped the throng that had surrounded her on stage, and hurried towards Rain, hampered by her long skirts.

She first hugged Rain and then said hello to her parents, and turned back to Rain to ask how she had liked the performance. Rain, blushing like crazy said it had been super.

"Dad, Mum, this is Helen; Helen, these are my parents, George and Pauline Woodford!"

"How d'you do!" said Helen, as she had learned to say when in England.

"How d'you do," replied both of them, shaking her hand in turn. "Oh, you did a lovely job," gushed Pauline, and George admitted that he had enjoyed her singing. It was a performance to remember, they said, and they were glad Evelyn had persuaded them to come. They thanked her for her generous tickets.

"Oh!" said Helen, blushing in her turn. "I..." she stammered, trying to think of a way to say that she would do far more for them if she could, but that it wasn't appropriate. But, of course, those were the last words she could say, and so she simply shrugged.

Suddenly a distinguished gentleman approached them and smiled at Helen, by his manner indicating that he wanted to talk to her very soon indeed. "Hello," said George, "you have a friend!"

Helen turned to the man, disguising her impatience.

"If you have a moment, miss, Her Majesty would like to meet you."

Helen was taken aback, not knowing the protocol. Taking her leave from the Woodfords, Helen followed the gentleman to the Queen's box.

Some time later, Helen found her way backstage to where David McIntyre and his troops had gathered, and David turned to Helen with a grin. "I know it's presumptuous, but I'd like to have you sing with us whenever possible!"

"Why presumptuous?"

"Well, Helen, you're a conductor, and I'm not going to pretend that the groups you work with don't matter! I think the Impromptu is a _fantastic_ bunch. Their records are an incredible quality and an incredible value."

"Just very hard to get," said Philip, and Tony agreed. Edith said she didn't bother with the British record stores. "I just go get them in the States."

"Isn't there a BNB affiliate here?" Helen asked casually.

"Oh yes, Empire; but they just don't stock Impromptu records!"

"They don't in the States, either!"

Hmm, thought Helen. Time to play dirty. They moved on to something else, and wound up sipping wine with a bunch of musicians. The choir had gone off to drink already, and David said he was expected at a particular pub very shortly. It was the choir that had brought him his initial success, though his orchestra was his pride and joy. An hour later, Helen was in bed.

It was a great relief when the plane boarded, and she was on her way to Kansas. They served pretzels — which she loathed — and soda — which she was beginning to like — and Helen eagerly ate them and drank; she was so famished. She thought flying first class should be a more pleasant experience.

# Kansas

It was a quick flight, and she was on the ground soon. As Helen stumbled to the gate with her baggage, she saw the welcome faces of Tom, Elly and her brother John, who had come for her.

"Happy birthday!" she remembered to say as she hugged Tom and Elly. (Elly and Tommy both were born on Christmas Eve.) They each kissed her very affectionately, and she gratefully wallowed in their love, putting aside everything else. They declared she looked beautiful, especially Elly. Elly herself looked lovely in a fashionable dress and the lovely shoes Helen had bought her. John looked dashing in slacks and jacket and tie, and Tommy, too looked smart in a lovely sweater and skirt.

Outside the snow lay thick on the ground. "It snowed for two days straight," said Elly informatively, walking closer to Helen than either of Helen's siblings. The airport had been renovated, and traffic was smoother than it had been the last time Helen had visited.

Elly insisted on sitting next to Helen in the back of the ancient jalopy that was once Bo's and now John's.

"So we met your un-mother-in-law," John said with a grin.

"Yeah, she's real interesting!" said Tom, and Elly said "She's perfect! She's totally wasted out there alone in—wherever she lives.

Helen laughed. "She's got a lovely house back east, and she's got a big social machine out there," she said quietly. "But she adores James and Barbara," she added.

"Man," said John. "That Barbara is a total babe."

"Yeah!" breathed the girls dreamily, and they all laughed.

"You know how spooky that is? I'm in a car full of women, and we're all drooling over the same girl, and she's waiting back home!"

"Don't you worry too much about her," Elly told him sardonically, "you're not going to get anywhere with her. Jeffrey is real firmly in control, there."

"Oh, I don't know," said Tom, laconically.

"Yeah," said Helen, "she used to have this way of doing exactly what she wanted, even if Jeffrey got annoyed, and then somehow putting Jeffrey in a good mood."

"Oh, the mysterious ways of women," mused John.

"And Sophie's mom is really interesting too," said Tom. "She's very quiet."

Helen snapped out of her sleepy mood. She had forgotten that her European contingent was here too, and she hadn't been around to take care of them. She longed to see Sophie again, but there were also Solange and Nadia to worry about. Again it came round to the fact that she had missed most of the season with her children and her dearest friends. The fact that she had several thousand dollars to show for having been away didn't quite comfort her as much as she had expected it to.

Elly started saying something about Sophie and Nadia.

"Is she talking to everybody? Is she sort of being left out at all?" Helen asked, quickly.

"Who?"

"Sophie's mom, of course, Elly."

"Oh, she's fine; she was quiet for a while, but she was chatting to my mom when we left. And Tom talked to her—Tom, did she sound like she felt left out, or anything?"

Tom shrugged and put her head on a side, thinking, and then turned round to look back at them. "Well, I guess it's too much of a circus for her, at the farm." She smiled. "Don't worry too much, Sis. Sophie's here, the kids are here; she'll be fine."

"Yeah," said John, "as long as people don't keep suddenly disappearing on her."

"Uh-huh," said Elly, nodding agreement as she looked at a bunch of teenagers who had just passed them in a zippy new car, "that would be upsetting, I guess."

When they arrived nobody noticed them, in spite of the racket the old car made. They were all busy inside. The four of them unloaded all Helen's baggage and took it in.

"Look who's here!" said Grelly, looking up from the very late lunch she was getting ready for them, with help from Janet and Nadia. She looked happy and excited to be at the center of a home at Christmas, again. Soon Helen was surrounded by most of the rest of her affectionate family, who had a lot to say about her being away.

The first to hurl herself at Helen was Allie, who came flying out from Grandma Olive's knee. "Mama!" she cried, so happy to see her that Helen felt the wonder of having the little daughter strike her fresh once more.

"You missed _everything!"_ complained Gena impatiently, hugging her. "We went carol-singing, and had a _huge_ dinner with Aunt Marika and the Johnsons!" Cindy grinned and nodded silent confirmation. "And we watched your special, Mom! It was cool!"

"Yeah," said Erin grinning, "it was the best!"

Everyone quickly agreed that it was.

"You missed _everything_ ," said Gena, emphasizing her point, and James, holding onto his mama's hair firmly, made what appeared to be a major statement on the same theme, looking severely at her.

"Yeah, you tell 'er, tiger," said Gena, encouraging him, and he looked so censoriously at Helen that she was rather taken aback. Then he suddenly smiled at his mother and gave her a lovely wet kiss. Erin laughed, thoroughly amused. Everything seemed funny and pleasant when Mom was home!

Helen hugged Sophie then, and Nadia and Solange, who seemed to be quite at home with the rest of the horde,

Careful to involve everyone in the conversation, Helen quickly summarized how it had gone, and how she had met Natasha. She kept the news about meeting Rain's parents to tell Sophie quietly later.

There was a slight sound from outside, and they heard, "Oh, it's Helen! She's home!" Helen turned to see her father, Barbara and Jeffrey.

Helen had forgotten the effect Barbara had on her. She had on simple jeans and boots, and a flannel shirt against the cold outside, and her face looked a little flushed, and her expression happy to see Helen, but she seemed to radiate pure sex. Like magic they were in each other's arms, with James crushed between them, and Barb was kissing Helen, and Helen felt that her state of arousal must be clear to everyone in the crowded room. Barbara's hands felt warm on Helen's arms. Helen glanced around to see if this reunion was raising any suspicion, but all she saw were indulgent smiles.

"Oh, it's so great to see you!" exclaimed Barbara, and Helen muttered something appropriate.

"Come," said Grelly, "let's all eat. Helen, I don't know how well you ate on the plane, but..."

"Terrible," said Helen.

"...Well, all the more reason; let's eat. John, help me serve the food out, dear," she added, her smile softening as she looked at John Nordstrom. And Helen's father's answering smile made him look young and handsome. Helen gave Jeffrey a quick hug, and he kissed her chastely on the cheek, and managed to steal James from her.

"How're you doing, young feller-me-lad?" he asked his son, who observed that Mama had come back, and Dad was going to have to get used to seeing less of his little son.

"So when are you going to start talking?"

James looked at Jeffrey with exasperation. He said he wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

Young Elly skillfully took charge of things. Grandpa John loved the feisty young woman who had so much of Old Elly in her, and Grelly indulged her, too. At this time, Elly was careful not to abuse her privilege. She planned the events the kids would enjoy, the sleigh rides, the shopping, the care of the animals, the exploring, and cleverly involved all the children. Helen told her privately that she was doing a wonderful job, and she brushed it off, but Helen knew that Elly was pleased with her praise. Janet watched her daughter organize the Christmas activities with as much skill as Helen had done the same sixteen years earlier, and was amazed. Elly was as imaginative as Helen, and as effective with children. And because Janet loved Helen so much, and had loved her for so long, it was the most joyful thing for Janet to see her own child take on the qualities of her former lover.

Helen was able to retire to the edge of the circle of attention at let Elly have the limelight, which she generously shared with Gena, Tommy and Little John.

Olive and Walter were clearly frustrated at not being home for Christmas, but were nevertheless delighted to spend the holidays in the company of James and the other children.

"I had to be firm," said old Elly. "They would've bought a dozen presents for each child when we went out to the Mall yesterday. But I got Olive to listen. She's great, though, Helen; it's like I..."

"Mall? There's a mall here?"

"Yes, Helen, weren't you listening? It's the Mall I was telling you about!"

"Goodness, so it all really happened the way I thought it would!"

There had been a huge development a little west of their farm, and apparently the modern world was catching up with their little community.

"I guess! But I was saying, Olive's really neat."

"Yeah. She's a powerhouse, but she's all heart."

Barbara was fascinated by the horses, and Grelly had to endure John being monopolized by the excited young woman. Jeffrey spent a lot of time with Nadia, and Helen when she was available.

Tommy, Jan and Grelly took responsibility for keeping an eye out for the American guests, seeing that they weren't left too much on their own, while Helen did the same for Solange, Sophie and Nadia. But Helen took a six-hour nap, during which the guests were shown all of the more energetic activities of the winter season, such as sleigh rides and bob-sledding, which Little John seemed adept at.

When Helen awoke again it was early evening, and quite dark already. The farmhouse looked lovely in candlelight, and the Christmas tree looked festive, with its pile of presents neatly piled in orderly stacks, graded by size, courtesy of Erin. There were a number of envelopes, too, many addressed in Olive's distinctive hand. Helen had put her presents away under her bed, seeing how crowded the space under the tree was.

Supper was delicious but light. Lunch had been the major meal of the day. Now they all had mugs of hot chocolate and Elly ordered that they should all sing carols.

They talked about Helen's DC concert. Apparently Helen was now the acknowledged Queen of Christmas Celebrations in the US. The recording had been broadcast a number of times, and even the special had been repeated that afternoon while Helen was asleep. Helen asked why she hadn't been woken, and they only laughed.

Helen was surprised to see the carol sheet she herself had put together years before. With young Elly playing guitar brilliantly, and Little John on his banjo, they sang all the carols on the sheet. Then it was time for recitals, and each of them played something.

The big surprise was Erin's violin solo, accompanied by Elly on the guitar. To Helen's critical ear it was clear that the young violinist was playing significantly better than her adopted older sister. Sometime that Fall, the younger girl had outstripped the older one in violin-playing skill. Helen was wondering how she would deal with the situation. Would Gena refuse to accept that Erin was as good or better than herself?

"She's better than me, Mom," Gena said quietly so only Helen could hear. And the pride in her voice was evident. Helen felt very happy at Gena's maturity, and her clear love for her adopted sister.

"Who knows how good you can be, love," Helen told her. "She's not learned all she can learn, and neither have you!"

Gena shook her head and smiled. "I'm going to try, sure," she said, "and we'll both get better, but I can tell how it's gonna be!"

For some time after they had arrived, Solange had felt as if they were watching a family gathering from the outside. These were all Helen's extended family, and they knew each other. Being a guest was pleasant in some ways, but Solange also missed being in her own home, where she did not need to present a happy holiday face to a bunch of strangers. But gradually, Tommy and Janet had drawn her out, and that wonderful child Allie had come by and simply smiled at her and talked to her, and Solange had begun to feel a part of the festivities.

Solange had her own expectations of what she would find at the farm in Kansas. Knowing that Helen's father lived there, she expected some coolness from him, but from the others she expected an overwhelming artificial friendliness that was worse than being left alone. However Solange, for one, had imagined being received and entertained by _adults_. But it was the children who had led the way for the adults to welcome them and see they were comfortable, and that made all the difference. The children were not only utterly guileless and innocent, they were genuinely interested in Sophie's mother. Unlike other children Solange had known, these were comfortable in the role they had been given, and were clearly enjoying having visitors. From John Nordstrom, too, Solange received neither the expected coolness, nor the overwhelming attention. He was content to shake her hand, and let the woman who appeared to be his wife (but not Helen's mother) speak on his behalf. By supper time, Solange no longer felt an intruder.

Sometime later they were all seated round the fire, and the elder Elly took over from her granddaughter. Solange had taken a firm liking to the two teenagers. Initially she had admired vivacious, beautiful young Elly, and thought the tall, quiet Tomasina aloof and awkward. But then it had been Tommy who had quietly talked to Solange and made her believe that she was wanted and welcomed in their large family gathering.

As she began to become familiar with the children and they with her, she began to appreciate the dynamics of their interaction among themselves and with the adults. And she recalled with surprised pleasure the moment that young Elly had given the floor to her grandmother, as it were. With a mixture of awkwardness and grace the old couple groped their way towards a natural and inclusive celebration of the religious festival that clearly still meant something to them. It had been many decades since Solange had given up her religious beliefs, but these simple Americans still believed, and their faith was touching. The love between the two of them was warm and still fresh. Old Elly had an innocent freshness one usually found only in teenage girls. Her face showed the wisdom of her years coupled with the eagerness of a young woman in love. The old gentleman was bemused by what was happening to him. The love affair he had begun in private was now fueled by their families who were spectators, and who obviously took pleasure in the love of the old couple.

They sat round in a circle, and Grandma Elly began the story of the young woman who was to be the mother of Jesus, and as she finished one chapter of the story, she nominated the one who was to continue the story. Elly's daughter Janet took up the story of the journey to Bethlehem. As Janet finished her part with the quiet dignity she always seemed to possess, she handed the story over to Helen.

Helen was quietly dressed in green slacks and a pretty ivory tunic, looking radiant with some inner glow. On her lap sat her little daughter Allie, and at her side sat Sophie dressed in a black tunic and scarlet tights, looking just as radiant.

Helen's soft voice picked up the story with the birth in the manger, and handed the story off to Barbara.

Everyone present watched with great interest as Barbara took up the narrative. She related the story precisely as it was recorded in the gospels, and her face clearly showed that even as she told it, she was thinking about the events for the first time since she had been a child. The intelligence in her speech contrasted strangely with the youthful appearance encouraged by her small size, fair, fly-away blond hair and innocent blue eyes. Helen felt the pride of having discovered her, as it were, and having brought such a treasure to be amongst her family and her loved-ones.

Barbara related the story of the shepherds and the angels, and how the shepherds found the family among the animals in the stable. Then Olive was invited to relate the story of the wise men from the east, and finally the quiet Cindy told of the escape into Egypt.

They sang a few quiet carols to the accompaniment of a guitar, and everyone having wished everyone else a merry Christmas and a good night, they all went to bed.

Helen had known that she would find it difficult to resist the opportunity to snuggle with Sophie. They had talked it over during the last several weeks, and decided that it would not cause any great harm to either of them if, over the holidays, they were to share a little intimacy. On one hand, Rain, the one who was becoming the keeper of Helen's heart, was absent; for another, Sophie had taken on the job of making sure Helen was not led astray by females who would create emotional problems for her.

"God, you're beautiful," Helen breathed, her eyes full of sincere appreciation.

Sophie laughed softly. "Legs and breasts... what else do I have?"

"Your face... your skin... the way you walk!" Helen caressed Sophie's breasts, holding herself off the younger woman's body to look at it with an intentness that would have made Sophie blush if she hadn't been trying so hard not to. "And when you breathe..."

Sophie only smiled and pulled Helen gently down for a kiss. Helen kissed her once softly, and then with more passion, and suddenly the door burst open and Allie ran in.

Allie flew into the room crying " _Mama!"_ and leaped into the bed, and onto Helen's naked back. Helen was so shocked she didn't move. Allie was crowing with delighted laughter as she kissed Helen's cheek, saying that she loved her.

Feeling Helen's shocked tenseness, Sophie gently stroked them both, smiling reassuringly, and Helen began to relax.

"Allie, you must learn to knock on the door, darling! You mustn't run into a bedroom without knocking."

"Why?" asked Allie, puzzled.

Helen was at a loss. It had never been a question she had had to answer before.

"So that you won't surprise and frighten the people inside, baby," Sophie contributed with a smile. "Sometimes people don't like to be surprised; sometimes they get scared, too! Or they might not have any clothes on," Sophie said, and went on to elaborate in terms Allie would make sense from.

"Oh," said Allie, "do you want to get dressed, Mama?"

"In a minute, darling." She let Sophie slip out from under her and shut the wide-open door. By a stroke of luck no one had wandered past and seen anything. Allie studied their nakedness with large, mildly curious eyes. Allie had seen Helen naked lots of times, but Aunty Sophie was new to her, and Helen could see Allie's intelligent eyes recognizing Helen's own admiration of Sophie's beauty.

"Is Auntie Sophie pretty, Mama? Huh?"

"Yes, darling!"

"She'll be prettier with clothes on, right?"

It was a tough job, but Helen managed to extricate herself from the aesthetic pitfalls of the discussion while she and Sophie quietly put on nightdresses, and responded to Allie's childish prattle with half a mind.

While they dressed, Helen was both amused and excited in the way Sophie managed to surreptitiously touch her without being noticed by Allie. She would manage to brush Helen's breast or her crotch or her buttocks or her thigh while appearing to be intent on the little girl. "Why don't you wear the checked dress now, and you can wear the red one in the morning?"

"But Mama has to help me, you see." (Lately she had begun to use the phrase _you see_ whenever she wanted to make a particularly important point, and Helen wondered if she had learned it from Helen herself.) This was all very unusual, because Allie was perfectly accustomed to dressing herself with very minimal help.

"But darling, you can dress yourself, can't you? You've done it all last month!"

Allie's face fell. "I just _like_ you to dress me, Mama," she said. And Sophie's eyes reproached Helen.

"It's Christmas, Cherie!" Sophie could caress her with her eyes, and she did so now, while her arm was around Allie. " _Maman_ dressed me until I was 12!"

Helen nodded, her face showing how foolish she felt. "My mom, too! Yes, darling," she said to Allie, "I'll dress you. Sophie and I are going to take a nap now; come get me around four, ok?"

"Can I take a nap with you?"

"Of course you can," said Sophie smoothly, and Helen pulled her close and kissed her.

They had settled down comfortably together on Sophie's bed for no more than five minutes when music wafted through the house. Allie had been on the brink of falling asleep when she sat up, her eyes wide and gasped: "I know that music!"

"You _do?"_

"Yes, it's _Fall on your Knees!"_ she announced breathless and proud. "I heard it before! Uncle John has the music. It's Uncle John's Christmas CD!"

Uncle John! While Helen wondered whether she should express her amusement at hearing that phrase, Sophie went ahead and giggled for her.

"He _is_ her uncle, Cherie, after all!"

"Of course he is. And he has a Christmas CD, we know now."

"Oh, he has hundreds of CDs! Didn't you know?"

Apparently John had become the CD collector of the family. In the course of a few months he had accumulated a hundred CDs, and he had insisted on showing them to Sophie and the Twins. As Sophie described his collection (with lots of help from Allie) Helen began to suspect that it contained significantly more than a mere hundred records.)

"Gosh," said Helen, dismayed, "I bought him another one!"

"I bought him a shirt," said Sophie, pleased with herself, and Helen turned to Alison.

"What did you buy Uncle John, baby?"

Alison opened her eyes wide and looked at her mother indignantly.

" _You_ know!"

"I do?"

"Yeah! _Remember??_ You were there, Mama! A _pen!"_

Helen smote her forehead. Of course; they had shopped together, with Aunt Marika filming it all! "How could I forget!"

"It was in the movie! I was in the movie, Mama! You missed it!"

Just as they were about to settle down again, Helen's cell phone rang. Luckily Allie was already asleep.

"Hello?"

There was just a slight pause before a soft voice said: "Helen, this is Rain."

Helen squeezed Sophie's hand tight and released it.

"Hello Rain," Helen said gently, and climbed over Sophie to get out of bed. Helen and Sophie exchanged glances that spoke volumes. It wasn't that Helen wanted to speak to Rain privately, exactly, but that she didn't want the conversation to be in Sophie's face.

"I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas! Helen, it's so lovely; it's just past midnight, and... it's Christmas!" Her voice held such a mixture of happiness and frustration, Helen had to smile. "I slipped upstairs to talk to you for a minute, and then I have to go down. We're going out to Dorset in the morning to visit Pam's family!"

Helen smiled at Rain's bubbly excitement. Helen had briefly called Rain, after they had parted at _Messiah,_ and unbelievably, they had had a little argument, which both of them had since regretted.

"No, it wasn't your fault; please forget it. I can't even remember what it was all about." Helen said it was lovely to hear from Rain, and that they were having a good time, and that Allie had asked after Auntie Rain, and that Helen missed her.

"How's Sophie?"

"Good; she's smiling at me right now; she says hi!"

"Tell her Hi back, and I miss her!"

Helen conveyed the greeting.

Rain asked, "Have you had a chance to, you know...?"

"What?"

"Oh, you know! With Sophie, I mean!" Helen didn't know whether to be annoyed at the question. "I was just wondering, that's all!"

"As a matter of fact, no, we haven't. Happy?"

"Helen!" Rain sounded gently reproachful. Speaking very softly, she asked whether Helen didn't think she had the right to ask the question. "I didn't think you wanted to keep it a secret from me that you have sex with Sophie."

"I don't!"

"If I had—sex with someone, I'd tell you."

"You don't have to," said Helen, surprised.

"I _want_ to."

Helen sighed. She knew what was going through Rain's mind. The girl was at the stage where she craved as much intimacy as she could get with Helen, and everything and everyone connected with her.

They talked quietly for a while, and Rain hung up after sending Helen a kiss over the phone. In spite of her own attraction for Rain, Helen couldn't help being amused at the intensity of Rain's love for Helen. Rain had told Helen how much she missed her, and begged Helen to come to England as soon as she could.

The call left Helen's nerves jangling. With her usual tact, Sophie refrained from asking Helen about it. Helen climbed back into bed, and simply held Sophie close. It was pleasant to hold her and squeeze her, to feel her strong, muscular body firm under Helen's hands, to smell her fragrance. Sophie's body was becoming a kind of home for Helen. Rain made her feel excited, on the brink of some stormy, passionate emotion. Sophie leached away all her cares and made her smile.

"You make me feel so good, Sophie," Helen said quietly into her ear. Sophie snuggled closer and sighed softly. The magic of the holidays was intensifying. The little imperfections and disappointments only served to remind them of the great joys that they did have.

Little John prepared the music he would play early in the morning. With the house lights turned out, the Christmas tree looked lovely and festive. He had put a sprig of real mistletoe on the archway of the living room, and he caught Little Elly under it just as she was heading off to bed with Tommy.

But it wasn't going to be that easy. "You have to kiss _both_ of us," she insisted, "me and Tom. We're a pair."

"She's my sister, I can kiss her anytime!"

"Good, then kiss her now!" Tommy stood her arms folded, looking amused at Little John's frustration.

"Come on, Sis, give us a kiss!"

"No problem!" said Tom, pursing her lips. John leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, and she let him kiss her. John had never kissed her before on the lips; she tasted sweet, and he felt guilty. Then in a sweet sisterly gesture she kissed him again on the cheek. Then Elly grabbed him and kissed him thoroughly, sticking her tongue inside his mouth, and Little John thought he would die of desire. Elly walked away with her arm around Tom, laughing. John watched them, thoroughly confused. Had he played a trick on Elly, or had she played a bigger trick on him?

The little incident was seen only by the three participants, and by Gena, who had watched unseen from the shadows of the hallway.

Helen climbed the stairs back slowly to Sophie's room. She heard whispers and scuffling around the Christmas tree, and she felt the strange itchy excitement that was Christmas night. It was nearly midnight, but they didn't make a big fuss of the hour of midnight in the Nordstrom family; she knew that the Krebses did. Christmas began early morning tomorrow. That way the kids got a good night's sleep, and the grownups got some extra time to slip the odd present under the tree, or place at the foot of a child's bed.

Helen's gift-giving this year was very minimal. She had a few gifts for various people, but she was short of a lot of gifts: Olive, Dan, Little John, her father, Cindy, Solange... for all of these she only had the most minimal token presents.

The house was cool. Helen checked in on the children; Gena and Erin were asleep on the bed they shared, cuddled together. Helen was pleased that Gena still showed her affection for the little girl they had adopted, despite her interest in boys and older girls. (Helen had a good idea that the tears she had seen were caused by one of the older kids: John, or one of his friends, or one of the Twins.) Carefully placed at the foot of Erin's bed was a big parcel Helen hadn't seen before; Gena had bought her little sister some enormous present! And Erin had enlisted Helen's aid in hiding her presents for Gena and Allie. Allie had simply put her presents under the tree, trusting that they would remain secret.

When Helen slipped into Sophie's room, she found Nadia and Solange there, quietly wrapping presents.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Solange in mock dismay, and Helen smiled at them in amusement and some chagrin.

"I didn't get you all enough!" she mourned, "but I'm going to buy you all nice presents in a day or two, honest!"

"Those don't count," said Sophie severely, "you're going to be embarrassed forever." She quickly slid the package she had been wrapping under the bed. Nadia looked at Helen censoriously.

"There's no excuse if you didn't buy something for the children, Helen."

"Oh, them!" Helen gestured dismissively. "Some knickknacks..."

Nadia nodded and gestured her satisfaction. "That's all you need. Big presents are silly."

Helen smiled at Solange as she came from behind to put her arms around Nadia and hugged her. "I'd like to buy Nadia something really nice, like a pet elephant," Helen said, and succeeded in making the women laugh.

Solange looked at Helen, her eyes full of happiness. "You family and friends are so nice people, Helen! They make me feel good. Even the young people: your brother, your sister, this girl Elly..."

Helen nodded, smiling. "Yes, they're great," she agreed, "Janet has done a super job with Elly, and Big Elly with my sister." She turned to Solange, her expression earnest, "And you're part of it," she added, "you and Nadia are making this holiday very special!"

Solange simply smiled at her daughter. Every day, Solange seemed more at ease with and more loving towards her daughter.

The older women left shortly thereafter, taking the presents with them. Just before she left, Solange hugged and kissed Helen and Sophie.

Alone, Helen and Sophie looked at each other. Sophie giggled, and Helen smiled at her, thinking how pleasant it was to have Sophie with her. She was the most sweet-tempered of people, in spite of her fame and importance.

Sophie flushed as Helen's gaze reflected her increasing excitement. "Come," said Helen, "we'll have about five or six hours of sleep at the most." Sophie could see it wasn't sleep Helen had on her mind. And tonight, of all night, Sophie wasn't in the mood for sex. But she wasn't the kind of girl who got headaches. It was just that she had gone riding in the morning, kept moving all day, especially in the afternoon, and was now exhausted.

She was saved by a tiny person who knocked softly and came in.

"Mama?"

"Allie! What's the matter?" asked Helen, instantly concerned. She smoothly took her hand off Sophie's buttocks and adjusted her robe as she walked over to the little person who stood in the doorway. She felt a twinge of guilt at having lectured her about knocking on doors that afternoon; apparently she had not forgotten.

With a little prompting, Allie said that she was disturbed by noises in the house. Helen suppressed a smile; it always was a noisy night on Christmas Eve in the Krebs household. It was just that Allie was a lighter sleeper than the Krebs children and grandchildren.

"You have to be asleep when Santa Claus comes!"

Allie smiled. "Santa is coming tonight?"

"Of course!"

Helen wondered whether it was a mistake to mention the subject. But in a few seconds Allie had moved back to the real problem: she was sleepy, but too nervous to sleep.

"Can I snuggle with you, mama? With you 'n' Auntie Sophie?" Sophie's eyes danced with amusement. God, she was beautiful! She clearly wanted to let Allie sleep with them, and Helen couldn't do anything but go along with it. She considered bringing up some nonsense about Santa becoming confused, and decided it would be an insult to the intelligence of both the dear old bishop and the bright young child.

Seconds after Allie was settled comfortable between them, the child was asleep. With mama close to her, no sounds could disturb her rest. The two women gazed into each other's eyes for a few minutes. Helen was incredibly happy, and she could see that Sophie was, too. Was it because of Helen, or because of the baby? Helen closed her eyes in bliss as she caressed Allie's soft back. It didn't matter. It was her baby, and she wasn't above letting Allie attract women for her.

They awoke to the soft strains of Christmas music: Little John was playing _Adeste Fidelis_. it was still dark; six O'clock on Christmas morning.

Allie was up instantly, her eyes wide.

"Music, mama!" she said, in a whisper, "Angels!"

Helen smiled. "It's Uncle John playing carols! Wanna go see if Santa was here?"

There was a yell from across the way and Allie clambered over Helen to get down. James was up and trying to get out of bed, and Helen hurried to him, as Sophie struggled awake. They wished each other a merry Christmas, and James indicated very clearly that he wanted to be changed quick, because he needed to check out what was going on. All through the house people were getting up, anxious not to miss any of it.

"Holy crap!" Helen heard Gena exclaim through the door Allie had left open, "Lookit all this stuff!"

"Me too!"

"Gena, look!"

Soon Elly's voice was heard as she debriefed the younger children, and Tommy came into Sophie's room, looking for James. "Are you two decent?" she asked, smiling, her eyes crinkling in a faithful echo of her father's smile, but her voice just a youthful version of Grelly's motherly tones.

"Come on in," said Helen, as James waved his feet in the air in impatience, and took the bottle Helen handed him. Tommy hugged Helen from behind, and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and turned to Sophie.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Cherie! What time is it?" asked Sophie, rubbing her eyes and smiling.

"Oh, six, six-thirty, something like that!"

"It's a holiday...people should sleep late!" Sophie whined in mock complaint. She noticed with amusement how Tommy managed to inspect her without appearing to stare.

Tommy laughed. "It's just a habit, I imagine," she said. "Back in the old days, everybody would go to Church at nine, or whatever."

Sophie was impressed. "That would be nice," she said, "this midnight mass thing is so silly."

"There," said Helen, "you can go look at the kids now. Just don't drop the bottle."

"Just in his diaper and vest? No blanket sleeper?"

"Uh-uh. He gets too hot."

"Come on, then, James!" said Tommy and with a grin at the others, put him against her hip and walked off towards the noisy children's room.

A few minutes later everyone was gathered round the tree. The kids had brought their presents downstairs from their room, and there was hardly any space to breathe. Helen looked around the happy faces and noticed Cindy's serene smile. She knew Cindy must miss Michelle, but Cindy was able to be happy in almost any situation as long as there were young people there. Cindy had found a large trash-can and was ready to collect the inevitable mess.

"I used only recycled wrapping paper," she said quietly.

"So did Santa, I notice," said Janet who had sat near Helen and Sophie. Grelly looked lovely, her hair all untidy, but her face showing her pleasure in the company and her two youngest daughters and her youngest granddaughter. Grandpa John looked spiffy, his arm round his lady love, his hair neatly brushed, and his eyes sparkling with anticipation. He had made a wooden gift for each child, and was eager to see the reception the gifts would get.

Anxious to leave the best for last, the older kids began to open the largest packages first. The younger ones began to open the largest packages first, too, impatient to see their contents. Gena and Elly were the most demonstrative, followed by Allie who was excited beyond endurance.

After Elly had opened up a lovely sweater knitted by her grandmother, and a multi-colored Dr. Who scarf knitted by Annie, she began to take an interest in how the gifts she had given were being appreciated. Allison was the first to open one, and Elly's eyes shone as Alison's mouth formed a perfect O of pure wonder at the toy she had bought her.

"It's a doll!"

"And who is it from, Allie?" asked Cindy gently.

"I don't know!"

"Well, read the label!"

Allison squinted at the label and spelled it out and guessed the giver. "E - L - L... Elly! It's from Elly! Oh, thank you, Elly!" Allison ran over to Elly and hugged her. The look on Elly's face was precious. The doll had cost her hardly anything, but the warmhearted girl was deeply moved by Allison's gratitude.

"Mama," whispered Allison as attention shifted elsewhere, "where's the present I got for Elly?"

"Under the tree, sweetheart; they're all together. Remember, we used the music paper?"

"Oh, yeah! Did we write 'To Elly?' "

"Yes. It was all done just right."

"Okay, I'll find it for her!" A little later she was back with a beautifully wrapped package. All Allie's packages were perfectly wrapped, because she had insisted on perfection.

"Elly, open this one!" she said, confident that Elly would simply love the pen she had bought her.

"Let's see—to Elly from Allison! What can it be?"

"I don't know, I forgot!" said the little tyke, shrugging expressively. Who could keep track of all this stuff?

"Could it be a pencil?"

"Yes! Yes, it is!" said Allison eagerly nodding. Elly unwrapped it, peeling off the sticky tape with great care. Cindy had let it be known that she would re-use every scrap of paper they could salvage.

"It's a pen—no, it's a marker! It's a silver marker! Oh Allie, thank you! That's very useful, you know?"

" 'Course it is! You like it?"

"Yes, yes!" laughed Elly at Allison's excitement.

Erin, Tommy and Gena helped Allie unwrap her presents and Baby James's presents. It was high fun watching James as he tried to taste every bit of wrapping paper he could get his little hands on, struggling to hop out of his mother's arms. He was delighted at the big teddy bear he received courtesy of the twins, and the glockenspiel he got from sister Gena. He was discovering the joys of banging things, and musical banging was even better than plain ol' banging. And wait, he could bang the floor with the little mallet...

"Wait, no, baby; not the floor. Here, hit this box." James looked at Erin thoughtfully, wondering whether it was worth his while trying to explain that he REALLY wanted to pound the floor.

Barbara, Jeffrey, Olive, Dan, Solange and Nadia had the fewest presents, understandably, but they had lots of surprises, and their presents were very warmly received. Solange, with Sophie's expert advice, had found gifts for the young children in Paris before she came over, and promised the older children that she would send them something after she returned. "I wanted to see what you were like, and what you would like... but until then, I have these for you," she said, and handed out two beautiful gifts for the Twins. They were delighted with the thoughtful choices she had made: scarves and perfume. For all their pretense at being "butch" they were fond of dressing up like ladies for each other and for their few closest friends. And Elly had just gotten into perfume in a big way.

Grandpa John's gifts got a mixed reception. James simply threw away the toy train Grandpa had made for him, and Grandpa just grinned. "We-el," he said, "He's gonna want that back pretty soon, I'm guessing!"

Allison was gracious in her acceptance of the little angel grandpa had carved for her, though it was clear that it didn't quite compare favorably with the others. But because she adored him, she tried her best to please him with her happy smile. "I'm going to paint it red," she said cheerfully. "Then she'll be pretty!" Helen's cautious look warned everyone to accept Allie's remark without comment.

Tommy, John, Gena and Erin were thrilled with his presents, which were all useful things, and all different. These four were old enough to appreciate the value of the presents, and they loved him very much, and he could have had no complaints whatsoever with their show of affection for him, which extended also to Grelly.

But young Elly was the one who was most deeply affected by Grandpa John's little gift. A love affair had been brewing between the old man and his new adopted granddaughter, who had inherited so much of old Elly's charm and mischievous spirit, and now, for no obvious reason, it blazed into full flame. Elly threw her arms around Grandpa John and hugged him tight. There were many thoughts she wanted to express, but the words she found seemed clumsy and inept. Elly loved her grandmother dearly, and she loved her Tommy more than life itself. Perhaps she found in Grandpa John a dear old man who reminded her so much of Tommy, or perhaps it was because he made her beloved grandmother so happy. Perhaps she missed having a father. But all she knew was that she loved Grandpa John very, very much.

"I love you," she said, her eyes shining.

"I love you too, young Elly," he said, smiling.

It was a gift Elly had, that she could make everyone feel how she was feeling. And now James waved his arms, suddenly anxious to get into Grandpa John's lap, perhaps feeling a little of Elly's love for Grandpa.

"Threw away the train, did ya?" Grandpa asked as he got ready to take the little boy from Jeffrey's arms with a grin.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh!" said James urgently.

"Hand him over," said Grandpa, and settled James comfortably in his lap. Erin passed him his train, but he promptly tossed it on the floor and concentrated on chewing his teddy bear. Helen blushed deeply and shook her head sorrowfully at her father. "*I* like it, Dad," she said, "can I keep it?"

"Sure!" said Grandpa John with a grin, and Erin passed Helen the beautiful train, and Helen admired it.

"Uhh!" exclaimed James, as his father grumbled about his abominable behavior.

"NOW he wants it!" James took the train from his mother and glared at her. She looked gravely back at him. Then he threw the train back on the floor, and laughed loudly. Except for a snicker from Little John, there was silence. James looked at Olive and Barbara, but got no sympathy.

Jeffrey and Helen exchanged looks.

"Let's just go onto something else," Jeffrey said, quietly, and Barbara nodded.

"Erin, dear, put it under the tree," said Helen.

"He wants it back!" said Erin, grinning. Indeed James was waving his hand for the train. But Helen indicated that the train should be put under the tree.

Helen's presents for the children were opened up as they were found. Since they were beautiful, expensive items, they were exclaimed over and admired and put away. And Helen realized that no matter what she could have bought the children, what they felt for her would have been exactly the same.

As they moved on to other presents —Santa seemed to have signed a lot of his presents in Cindy's and Janet's handwriting— Helen asked Gena whether she liked her present. "I looked *everywhere* for the right color," she said, as Gena nodded and smiled indulgently at her mother, leaning on the arm of the chair. "And guess who helped me!"

"I know, I know, Natasha! That is so cool," said Gena. "Mom, I'm gonna try it on as soon as we're done opening presents, promise!"

"I'd really like to see you in it! I want to take a picture and send it out to Natasha."

As the ritual went on, they became actually tired of opening presents. It couldn't be helped; there was such a large gathering, and everyone had tried to get everyone else _something_ , and everyone was trying to be appreciative, it was all too tiring for the youngest people. And Helen felt that her own presents had been the very least appreciated by the ones she loved the most, and in the midst of all the excitement and genuine happiness, Helen felt miserable. And hardest of all was having to keep up her cheerful face despite what she felt inside.

"I'm going to get some milk," Helen said to Gena, and got up quietly as the Twins began opening up each other's presents. Everyone was eager to see what the Twins had gotten each other, because they had managed to infect everyone with their romance. "Want some?"

Gena nodded and followed Helen. Silently they got some milk.

"Who gets the milk?" asked Gena.

"Grandpa and Grelly, I suppose, now that Annie isn't here." Helen looked at Gena reproachfully. "I was hoping you would help Grandpa a little with the farmwork, Sweetheart."

"Oh, sure, I helped some!"

"Good." Helen sipped at the milk. It was amazing how bad she felt, and now her stomach was churning. It was with the greatest self-control that she avoided picking a fight with Gena.

"I wonder how early they go out to get the milk?"

"Today, I imagine around the time we got up; six."

"Man, it was dark out!" Gena looked shocked, and Helen nodded slowly. "But mom, it's Christmas!"

Helen grinned. Somehow she was feeling a little better. "Hear the cows mooing early morning?"

"Yeah?"

"It gets painful for them if they're not milked. Did you know that?"

Gena's expression was just the right shade of amazed interest. "Gosh," she said, " _that's_ why he was all dressed up. Mom, that's _awful_ , having to go out in the cold. Do you know how cold it is out there? It's like 20 below!"

Helen playfully made as if to smack Gena and Gena ducked away. "No it isn't! But even if it were, that's the way it is, kiddo." Helen felt guilty. She'd not helped with the work herself for years, now. It hurt her self-image as an unspoiled farm girl from Kansas. And Gena wasn't helping to offset it, either.

Suddenly Gena said, "Mom, I don't know why you're so unhappy. We're all having such a good time! Don't worry about the presents, okay? They were awesome, honest!"

"I'm not worried about the presents," Helen lied quickly, "I just want everyone to have a good time. After all, I'm the reason most of them are here!"

Gena looked at Helen with that look that was at once affectionate and loving, and amused and quite undeceived. It was humbling for Helen to know how transparent she was to her daughter, but yet somehow, not embarrassing. Helen was becoming aware of how egotistical she was becoming, but she was grateful that Gena didn't see her through cynical eyes.

Grelly came over to the kitchen and having greeted them cheerfully, began to get the big Christmas Breakfast started. "Little John has ordered the biggest breakfast ever," she confided, taking out the materials for it. It was just a plain old breakfast with eggs and bread, just multiplied a hundredfold, it seemed to Gena.

"Elly," Helen said, feeling the Christmas spirit, "I'll take over here; you relax."

"Yeah, Mom and I will fix breakfast, Grelly," Gena said quickly, you go sit down! Go on!"

"Are you sure? It's an awful lot of cooking, sweetheart!"

In the end, Grelly agreed to let them do it, saying she'd come over and see how they were doing in a few minutes, or send Little John to help.

Helen and Gena got started. Gena took over the job of frying dozens of eggs, and Helen began making the waffles and the bacon.

"Mom," said Gena quietly, "how come you aren't so close to Aunt Sophie anymore?"

Helen was stunned.

"What do you mean? Of course we're close!"

Gena colored. "You know what I mean; like, you used to be all over her, Mom, and now— you're just really good friends, but that's all." Gena caught Helen's eye and gave her a frank look. Gena wasn't going to back down. "I really, really like her, Mom, and I don't want to see her hurt."

Helen's instinct was to bluster her way out of the accusation, but she decided to play along. The relationship between her and Gena was changing very fast. Gena had always been someone whose good opinion Helen valued very highly, and now Helen realized she was coming to value it even more.

"She won't be hurt, darling; we're still as close as we ever were."

"Is she just a friend, or are you, you know,..."

"Yes, we've become lovers; you knew that, I know you did."

"I thought, with Rain and everything..."

Helen tried very hard to explain that it made no difference, but Gena was clearly not convinced.

"All right;" Helen said at last, "yes, it does make _some_ difference,... but it's hard to explain, darling..." Not hard; just plain impossible.

Helen was beginning to think that it would never happen that she would find a soul-mate. That joy was not for her. The girls she had loved—and still loved—shared such intimate feelings and thoughts with her that _at times_ she felt that there was almost a paranormal link between them. But a few days later, Helen would find such intimacy with some _other_ girl.

Gena's breakfast was the stuff of legends. With it she established herself as the breakfast champion of the gathering. The compliments flew thick and fast, not least from Grelly and Grandpa John. An excited Tommy heaped praise on her. "The bacon is _perfect!"_ she declared. Elly had to admit; it was better than Grelly's. Erin exclaimed that she hadn't known Gena could cook.

"It's really my first time," Gena said, self-deprecatingly. "I didn't know I could cook, either! But I had some ideas about how to do it that I had wanted to try out for a long time," she added.

"Hey, they were good ideas, for sure!" said Elly.

Solange said she enjoyed the waffles. "I did not know that Americans know how to make this," she said smiling. Nadia agreed heartily, and asked why they never had waffles in Westfield. Helen said yes, they did, but for some reason not when Nadia had been there.

"Well," said Grelly, "you've dethroned someone who was expected to reign a long time!"

"Oh! Who was it?" asked Gena and Erin together. Helen's blush gave her away, and Gena swelled with pride. "Mom helped a lot," Gena said generously, and Helen insisted that her help had been minimal.

After the big breakfast, the children went off to put their presents away, wear them, read them or play with them, and in any case, inspect them closely, while the adults continued to hand out _their_ presents to each other. Helen saw Elly dragging Tommy off to the privacy of the cold outdoors. Presumably their presents needed to be exchanged in private.

Sophie was the first to see Helen's face as she pondered the strange experiences of being a parent. She quickly guessed what kind of thing it was; Helen was thinking about one of the kids! Sophie smiled; it was charming the way Helen delighted in the simplest things. Helen noticed her and her eyes lit up in a smile for Sophie. It was a little smile, just for her. Sophie studied the features of her friend, the soft swell of her lips, the wide shoulders, the strong arms, the curly hair, neatly brushed this morning with a part down the side. She couldn't think why the tiny nose ring excited her so much, but it did; it made her clitoris and her nipples itch with desire. This desire she felt was confusing. They were such good friends, and Sophie cherished their friendship very much. It was fun to talk, and to be a sounding-board for Helen's thinking. But sometimes she just wanted Helen to throw her on the bed and make love to her. And sometimes they didn't both feel the same way at the same time. But Helen was a sweet girl, and she would usually cooperate with whatever Sophie wanted. Sophie loved Helen very much indeed.

Sophie's thoughts were divided between the joys of celebrating the holidays with her beloved Helen and her children, and getting ready for the new year and the next tennis season. She had long ago decided that she would choose her tournaments carefully, and play only the ones she really wanted to play. At that time she had been ranked very low; in the 60s. Suddenly she was number one, and that changed everything. If she was to enjoy that status, she had to keep playing a certain minimum number of tournaments every year, and she would be expected to play all the really big tournaments. The first one of the new season was the Australian Open, and Sophie had decided that she would give it her absolute best shot. She would be number one for one complete year, and then she would see if she wanted to keep up that pace.

She knew she played well when Helen was watching. The goal was now to arrange for Helen to attend the Australian. Ideally, she would arrange for all of them to attend, if they could find the time. But with Helen's preoccupation with Rain, Sophie wondered how likely it would be that she could pull it off.

Worst of all, Sophie got incredibly horny during tournaments. She had discovered that masturbating hurt her arm, and her serves suffered. It was the stupidest thing in the world. What did the other women do? Perhaps they were ambidextrous, and used their non-dominant hands!

It was a pleasant day. Allie and Erin were serenely happy, and infected those around them with their Christmas spirit. The Twins, too, were happy, and excited about their impending birthdays. They had less privacy here than at home, but they managed to steal away in John's car for half an hour all by themselves (with his generous permission). Gena and Little John were, each for his or her own reasons, a little let down. John had the frustration of knowing that the object of his affection loved him very much, but was in love with another. In fact, she knew about his crush, but only laughed at it. Gena's situation was more complex, because none of the objects of her love had any idea that they were such.

That afternoon, while the Twins were gone, Gena and John found themselves together at the fridge.

"Oh! Go on; I'm in no hurry!"

"Oh no, you first," insisted Gentleman John, with a bow and a gracious wave of his hand.

"Thank you!" said Gena, as she took out the bottle of V8. "You're so nice, Little John!"

Little John blushed, very like his sisters, and Gena smiled with amusement. She knew she tended to embarrass boys with her little compliments and was amused by that, but she never did that merely to embarrass them; she was sincere.

"That's what I like, too, only I drink it with soda water," John said, taking it from Gena after she'd poured herself a glass of it,. Their hands touched slightly, and they both let the contact continue for just a little longer than it needed to.

"I really liked your music this morning, Little John," Gena said, "I think it was just perfect for early morning."

"You did? Cool! I didn't think anyone noticed! They must've said, oh, music; it's Little John again! Time to get up!" Gena grinned and nodded, understanding. Sometimes nobody really noticed that thought had gone into it. "Hey, don't call me Little John; just John is good, okay?" Gena nodded quickly. "I'd like Jack, but I don't think it'd catch on," John said wearily.

"I used to call you Uncle John, remember?"

"Yeah!" John nodded.

He was easy to talk to, Gena found, and they talked for a while as John walked around doing his chores and Gena helped him. She wondered what it would be like to be a farmer's wife. With John it wouldn't be that bad, she thought.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, very softly, looking at the horses.

Gena's heart froze. _I don't think I want to know,_ she told herself. But he was a sweet, boy, so gentle, and she didn't have the heart to refuse.

"Sure!"

John took his time. "I think Elly is really, you know..." Gena was amused by John's inarticulate mumbling. Boys were so dumb. Every boy she knew was dumb, and the more she liked them, the dumber they seemed, and the dumber they got the more she got to like them. She wanted to hug John so bad, but he just needed someone to listen to him quietly.

"Go on," she prompted gently, smiling a little twisted smile that she couldn't untwist no matter how she tried, but luckily it was a little gloomy inside the barn, not to say freezing.

He shot a glance at her, but she managed to get her face straight just in time. "Well... _cute."_

"Yeah," Gena agreed.

"I like her a lot," John said.

_Oh, you idiot_ , Gena thought.

"Don't get hurt, John," she said softly, and he gently smiled, looking into space, and affectionately patted her on her back, and Gena thought she would cry, but she didn't. "Those two... it seems real solid to me."

"Well... yeah..." she could barely hear his voice, it was so low. He tapped at the stall with a straw, and the mare looked at him with one eye. "I just want to tell her," he said. "I don't care what happens."

Gena seethed. This was terrible. It would ruin everything. The easy friendship the five of them had shared would disappear, and they would be all awkward around each other. Well, Erin wouldn't know anything, but still...

John turned and looked at Gena. "I have to tell her."

"That she's cute?"

"That I like her." He smiled a tiny smile. "Then she can laugh at me, and then you can comfort me!"

Gena was startled. Did he know, somehow? Her breasts itched with the toilet tissue crinkled up against them. It was very cold. And what was the use? The heavy coat she was wearing covered up her figure anyway. She smiled. "Don't you come to me, John, I'll just laugh at you," she said, not believing how suavely she was behaving.

John's smile faded away, and he looked grave and determined, and Gena felt her chest tighten with both sympathy and frustration. "I've gotta tell her. It's like wanting to—die, or something." He shook his head slowly. "I'm going to choke, I know."

"Maybe she'll be nice," Gena said, hoping madly that it would be so, but not believing it. Then some evil spirit in her made her say: "Maybe she'll let you—do her!" The minute the words were out, Gena regretted them, but she brazened it out, her tongue in her cheek, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

John raised his eyes to hers. He began to shake his head, but blushed instead and looked down. "Can't deny I have fantasized about it," he admitted. "But that's not..."

"I know, I was just teasing!" Gena said quickly, smiling. Just then they heard the Twins return.

It was at that moment that John looked up and really saw Gena for the first time. Her eyes grew wide, and she urged him out. "Come on!" she said, "I'll call Tommy away about something, and you can talk to Elly!" Faithful little Gena liked him! He suddenly saw it in her eyes, but it was all confusion, and they were outside, and Gena had dragged Tommy off, leaving him alone with Elly.

"Is that a mustache I see? Why, Little John, you look quite dashing!"

"Mustache? What mustache?"

She reached out with her finger to feel his downy face, and he pushed away her hand, but quick as lightning she had reached behind his obstructing hand and touched his upper lip. "It's just down," she said solemnly and then she smiled. She stepped closer until he could feel the warmth of her even in the cold air. She wore only a pretty knitted white short-sleeved top over her sexy bra, and a long, calf-length skirt. "Hey, is this a setup? Do you want to talk to me?" Her eyes danced with mischief, and he just couldn't deny it. He thought of how cute little Gena was, but he was a locomotive hurtling headlong in a certain direction, and couldn't change where he was going. He led the way into the stables, and to his amazement, Elly followed quietly, and rather thoughtfully.

They were facing each other, and Elly looked all soft and beautiful and not taunting at all.

"Elly,...I want to tell you...that I like you." She just stood there, her lips slightly parted, gazing into his eyes. Oh God, she was going to be nice to him.

Elly put her hand on his arm gently and sighed. Her eyes were glowing with tenderness. "I was hoping you'd be too chicken to do this," she said, smiling slightly. "I'm proud of you!"

"I love you, Elly," he said.

She stroked his arm, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "But I don't like guys, Little John, you know that! Can't we be just friends?" John thought his heart would burst. He had never dreamed that Elly could be so tender. If she had just been flippant about the whole thing, perhaps he could have taken the rejection, but now he knew his heart would break in minutes. His mouth seemed to go on working though his mind was completely unable to think at all.

"I'm not just a guy, Elly; this is John! I'm different, right? Right?"

John had his eyes cast down, but now he looked up. Elly was looking at him with her enormous brown eyes, and if he didn't know what love was up until then, he would have known it at that moment. And he knew that what Elly felt was very close to love. He'd melted the ice princess! John thought he was going mad with excitement and desire and happiness.

"You like me! Don't lie, Elly!" he said in a whisper, and she nodded, smiling, as if she was seeing something beautiful, someone wonderful where John stood. He bent his head and kissed her on her lips, and her lips were soft and sweet. And then their arms were around each other, and she was warm and soft, and she smelled wonderful. Her hair was French-braided sleek and brown, and he stroked her hair, delirious with joy, that this could happen to him. She was perfection itself; beautiful, intelligent, talented, passionate, intense, fun to be with. John had loved her almost as long as he could remember. At least as long as he knew that it was possible to love people. He felt his body respond to his excitement, felt his penis swell and harden. He blushed and immediately relaxed his hold on her, but she didn't shrink from him. She was unafraid of desire. Of course she would be; she'd known passion for years. For him passion was a new, unfamiliar feeling, he realized; for her, he assumed, passion was something that she took for granted.

Her eyes were glowing softly, her lips were so kissable ! He felt her breasts press against him, holding back nothing.

"What do you want from me, Johnny?" she asked, very softly. Her tone was so gentle he could almost cry. The intimacy that his sixteen-year-old soul longed for was here for the taking. He had been prepared for rejection, for humiliation, for a partial agreement, anything but immediate capitulation. Actually she hadn't capitulated, exactly, but her tone told him that he had won a great victory.

"Want from you?" Johnny was confused. He hadn't asked for anything, just the privilege of laying his heart at her feet. "Nothing... I just wanted to tell you... I thought you wouldn't even listen!"

She lay her head on his breast and listened to his heart. "Your heart is pounding so hard! Johnny, you're crying!"

He realized that even as he grinned with delight, his eyes were tearing.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"You know... your sister and me... you know all about us, right?"

"I think so," he said, a little nervously."

"Maybe you don't know everything," she suggested. "Maybe if you knew, you wouldn't be interested in me."

"I have a pretty good idea, but I don't care, Elly."

She looked into his eyes, and spoke sadly. "I love her, John. I don't think I can change that. I'm Tommy's girl; it's part of what I am."

John dropped his eyes and shook his head. He didn't want to pursue this line of conversation. What he wanted to say had been said: he loved Elly. He had worshiped her from afar, and now he wanted to be certified as a devotee. But she was holding him and talking about a relationship, and it was all too much. He had gone into the confession of love not expecting a relationship other than that of goddess and worshiper, but the warmth of her body and the softness of her voice made him want more. And she was upset, he could tell. This was important to her, and she was taking it big.

Both of them felt frustrated and dissatisfied with the way things stood, but perhaps they found a compensating pleasure in just standing there, close to each other. They turned to watch the horses. They occasionally glanced at each other awkwardly. They talked about this and that, sounding out each other's opinions on things, and found a surprising degree of agreement. It was strange; for so long Elly had been the bully, and now she was polite and considerate and thoughtful, treating John as an equal. It was wonderful.

Meanwhile, Tommy had hauled Gena inside. "Okay, come on! We've got to work fast!" Gena was surprised. She had thought she would have to keep Tommy occupied, but Tommy seemed to have her own agenda.

"Do what??"

"I'll show you..." Tommy hurried into the house and headed to John's little room. "Elly'll keep him busy for a while!"

"What do you mean, busy?" Gena asked suspiciously. She was beginning to get very nervous.

Tommy laughed. "Our little John has the world's biggest crush on Elly, didn't you know? She's going to give him a chance to pour out his heart to her, and meanwhile—I'm going to give him a little surprise..." Tommy sat at John's computer and began some complicated procedure.

Gena saw red. John would be telling Elly that he loved her, and she would be putting him on. Angry tears itched in Gena's eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. She ran out, and Tommy sprang up and caught her with difficulty. Gena struggled like fury to get free.

"Let me go!"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell John that it's all a lie!"

"Shh! It's just a little joke, Gena, what's the big deal?"

Gena glared at Tommy furiously. "He loves her like crazy! How cruel can you get? I thought you were so nice and kind! To play a trick like that on your own brother!"

Tommy looked at Gena thoughtfully.

"What did he tell you, exactly?"

Gena blushed. "Nothing, really, I... we were just talking, me and John, and..."

Tommy's face softened in a smile. Her eyes searched Gena's face and easily found the answers to her questions there. She could tell at once that Gena, in turn, was harboring a crush on 'Uncle' John.

Gena tugged at Tommy's hand. "Come on!" she begged, "let's go and stop it before she breaks his heart!"

Tommy smiled doubtfully. "She isn't going to break his heart, don't worry," Tommy said and Gena burst into tears and fell into Tommy's arms. Tommy was caught between wanting to laugh and to cry. She comforted Gena, surprised by the intensity with which Gena seemed to care for John. But Tommy cared for her brother too, and she knew how ruthless Elly could be in pursuing some piece of mischief. What she hadn't bargained for was that John would be so serious about the whole thing.

"OK... let's go make sure she isn't... whatever," Tommy finished lamely, between giving Gena soft kisses on her cheek. Gena in this condition was hard to resist. Tommy found her body reacting to Gena's sorrow, and she wanted to keep kissing the younger girl more and more. Gena slowly raised her tear-stained face to Tommy and smiled, and Tommy knew with a slight shock that there was desire there, too. The next time, it would be the real thing; not fooling about in a shower!

Still not quite recovered from their little scene, the two of them headed back to the barn, wondering how to deal with Elly and her tender victim, and found the two of them coming upstairs.

Tom stopped in her tracks studying the two who had just mounted the top step, Elly first, and Little John just behind her. Elly and John stopped and looked at Gena and Tom. Elly looked thoughtful and sober, while John looked excited and a little worried.

After a brief pause, Elly hurried to Tom and buried her head in Tom's shoulder. Tom and Gena looked at John quizzically, but he only mumbled something and slipped away to his room, not responding to Gena who called to him repeatedly.

"What's up?" Tom asked gently.

"Nothing, nothing!" said Elly in a low voice.

The three girls stood still for a few seconds, and Gena said she'd talk to Tom later, and hurried after John.

"He's so sweet, Tom!" Elly cried later, seated on her bed in the room they shared with Gena and Erin, with the door locked. "I can't resist him!"

Tom stared at her friend thoughtfully. Elly had talked for a while now, while Tom simply listened. The words poured out, how she loved them both equally, and how falling in love with little John didn't mean that her love for Tom was any less.

"It's okay," Tom said, finally, with a grave face.

Elly groaned with frustration. "You're upset with me... I know there's good reason for it, Tom..." she said, and looked up at Tommy who was leaning against the wall looking relaxed. It was the first time she had actually met Tommy's eyes. She had avoided Tommy's eyes all this time, talking frantically, trying to convince herself and Tommy that everything was fine.

"You don't know how it feels to look into his eyes, Tom... and see you,... and him..." she looked at Tom hopelessly, unable to put her feelings into words. She made a little hopeless gesture with her hands that tugged at Tommy's heart.

In spite of her relaxed pose, Tom's mind was whirling, seething with contradictory feelings. It didn't help that Tommy loved Little John very much. All this falling in love with everybody; it was so confusing. When Helen used to do it, Tommy had felt so superior. She and Elly loved each other like a rock, and there was no question about their feelings for each other. But every year, things got more complex. First there had been their little affairs with their schoolmates. Then Evie (a classmate at Ferguson) had come along, then Gena, and now their little Sir Galahad, John. For so long John had been the shy, chivalrous boy who they had bullied into doing little favors for them, who'd give his all for his sister and her friend. Suddenly, everything was different. John wasn't supposed to grow up so soon; he was only sixteen; a year and a half younger than them.

Sixteen! God, thought Tommy, her stomach knotting up inside, Elly and John made the cutest little couple ever. Tommy's mind went off by itself, fantasizing about John and Elly, and the subject of the fantasy simply stared at Tommy, wondering what she was thinking, not dreaming what it could be. Tommy was shocked as she realized that she was imagining the couple making love. Of course they would; why wouldn't they?

Elly knew suddenly what was going on in Tommy's mind, as her relaxed pose gave way to clearly tense body language. Elly got up and went to Tommy and put her arms round her rigid body.

"Stop imagining things, Tom; stop it!"

They looked at each other in surprise. How beautiful Elly was, with her thick, dark, wavy hair, and those enormous eyes, and those beautifully arched eyebrows, that straight nose...

"It was inevitable," Tom said, her voice rough. "I should have guessed."

"Guessed _what?"_ Elly was indignant. "Nothing's actually going to happen!"

"Oh, Elly!" Tom said, her tone just barely too gentle to be bitter. The more Elly watched Tommy's face, the more it seemed as if everything was coming apart. Her brain was on overdrive, searching for ways to present the situation to Tommy as non-threatening, not even uncomfortable. It was just _love_ , for crying out loud; how dangerous could that be? Why did people have to make such a fuss about someone falling in love with someone? Didn't Tommy know that her whole body ached to love more and more?

Once again she had come to the one thought that had begun to make Elly very nervous: that there was too much love in her to give only to Tommy. Quickly she shut the thought out. If she followed that idea up, she would destroy whatever they had together, and Tommy was Elly's life. She had a heart as large as the Rock of Gibraltar, but Tom was her goddess, and the thought that Tom and she would not live together forever and die together, totally in love forever—that was frightening.

"I'll talk to him... I'll tell him... it was a joke... I don't know..."

Elly rarely cried, but Tom could see that tears were imminent.

"Don't be an idiot, Elly, you can't do that." Tom's frustration was now more evident than ever. "He's my brother; I don't want to mess with his mind."

Elly was indignant. "That's a fine thing! Hah, you weren't so concerned a few minutes ago, when we were planning..."

"Elly!"

"What?"

"I was wrong, okay?"

Elly burst into tears and flung herself face down on the bed and held her breath to keep herself from bawling. She hated to cry, and half her life seemed to consist of battling tears of one kind or another. Right now, all she wanted was to hold Tommy and John together in her arms and hug them and give them all her love, but Tom was jealous, and it was all a mess, and she didn't know what to do. And now, because she was crying, Tom would comfort her, and she didn't want that, either; oh, it was such a mess! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

For once, Tom was so upset that she let Elly lie in peace and went away.

Helen, Sophie and Barbara found themselves talking together, all by themselves in the sewing room. Somehow the talk had turned to sex. Barbara had asked them if they had sex, and Sophie had coolly said, well yes, now and then. Helen had been too shocked to say anything. How did Barb come up with these questions?

"You're so lucky; you don't have to wait until you're married, and all that."

Sophie let out her breath slowly. "Don't tell me that you two haven't slept together yet!"

Barbara blushed bright red. "Sure, we do; but we don't— _sleep_ together!"

"Do you touch each other; get each other off?"

"Well... yeah; we just started doing that a few days ago!"

Helen couldn't believe that at first, but then she remembered: this was Barb; she made her own rules.

Helen tried to change the subject tactfully a number of times, but there was an almost fierce desire for the two younger women to talk about sex. Soon it became clear that Barbara was starved for sexual fulfillment. She spoke about what a beautiful thing it was, and how it was taken so lightly by the younger ones. On and on she went about how "holy" it was. "If kids just do it all the time, how can it _mean_ anything to them?"

At first Sophie had replied seriously that kids probably used it as a means to bond with each other, though they chose their partners rather casually. But as Barb babbled on poetically, Sophie became rather more flippant with her responses.

Looking earnestly at Sophie, her face absolutely serious, Barb described one night where she and Jeffrey held each other tight, and had been so filled with their passion that they had had a spontaneous orgasm. "My nightie was absolutely soaked," she confided. "My come and his, all mixed together!" She closed her eyes, reliving the sacred moment, and opened them to find Sophie giving her a sardonic look.

"It happens all the time, you know! Guys come while they are sleeping, too."

"Yes! Jeffrey, too!"

"So what did you do, anyway?"

It got very detailed, and soon Barbara was relating the most intimate details of their lovemaking, leaving Helen to murmur gentle pleas that perhaps Jeffrey might not want all this bruited about.

## Distraction

Meanwhile, Gena was doing her best to keep the older children from burning up with their sexual appetites. Somehow she talked Little John into taking them all out to an indoor tennis complex at a nearby university.

"Good heavens! Why today, Gena? Are you bored?"

"Yes, Grelly, please! Maybe Sophie will come with us!"

"Well, let me see..."

Helen welcomed the idea with great relief. It turned out that the tennis court management had a policy of renting the place out for a few hundred dollars on holidays, provided a staffer was willing to be in charge, and Little John knew one of the girls who was a staffer.

"Sophie? _The_ Sophie? Get on with you!"

"I swear! Stacy, you can't tell _anybody!_ Promise me right now!"

"John, if you're lying, I'll kill you!"

"I'm telling you, she's my sister's friend!"

"Yeah right! Your sister knows Sophie Cocteau!"

John was indignant. "Hey, my sister knows _lots_ of people. Don't you put my sister down, girl."

It suddenly hit John that Stacy was new in town, and didn't know exactly who John's sister _was_. Boy, was she in for a surprise.

Anyway, Stacy was bored, and Stacy liked John, and Stacy could use the money. It would cost them $300 for two hours, plus expenses.

When Stacy saw Sophie, her eyes popped. She was a perky brunette, and had brought her boyfriend Peter along. Sophie asked Stacy seriously not to get people over for two hours, but after that, maybe a few special friends, and she'd sign a couple of autographs. Sophie solemnly promised, but they knew she was on the phone seconds later.

Suddenly, Stacy noticed John's sister, Helen, while John and the Twins and Gena were getting into their tennis shoes. Practically humming with excitement, Stacy came over to John. She glanced at Elly warningly, as Elly reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the handsome Pete, and whispered to John.

"Hey John, listen,..."

"What?" Stacy was staring at Helen. John suppressed a grin. Tommy was grinning widely. "Oh, Stace, meet my sister, Tomasina!"

Stacy turned and stared. "Oh." Tommy and Little John looked very much alike, much more alike than either of them and Helen. But Stacy's attention was drawn to Helen who was playing on the court, practicing her serves. They looked over and watched Helen rifle off an incredibly powerful serve, and for a moment they forgot everything else. "Shit!" said Stacy in an awed whisper. "I know that girl from _somewhere_..." She had to be some tennis pro, Stacy thought, but she couldn't place her at all. "Is she European?"

"That's my sister Helen, the violinist," John said. "I told you she was Sophie's friend!"

" _That's_ who it is!" Stacy gasped. "She's your _sister? Helen is your sister?"_ Stacy glared at John. "How come you never told me?"

"Everybody knows, Stacy! It's no secret! She went to Franklin, her picture's up on the wall and everything!"

Stacy swore. "I figured she must have made a donation, or something," she muttered. (Of course Helen _had_ made a donation.)

The little ones were playing in the play area under Erin's patient eye. The others were coming soon.

They were ready. Stacy hurried to get them new balls, and Elly swaggered to the steps that led down to the courts and Tommy and John followed. Sophie, Gena, Barb and Jeffrey were already on the courts. At the top of the steps Elly turned and gave Stacy and Pete a haughty stare.

"Do you know who _I_ am?"

Stacy's eyes opened wide. She covered her mouth in embarrassment. Her eyes looked at John for help. There were so many famous people here, that she could well believe that this angry looking girl was some celebrity whom Stacy had slighted, unintentionally, of course. Elly gestured to John as if to say: tell the girl who I am!

John pursed his lips. "Maybe you should tell her yourself," he murmured. Stacy turned bright red.

"I'm Elly Kolb!" said she and swept out, and down the steps. Tommy and John followed, bursting with suppressed laughter. No sooner had they got onto the courts level than John rolled on the floor laughing, out of sight of Stacy and Peter.

" _Elly Kolb!_ God, that's funny!"

"Hey, don't laugh; I bet she'll ask for my autograph on the way out," Elly said, pleased with herself.

When the rest of the gang arrived half an hour later, Stacy was dutifully keeping a crowd of her friends at bay at the doors. Inside, two matches were going at full blast. The weakest players were Jeffrey and Barbara , but they played valiantly. Every time they changed sides, the young lovers kissed, and they insisted that Helen and Sophie kiss, too—at least Barb insisted, and Jeffrey shrugged resignedly. Sophie exhorted them to be careful. "We don't want any accidents, Cherie," she told Barb, making her blush.

Helen found that the kissing was having its effect on her. Helen had been paired with Jeffrey, and Barb with Sophie. They fought every point fiercely, giving no quarter, but every time they changed sides Sophie kissed her so sweetly that Helen kept looking forward to those moments. It was hard to hit the ball between the two pretty women across the net. Barb was really no athlete, but when she stood relaxed between points, her slim legs so perfectly proportioned, her breasts swelling so perfect and firm, her softly rounded stomach so incredibly sensuous, Helen was determined to make it easy for them to win the next point. But when the point came around, somehow Helen found it easy to see them as opponents. She could see the light of battle in Sophie's eyes, too. She found herself winning somewhat more often than losing.

At first, Helen would murmur to Jeffrey to hit the ball to Barbara. He replied indignantly that that was a mean ploy. "Oh, don't worry," Helen said, "you'll be surprised how well they manage."

By the end of the second set, Jeffrey would kiss his lovely bride-to-be tenderly, and complain to Helen quietly that _they_ were hitting the ball at _him_. When Helen offered to let them win a game, it was Jeffrey who dismissed the suggestion.

Helen and Jeffrey won by almost the narrowest margin possible. The last point was an incredibly exciting rally which Helen won with an amazing forehand volley at an incredible angle. Sophie just missed picking it up. Everyone was watching, and there was a cheer as the opponents came to the nets for the customary handshakes which, of course, were followed by kisses.

Helen kept a firm grip on her feelings. First she kissed Jeffrey hurriedly on the cheek, and he kissed her back shyly. It was better this way; if they dwelt on it, it would be hard for both of them. Next Helen kissed Sophie, and she felt Sophie press her thigh into Helen's crotch the way she always did, only this time they were being watched, they were on opposite sides of a net, and they were both wearing very short skirts, and people could see their legs plainly.

Barbara kissed Helen on the cheek, but that was enough to make Helen's already inflamed emotions almost unbearable in their intensity. Somehow she managed to return the kiss calmly and turn to Sophie with a smile. They collected their racquets and balls and turned to watch the match between the younger folks. On the other side, Janet, Grelly, Solange and Olive were playing, while Erin and Grandpa John were playing on yet another court, with Allie running around them, and baby James talking at them from the sidelines.

Up in the gallery, Stacy and Pete had given up the battle, and there were a dozen teenagers and a few adults watching the proceedings. As Helen and Sophie headed upstairs, they called down, asking them to play some more. Sophie talked back to them, cheerfully explaining that they wanted a break.

The evening ended pleasantly. Sophie had made a bargain with Stacy that if nobody else came along, she would play with everyone who was there. "Just a couple of games, okay?" They all promised, and it became a small tennis party. Surprisingly, it turned out that nearly half of them were more interested in playing with Helen, though they didn't quite tell Sophie that to her face.

Many of them were boys, and they were cautious in talking to Helen (knowing that she was a lesbian), expecting a rebuff. But they soon learned that Helen was perfectly happy to be pleasant to boys, and began to be more relaxed, forgetting their prejudices about lesbians to the extent of playing the usual flirting games with Helen.

Very soon, Elly came back over to share the fun, bringing the rest of the youngsters with her. Little John knew many of the visitors, and introduced them to Tommy and Elly.

Helen watched Elly closely. For the first time she observed how Elly's attitude to boys was changing. While she was perfectly polite and reasonably friendly towards them, she kept a certain distance from them. But more interestingly, she clearly delighted in turning them on: she was definitely an exhibitionist. Helen watched Tommy and Little John for their reaction. Tommy was resigned to this behavior, while John was noticeably annoyed by it.

Barb and Jeffrey had got baby James, and were playing with him. After a while, Helen and Sophie headed upstairs, followed by a group of admirers, while Elly & Tommy, and Little John and Gena played four opponents at doubles.

As the day went on, Solange found that she and Janet had a lot in common. Solange was a dancer, and Janet was a teacher of science, music and mathematics, and an athlete. But Solange admired and appreciated the dignity and the grace of the American woman. She wasn't surprised when she learned that Janet and Helen had been lovers; they were well matched in terms of temperament and beauty. Helen had been a pretty girl in her youth, when Solange had first met her. (Solange and Helen had met long ago, in the days when Helen spent a lot of time in Florida.) It was still somewhat of a shock to meet Helen. There was great confidence in her bearing which contrasted with the unassuming manner and the eyes that seemed to see all. But when she spoke, there was an even more powerful attraction because of the intelligence and persuasion of her voice and the clarity of her speech.

But with Janet, the personality struck you first. You didn't notice her beauty right away; that sneaked up on you. You began to see that the beauty that was so overwhelming in young Elly, was there hidden in Janet, and in greater measure. Her movements were graceful and utterly feminine, but not in the studied, hip-swinging way of other women. All three generations of Krebs women had that unique femininity that was irresistible.

Solange had to admit to herself that what fascinated her the most was the relationship between her daughter and Helen. While she was unhappy with the somewhat open sexuality of young Elly and Tommy, with Helen and Sophie she could hardly get enough of it.

They had made Helen wear a brief tennis skirt, and Solange's eyes were drawn all evening to Helen, to those wonderful, strong legs. When they had met, fifteen years ago, Helen had been a mere girl, sweet, loving, very affectionate, rather like Tommy, her body slim and youthful. Even then she had been an amazing lover in the true sense. She had made Solange feel adored, worshiped, _loved_ , completely changing her. But now physically Helen was changed. She was no longer a girl, she had the body of a goddess—no, a slim young god. She was a deity in a class by herself. Wide shoulders, full shallow breasts, and an awesome, flat stomach that would drive any man or any woman wild. Tonight she wore a skin-tight navy top that left a narrow band of skin visible at the waist, and that band drew Solange's eye like a magnet, just as it drew almost every eye in the room. For the first time in years, Sophie's pretty legs had competition. As Helen perspired and her skin began to shine with sweat, she became even more irresistible to the eye. And she was completely unconcerned about showing it, once she had gotten past the choice of what to wear.

On one of the few occasions when Solange managed to drag her eyes off Helen and Janet long enough to look about the courts, her eye was caught by Olive, who had been watching Helen too. They exchanged knowing smiles, and dutifully turned back to their games.

For Helen, it was a couple of hours of pure fun. Her chief joy was in how Barbara's level of play increased through the evening. Her body, though beautiful, was only of average strength. But she had an excellent eye, good balance, and intelligence. She had an instinct for motion, and her ability to anticipate the position of the ball was good. She had the feel for speed and motion that would make her an excellent pilot, if she cared to pursue flying, Helen thought. Again, just as in the past, Helen's thoughts circled around what she could do for Barbara. Barbara made Helen feel as if she was a lover, or a daughter. Helen sighed softly to herself, and turned to find Sophie studying her with a quiet smile. There was a small circle of admirers silently smiling at them both, sipping at their soft drinks.

Sophie wanted Helen very much to come watch her in Australia. "Please try, Cherie," Sophie said. "I know if you come, I will win." Helen sighed.

The next day, Sophie was off. There had been a long argument with Gary, but Gary had convinced her that the Australian Open was worth the extra work. Sophie said she had been practicing with Helen, but Gary quickly found out that they hadn't been practicing very much, just a couple of hours. Solange went with her daughter, at her invitation.

# Woodford

The third day after Christmas, Helen, James, Allie, Gena and Erin were on a plane for England.

Rain had given them detailed instructions about getting to Woodford, after her offer of driving out to meet them had been vetoed. "There's too many of us," Helen had said reasonably, "and it seems like a long way!"

"It is; I mean, not by US standards, of course, but..."

But the trip by train seemed exciting, and a chance to see the countryside. So Gena had read about the whole process extensively, and was completely ready. They had figured the exact costs of the rail tickets, and had decided to obtain rail passes for the week.

They got through customs and immigration without mishap, and without being recognized, except by the immigration officer, who was very friendly. He was quickly charmed by Gena and Erin, and extended a warm welcome to the little family.

"Aunty Rain!!!" To their surprise, Rain stood just outside the customs area, all smiles! She wore glasses and carried a raincoat and umbrella, but it was undeniably she.

"Hello, Westfielders!" she said happily.

"I told you not to drive over!"

"Oh, I took the train!"

"What time did you have to set out?"

"Oh, 5 in the morning!"

Helen waited until the children had each given Rain a hug and a kiss, and then stepped forward to embrace Rain. For a few long seconds Rain relaxed in her arms, and then pulled away and looked at Helen strangely. Before Helen could wonder what that look was all about, her face relaxed in a smile that was tender enough for Helen.

Rain watched while Gena and Erin bought the rail passes, and said how impressed she was at their efficiency. The £50 changed hands, and they set off, proudly bearing the fabulous week passes. Within a few minutes, the train rolled up, and they got in with all their baggage. James scolded the train as it approached, and now talked to it as they got inside. "He always does that," Erin grinned. "He talks to buses and cars, but he doesn't talk to planes!"

"Planes are different," Allie declared, opening her book to read, as Gena and Erin exchanged quizzical glances. It wasn't always easy to fathom Allie's thought-processes! Helen and Rain were seated together, with Allie on Helen's lap and James on Rain's, and the train slowly pulled away. For 20 miles Helen and Rain pressed against each other luxuriously, holding hands, watched with amused indulgence by Erin and Gena, and with some curiosity by the other passengers.

Helen and Rain spoke little, but watched Erin and Gena react to the experience of being in a foreign country. Every little thing was incredibly different, but the same, somehow, and to take the train had been a stroke of brilliance. As they passed through the outskirts of towns, and rolled through farm country, the children spotted school buildings, and prison yards, and horse farms, and cricket grounds and soccer fields, and Helen and Rain were impressed with the sheer breadth of their knowledge, and surprised by the few significant gaps that remained. Rain explained things with great economy of language, and Allie often listened, though the words weren't directed to her. Allie was interested mostly in animals, and her sisters were at pains to point-out horses and cows and sheep to her.

More fascinating yet were other little children who got on and off the train, and smiled and waved to the little American girl. Somehow the little Brits were able to tell that Allie's little party was American, though they hadn't dressed particularly American: the older girls and Helen were dressed in jeans and warm jackets, while Allie wore a jumper and hose, and James wore a knitted shirt and his diaper and little else—he hated to be too warm.

One young girl sat next to Gena and struck up a conversation with her, and to the amusement of the adults, they heard Gena's accent change gradually to be closer to that of her new friend. They exchanged phone numbers and promised to call each other, and when they all changed trains in London, their parting was very sorrowful. Gena gazed after her friend until she was out of sight and then glanced at Erin and her mother, her eyes full. They plainly said that she loved England, and she'd stay here forever if she could. Helen laughed as Gena hugged her. Erin grinned at Helen, seeing and understanding all.

Helen had one of the enormous bags, and Gena had the other, while they all had back-packs with their stuff.

As they waited for the connecting train, Helen realized that Rain and she had had a big argument since they had last met. As if she had read Helen's mind, Rain hugged Helen's arm. Rain had dressed a lot more conservatively than Helen was used to seeing her; her hair was carefully pinned back, her make-up was tastefully applied; she wore a simple but well-cut dress that successfully stated that its wearer was of a higher class. She wore all her face Jewelry, and extremely high platform shoes that made her as tall as Helen.

At first, as they met at the airport, Rain had been reticent about displaying her affection for Helen except with her eyes. She had hugged and kissed the children lovingly, but Helen only quickly, with a quick kiss on the lips. Helen longed for Rain to be more affectionate, but there was a lot at stake here; Rain wasn't an ordinary girl, and they were in Rain's country. Reluctantly, Helen let Rain take the lead in setting the level of intimacy they would display in public. Rain wore perfume, and Helen found herself responding to it. From time to time Rain would speak to Helen so only she could hear, pointing out little things that might interest her. Then she would give Helen a quick secret smile and turn back to James. Rain was slowly moving them into the roles of an upper-middle-class lesbian couple with children, as she saw it. Moreover, they were an 'out' couple. The children didn't seem to mind it at all, and Gena and Erin smiled indulgently at the two of them. And Helen was beginning to realize that she was enjoying the play immensely. And the people about them, for the most part, smiled and approved. All the world loved a couple in love, it seemed. But what would happen when one or the other of them was recognized?

It was almost one in the afternoon when they arrived at the small town of Woodford, got all their baggage out and approached the barrier.

"Afternoon, Lady Evelyn! Found your friends all right?"

"Good afternoon, Jack! Yes, I found them. This is James, this is Alison, this is Erin, this young lady here is Gena, and this is Helen Nordstrom, my friend! These are all her kids."

"Helen Nordstrom! Pleased to meet you, ma'am!"

"You've heard of her?" Rain was pleased and surprised.

"Well, of course! Famous musician, isn't she?"

"Yes! So you're a man of culture then, Jack!"

Jack blushed and declared that one didn't have to be a man of culture to know the famous Helen Nordstrom. He welcomed her to the town, and Helen replied, showing her pleasure. "That voice! I'd recognize it anywhere!" he declared, as Helen blushed, and Rain nodded and slipped a possessive arm round Helen's waist. It was at that moment that Jack knew for certain that they were lovers, and his face registered his discomfort at the idea. Without a word, Rain withdrew her hand. Some passengers had gathered behind them, and the little party stepped aside so Jack could let them through.

Once they were gone, Rain turned her eyes back to the man at the barrier, and he opened up the gate so they could wheel their baggage through. When he looked up again, a smile struggled through to his face.

"Ye've got yourself a little family then, Lady Evelyn. And a sweeter set of kids I've never seen, either!" he said, grinning kindly at the kids before he looked shyly at Rain.

Rain felt her chest tighten with conflicting emotions. In her heart the need to be cautious and tactful with the villagers warred with her pride in her chosen partner and the children she wanted to adopt, and her desire to declare her love openly to the whole village. She felt a desperate gratitude for Jack's acceptance, and she sought for words to express it.

"Thank you for those kind words, Jack," she said gravely.

"Will you be going away to America, then?" asked Jack, and Helen saw the misery in his eyes, and wondered.

Rain swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

"For a while, Jack; but I'll be back. I'd like to earn some money in the States while my father is, you know, healthy."

Jack's face cleared, and he smiled at Helen and the children. "Sure! Woodford is not a bad place, is it? Ye could be happy here!"

Warm-hearted Gena had followed it all, and now she nodded to Jack, smiling. If it would make Jack happy she'd move here at once! Suddenly Allie told Jack that she wanted a puppy, and they left Jack after a brief discussion about puppies.

The next native they met was the taxi-man, who also greeted Rain respectfully as Lady Evelyn. It began to drizzle, and they speeded up the process of getting into the huge taxi. Helen and the children thought the town beautiful, as Americans usually did, and told Rain so. Rain beamed with proprietary pride. Then she said with sadness that other parts of the village were in severe need of modernization and improvement. "There's a lot of poverty," she said softly, and the taxi-driver agreed.

"It's employment that's the problem!" he said. "There's no jobs to be had! All them foreigners are taking all the jobs there is," he added.

"Foreigners?" asked Helen.

"Well, displaced Czechs, Yugoslavs, Albanians, you know. They're all British subjects, of course. There's no room in London for them, and they gradually find their way here."

Helen nodded. It was a worldwide problem. And Rain would inherit all this. Helen looked round at the young woman seated next to her, and saw her jaw clenched with determination. What was passing through her mind?

They piled out of the taxi into weather that was just a little damp. Some distance away they could see the lovely old river. The Woodford Arms was an ancient inn, recently renovated. The narrow street bustled with pedestrians, presumably anxious to return holiday purchases. Rain helped them check into their suite at the inn. They had the best suite in the inn, the Lady Evelyn Suite: three bedrooms, and a sitting-room with a nice new TV.

" _The Lady Evelyn Suite?"_ Helen asked, smiling. Rain blushed and warned Helen with a look. It was the third piece of evidence about how highly Rain—their Lady Evelyn—was regarded in the village. And their love for Rain extended also to her guests, and everyone was anxious to please Helen and the children. The clerk murmured something to Rain and Rain smiled at Helen.

"What's up?" asked Helen.

"I'll tell you later," said Rain. It turned out that the clerk had arranged for the children to have free ice-creams at the local ice-cream store. Helen noticed that the clerk was of clearly east-European ancestry.

It was decided that Helen and the kids would rest for a few hours before they made their way up to the house.

"When are you expected back? You could stay here, and go up with us!"

Rain smiled, but then she sobered. "I said I'd be back as soon as I could."

"Oh. You could call!"

Rain looked at Helen, and Helen realized that perhaps it wouldn't be wise. She smiled awkwardly. With a sigh, Rain took leave of the children, and turned to Helen. Helen knew that if they kissed, falling asleep would be impossible. With sure instinct, Rain leaned forward and gave Helen a chaste kiss on the lips, light as a feather, smiled, and went away.

Somehow, it was perfect. It left Helen with just the right balance of satisfaction and expectation to fall into a relaxed sleep.

They were up at four, already close to sunset, and showered and dressed carefully. Helen was anxious to show that she could take care of the children on her own. They all wore dresses, not too fancy, and the girls took special care of braiding their hair. All three of them were beautiful, and eager to look their best for Rain's parents. James looked his usual insolent self, but reluctantly consented to wear pants and a shirt when he saw how grand his sisters looked. He pointed to Erin, asking to be held by her. She was his favorite sister (except when he needed someone taller so he could see over a crowd, when Gena suddenly became his favorite).

When they were ready, Helen called the house, feeling an unaccustomed nervousness.

"Hello?" It was Lord Woodford, sounding polite.

"Hello, this is Helen Nordstrom. Is Rain there, please?"

"Oh hello, Miss Nordstrom! Yes, I'll get Evelyn, hold on, please! _Evelyn!"_

There was some indistinct noise, and a female voice came on, presumably Pauline, Rain's mother.

"Hello, dear! Are you settled in comfortably?"

"Oh, yes thank you! I was just calling to say that we could get a taxi, really; there's no need to pick us up!"

"Oh absolutely not, George wouldn't hear of it! He'll be right over... here's er, _Rain!"_

Helen blushed. "We should call her by her proper name, Evelyn, I know! It's just habit, really!"

Polly laughed. "I'm sure it doesn't matter! Here you are!"

"Hi!"

"We're ready, Lady Evelyn!"

"Oh, be quiet!" Helen could hear the affection in her voice. "My father is on his way to pick you up," she said formally.

"We'll be at the door," Helen assured her.

"Oh, no; wait in the room; he'll have them ring you!"

"Well, all right! See you soon!"

She had never heard Rain happier. It was beginning to sink in how important this visit was to both of them—to _all_ of them. There had been similar occasions in the past, when Helen had visited the homes of her other loves, and been accepted to some degree or other. Only Lalitha's family had rejected Helen outright; all the others had loved Helen instantly, and she had, in most cases, loved them in return.

But this time, everything was different. There was no doubt that it would be cordial all round. But it had to be more: _it had to be perfect._

Shortly the phone rang. "Lord Woodford is here for you, Miss Nordstrom," said the clerk in his very British accent with no trace of the tones of the land of his ancestors. Helen thanked him a little breathlessly, and signaled her troops to move out.

George Woodford watched anxiously from his chair near the elevators. Helen was one of the most important personages he had received in his home, certainly the wealthiest, and the one he was least comfortable about. She had been beautifully dressed at the Messiah, but that had been a public performance. Would she embarrass him by dressing in poor taste? What were her children like? What would the townsfolk think of her? What did the staff at the Inn think? They had smiled when he asked them to ring her—was it a knowing smile? Did they suspect?

When the stair door opened and two little girls came out, George assumed that these were they. He stood up with an embarrassed simper on his studious face, and then Helen and Gena followed.

Helen looked enchanting in a dull green dress with blue-green accents. Every detail declared perfect, understated taste. The children looked round for their visitor, while Helen, recognizing him instantly, smiled politely and a little nervously. She had only a light wrap over her frock, while the children wore light cardigans. They were evidently accustomed to much colder weather. The little boy, barely a year old by the look of him, wore only pants and a shirt, and baby shoes.

"Over there, girls; that's Aunty Rain's father!"

Four pairs of eyes fastened themselves on George. The youngest girl slowly advanced, followed by the next older girl who was carrying the baby, and wore a shy smile. The oldest girl stepped forward with her hand outstretched and introduced herself as Gena. "This is Alison,..."

"Hello, Alison!" said George, bending to shake her hand.

"... and this is my sister Erin!"

"Hi!"

"Hi, Erin! Isn't he a bit heavy to carry?"

"That's James, I forgot! He's ten months old."

"Oh, he's not heavy, I carry him all the time!" said Erin.

"Hello, Lord Woodford! Thank you for coming all this way to pick us up," said Helen, nervously. Why was she so nervous? She had even met the Queen, and handled herself quite creditably. But somehow, she was nervous about George.

"It's the least I can do," George said, finding some courtliness from somewhere. Helen's good breeding was evident, and George was deeply impressed by the dignity with which Gena had introduced the children. Helen was relieved to have that responsibility taken off her shoulders, and when Gena turned to smile at her, she realized that Gena had known how nervous Helen had been. Helen put her arm round Gena and squeezed her gently, swallowing the lump that rose in her throat.

George was chatting to the girls about the trip, and Erin was telling him how they had enjoyed it. Helen only had to listen.

It was an ancient Rolls that George had brought to fetch them in. "We don't take her very far from home anymore," he said, "she's an old lady."

"How old is the car, Lord Woodford?" asked Gena eagerly. The dashboard was all wood, as was the trim on the inside doors. "Oh, I'd say around 65 years. It was bought by my grandfather!"

"Awesome!"

The conversation revolved around cars until the house appeared in front of them.

"A castle! Wow!"

Helen was amazed. "I had no idea!" Helen breathed. "It's got to be very, very old."

"Yes," said George, "parts of it are 13th Century, but we've managed to keep it off the protected list!"

"But why?"

George turned to grin at Helen. "Well, it gets very hard to live in a protected castle, you know! The historical value of the thing becomes more important than living in it."

"But... but Lord Woodford, you've preserved it beautifully! At least, on the outside, it looks in wonderful repair."

George looked thoughtfully at Helen. It was rare for women to have knowledge about the quality of restoration of an historical building. How much did she really know, and how much of this was a clever attempt at flattery? He decided to let it rest.

At the steps were Rain and Pauline, who smiled their pleasure at seeing the children. Pauline came down to greet Helen, and was introduced to the children by Rain.

"Evelyn has told me so much about you!" said Polly, as George took the car out to the garage. It was clear where Rain had got her love of children. "Come in, please!"

They went inside, carefully cleaning their feet. Rain took little James from Erin, while Erin helped Alison get the clay cleaned off her shoes. Thanks to Cindy, all the children had good leather shoes, chosen for both quality and comfort. Elly had said that it didn't make sense to buy expensive shoes for them. "They outgrow them, Cindy, in a few months!" But Cindy had only smiled. So Erin wore Gena's old shoes, and Gena wore Elly's.

"What would you like the children to call you, Lady Pauline?" asked Helen, quietly.

"Oh! Well, er,..." Pauline looked doubtfully at Rain. Rain raised her eyebrows, somewhat amused.

"What have they been calling my father?"

"I called him Lord Woodford," Gena said, gravely. "Isn't that the right way to talk to him?"

"Then you should call her Lady Pauline," said Rain, equally gravely, acutely aware that her mother should be the one to suggest a more familiar form of address. "And you can call me Aunty Rain, or Aunty Evelyn; that's what they call me in England."

Helen looked at her, surprised. Rain blushed, but said nothing. "Shall _I_ call you Evelyn?"

"Of course; that's her name!" laughed Lady Pauline. "I can't understand where this Rain comes from!"

"It's my initials, mother: R-A-N-E! Get it? There was a time when I preferred not to be called 'Evelyn', that's all."

"Oh Lord," murmured Pauline as she led the way into the living room.

Lord Woodford was clearly very pleased with the children. He sat a little distance away while Polly and Rain talked to the children, occasionally interjecting a comment or a question.

After a while, Polly looked up to Helen, and, taking a deep breath, asked if Helen would like to join her in the kitchen. Rain threw her mother a look loaded with meaning, and said warningly: "Mother!"

Helen realized that Pauline was unlikely to tell her anything that she couldn't handle. It was better to talk while doing something than when there was nothing to do but talk.

"Relax, dear; I'm not going to offend your friend."

"It's okay, Rain!" said Helen, smiling. She had been nervous all evening, but now that the moment had come, she felt relaxed. She realized that none of them had anything to fear from the rest of them. Lord Woodford watched them go with as much anxiety as his daughter. But now the anxiety was because he was anxious that Pauline didn't alienate Helen. From thinking of Helen as The Enemy, he had now progressed to the point where he was beginning to realize that meeting Helen was one of the happier events in his daughter's life. Rather than a vicious, child-stealing lesbian, Helen was a polite, civilized, intelligent, cultured woman, who had a decent respect not only for his family, but for his daughter. It was impossible now to interfere with Pauline's interview of Helen. After having caused such a fuss about Rain and her inamorata, he was in the awkward position of hoping that his wife didn't follow through on his prejudices.

"Daddy, maybe we should show the kids around the castle," Evelyn suggested.

"Hmm. Why don't we wait until Helen can come round with us? I'd like to see her reaction to the place," he replied. "She seems to know something about architecture."

"Mom built Grandpa's house," Erin said politely but loyally. "She knows about houses."

George raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do you mean she did the inside, perhaps? Re-decorating, and so forth?"

"No, she can build houses," Gena contributed, her eyes wide. "She used to work in construction."

Rain nodded. "She remodeled the house in which they live now," she confirmed. " _Both_ houses."

Gradually, George unraveled the facts of the matter. It appeared that building was a hobby with Helen. George's excitement began to grow, and Rain grinned as she saw the glint in her father's eye.

In the kitchen, Helen and Pauline began to put the dinner together. After a while Helen laughed and confessed that she had expected to be grilled about her relationship with Rain.

Pauline paused in what she was doing and smiled quietly at Helen. "I'm not concerned about the relationship, actually," she said, and Helen blushed. "Sex is so unimportant, isn't it?" Helen's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly, and continued to slice the bread. She glanced at Pauline with polite interest. "All kinds of things are going on, and I'm so tired of it: men sleeping with other men's wives, fathers sleeping with their daughters; I don't even bother to keep up with it." Helen stopped her slicing and listened. There was an intenseness in Polly's manner that was a contrast to her usual dizziness. Helen nodded, and gave her her full attention.

"If you love each other, and care for each other... and stay with each other, and help each other, what more can I ask?"

Helen hung her head, as tears threatened to flow. It had been going so well. But now the issue of _loyalty_ had come up. It wasn't just that Helen should love Rain, but that she should stay with Rain. Why was this family so obsessed with this whole business of staying together?

"Please excuse me!" Helen said, and hurried to the bathroom. It was an unheated, unimproved facility added on around the 40's, evidently, but Helen didn't need to use it for its usual purpose. She found some tissues, and held them to her eyes, determined not to show that she had been crying.

Suddenly she felt a fierce rebellion inside her. The tears stopped of their own accord, and she cleaned up her face and stepped out, and returned to the kitchen. She was done with being an apologetic slut. If she was going to be a slut, she may as well be a proud one. It was the deception that was shameful.

"Are you all right?" asked Pauline, a lot less alarmed than Helen had expected her to be. Pauline was a tough customer.

"Oh, I'm fine," Helen said casually, resuming slicing the bread. That was done in seconds, and she went on to the next job. "What were we talking about?" she asked, smiling.

"I had said," said Pauline, covering up her frustration, "that I didn't care about your relationship as long as it was supportive, and relatively permanent."

Helen took a deep breath and sighed. She looked at Pauline, and said, with as much sincerity as she could muster, "I'd love to be able to promise that, Lady Pauline, but... I know my weaknesses, and I tend to... be promiscuous." Pauline looked shocked, and Helen dropped her eyes. In a quiet voice, she continued. "I'm not apologizing for it. None of my former girlfriends were Rain, obviously; she's different, and now I have children; things have changed." Helen glanced up at Pauline, and saw the distress there tinged with a little hope. She dropped her eyes again. "I love and respect your daughter very much. I want to be her friend for life. Even if we stop being... partners, I doubt that we will ever stop being friends." She slowly raised her eyes to Pauline again. "I can't, in good conscience, promise more."

Something seemed to go out of Pauline then. Her shoulders slumped, and she slowly lowered herself into a chair, her eyes holding Helen's with mute pleading. It was clear that she had hoped for better. Then there was a spark of something. She pulled herself together.

"Evelyn is no ordinary girl, Helen. She had an IQ of 200 when she was tested in her early teens. She is intensely loyal, hardworking, and talented. She's never been very motivated. She's never been as motivated as I'm seeing her now. You've made a change in her! You couldn't possibly realize what a treasure she is. _Do you realize that she is in line to the British throne?"_

Helen nodded, mutely. She had suspected as much, or perhaps Rain had told her late one night. If having a love who was in line to the British throne would make Helen a more devoted lover, Helen would have been the first to rejoice. But if Helen had left such beautiful women as Janet, Leila, Michelle, and gone on to seduce others, what were the chances that she'd be loyal to this eccentric, gentle, heir to the throne, who loved Helen's children so much?

"When you were younger, Helen, perhaps you were still experimenting, looking for someone, playing the field! But perhaps now you've found her, you don't need to look any further?" Her eyes glinted, and Helen knew that tears weren't far away. Her voice trembled with feeling. "Helen... you've found each other." She took a deep breath. "When I see you both together... I know there can be no one else for my daughter!"

Helen was stunned. The evening had scarcely begun, and Pauline had played all her cards. She wasn't gambling. She loved her daughter very much, and in the face of that love, Helen's insistence on her free-and-easy lifestyle seemed very petty.

She slowly approached Pauline round the table, and came to stand just a foot away. "I'm willing to say the words if they make you happy," Helen said, dry-eyed. Her voice sank to almost a whisper. "I will try to love her forever." Then her voice broke as she said, "God knows that I want to!"

She recovered quickly, and continued. It was best that Rain's parents went into this relationship with their eyes open. "Even now, at this very moment, I'm in love with another girl." Pauline's expression grew cool, but Helen had to get it out. "It's Sophie Cocteau."

"The tennis player."

"Yes."

"She seems such a nice girl!"

Helen glared, and Pauline subsided. "And I love her very much. I have no intention of giving her up."

Pauline slowly put her head in her hands, and Helen waited patiently until she looked up again.

"It's too much for me," said Pauline, her voice tight. Helen talked like a man talked about his women. "I'm too old fashioned, I suppose. I can take... women having sex with each other; but this... does Evelyn know her?"

"Very well; they're good friends. They talk French together, you see."

Pauline nodded. Of course they would.

Pauline pulled her chair away and slowly stood up. She sighed. "No one has ever made me more angry than you have, Miss Nordstrom," she said quietly. "As a rule, I never get angry. Never. You haven't conceded a single thing. You want everything, and you give nothing. You are a very hard woman!"

Helen was taken aback. She had not seen the issue as a negotiation of quite that sort. What were they offering each other? She had seen it more as an exchange of information. She had told Lady Pauline that she loved her daughter, and fully wished to stay in love with her forever, but wasn't able to swear to it. What more could she offer them?

"Mummy? What's going on?" Rain called from the living room.

"We're just coming out, dear," Lady Pauline replied. Suddenly she looked at Helen and smiled. "Let's call a truce until your visit is nearing its end!" she said, and Helen was startled by how beautiful she looked at that moment. Helen nodded, and Pauline put her arm round Helen and guided her out.

"Dinner is ready!" she announced.

At table, Helen and Rain found themselves seated close to each other, with baby James between them on a special high chair in which a king of England was supposed to have sat. James, unimpressed, pointed at the food and said "jijjug," as usual. No one could tell, from Pauline's expression, that as far as she was concerned the little téte-a-téte had been a bust. Her regard for Helen, and her desire for Helen as a partner for Evelyn had grown, too. Here was a woman who understood Evelyn, who loved Evelyn, who had so much in common with Evelyn: her love of music, her interest in foreign languages, their mutual love for the children, their interest in world politics, in social welfare, architecture; and she was vehemently insistent on regarding the relationship as being essentially temporary. As the meal progressed, Pauline's frustration grew. They were so sweet to each other, so comfortable with each other, and their love for each other and the children shone like a beacon. And when they talked to Pauline and George about serious matters, it was as if they had one mind. Each would fill in the thoughts that the other inadvertently left out. It was the same with the children. Both Helen and Evelyn gently insisted on factual accuracy, unless the children were clearly fantasizing about something, in which case the two women indulged them with a smile. And the children looked to Helen and Evelyn equally. Pauline and George could never imagine a more perfect scene with grandchildren and Evelyn than they had before them. Pauline watched how the girls involved George in the conversation, and how they deferred to him, and how they poked gentle fun at him, and she wanted to walk up to Helen and slap her. What harm would it do, to say that she would love Evelyn forever? Of _course_ sometimes love didn't last. _Everybody_ knew _that_. But Helen's constant harping on the fact that she didn't expect the whole thing to last was so hard to bear.

Helen and the children ooh-ed and aah-ed over Pauline's dessert. Evelyn had helped to make it, and had eaten such desserts all her life, but it was new to the Americans. But their manners were impeccable; they ate daintily for the most part, until Gena couldn't stand it any longer and shoveled the dessert into her mouth and asked for more. Evelyn looked reproachfully at her and then laughed. "Have some more; maybe the monster will go away!"

The best part was after dinner, when George showed them round the castle. It was clear that Helen knew an amazing amount about construction and architecture, but she was quick to admit her limitations.

"Stonework is a special art," she confessed. "The original builders didn't expect this to last so long, and to be put to such uses; heating, climate changes, it all affects the stonework."

George was taken aback. He showed Helen how he had concentrated all his efforts in keeping the stone healthy and well-supported, even at the cost of the comfort of the family. But Helen insisted that he needed to consult with an expert. The way the foundations had settled had to be measured and adjusted for. The water table had to be mapped. The stresses on the walls because of the repairs to the roof had to be calculated.

When they got back downstairs, George slumped in his chair.

"If it's the cost," Helen said gently, "I could help, perhaps."

"No, no, no," said George, with a smile, and Rain nodded at Helen.

"Please," begged Helen, "let me help! I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for the building. Old buildings are alive, they have souls, too!" She smiled. "You think I'm silly, but... you can almost feel the old thing suffering! An architect's inspection is worth ten times what he will charge for it. And I'll be glad to get it done for you."

"It's not the money," George said. "If an architect inspects this house too closely, it'll go on the national register, and I'll quickly lose control over it. It will be well cared-for, by and large, but it will cease to be—our home."

Helen had thought George to be a dull man, but now she realized the passion there. The danger of getting the house on the national register, imagined or real, meant that George was willing to go it alone. He was beginning to believe Helen's analysis of the situation. The needs of the castle were more complex than he had realized. He had friends look at it, but they had all been amateurs. George's friends were more at home with the ins and outs of politics than of stone castles. For the first time here was a woman who had experience in the construction business, and she had the humility to confess that it was more than she could do to decide what the castle needed.

Rain took Helen up to her room on the pretext of showing her something. They partially undressed hurriedly, and made love. Rain held her breath while Helen's hand did to her what Rain's own hand could do only poorly. Then she was gasping for breath against Helen's breast.

"Where are the girls?" George was demanding downstairs, and Rain held her breath again, listening, her orgasm forgotten. They couldn't hear Pauline's answer. "What are they doing up there?"

"Oh leave them alone, George," Polly chided. "They just want a few minutes alone, I don't doubt. Where's the harm?" George only grumbled under his breath, and Polly replied that they'd be down soon.

"I love you!" said Rain, holding Helen tight.

"I love you, too!"

"What did Mum ask you?"

"Oh... nothing..."

"Liar!"

Helen buried her face in Rain's soft breast. "She asked if... it would last."

"What did you say?" Helen shook her head sadly. "The usual shit, then!" Helen nodded.

"I told her I loved you, Rain; but nothing's forever!"

Rain quickly drew back her hand and slapped Helen. When Helen looked at her in shock, Rain burst into tears. "Can't you tell a little lie for me, just once?"

"Don't cry, baby," Helen said, at a loss. "All I know is how I feel now. I don't want to lie to your folks on the second day now, do I?"

Rain turned her head away and continued to weep softly. After a while, she pushed Helen off her body, and got out of bed. Seeing her getting dressed, Helen pulled on her clothes, too. At the door, Rain held Helen's head to inspect her, and cursing to herself, found a handkerchief to clean Helen's face. Helen gazed at Rain, bemused. If she had fallen in love with Rain more than a month ago, what was this that was happening now? Why did her heart feel like lead, why did her head spin, why did her lips want to kiss the girl in front of her like they had never wanted to kiss anyone before?

Rain finished cleaning Helen's face up, and touching up her make-up. Then she looked straight into Helen's eyes and held Helen's head in her hands.

"You are going to love me forever," she said, her eyes gentle, her voice gentle. But the conviction in it scared Helen. "I can see the future," she said, "and I'm the one. You understand?" Helen nodded, stunned. "Others will come and go. But I'll be there forever. I was born for you." Helen only stared, struck dumb. She had slapped Helen, and Helen had accepted that. "Come on," she said, tugging at Helen's hand.

"What have you two been up to?" grinned Polly, blushing a little. Please god, she thought, don't let them go into details! Helen looked a little dazed, but Evelyn looked radiant. George was staring at them, at a loss. He wasn't quite comfortable with the thought of Rain having sex with _anyone_ , let alone another woman, and certainly not _this_ one. But there it was; Polly was sure as anything that the girls had done _something_ in the last ten minutes.

"Er, this might be interesting," he said, showing them a book. It was a list of castles.

"Let's see," said Rain, perkily, "is it a complete list?"

"I don't think so," said her father, regretfully.

"All right, then,... oh, I remember this book! It's all the castles in our vicinity, isn't it?"

"No, it's..."

"Daddy, it's not a lot of use, really. Do you have the national register?"

"Evelyn, the Register contains _hundreds_ of castles!"

"Tell me where it is, I'll go get it," she said, exasperated. It turned out that it was right next to the telephone directory. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?" asked she, archly.

As it happened, Lord Woodford knew a lot more about castles than any of them suspected. The fact of the matter was that the women had left castles to Daddy and simply done whatever he had told them to do, usually with good humor, sometimes grudgingly, but they'd never been involved with the decisions, so they had no idea how much he knew.

Late that evening, Rain watched as they piled into the old Rolls once again, to head out to the inn. She felt an arm round her waist; it was her mother. Rain turned to look at her, and saw tears in her eyes.

"Did you have a good talk with her?" asked Rain.

Her mother shrugged. "She's very uncompromising," she smiled, flicking away a tear.

"Why are you crying, Mum?"

"Because I want her for you so badly!"

The car pulled out and they saw the children wave through the window, and Rain waved back.

"Isn't she wonderful?"

"Yes, love,... so forthright and unassuming; no airs at all. And the children are so sweet! Why is she so... _hard?_ Almost cruel. She was polite, but..."

"I don't know what's come over her," Rain said sadly, "she's usually very sweet and pleasant."

## Calls from Philadelphia

Late that night, Becky and Lorna called. For twenty minutes, Helen had to endure Lorna's phone sex.

"So," said Lorna, "did you get a chance to feel up—what's-her-name?"

"Yes, Lorna. Thanks for asking."

"Tell me what you did!"

"That's private. We can talk about me and you, Lorna, but Rain is out of bounds."

"It's just sex, Helen; we all have holes in the same places! Come on, what's the big deal?"

It went on and on. Finally, Helen swore at her. "You're deliberately trying to make me miserable!" she accused Lorna.

"Why does it all have to be about you, Helen? Can't you believe that I want you, and I'm just trying to get some satisfaction? How can it hurt you to let me get off with your voice, for god's sake?"

"So what're you doing, frigging yourself while we talk?"

"Yes! What's your problem?"

"Well, did you?" asked Helen, inexplicably angry. She'd loved Lorna since they had first met, and she couldn't think why it bothered her that Lorna wanted to masturbate to the sound of Helen's voice.

"I would have, if you hadn't been so mean!" Lorna wept.

"I'm sorry; let me talk to Becky first, and then I'll... do what you want."

"Promise?"

"Yes, darling... I'm sorry, I had a rather rocky evening!"

Lorna sniffed, and went off to get Becky.

"I'm sorry, Helen—please be nice to her. You know I don't like to talk about those kinds of things... But I love her... and when she's miserable, I'm miserable, too!"

Helen sighed. "I apologize. I'll talk to her after we're done."

"Thanks a million! Well, let's see... we'd like to have you here, Helen, I know Lorna wants to see you very bad! I was wondering if you'd consider playing here in early January?"

Helen sighed again. She wasn't sure if Lorna was what she needed right now. On the other hand, it had been a long time since she had led the Impromptu in any music at all.

"Okay."

"Great!"

"But listen, can you find me something here?"

"England?"

"Yes, please; I want to earn some Sterling, and make it worth my while to stay here a little longer."

Becky sighed. "Well, David MacIntyre has been e-mailing Robin."

Helen was immediately interested. Becky had several leads, and she took down as much information as she could. The rest was up to Robin and Helen. Once it was known that Helen was in England, she could expect more offers. She told Becky to let people know that while in England they should get in touch with her through Evelyn Woodford, and Helen said she'd give Becky the number the following day.

Phone sex with Lorna wasn't so bad after all. The worst part was at the end, when Lorna cried and said she loved Helen.

"I don't want you for myself, but... I want you to know how I feel."

"I know how you feel, darling... I just don't feel the same way, that's all."

Lorna sighed. "Remember the special I made for you?"

"Yes, sweetheart. It was beautiful. I'm so touched that you did that for me."

"I watch it all the time. I watch us dancing together. And you know what?"

"Tell me."

"Our bodies... they were made for each other, Helen." She breathed hard for a while, and Helen realized she was touching herself. With an effort Helen kept silent. "I know I'm not as smart as you or Becky, and... anyway, whatever you look for in a girl... maybe I don't have it. But you must admit, nobody has given you better sex than me!"

Helen shrugged, feeling silly because Lorna couldn't see it, of course. "I don't know..."

There was a long silence.

"Helen?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"I love you and Becky both, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"If she ever asks, you must tell her."

Helen felt an alarm go off in her head. It sounded too much like last words. Could it be that Lorna was feeling suicidal?

"Lorna?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"I'm in love with three girls! Do you know who they are?"

"Sophie..."

"Yes, and... ?"

"I don't know; tell me."

Helen's suspicions multiplied. She could hear sounds in the background, and she was certain that rather than masturbating, Lorna was killing herself. It struck fear into Helen's heart.

"It's you, darling! Oh god, please be alive when I see you again!"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do!" Helen was getting hysterical. She fought it. "Lorna, can I speak to Becky, please?"

"I'm so tired..."

"Then hang up; I'll dial again!"

Mercifully, Lorna hung up. Helen dialed frantically, and got through on the third try. Becky picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Helen. Please check on Lorna for me, darling; I think she's up to something no good."

"Helen... it's okay."

"I think she's committing suicide."

There was a gasp, and the receiver fell with a clatter. Helen waited for two long minutes, and Becky came on, her voice broken with sobs.

"Oh god, Helen, I was just in time! I'll call you okay?"

Helen lay prostrate. The children were finally asleep. Two thousand miles away, presumably Lorna was on the brink of death. If she died, it was Helen who had killed her. Had she planned it for a long time, or was it an impulsive thing? What could Helen have done? All Helen knew was that she loved Lorna very much, and had always known it. Only her regard for Becky had prevented her from following through on it. She had to tell Rain. It was two o'clock in the morning.

With great grief and equally great guilt battling fear of Lord Woodford's anger, Helen dialed the number for the castle.

Rain answered, and seconds later, her father, obviously woken from deep sleep.

"I'm sorry, this is for Rain! I'm so sorry!"

"Helen? Is that you? Are you all right? Good heavens, it's 2:15!"

"Could I just talk to Rain for a bit please, sir? I... I just need to talk for a bit... I'm sorry to wake you!"

"I'm here, Dad, you go to sleep." George mumbled something, and Helen heard the phone click off, cutting off what Polly said to George. "Helen?"

"Rain, the most awful thing just happened," Helen began, and stumbling over the words, told her.

"Oh my god... while she spoke to you?"

"Yes. Oh god, I'm the most horrible person alive... if I had only loved her back! Rain... I love her so much!"

Helen realized too late that her words might hurt Rain. But Rain spoke gently and calmly, stroking Helen, and Helen gradually regained some of her composure. She had a room to herself, luckily, and all this wasn't disturbing the kids.

Helen felt a deep gratitude to Rain.

"You must hate me talking about other girls," Helen said finally. "Believe me; I'm not trying to hurt you intentionally, darling. That's the way Lorna is, and that's the way I feel about her."

"I know."

Helen groaned. "I don't know what love means, anymore! It means death!"

"Are you worried that I'm upset because you love Lorna?"

"Yes, darling... how can you be so calm?"

"Do you love Gena?"

"Of course!"

"And Alison?"

"Yes, yes."

"See? A mother is not a stranger to the idea that... one has more than one love in one's heart, Helen."

"Oh god... it's the same old trap. One is fed this shit all one's life, and there's so much guilt in my heart because I fall in love all the time... But I've always loved Lorna, and I'll love her until I die. And even after I die, my soul will love her soul! Oh god, let her live, so that I can tell her how I feel!"

There was a long silence, while Helen wept, and Rain absorbed Helen's words.

At length, Rain called her name, and Helen answered.

"Do you really love Lorna more than you love me?"

Helen sighed. "We met when she was just a teenager, darling; I've known her for longer. It's... very physical." Helen clenched her teeth in frustration. "If you were a dancer you'd understand! Dancers are like that; their minds are in love with one person, and their bodies with another. It's as if the body has a soul, and the mind has a soul, and they both live on. And my body's soul loves Lorna, and my mind's soul loves you..."

The cell phone rang, and Helen hurriedly excused herself.

"Hello?"

"Helen? It's Martha."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, we think so."

"What did she _do?"_

"She had sliced her wrist. Did she give any hint of it while you were..."

" _No!!!_ She just sounded very weak and spacey, and I just guessed!"

"Thank god!"

"She said, tell Becky I love her, and I knew that was suspicious! Oh god, Martha; you know she's in love with me."

"Well, I guess it was supposed to be a secret, but we've all known for a few weeks. I don't know what to say, Helen. I know you don't encourage it."

" _Encourage it?"_

Helen was aghast. They were treating Lorna as though she was some teenager, or some dog. Did none of them understand how delicate the feelings of a dancer were? Did they think she was just a _stripper?_

"I wish I were there to take care of her!" Helen exclaimed.

"Helen, don't worry about her; we'll look after her well, okay? I know I've neglected her, but..."

"Martha, you've got to get over thinking that love is some kind of disease! Lorna and I fell in love two years ago, but we've tried to keep it down to a dull roar because we both love Becky." Martha gasped, but Helen continued. "When I get back, I want Lorna to come live with me."

"But Helen... Lorna is Becky's life!" Helen cursed silently. "Becky is by her side; she refused to leave her! I have to be grateful for all you've done for Becky... and all you've done for me, too. I'm not stupid, Helen; I know when gratitude is called for. You changed our lives. You made it possible for Becky and Lorna... to find each other. But to take Lorna away now... I love Becky too much to allow that."

Helen calmed herself before she spoke. "Tell them both, then, that if Lorna isn't happy with Becky, I'm going to take her away. Oh god, it's so frustrating to be stuck here, unable to help!!"

"I'm not going to tell them that, Helen," Martha said quietly. "But if that's the only way to keep the girl alive... I'll see to it."

"Promise me!"

Martha promised.

Becky had called Rain the previous day, and together they had established an account for Rain as an employee of Eleanor Nordstrom, Inc, from which Rain would be paid for helping Helen with her obligations in Britain. Rain had also acquired an official cellphone.

Very early in the morning, before dawn, Rain came over to the Inn, and they sat talking.

"What happened?" asked Rain.

"She slit her wrists," Helen said in a dead voice.

"Oh god."

"She's okay now."

"I'm glad."

After a long silence, Helen asked softly, "Do you think you, me, and Lorna could live together in harmony?"

"It would be a joke, Helen," Rain said, after a while.

"Any news from Philly?"

Helen shook her head, and put her arms round Rain and buried her head in Rain's shoulder. Gena was alarmed at once.

"What happened, Mom? Huh? Something's wrong!"

"Last night... " Helen straightened up and turned to the children. "... Last night..." Tears poured down Helen's cheeks, and she couldn't speak.

"Lorna had an accident," Rain said gravely.

"What _kind_ of accident?" Gena asked.

"A knife."

Somehow Gena guessed at once. She sat suddenly down on the bed and covered her mouth to keep from crying out. "Is she all right?" she burst out, her eyes pouring with tears, so much like her adopted mother. Helen and Rain both nodded, and Erin hurried to Gena's side and patted her back, repeating that Lorna was all right, until Gena stopped whimpering.

"Maybe the police got them," Erin conjectured. "You can't carry long knives; it's legal."

" _Ill_ egal."

"Yeah. What'd _I_ say?"

"No, sweetheart," Helen said shortly, "nobody was trying to kill Aunt Lorna. She just... cut herself."

"Oh." Erin subsided, beginning to suspect that she wasn't getting everything that was going on. "Is she okay, Mom?"

"Yes, darling; oh god, I'm so happy she's all right!"

Rain moved to the children and put her arms round them. Gena leaned against her, and Erin looked down into her face so trustingly that Helen felt a pang of envy. Rain was quickly becoming their mother in so many ways.

# # #

Helen decided to leave Erin and Allie with the Woodfords, and take Gena and James with Helen, back to the US. Rain was hard to read; Helen couldn't quite figure whether she was happy to stay with the children, or whether she resented letting Helen go off to Philadelphia, where she knew Lorna would be waiting. Helen was to catch the early morning plane.

Suddenly Helen's phone rang, while they were finishing dinner, and it was Martha, and she sounded very upset indeed. Helen excused herself, and walked out to the kitchen to talk freely.

"She's done it again," Martha said. "We brought her home this morning, and she found a knife in minutes."

"Oh Martha!" Helen said in a shocked voice. "Where is she now?"

"In the house; she's been sedated, and they're threatening to put her in a special wing of a psychiatric floor. They'll restrain her if they have to. She wants you here right away, or she's threatening to hurt herself."

"But I was coming anyway!"

"Yes, Helen, but she's... she's out of her mind, dear. Becky is a mess. I don't know how she's keeping sane. Sam's... I don't know; he's completely out of his depth. I don't know whom to turn to!" Sam Singer was Becky's father, and Martha's husband.

Helen hardly felt as if she was any use, since she was causing the problem in the first place. She offered to leave right away, and Martha was so desperately happy to hear it that Helen had to promise that she would. She hung up and went back to the table, feeling wiped out.

"What's up?" asked Rain, looking worried.

Helen had to explain, leaving out as much as she could. Rain guessed what had happened and kept silent. They hurriedly finished breakfast, and Helen set about arranging for an earlier flight.

Rain insisted on seeing them off at the airport. Gena was exhausted, and James was fussy the whole time. At the airport, Rain gave Helen a quick hug and stepped back. There were few passengers, and Helen was whisked on board quickly, because she was traveling with the baby.

# Lorna

When the brightening lights of the plane woke her up, it was morning by her watch, but Philadelphia time was around midnight on Sunday. They got out through customs, and found themselves all alone, looking for a taxi. Becky had dropped a stitch for the first time in years, and Helen had to fend for herself.

They had traveled light, and they were soon at the beautiful house Becky and Lorna had moved into. Gena rang the bell, and a confused-looking Mr. Singer let them in. Lorna's mother was asleep on the recliner, and Martha came downstairs to take Helen to Lorna's side. Becky sat watching the sleeping girl. Lorna's hands were completely bandaged up to her elbows, and there was a drip feeding fluids into her. Becky stared at Helen with dead eyes. She had never before greeted Helen with less than a joyful smile. She stood respectfully to speak to Helen, ever the employee.

Helen put her arm around her and held her close. Becky only murmured Helen's name. Gena went to Lorna and sat on her bed, staring at her face.

"You deserve better!" Helen whispered to Becky, and Becky leaned on Helen's shoulder and wept silently. Thank god, Helen said to herself, at least she doesn't see me as an enemy. But if Lorna continued to be persistent, Helen's life would change. What would she do? How could she keep Becky on as an employee, while Becky's partner was with Helen?

Lorna looked wan. How beautiful she was, even deathly pale! Her very familiarity had prevented Helen from seeing her as she really was, an incredibly beautiful woman. She had been a mere kid when she had fallen in love with Helen. Now at 20, she was just coming into the height of her beauty. Her face was sheer perfection, her nose so straight, so well formed, her eyebrows arched just so, her lashes naturally long, her forehead, her hair, her lips, her chin, her swan-like neck. If only she would open her eyes, those lovely grey eyes that seemed so full of joy, so gentle, so loving!

A while later, she did open them, and looked at Gena, and a slight smile curved her lips. She raised her hands with a twisted smile, making a joke of her situation. "Where's your Mom?" she asked softly.

Becky pulled away from Helen, and moved to the door. Catching the movement, Lorna turned to look at her, and called out her name.

" _Becky!_... Shit," she swore as she heard Becky run off, and stared at Gena. "I've made her hate me," she said, and a tear leaked out of her eye.

"Don't get upset!" Gena murmured, and Lorna gave her a look.

"Do you know what I did?" Gena nodded, ready to cry. "I'm gone way beyond that, girl. I'm not upset anymore." She had seen Helen, but she spoke to Gena. "I've made my mistakes, and I'm ready to pay the price."

"Gena, darling," Helen said quietly, "please take James and put him to bed. Aunty Martha will tell you where."

"Let me talk to her!" Lorna cried in frustration. "Why does everybody treat me like a crazy? I haven't harmed anyone! I'm only trying to kill myself, not anyone else!"

Helen glanced around the room, and everyone else melted away, leaving them alone.

They gazed at each other, their emotions ranging from anger to hopelessness on Helen's part, and defiance to pleading on Lorna's. Lorna gradually slumped, broken.

"They're drugging me," she said, finally. "I don't feel anything. Not really. Nothing. No anger. No... despair." She raised her eyes to Helen. "It's better to be dead! I was almost dead, and then... they pulled me back. Why did you do it, Helen?"

"Why?" Lorna nodded. Oh god, thought Helen, I even love the way she nods. She's incapable of an ugly motion. Helen sat down on the edge of Lorna's bed, and put her hand on her thigh. She dared not touch her hands for fear of hurting her. "Because I'm selfish, I guess."

Lorna stared at her not understanding, frowning in concentration. "Why selfish?"

"Because you're so beautiful, and I want you alive!"

"Do you really want me?"

"Alive? Yes!"

"I mean: to _have_ , Helen,... to have around, to look at every day, to be yours."

It didn't seem the proper time to bring up objections.

"You're not a doll, darling; you're a living breathing human being. People aren't meant to be kept around, to look at. People are meant to live, work, love, be happy!"

"I love you, Helen. If I can't be near you, I'd rather die. I thought I could manage, but... I was wrong. Do you want me... at all?" Her eyes looked at Helen hopefully. She was too drugged to consider the complexity of the issues. It seemed almost as if she was asking if she could be a boarder. "I could help with the kids!"

Helen felt sick. It was all so unfair.

"Why don't you sleep a bit, and we'll talk it over in the morning? I haven't had a good night's sleep, and with the jet-lag,..."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Listen, why don't you sleep over there?" She indicated a sofa. Helen was so tired, she agreed. They were asleep in seconds.

Helen awoke to the sound of being called insistently.

"Helen! Helen, wake up!"

"Oh, said Helen, rubbing her eyes," I forgot where I was!"

Lorna chuckled. "Listen! I don't want to kill myself anymore! It's a miracle!"

Unaware of the cruelty of her joke, Lorna grinned at Helen. The drug kept her sedated enough to make it hard for her to get to her feet. But she knew that the sedation was in the drip, and she wanted Helen's help to get it stopped.

"Would you like to come to Westfield with me, sweetheart? With us?"

"Yes!" She stopped grinning and sobered down. "I'll be good," she said solemnly.

"You know I can't put all the knives away at home. You could kill yourself any time." Lorna looked at her, a little slyness creeping into her expression. So that was still an idea in her head. Killing herself had become an end in itself, and she had forgotten the reasons for it. Or rather, she remembered the reasons, but she didn't _feel_ them anymore.

"No, I promise I won't!"

"You have a couple of days to make me believe you," Helen said. "I'll be in town working with the choir and the orchestra."

"Did you know I was doing the publicity for it?"

"You were in hospital, Lorna. You couldn't have."

Lorna was indignant. She insisted that she had been the one who had done the publicity. _Ask anyone_ , she challenged, clearly annoyed. Helen kissed her, and went out to get ready for the new day.

It was confusing. She couldn't believe that arguing with Lorna was so much fun. There was a unique pleasure to their interaction that made Helen hope desperately that things would work out, and that she would be able to take Lorna to Westfield with her. Perhaps she could teach ballet out there. But what about Becky?

The Singers had hired a psychologist, and he was coming that morning for a session with Lorna. Gena, Helen and James got ready to do their errands. But before they had a chance to escape, they were drawn into a family conference.

In a circle, looking sad and tired were Julia, Lorna's mother; Sam, Lorna's oldest brother; and Becky, her face tear-stained and hopeless.

"Gena, dear," said Martha who was conducting Helen to the meeting, "perhaps you should take James and wait in the TV room." Helen nodded mute agreement.

Once Helen had seated herself, they waited for someone to open the discussion. Helen was determined to accept all blame, and to be the last to speak. But, in spite of Martha's gentle encouragement, no one seemed willing to say anything.

Finally Julia spoke, remarkably calmly, for a woman whose most favorite child had attempted suicide twice within three days. "I just want her to live! She's my baby, my little one, and if she dies..." she shook her head, and her son nodded slowly, eyes cast down, too full of misery to speak at all. "I'm so grateful for all Miss Becky has done for her," she said, "if there's any way to beat some reason into her, we should _do_ it," her voice faltered. She raised her eyes to Helen. "She's always loved you, Miss Helen. But then, _everyone_ loves you; nobody kills themselves over you, you see?" Helen covered her cheeks and nodded. "I don't understand it. Because she's so pretty, sometimes she gets strange ideas."

"She's not just pretty, Mrs Shapiro," Helen said quietly, looking round at the small group. "She's a great artist. She has a greater destiny than any of you can imagine." Her passion had grabbed them, and they were watching her in stunned surprise.

"The usual rules people make for themselves are good rules—for most people. But sometimes... the passion of an artist is so great that—those rules are too binding. Then we have to decide whether to give the artist some extra freedom, or insist that she obeys the rules. She may fly, or she may kill herself, trying to escape.

"You have to take it on faith that she is a great artist. Take my word for it. I don't want her for myself. For a few years she may be happy with me, and then she will move on. I know, because I have lived it. I am ashamed to count how many lovers I have... outgrown." Julia Shapiro looked at Helen aghast. "I'm no great prize, Ma'am."

Becky stood up clumsily and walked quickly away, her face inscrutable. She had a rather limited range of expression: she could be cheerful and happy, or concerned. But she was not accustomed to expressing personal grief. Helen subsided, fearing she had done more harm than good.

"Someone should go to her!" Helen cried. "Where's Gena?"

"With Lorna," Martha said quietly. "Helen, you should talk to Becky. Don't you see?"

" _Me?_ Martha... she sees me as..."

"It doesn't matter! You two must be honest about it, no one can broker this. I agree; it's..." she took a deep breath, "... life or death. Lorna is determined." They all knew what she was determined about.

Wordlessly, Helen stood, and leaving James with Martha, headed into the side of the house that Becky had gone into.

Becky was in her bedroom, seated awkwardly on the bed, staring at the door. She was shocked when Helen came in. She looked at Helen with enormous, confused eyes, not sure whether to lash out at Helen in anger, or throw herself on Helen seeking comfort. In two brief years, she had come to think of Helen as the bringer of sanity and reason. But of late, Helen had stood for loss and betrayal.

Helen made a helpless gesture and stood, ready to retreat. Suddenly Helen realized that her continued claim of not loving Lorna was a slap in Becky's face: it was as if Becky couldn't even keep a woman whom Helen was rejecting.

"I love her like crazy!" she said, not certain if it was a lie. "Let me have her!"

Suddenly there was a scream, and footsteps clattering down the stairs. "Mom! Mom! Come quick!" cried Gena on the other side of the house, and there was confusion.

"Oh god!" cried Becky, and led the way up the back stairs. Helen ran behind, for once slipping and stumbling and swearing to herself.

When they got into the room Lorna had been placed in, they saw an amazing sight. Lorna was chewing at her wrists with her teeth. The bandages were on the bedcovers, ripped off by her teeth, and her face was smeared with blood. She stopped and grinned when she saw them. She turned to Becky, and her face sobered. Helen looked to see what had affected Lorna. Becky's face was frightful, filled with revulsion and anger. Helen made to touch her, and she shrank back.

Just then a middle-aged gentleman with a grave face came up the steps, with Gena following behind. He slowly made his way through the agitated crowd and took a look at the scene, while Julia stared at him, unable to take it all in.

"Oh my," he said, impressed.

Helen followed Becky, uncertain where she was going. Suddenly Becky turned to Helen. "Give me a few minutes, please," she begged.

"What for?" asked Helen. "I don't want to be your enemy, Becky! We need each other far more than these others need us, or we need them!"

Becky's eyes narrowed. "Relax, Helen," she said. "You don't have to worry."

"She's only a woman, Becky. I know she's your eternal love... but she's spoiled for you. Who knows what she wants? Let me love her, until she tires of me. She'll never belong to anyone for very long. But don't hate me, and not just for the sake of the business. We've invested too much in each other to throw away for Lorna! Oh god, what can I tell you? I love you too, Becky, I love you so very much! I only want to keep Lorna alive to save _our_ love, yours and mine! If she dies, I know you will hate me."

They stood for a long time, while Becky worked out the twisted logic of what Helen had told her. She knew she had lost, and she was assessing just how much. In her heart she had assumed that she had also lost Helen. But she hadn't.

She cursed herself for being so dense about emotional things. The last few weeks she had been forced to grow emotionally. She had now begun to realize that all three of them had been attracted to each other all along. Helen had turned her on to her feelings, and then her passion for Lorna had dominated everything else. But Lorna had gradually worn her down, and there was very little love left in Becky for her.

Becky looked into Helen's eyes, wondering if Helen meant what she had said. Becky's pride was thoroughly hurt, both her personal pride and her professional pride. Now Helen was offering ways of saving her pride. Whatever her motives, selfish or unselfish, they implied that Helen valued Becky very much, for stated or unstated reasons.

"No matter what happens," Becky said, I will leave your affairs in good order. You don't need to be nice to me, Helen. I'm not a vindictive person."

"Are you going to leave me?" It was asked in a sad, hopeless voice that Helen could not have put on cynically.

"I haven't made up my mind."

"You know I'll be generous with you."

Becky smiled a crooked smile. Of course she would be generous. She had to maintain the legend. But it was Becky who had made Helen's legendary generosity a reality.

"You don't owe me anything, Helen. I can write my own paycheck wherever I go."

"I... I'd like to give you... a pension. Your present salary for life. For my life." Helen looked at her defiantly. "I'll manage the company myself."

Becky smiled. It was too silly for words. "Let me have a little peace, Helen. My head's aching." When she walked away, Helen left her alone.

Helen wandered around the house until she found Gena and James in a bedroom. Gena looked upset and stunned, James was watching TV, waving his arms at the screen.

"What are they doing now?" asked Helen.

Gena shrugged. "Last I looked, the man was talking to her," she said. "He was going to put her in a straightjacket. That's a..."

"I know," said Helen, rolling her eyes. Was there no end to the humiliation they would pour on Lorna? But then, Lorna was bringing most of it on herself. It was so frustrating, because Helen felt as if she was the only one with any insight into Lorna's problem, and nobody was listening to her.

"Why is she doing it, Mom?" asked Gena, making sure James was safely buckled into his seat.

"She thinks she's in love with me, and she want to come live with us."

Gena looked at Helen thoughtfully. She sighed. "It's just a delusion, right, Mom?"

Helen looked at Gena with new interest. "Delusion is when you imagine things that aren't true. If she imagines that she's in love with me, is that delusion or is it real?"

"But she imagines that you're in love with _her!"_

Helen shook her head. "She knows I'm not. But I could easily fall in love with her."

Gena looked at her mother with just a bit of sarcasm in her smile. "Oh yeah; I bet you could. Tell the truth, now; didn't you have a major crush on her when we lived here?"

Helen nodded.

"Maybe that's why Amah went away, huh?"

"Yeah," admitted Helen. Gena was too intelligent not to see the obvious now, though she had been too innocent then.

"I can't blame Lorna for any of this," Gena decided, presently. "You two had a thing since before we left Philly. It's just coming out into the open."

"Yes."

"And Aunt Becky gets played for a fool."

"It's taken all this while because I didn't want to hurt Becky," Helen said. "But now... Becky's been hurt very deeply."

"But Mom, this kind of thing happens, doesn't it? Like, married people fall in love with each other, and you just grit your teeth and endure it. But Lorna wasn't going to play that game." Helen nodded, smiling, her eyes full of tears. "Why?"

"Why don't you ask her? You have it figured out, darling; I have my suspicions, but you could ask her, and then you'd know a lot about love, and being civilized. Who knows, you may need to know the answer someday?"

Gena looked at Helen thoughtfully, her mind working overtime. Helen had paid her a great compliment, but she wasn't too impressed with that. But the problem of communication was an interesting one. How would Lorna explain her point of view to Gena? How could Gena convince her to be frank?

"She's drugged, Mom. That's the problem: you're all trying to get her to make sense while she's drugged." Gena shuddered. "I just told her that things would be fine, and then she asked where we were going, and I said to the office. Then she went crazy and started ripping off the bandages!" Helen nodded, making sympathetic noises. "It didn't make sense, until I figured, she got mad because we were leaving her and going about our business. She wanted, like, total attention! See?" Helen nodded. "I think that's the drugs. If we wait a couple of days, she'll be more reasonable. At least we can talk to her." She looked at Helen hopefully.

Helen shrugged. "I can only watch. I'm not her sister, I'm not her partner, I'm the troublemaker. I'm the evil woman."

"Oh, Mom," said Gena, not unkindly, "come off it! Sometimes you're so full of yourself, you know?"

Helen looked at Gena in shock. Gena only looked back at her.

"Where do you learn to say things like that?"

Gena blushed. "Are you mad?"

Helen said "Not this time. But don't take liberties, young lady!"

"Mom!" exclaimed Gena indignantly, her outburst softened by a smile, "are you telling me not to criticize you no matter what you do??"

"No, of course not!"

"Well, then!"

Helen hung her head. Gena had been kind.

Mercifully, Helen was summoned to talk to the psychiatrist. She hurried to the corner of the dining room that he had taken for an impromptu office. He stood to shake her hand, and revealed that he was aware of who she was, and what her role was in the present circumstance.

"I know some psychiatrists aren't as conscientious as they should be about confidentiality," Helen said.

"You can trust me," he said. I have no trouble confessing that I'm only a mediocre psychologist; that's why people hire me! But I'm a confidentiality freak, and a good listener, and I know good psychiatrists. You can trust me. Miss Singer did her research very well."

Helen excused herself, and went to talk to Becky, who was talking to a tearful Julia, and welcomed Helen with relative relief.

"How much can I tell this guy?" she asked softly.

"He's a clam," replied Becky. Letting her breath out in a gust, she continued. "I asked about him from—some friends of mine. He's rated no. 1 for being trustworthy. Tell him whatever you want."

Helen told him everything, without going into details. How intimate she had been with Lorna, and her estimate of the problem.

"We have to do a deal with her," she said. "And for that we have to take her off the drugs."

He nodded. He'd come to the same conclusion, and he said the straightjacket was part of the process. "While she's drying out, she's a danger to herself." Helen nodded. "Now, you're the last person I've talked to. Let's go see what she says."

Lorna was sullen and angry and humiliated. The straightjacket was uncomfortable and Lorna hated every second of it.

"Do you really want to die?" The psychologist asked, foolishly.

"No, I want to kill you first," said Lorna, her eyes flashing hate at him. Helen began to laugh, and Lorna kicked her hard. Helen remonstrated with her, still giggling, as Lorna continued to kick her.

"Wait, wait," gasped Helen. Some of the kicks had connected painfully. Lorna's eyes were filled with tears, and Helen felt sorry for her misguided levity. "Don't patronize her, Walter," she begged the psychiatrist, who had said he preferred to be called by his name.

Lorna looked at him and something like sympathy softened her gaze.

"You hate this room, and as long as you're in here you're gonna feel picked on."

"Well, yeah," agreed Lorna. "But I can't go anywhere like this, so why bring it up?"

"I could smuggle you out somewhere where we could talk!"

"Yeah? Where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care; we'll wrap you up so no one knows you're in a jacket."

"Okay."

"Where?"

"Uh,..." she turned to Helen. "Your house."

"On Semple?" Lorna nodded.

"It's cold, and..."

"I don't care! I want to get out of this _fucking prison!"_

Helen found a cape for Lorna, and the three of them got in Becky's BMW, and drove out to the Helen rented for when she visited Philadelphia. Walter studied the place with interest. "My information was that you're one of the most wealthy women in the world!"

Lorna glared at him. "She only has this place for when she comes here. She lives in Westfield, and she has a nice house there!"

Walter made a sign for peace, and made Lorna comfortable on the sofa.

"Let me tell you what I want. I want you happy. Let me tell you what everybody else seems to want. They want you alive. So we need to make a deal with you, so you're alive, and you're happy."

"They _know_ what I want. But it can never happen."

"What did you tell them that you wanted?"

"To be with Helen."

"Did they refuse?"

"Let me out of this thing," she muttered, struggling to get free. It was just a token struggle; there was no way she could free herself.

Helen went to her and held her tight, until the struggles were over. "I think you're going to get what you want." Lorna went limp.

"I've thought that before," she said, "and you never wanted me. This is just a trick to get me to stop trying to kill myself."

"Yes. Except, you're coming to live with me."

Lorna struggled, this time to get out of Helen's arms, to look at her face. Helen released her. "I don't believe you," she said, in a low voice.

Lorna stared at each of them, trying to get a grip on the situation. But she couldn't. Her suspicion went too deep.

"It's the drugs," Helen said, and Walter nodded. "You don't know what to believe, I know."

"Then stop them! How are you drugging me? Was it the soda? _How??"_

"The IV, Lorna. That's how it's always done!"

"But I'm not _on_ the IV now," she protested to Helen, as if explaining things to an idiot.

"It takes a while to get cleaned out," Helen said. "And exercise helps. And fluids do, too..."

Lorna groaned, as the realization dawned on her. There had been no conspiracy; they'd been absolutely forthright about the sedation. Walter explained that some patients felt paranoid, but they had no idea that Lorna had felt so intensely victimized.

"What do we do now? Will you let me out of this thing? Please? I promise to be good! I'll swear on anything. Oh god, you have to believe me! Helen! Dr. Walter! You can't imagine what it's like!"

"Yes, I can. I've spent hours in one of those things." He looked at Lorna seriously. "We don't trust you, Lorna; just this morning you showed what you would do. It was the act of a child. You scared poor Gena half to death."

Lorna grinned, and then quickly put on a repentant expression. "I... it was the drugs!"

Helen shook her head. That last antic of Lorna's had made her very angry. Helen had felt at a loss to deal with this childish Lorna. "What if you decide to play a prank on an impulse?"

"This is hell!" Lorna said, pleadingly. "I can't deal with it. Please, I beg you."

Finally, Walter consented to give Lorna a simple sleeping draught that would put her to sleep until the other drug wore out. "We should have given you this one in the first place," he sighed.

"And then... I go off to Westfield with Helen?"

"Then we negotiate; we see whether you'll stop trying to kill yourself."

"My god, I will! How can I convince you?"

"Will you drink this? We'll get you home."

"I need to use the bathroom!"

It was like dealing with a hyperactive child. Finally Helen got Lorna to take the pill, and get in the car. She was asleep before they got home.

Gena was frantic when Helen got home, because Helen had left without telling her.

"I could have come!"

"It wasn't a joyride, Gena, it was serious business."

" _Mom!!"_ Gena looked at Helen wild eyed. Helen understood that she thought she could have helped, but wasn't about to say that in front of the other adults.

"James would have fussed if you weren't here, darling," Martha said sincerely. Martha had always been fond of Gena.

Becky had disappeared. She had left a note telling her mother to do whatever was necessary. Helen wanted to see her desperately, but no one was willing to give Helen any hint of where Becky was gone.

"Helen, please sit, dear, tell us what happened." Julia was eager to learn everything that had transpired. She was just becoming comfortable with talking to Helen, whom she had revered for years.

Helen explained as much as she could. "She thought we had drugged her without her knowledge. She was trying to be sly, you see, but the drug was confusing her. She's like a child, now; acting like a baby."

They talked back and forth about it, but Martha startled them with a different perspective.

"It's not just the drug." She quickly got everyone's attention. She looked embarrassed as she continued. "She's had this hidden—passion for Helen for a long time, I know. I could see it, but... as a mother, I chose to—turn a blind eye to it." Julia nodded, sympathetically.

"She's a loving, tender-hearted girl, and she took as much of it as she could stand. Half the fault was hers, of course. She didn't come out and tell Becky in so many words that she wanted... to leave her. When she finally did, Becky fought it. She fought it in lots of ways. She tried a lot of things, but they were in the end just delaying tactics, and Lorna saw through them easily. And, I think, she built up an amazing amount of resentment that she suppressed."

Helen could see that Martha had an excellent grasp of the situation from her perspective, now that they could all think clearly. Martha's description of the facts rang true.

"Consciously or not, Lorna took the chance to retaliate. She's working out all that hate in her heart." She turned red at the memory of what she spoke of next. "She was so cruel to Becky last night, I couldn't believe it. Such venom! I could have sworn that she didn't have it in her."

Julia shook her head. "She's impatient, stubborn, sometimes a little greedy, sometimes a little dishonest—yes, she's stolen things—little things, that she thought I wouldn't notice—but she has never been deliberately cruel. And last night, she was deliberately cruel." Helen heaved a sigh of gratitude that she hadn't witnessed that scene, which apparently had taken place just before she arrived. After all, it was Helen who was faced with having to live with her.

"When she realized that she was drugged, she took the chance to make life as miserable as she could for all of us, especially Becky. And Walter has seen through this, and is playing along. Or he hasn't; it doesn't matter." Martha shrugged. "This isn't the Lorna we know!"

Gena listened to the whole conversation, her eyes large with amazement. She had never realized how much insight adults had into each other's behavior.

Helen took a seat by Lorna's bed and waited. She wanted to be there when Lorna woke. But she had forgotten the jet-lag factor. She fell fast asleep next to Lorna.

"Helen... Helen, wake up. Helen... Come on..."

Helen awoke to Lorna's persistent attempts to wake her up. She sat up disoriented and a little dizzy. Lorna kept talking to her. "Put the light on, Helen,... I want to look at you!"

In the light of the bedside lamp, Helen saw a transformed Lorna. It was a different person. The drug had, indeed, made a difference. The self-possession that was Lorna's hallmark was back. Instead of the wild fury that had lit her eyes in the morning, there was a tired hope.

"Is it true? Are you going to take me?"

Helen leaned cautiously against the wall. It was late, by her local time; but Lorna needed answers. She poured herself a glass of soda, and thought carefully.

"Let's talk," she said, looking at Lorna.

"Okay", said Lorna.

"If you kill yourself when you're in my care, what'll I do?"

"Why are you standing so far from me, Helen? Don't you trust me? We're talking about love, and death..." her eyes pleaded. "Please come here, and hold my hand!"

Helen came close and held her hand under the straightjacket.

"What did you ask?"

"I... Promise me you won't kill yourself in my care!"

Lorna close her eyes. "Oh god, after so long I get what I want; why would I kill myself? Helen, if I kill myself, then just bury me. It would mean that you and I... it means that I don't deserve to live."

"Do you deserve to live now?"

Lorna searched Helen's face, and Helen didn't hide the love she felt. Hope crept into Lorna's eyes, and she whispered that, yes, she deserved to live. "Ask me anything!" she said, and Helen could almost feel her heart beating like crazy.

Helen studied Lorna, trying to get a feel for this woman, whom she had known as a young girl. There was some of that youthful passion still in her—a lot of it. But there was a certain look in her eyes, a wisdom, an awareness of what she wanted from Helen. A need for a passion like her own.

"Then... Lorna, you know already, I'm not alone."

She looked straight into Helen's eyes, not defiantly, but trying to be honest. "I know," she said. "I'm not a hog. I'm not an asshole. I'm not a home-breaker. I'm not trying to take you away from..." she took a deep breath, "Sophie, and..."

"Rain. Evelyn Woodford."

"Yeah."

"Do you hate her so much, that you can't say her name?"

"I don't hate her, I'm just a little jealous," Lorna said very softly. "I'm not going to hurt her, Helen, if she means so much to you."

"How do you figure it's going to work out with the four of us? What kind of a dance will it be?"

Lorna searched Helen's face. The intensity was almost frightening. "I don't know, Helen... what do you do now? How do you keep them satisfied?"

Helen blushed. "It's not like that..."

Lorna took a deep breath. "Helen, look at me. I'm in love with you. I haven't dreamed of anyone else for a year. I haven't had sex with anyone else for months." Helen realized with a start that she had known this, but the meaning of it hit her only then. "Even to touch you, to kiss you... I try to think that that's enough, but it won't be. I'd get sex with anyone I can, but... it doesn't _mean_ anything with anyone else! Oh god, you have to understand!"

Helen did. Like Helen, Lorna was an intensely sexual woman, and she probably needed a lot of physical sex. Living without sex for a month must have been agony. She was warning Helen that she wanted to share her bed, or she would have to find sex somewhere else.

"I don't know the answers... maybe I could have a room somewhere... in the attic, or the basement; and you could come by every night... give me a few minutes?" Her face was red, and she looked mortified to be so explicit about the arrangements, but Helen was pressing her. "It will still be better than... this hell."

"That's the next thing... what will you do about Becky?"

Lorna looked away. "I need some time, Helen. A few weeks. I can't look at her now; I hurt her, I really... humiliated her. I think... maybe in a few months... maybe a month; I could apologize to her." She turned to Helen, her face expressionless. "I will make peace with her someday. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"More or less." Helen looked at Lorna bemused. It was an act of incredible arrogance on Helen's part to undertake Lorna's rehabilitation. But Helen believed in Lorna. Someone had to try to put her together again. Otherwise the world would lose an incredible dancer, and a wonderful, passionate human being. And Helen thought Lorna would be a remarkable woman someday. It was a colossal gamble.

"What about work? What about your dancing?"

Lorna's eyes shone. "Did you know I played the lead in Nutcracker?"

"No, I didn't! Wonderful!"

"And I'm scheduled to dance Swan Lake! Can you believe it?!"

"How will you do it from Westfield?"

"I'll do it from here! I'll get my brother to live in your house with me, and as soon as it's over, I'll come to Westfield!"

"But you have to stay with the company!"

"No, I don't. I'll freelance. I'll audition for Pittsburgh. I'll drive down every day." Her eyes burned, and Helen caught a little of her passion. She was going to escape, and Helen was her ticket to freedom, and her freedom.

Helen looked at her time. She was almost late for her rehearsal. Becky had left Helen on her own, uncharacteristically.

"I have to go to rehearsal," she said.

"Take me with you!" Lorna begged.

# With the Impromptu

Helen took Lorna with her. Lorna had her own car, a little Beetle that she was very proud of. Gena and James and the two of them headed out, leaving the straightjacket behind. Lorna was delirious with joy.

Helen's reunion with her choir and orchestra was also joyous, echoing Lorna's bubbling euphoria.

Helen's announcement that she wanted to perform and record the Christmas Oratorio was met with cheers. Everyone was available, since it was still the extended holiday season, and many of Helen's people were in the education business. Lalitha had joined the orchestra as lutenist, and Gena and Suresh had a wonderful reunion, though Helen thought she saw a moment of dismay when Gena realized that Suresh was married. Gena's look at Trish was fascinating. Gena smiled and played with the baby before and after rehearsal, but it was clear that though Gena had long since forgotten about Suresh romantically, she regarded Trish as an interloper.

Helen rehearsed them with a single-minded intentness, ignoring her fatigue. The rehearsals were all taped by Anselm's sister, as always.

Then Helen had a brainwave. She'd ask Natasha to sing! One of their own members had been filling in as alto soloist, and readily agreed to step aside for the legendary Natalia Zemanova.

When they finished rehearsing that night, after they said good night to everyone, including Lalitha and her little family, they looked at each other, wondering where to go.

"I can't go back there," Lorna said, eyes downcast. She kissed James and fussed with him. "Let's go to your house, and camp out!"

"My stuff is all at your house, Lorna. Just wait in the car, I'll go pick everything up."

"No! Go tomorrow." She absolutely refused to go anywhere near the lovely house Becky had bought them in the fashionable suburbs.

"Let's go to Kmart," she said, "and buy what we need. Just... a nightshirt for each of us..."

"Isn't there some stuff in the house, Mom?"

"Let's go look," Helen said, resignedly.

Once the heat was turned on, it was quite cozy. They still needed to get some supplies at the store, but it was fun. Lorna was determined to be responsible, and she bought the very cheapest things, quite a contrast to her usual insistence on value. In the store, to Helen's surprise, several people recognized Lorna and asked for her autograph. Lorna had bandaged her wrists carefully, and explained that she had fallen. So Lorna was now a celebrity in her hometown.

Helen found that she was as impatient as Lorna for the children to be settled in to sleep. Helen had called and told Martha that they were fine, and to inform anyone who asked that Helen had taken charge of Lorna. Rain had called while Helen was asleep, and had been given an update of what was happening at that time. Now it was up to Helen to tell her the difficult details of the rest of the story.

"Just tonight, perhaps you want to sleep by yourself, Lorna," Helen began, gravely, "after all that you've gone through?"

Lorna gently took off Helen's jacket. Refusing to be drawn into Helen's gentle banter, she proceeded to completely undress Helen, right in the doorway of the bedroom. When Helen was completely naked, she knelt in front of her and rubbed her face against Helen's thighs. Helen gripped the doorway with both hands and braced herself. Lorna held Helen's eye as she boldly spread Helen's labia with her tongue. Her hands grasped Helen's buttocks, and she began to probe Helen's sex more and more deeply with each thrust of her soft tongue.

Perhaps because it was Lorna, or perhaps it was because Helen was in a heightened state of arousal, but Helen was going crazy with Lorna's tonguing. Helen's hips and Lorna's head began to move against each other in a wild dance of desire.

Lorna had been almost prostrate with desire as she waited for Helen. She knew Helen rarely wanted for sex partners, and she assumed that Helen and Rain were sleeping together regularly. Helen's body drove Lorna crazy. Her walk had such strength, there was such power in Helen's legs and her buttocks that it left Lorna weak with desire. She had dreamed for months of feeling Helen's weight on her body, she had fantasized Helen's hands on her breasts, Helen's sex crushing her own, and Helen's lips taking possession of Lorna's own. Already, Helen's eyes had devoured her; those all-knowing eyes had made their plans for her. But Lorna wanted to do something special for Helen, and she had decided to tongue her to a climax before Helen even touched her. It was her gift of thanks to Helen for taking her in. Lorna saw Helen as a wonderful, caring girl who wouldn't undertake such a thing as taking in a woman such as Lorna without taking care of all the details. Lorna wanted nothing more than just to stay with Helen, under the same roof. Food, clothing, work—all that was secondary. Helen would feel obliged to look after Lorna like a mother looked after a child. There was such unbelievable caring in Helen's heart, and passion. Lorna only needed that passion. She felt her own passion burning out. Becky was confused by her passion. She patiently made love with her—they had a lot of sex. But Becky didn't understand passion.

Helen didn't either. But Lorna was going to make her understand. It was part of Helen's charm that she was confused by her own passion. What Lorna wanted most was to see that passion drive Helen crazy. Lorna was already crazy for Helen. She wanted to see an echo of that madness in Helen's eyes.

"Undress me," she told Helen gently. Helen fumbled with her clothing, pulling the tunic over her head, unfastening her bra, tugging at her necklace.

"Leave the jewelry," Lorna said. Helen left it alone. Helen was careful with the clothes; she knew how carefully Lorna selected them. At last she had Lorna naked, and she was looking at her body, and Lorna's pulse raced with the excitement of Helen's eyes moving over her body. Helen's eyes stopped right at Lorna's center, and Lorna ached to be touch by Helen's hand where she was impaled by Helen's eyes.

"Go on," she whispered, "touch me!"

Helen was gentle at first, but just as Lorna had dreamed, Helen's instinct took over, and they fucked until they cried. They kissed hungrily, and made love over and over again.

They were sad when it was over. It was their honeymoon, their first night together. Lorna wanted to go outside and look at the night sky, and Helen obliged her. There was still enough poetry in Helen's soul that she understood Lorna's request. Standing in the back yard, they looked at the sky, and Helen taught her what she knew. Lorna knew Orion's Belt, but that was all. It was fiercely cold, but they didn't care.

She was light as a feather, and Helen carried her inside.

"It's not just you and me," Helen told her gently. "Make room in your heart for Sophie and Rain, and Nadia." Lorna nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "That's the way it has to be," Helen said firmly. Lorna nodded.

"But tonight, you're mine," she said. "Just let me enjoy this one night!"

Helen slept, but Lorna lay awake, watching Helen almost until 2 in the morning.

In spite of everything that she had done to put herself in Helen's bed, Lorna felt some guilt at having abandoned Becky. At two in the morning she could only remember the happy times, when she had been in love with Becky. That love had turned to hate, and then to guilt.

Softly she stroked Helen's back, warm, muscular, graceful. Was it fated for them to end the same way? Would she curse Helen after a mere two years, and beg to be set free?

What had been in Helen's mind when she had finally decided to accede to Lorna's pleas? Helen had always supported her. Helen was a loyal fan. Under the sexual attraction there was this amazing kinship that they felt. They were so utterly different in their personalities—or were they the same?

It felt so good to feel warm flesh under her hands! Lorna pulled herself over Helen's sleeping body and luxuriated in the feel of Helen's skin against hers. It was like flying... Like floating through the air, without a care in the world. It was like dancing in the clouds. And then she fell asleep, just as Helen began to wake up.

Helen struggled to turn herself round, so that she faced up, settling the sleepy girl on her breast. It was almost exactly three years since she had met the young dance student, and with envy watched her courted and won by Becky. Helen knew that it was an impossible task to give Lorna the love she craved, and Sophie, Rain and the children the love they deserved.

She sighed. They were in for years of suffering. If she asked, all of them would be patient. But these would not be happy years, no matter how hard all of them tried. She felt Lorna's stomach growl. And her own answered. Gena must be hungry; they'd only had snacks last night. Only James was fine; his little kit contained all he needed.

Right on cue, she heard James waking up. It was still just four in the morning, but James hadn't quite adjusted to the new time. Gena was up in a flash, murmuring to him. Helen smiled. She'd clean him up, and try to get him his milk. Helen still nursed him in the mornings when she could; she wasn't particularly anxious to wean him.

Normally Gena would stay out of the room, knowing what her mother was up to. But Lorna was different; she'd known Lorna when she was younger, and Helen had let her in even when she was lying naked with Lalitha. Lorna had often bathed the children by getting in the shower with them, so Gena probably felt comfortable about seeing Lorna's body.

There was a soft tap on the door, and Helen pulled the sheet over Lorna's shoulders and called out a soft 'come in.' Gena came in with James, with her graceful new 'adult' walk, copied from Elly, or Evie, or whomever.

Her eyes went immediately to the blanket-covered mass on Helen's stomach, and she smiled at Helen tenderly.

"Still asleep?"

"Yeah... she only just dropped off, I think."

"Aww, Mom... I'm kinda glad, in a way!" Helen nodded, hoping she wouldn't elaborate. James crawled over to her and tried to find a nipple, shoving Lorna off, and scowling when Gena giggled. Soon he was clamped firmly to Helen's breast, his eye fixed suspiciously on Lorna.

Gena gently stroked Lorna's back, glancing at her mother anxiously to see if she minded. Helen only smiled. If all you needed to succeed in life was a tender heart, Gena would be a wonderful success. Helen slipped an arm round Gena, enclosing all three of them.

When James was done with the one breast, Helen felt the other one itch, and moving Lorna off her gently, put James to the other nipple.

"There's lots of stuff here that isn't ours," Gena said softly, "did you know?"

"Yeah? Hmm."

"It's still dark outside! What time is it... four!"

"It's jet-lag."

"I've been up for hours. I'm going to fix myself a bagel, and then explore a little."

"What about James?"

"I'll check back in a bit." Quickly bending to kiss Lorna on the cheek, Gena slipped away.

James worked away at 'his' nipple, and then decided to climb onto his mother's face. His knees firmly planted on Helen's breast, he leaned over and drooled on her face, crooning his love softly. "Yes," she said, moving him to a more comfortable position, "I love you too, little guy."

When Gena came back, all three of them were asleep. Gena quietly slipped in next to Lorna and lay down, wondering if it was a bad thing to do.

"Hi!" Lorna woke up around six to find herself surrounded by Helen's little family. Gena lay next to her, wide awake and grinning, one of James's fat little legs was on her shoulder, and Helen lay partly under her, also asleep.

"Good morning!" she said softly, in answer to Gena's greeting.

"How're you feeling?"

"Wonderful!" The cuts were oozing, her arm ached and her wrists itched. She had attempted suicide twice. She felt sick, and Gena looked anxious. "I'm okay," she whispered, somehow keeping it down. Gena gently stroked Lorna's forearm.

"Why did you do it?"

"Why?" Lorna studied Gena's face. It had been a long time since Gena had been a little kid she babysat. She was almost a woman, now, fifteen, but wise beyond her years. Gena was one of her greatest allies, she knew. "Because I hated myself. That's the usual reason, kid."

"Why did you hate yourself, then?"

Lorna sighed. She had to answer. "Because I had made a mistake with Becky... and ruined her life..."

"And you wanted Mom real bad?" suggested Gena in an almost inaudible voice. Lorna learned both how deep Gena's understanding was, and how much she cared for Lorna. It was a shock.

"... Yes."

It was a moment of great tenderness. Lorna searched Gena's face, and marveled at the love there.

"Thank you for caring," she said. "I really appreciate it."

Gena softly kissed her, her eyes glowing. "Let's go fix breakfast!" she whispered, and Lorna felt something stir in her breast. Perhaps she had misunderstood her dissatisfaction, after all. "I'll go get you a T shirt!"

Helen woke with a start. The house was gently humming to the music of a small stereo far away, and she could hear some vague thumping. Listening carefully, she could hear heavy breathing. She closed her eyes. Gena and Lorna.

_It's all right_ , she repeated to herself. Gena is old enough. It was bound to happen. Yet she felt a sense of loss as she tried to calmly dress herself.

She tried to be noisy, hoping that it would alert them to the fact that she was awake. The quiet thumping continued, unabated. "Let's go find Gena!" she told James, who grinned at her and made one of his remarks that were becoming tantalizingly almost intelligible. He now had four teeth that he delighted in exercising and displaying.

They were dancing. Lorna was in the lead, and Gena followed, mimicking her every step, their T shirts swirling about their legs.

"You're up!" Gena cried, spotting Helen, and ran up the stairs to meet them and grab James.

"Breakfast is—oops! Gena!!"

"Yikes, we forgot!"

They sat and ate some extra-crispy sausages and some wonderful pancakes. It was getting to be a wet, disgusting day outside, but inside it was heaven.

# # #

Gena and Lorna decided to clean the house. It only needed a little dusting, but they turned the heat up, opened a couple of strategic windows, and got busy. Helen found a quiet nook, and started calling.

Martha was the easiest. Then she called Robin, and was told that there were a half-dozen inquiries waiting for her approval, and some general questions about her interest in making guest conducting appearances. She almost yelled yes, yes, yes! She spent some time updating her pocket assistant. Robin was aghast that she hadn't checked in with Betsy in almost a week.

Betsy was next, and then Sophie. Sophie took the news philosophically. "Look after yourself," she advised, "protect your heart. It is the most precious thing in the world to me."

"I will. How are you playing?"

"Super! I'm getting better, Cherie! Can you believe it? This Gary is incredible!"

"I know! But he won't micro-manage your game. On the court, you're still in charge."

"But yes, of course! That's the way I want it! I can lose, I can win, as I like!" Helen made appropriate noises. "Can you come to Australia?"

"I don't know..."

"Bring her with you. I would like that. Tell her that I want to show off to her!"

Helen smiled to herself. "I will! Take care, darling!"

Rain was harder. She missed James and she missed Helen, and she hated Lorna's 'fussing', as she called it. When Helen said that dancers were temperamental, she stopped complaining, but Helen got a clear impression that Rain wasn't particularly sympathetic. But she was determined to be unselfish about it. Ever since the suicide attempt, Rain seemed to have given up her fantasies of being Helen's partner in a formal sense. Helen wondered how it would work out, because she loved Rain dearly.

There were a couple of easy calls, to her family, to Jim, and to Nadia. Then she dialed Becky's number.

"Good morning, Helen."

It was Becky, sounding businesslike, but very distant indeed. Helen listened, trying to figure where she was, but she could hear nothing. Helen asked vaguely if she was all right.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Becky... I thought you and I..."

"Helen, please consider my feelings. I'm not good at this kind of stuff. Let's stick to business, please." There was a very quiet sniff. "Would you do that for me?" she asked, her voice a little softer. "That would be helpful."

"Okay. I just called because, I... I'm not sure what to do."

"You're in the house at Semple?"

"Yes. The girls are sort of cleaning it up."

"Would you like me to have your stuff dropped off? I'll send one of the Shapiro boys over with it." She stumbled over the word 'Shapiro.'

"Yes, that's good. I called Betsy and Robin already."

"Good." There was a pause. "I'm on the job, okay? Everything is under control." Her voice was a little less formal, and there was a slight tremble. Becky couldn't bring herself to be tough with Helen.

"All right, then, I guess I'll continue rehearsing, and then..."

"The publicity for that was being handled by..."

"Lorna."

"... yes. She'll know the details."

"Becky... I..."

"Please."

"I want to see you!"

"Is that an order?" Becky's voice was uncomfortably sharp.

"No, I asked as a friend."

There was a long pause. "I'm very far away, Helen."

After a few more words that went nowhere, they hung up. Helen sat thinking for a little, and then went to join the cleaning crew.

Around 10, Lorna's brother came, bringing the stuff Helen and Gena had left behind, and a couple of dozen boxes and suitcases full of Lorna's belongings.

"The house is empty, sis, if you want to go there. The boss is gone somewhere."

"Where, Joe?"

"Nobody knows. Nancy was sent home. I'm supposed to keep an eye on the place."

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" Lorna liked to act the little princess with her brother. Helen quickly stepped forward to say that it wasn't a problem.

Joe said that he had orders. "She said that I'm to find out what you want to have sent over to, er, Westfield, and send it there. You might want to keep some of this here, or whatever."

Helen stood with Gena and James, watching Lorna. It was evidently hard for Lorna to see her brief 'marriage' to Becky all put in boxes. Lorna stared from Joe to the boxes and back, completely at a loss.

"Don't be upset, sis," Joe said kindly, and Lorna broke into bitter tears. Joe put an arm round her and comforted her. In a few minutes she had quietened down enough to give basic instructions about the boxes. Joe departed, promising that he'd come help sort them when Lorna was ready.

They sat down to open the boxes. There were clothes, old clothes from before Lorna had moved in with Becky, and new clothes she had acquired recently. There were books, on ballet, on music, supermarket romances, dozens of them, cook-books, her old school books—chemistry, biology, math, social studies, and boxes full of present she had bought for Gena and Allie, and forgotten to give: dolls, books, clothes, little toys.

"Here !" she said, giving Gena one thing after another, "this was for last Christmas... this was for your birthday,... this was for when you were back out of hiding, only I forgot; I couldn't remember where I had put it! I usually never forget that kind of thing! Here, this is for Elly and Tommy! I'll give it to you, so I don't forget..."

Out of the twenty-odd boxes, six were full of presents.

Helen found herself hugging and kissing Lorna every chance she got. Lorna was hungry for affection, and Helen loved Lorna. By afternoon, Lorna was more the relaxed girl she had been three years ago, and not the tense, hunted woman she had lately become. Helen was gradually coming to believe that she had done the right thing for Lorna, if not for herself.

Lorna had to go into hospital to have her wounds seen again. They were all allowed into the surgery after Helen twisted some arms, and they saw Lorna's horrible stitches. Gena stared at them wide-eyed, but Lorna insisted that they didn't hurt. "Not at all!" she insisted.

"You're going to have scars, you know," said the surgeon.

Lorna stared at him aghast. "Are you serious?"

"Of course!"

"What about plastic surgery?"

"We've already done what we could, Lorna; but you're done a number on it. The longer it takes to heal, the more likely there will be scar tissue."

Fortunately, they would not be very ugly scars, said the surgeon. There would be four hairline scars, one of which was unsightly from close up.

Lorna kept a firm grip on her emotions as they finished up the dressing. Her eyes were full of tears, but Lorna was determined not to let the doctor see her misery. The doctor made sure that Helen and Gena, as well as Lorna, knew all the details about how to care for the wounds. The doctor gave James a lollipop, and offered Lorna one, making her smile.

Gena's presence obviously put a limit on the amount of love play Helen and Lorna could indulge in. By mutual agreement, they did not go beyond hugging and kissing at all, and their kisses were innocent ones. Gena, too, was generous with her affection for Lorna, showing her love as often as her mother did, maybe even more often.

James discovered a wonderful new friend in her. He had an eye for female beauty, even at his tender age, and he simply adored being whisked around by the lovely young dancer. And all day, Gena and Lorna danced and danced, making Helen dizzy. Helen simply could not bring herself to dance spontaneously as the other two did; for her it was no longer like singing in the shower. She would dance if and when she could lay everything else aside to do it. She remembered how she would dance even as she walked down the halls in college. She gazed at the other two with deep envy. She had lost something, and it was a bitter loss. She tried a step or two, but it was uncomfortable. She didn't even feel like skipping, though her heart was as light as a feather.

Lalitha, Trish and Suresh visited on their way back from work. It was only then that they remembered the workshop at the back. James renewed his acquaintance with Lalitha's young granddaughter.

Suresh was growing tall. Already he was about 5' 11", tall for an Indian. Trish seemed to grow more lovely every time Helen saw her, and seemed as much in love with her child-husband as ever. Helen prayed that she would keep her looks until Suresh lost interest in women someday. When that happened, Trish would be ten years older than he.

Lalitha, too, only grew more beautiful every year. She stood straight and slim, and her regal bearing made her look taller than her tiny 5'2". Time and again Helen tried to catch Lalitha's eye, but she dropped her gaze. She had an uncanny ability to make Helen forget everything but her, when she was in the room.

As they departed, Helen stared after them as if hypnotized, only snapping out of it when she felt a warm hand in hers.

"Someday!" Lorna whispered, smiling.

"Me and her? Uh-uh," she said shaking her head.

"Oh yes," Lorna said, quietly insistent. "You should see how she looks at you."

"I can never catch her eye," Helen exclaimed.

"Yeah, she looks away," Lorna nodded. "But she looks at me, and... there's a warning, you know?"

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes." Lorna looked at Helen defiantly. "I only told her I left Becky. I didn't see the harm."

"What did she say?"

Lorna shrugged. "She's sorry to hear it." Lorna drew circles on the floor with her toe. Then she looked at Helen with an odd, confused expression. Gena walked up to listen to their talk. "I want her to like me! I don't know; it's —important to me. Like... if she dislikes me, I'm cursed, or something."

"She isn't like that," Gena protested. "She's forgiven you, I'm sure of it." Realizing what she had said, Gena covered her mouth in alarm. "I'm sorry!"

Lorna glanced at Gena sharply, then at Helen, who looked equally off balance, and then looked at her feet. Then she looked up, her face dull, unable to quite look them in the eye, all the beauty of her face turned to ashes. "I was just a kid," she said softly, "I didn't know what I was doing. I felt sad because she was leaving you. I thought she was being mean."

"It wasn't your fault," Helen said, firmly. "She, me,... a lot of us were to blame." She took Lorna's hand. "Mostly me."

Gena looked intently at her mother, and Helen wondered what she was thinking.

That afternoon, Marika and Lisa arrived to record the oratorio. The little group met them at the airport, with Joe parked in the van in the lot. Finally, they were all in the car, and they drove out to the home, and short afterwards, Lisa went off with Joe to the church to set up.

Marika was stunned to hear the news.

"But _why??"_ she exclaimed. "You and Becky were so perfect together!"

Lorna stood alone, her arms tightly folded. After a quick glance at Helen, she turned back to Marika, a crooked smile on her face. "It just... didn't work out," she said quietly.

"But what will you do?" Marika looked from one to the other of Helen and Lorna, and realized what the plan was. "Well," she said, finally, "I approve, for whatever _that's_ worth!"

"Oh, a lot!" said Gena, cheekily.

Of course, Marika had kissed everyone thoroughly, especially Gena. Marika was just like Mom, only with more energy. She was a great bouncing dynamo of a woman, and if she would only slow down and be more sedate, Gena thought she would be beautiful. _I could fall for a woman like that_ , Gena thought with a blush, _if she had Tommy's tranquility_. It was always a rush when Marika was around.

The rehearsal went smoothly, and this time it was recorded by Marika and Lisa. After the recording, they went off by themselves to explore the nightlife, leaving Helen alone with Lorna and the children.

They played Monopoly, and then Gena went off to watch the little TV that Lorna had put in the basement. "I used the house as a little hidey-hole," she confessed. "When I wanted to be alone, I came here." She revealed that she had spent a lot of time there in November, when things began to fall apart. In December Becky had made a special attempt to get closer to Lorna. She had tried all kinds of things: redecorating the house, entertaining friends, taking Lorna out dancing. But it had only made Lorna more unhappy than ever.

"Why?"

Lorna glared at Helen. "Imagine yourself in my place! Wouldn't _you_ feel a jerk if you couldn't respond to all the fussing over you?"

Lorna had brought one box upstairs unopened. Now she opened it, and showed Helen what was inside: her sex toys.

"Let's wait until Gena is asleep," Helen said, doubtfully. So they made love quietly. Helen gently sucked at Lorna's breast, thinking how young her companion was; she wasn't even old enough to accompany Marika and Lisa to a bar.

Unlike Rain, Lisa loved to cry out in her passion. Helen had to keep shushing her, because though she wasn't very loud, she was loud enough to be heard downstairs.

And she was completely uninhibited. No part of Helen's body was sacred, and she begged Helen to make love to her in imaginative ways.

It wasn't as wonderful as the previous night, but they were re-acquainting themselves with each other's tastes and likes, and now Lorna was an adult, and Helen found that she was a wonderful, sensitive, loving woman, as she had been a loving and sensitive teenager.

But their talk was all about love, sex, children, and dance. Lorna had wide interests, and many of those interests coincided with Helen's, but they were none of them controversial. They learned from each other, and had wonderful discussions about those things. And then they would go back to making love.

The next day was the first of the series of concerts. Lorna was out most of the day, making sure everything was all right, and took Gena with her for company. She resented being put in sole charge of the event, but Becky was clearly concerned not to have any contact with her at all.

"That's fine with me," said Lorna, expressionlessly. "If she expects me to stalk her, she's sadly mistaken."

Helen puttered around the house, checked in with Betsy and Robin, and looked in on the workshop.

A little later, Lalitha was just leaving after a brief visit, when Lorna came back in from a visit somewhere. "Hello, Lalitha! Hi Helen! Hi James!"

"Hi," said James, chewing at his bread. It didn't matter what he said, they'd never take any notice.

For once he was wrong. "He said _Hi!_ Did you hear him? James, say 'Hi!'"

"Huh?"

"Hi, James!"

"Hi." Oops!

# Natasha

Later that afternoon, Natasha arrived at the airport. Helen and Lorna were completely in charge; Becky had told Helen that Thelma, their office assistant, would help. Helen herself went to pick Natasha up, and there were so many delays getting to the airport that poor Natasha was waiting at the baggage claim when Helen turned up to collect her.

"How good to see you!" she said, sweeping Helen into her arms. Helen picked up most of her bags, and guided her out to the parking lot.

"Sorry about the very basic service," she mumbled, smiling apologetically. "My office is in a bit of a mess right now!"

Natalia brushed Helen's apologies aside and said she was looking forward to the performance.

"I get to sing with you again!"

"No, no, I'm conducting!" Helen corrected her, "Nicole Benson is singing soprano. The others are Tom Gordon and Jim Montgomery. You know Jim Montgomery?"

"Yes, yes, but... who is this Nicole?"

"She's very good," Helen said sincerely, upset about Natasha's confusion, and distracted by the traffic at the same time.

"Helen, give up this conducting nonsense! Why don't you _sing?"_

They argued back and forth, and Helen explained that she had started conducting so that she could perform the works she liked, instead of the same old warhorses.

"Ah," she said, understanding. "And you have your own orchestra?"

"And recording company, yes," smiled Helen.

"Helen, then I must ask you a favor!"

Natasha insisted on staying with Helen, if there was room. Helen said of course there was, but it was not a comfortable home like Natasha's. "It is the little house where I lived while I was in University," she explained. "Tiny and cheap. And full of my friends, and their recording equipment, and my children."

"Your children are here, Helen? How wonderful!"

"Only two of them," said Helen, explaining where the others were.

Natasha liked the children immediately. The adults she greeted politely, but Helen could see that she wasn't one to take a liking to people right away. She would study them first.

Lorna played the hostess beautifully, with Gena helping. Marika struck up a conversation about singing, and Natasha found her good company.

They had a meal ready, knowing that it was mealtime for her, and she ate hungrily.

"Someone is a good cook!" she said smiling, and everyone pointed at Lorna, who blushed, and said she had a lot of help. "I was told that American food is bad," she said, mischievously.

"Oh, that's English food," Marika said quickly, getting a laugh.

"But they always have a lot," Natasha said, looking for more.

Afterwards, she looked for a piano, and expressed surprise that there wasn't one. "What is wrong with you?" she exclaimed to Helen.

"Tasha, I don't live here, dear, this is just my crash pad when I'm in Philly! I gave my piano to some friends!"

"Who, Mom?"

"Amah and Trish, dear."

"Oh."

Natasha refused to rest. "If I lie down, I will fall asleep!" so they made her sit down and talk, and gave her tea to drink. Finally it was time, and they headed out to the church in two limousines, Natasha dressed beautifully as always, Helen dressed smartly as befitted an orchestra director.

To Lorna's great satisfaction, there was a full house, in spite of Natasha's presence not being known. Helen apologized profusely, but Natasha understood that it had been a last-minute idea.

Audiences there were accustomed to the performers setting up while the audience took their seats. Natasha was introduced to the other soloists and the principals, and then Helen and Marika and Lisa got busy arranging things.

Marika announced that the performance would be recorded. Please be as quiet as you can, especially during the quiet parts." There were a few twitters. Marika had a contingency plan if there was a problem case, but it had never been needed. "If you feel like coughing, the whole concert is being piped to the hall next door on cable, and we encourage you to sit in comfort there and watch and listen!" There was a loud silence, as all coughs seemed to calm themselves.

The performance began, and went smoothly. Natasha was an absolute hit. She sang with both passion and control, and Helen closed her eyes in bliss during the first long aria.

But all the soloists were good, even the relatively unknown Nicole, whose voice was turning out to be very, very good. She was a good ensemble singer, and was excellent in Bach.

But best of all was Helen's choir. Gena sat in the audience, amazed at how good they were. She hated not being a part of this anymore, but Helen had said that the balance would be slightly off if Gena sang, and she had accepted that.

Helen had a small orchestra, the usual few strings, trumpets, the oboes, bassoon, recorders, and tympani, and continuo. For continuo she had harpsichord, organ, lute and theorbo. Natasha had been impressed with the theorbo, which was a beautiful copy of a 16th century instrument, made by Lalitha, and played by a Polish lutenist who had moved into the Philadelphia area, and promptly been conscripted to play with the Impromptu Ensemble, and now functioned as assistant director. He had known that the band had been founded by Helen, but had no expectation of ever having her lead them again. He had almost had a heart attack when they told him that she was coming to lead them in the _Weihnachtsoratorium_. He had rehearsed them pitilessly, but they were glad, because they were in perfect form for Helen. The choir loved Pavel, especially the younger ones. He had an innocent, avuncular manner, and had lavished his love on them. Some awful accident had killed his parents, his wife and young son, and the orchestra and choir was his family. Now, to have Natalia Zemanova singing alto for them was just perfection. Pavel was in heaven.

The first three sections of the oratorio flew by, with Natasha gracing them with her utter conviction. All the other singers sang, inspired by her presence, and Nicole and Jim sang a beautiful duet. The third cantata closed with a rousing chorus, sung with perfect clarity, attack and tone by the choir, and the evening came to a close.

Every performance of the oratorio was different; Bach had left enough leeway to ensure that there could be lots of local variation. And Helen could hear that their performance would be very different from other ones she had heard, including David McIntyre's choir's recording in which Helen had sung. And Helen thought to herself, ours has a certain edge that David's performance will not have, not least because of Pavel's theorbo.

Helen spent a few minutes talking to her faithful fans, while Natasha excused herself pleading tiredness. Seeing as how she had been awake for 20 hours straight, it was plausible. "Perhaps tomorrow," Helen said. "She's had a long day!"

Lisa and Marika were pleased with themselves. They had used just four microphones this time. "It's been done for a long time," Lisa explained. "You lose a lot of control, but you get a very natural sound."

What made you try that this time?" Helen asked, doubtfully.

Lisa shrugged. "We've got insurance," she grinned. "We have backup tracks, about eight of them," she said. "But let's try the four mike idea first."

Helen turned around, and found Natalia seated quietly out of sight of the crowd, playing with Lalitha's granddaughter and James, and talking to Lalitha, while Trish watched from some distance away. Helen smiled to herself. Trish never ceased to surprise her with her typically Indian behavior. Yet she was as American as they came.

Helen talked to her orchestra and praised them lavishly. Pavel stood by, glowing like a lantern, bursting with his delight in the performance. "Well? What do you think?" Helen asked him with a grin.

"Think?!" Pavel shook his head, still smiling. "I _know!_ Never, _never_ before have I heard such a performance! They were perfect!"

"Yes they were," agreed Helen. "Thanks to you."

They argued back and forth for a bit, both of them pleased as Punch. They agreed that nobody had played less than beautifully. "But the choir," Pavel insisted, "they led the way!" Helen shook his hand heartily, and said she was happy he was on board.

"Ah, Helen!" exclaimed Natasha when Helen made her way towards them."

"You've made some new friends!" Helen smiled, as she turned to Trish and Suresh and beckoned them over. They shyly declined the invitation. Helen shook her head in bafflement, and turned back to Natasha.

"I am learning a lot about you," said she. Helen looked at Lalitha with alarm, and Lalitha blushed and laughed, and said nothing. "I'm told that you own a instrument factory!"

"Oh yes," Helen said, relieved, "in the back of the house."

"And this young lady made the Theorbo!"

"Yes, she did, and it's a gorgeous piece of work!"

"And she plays the lute, and you taught her to play, and made her first lute for her!"

Helen nodded and said that all of it was true, and that she and Lalitha had known each other for a long time. Helen didn't know how to react to Natasha's arch expression, so she simply smiled and congratulated Lalitha on her excellent playing.

"The _Sinfonia!_ Oh!" Natasha kissed her fingers in a gesture to indicate perfection. Lalitha graciously thanked her for her kind compliment. "It is everything," Natasha insisted. "There was a feeling of celebration! Like hearts were bursting with joy, Helen. It is usual in much larger groups. But your little group, oh! They sang like angels! I can't wait to hear the tapes!"

"And you shall," promised Helen. Turning to Lalitha she asked if she would like to join them for a ceremonial review of 'the tapes'. Lalitha politely declined, but her eyes told Helen that she was grateful for the invitation. She wore a black saree and black blouse in her uniform for the performance, and Helen thought she looked lovely. She turned to look for Lorna, and saw her talking to Mary-Beth. She had worn blue dress, and looked a perfect young girl of 19, her hair braided and tied in a black ribbon. When Helen turned back to Natasha, she saw a slight smile curving her lips. So, thought Helen, Natasha doesn't approve of my choice of girlfriend.

It took a long while to get everybody lined up. The limousine company sent a van to take them all at once. The equipment was stowed in boxes and put in the back, and they were off. "Tonight, Marika and Lisa will begin editing," Helen said. "It's all done on the computer!"

"I would like to see that," Natasha exclaimed, "but I will be asleep by the time I get to your house!"

Natasha could only keep her eyes open for twenty minutes into the tape. She heard her own aria, and her smile said it all: it was perfect. "That lute!" she exclaimed. "She is really good!" Helen agreed, uncertain of what she was getting at.

Lorna had taken off her shoes, and danced about, making sure everyone was comfortable. She conducted Natasha up to her room, and sweetly asked if she could get her anything. She showed her where everything was. "I hung up your clothes," said, smiling, aware that Natasha was one of Helen's favorite people, and anxious to make a good impression. "I'll put some snacks out on the kitchen table, in case you wake up hungry!" she said. "There's plenty of juice in the refrigerator, please pour yourself some if you need it."

Natasha smiled at her and thanked her. Lorna felt slightly uncomfortable with Natasha's close scrutiny of her. Natasha looked around the room and asked who normally slept there, and Lorna said it was Gena, who had moved into the nursery.

"Tell me your name again, dear!"

"Lorna!"

"And what do you do?"

"I'm a dancer with the Philadelphia Ballet," she said.

Natasha nodded, still smiling. "Thank you for everything, Lorna!" Lorna nodded, her smile a little glassy. "So you and Helen are good friends?"

"Yes; I've known her for a couple of years," she said.

"And your family is close by?"

"Yes, right on the other hill over there," she pointed, feeling a little hunted. But her politeness prevented her from being rude. She had wanted to tell Natasha that if she needed anything she should know on Helen's door, but she lost her nerve. She didn't want this woman to know that she slept with Helen. She got a brainwave. "If you need anything, Gena is right next door," she said. Natasha thanked her again, and Lorna left, breathing a sigh of relief.

The next morning, Helen, Lorna, Gena and James, hearing no noise, came downstairs to see if Natasha was up yet. Marika and Lisa had worked through the night, and were fast asleep. A cassette was on the table, with a not saying: play me.

Natasha pointed at the cassette and smiled, evidently amused. "It says 'Play me!'"

"So it does," said Helen, smiling, and they put the cassette on, and let it play in the background. Helen asked how Natasha had slept and fixed her a cup of coffee, and made tea for herself.

Natasha sipped at her coffee and smiled thoughtfully at Helen.

_Helen,_ she said in French, _that girl is so young!_

She's twenty, Helen said. What makes you bring that up?

Is this the girl you were visiting in England?

Helen felt that caution was called for. _I sense that you don't like her,_ she said evasively.

Natasha sipped her coffee, avoiding Helen's eyes. _I know it is none of my business, but the Indian woman...Helen, she is such a jewel! Indian people are wonderful, and I... my heart went out to her, my friend. It seems such a incredible waste of a good woman! I know one does not think of foreigners when one thinks of love, but... you are such an exceptional person, you could make a success of such a thing._

She said her say, and looked at Helen, begging with her eyes for Helen to be merciful with her. Helen smiled at her, and she shrugged, as if to say, _I merely thought I'd mention it!_

Helen laughed. _You have amazing eyes, she said. You have seen the past, and imagined it to be the future!_

What do you mean?

The Indian woman and I have been partners. We were in love for fifteen years.

Natasha's jaw dropped. _Tell me the story_ , she pleaded.

Helen told her a shortened version of it, and followed it with how Lorna had tried to make a life with Becky, and how it ended.

Natasha listened, spellbound. When it was over, Natasha looked at Helen, stunned. Helen smiled at her, realizing how amazing the story must sound at a first hearing.

I heard some strange stories about you, Cherie, but they seemed to be the inventions of a madman, and I did not believe them. But the truth is even stranger! Truly, you have endured much.

Helen looked away and shrugged. _But there's the other side of the equation, she said. I have been surrounded by so much love, the hardship has been nothing. The children, the fame, the gifts, the luck. Isn't it luck that we met, and that together we have made probably one of the most delightful recordings? Who knew three weeks ago that this would happen!_

But Natasha wasn't done. _How good a dancer is she, this girl of yours?_

She is a soloist with her troupe. She danced Clara in the Nutcracker, and she is to dance Swan Lake, as one of the leads. She is incredible!

And what is the Indian woman doing? Is she all alone?

_Yes,_ said Helen. She felt as if, after all the explaining, she had lost the point. _But she has a son, and of course, you saw the grandchild._

_Yes,_ agreed Natasha, _but it took me a while to make all the connections._ Helen had left out the fact that it was her daughter-in-law who had seduced Lalitha away from Helen in the first instance.

Natasha sighed. She shook her head, and stretched, preparing to rise. She wore a loose gown and still managed to look lovely. She had put her hair in two braids, and looked very fetching, with her deep blue eyes and sharp features.

_I'm going to find a good woman for you_ , she said, looking at Helen firmly. _None of these children you flirt with are any good. You need a woman, not a child._

_Now_ , said Helen, _be careful. It hurts me when you insult my friends. Tasha, you hardly know me!_

That got her. She protested that she had Helen's best interests at heart. Helen conceded that, but she pointed out that Tasha shouldn't assume that Helen was unable to judge character.

_You may think you've got it figured out_ , said Tasha, _but I think you need a lot of help. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it, because I'm very fond of you_ , she said, smiling.

That morning's agenda was a special taping of Natasha singing Wagner's _Wessendonck Lieder_. The orchestra was scheduled to assemble at 10 that morning for the recording. It would be the first Wagner that Natasha had ever sung on a recording. They got ready as fast as they could, and hurried over to the church. They got there around nine, and Helen and Natasha rehearsed at the piano, while Lorna sat in a corner with her phone, making arrangements, and Gena walked around with James in a stroller.

Helen was surprised that Natasha was willing to take so much direction from her. She seemed to trust Helen implicitly in all details of the performance, and she marveled at how Helen changed from the cool, controlled conductor of the Oratorio into a passionate romantic.

As the players assembled, including players Natasha had not met the previous day: horns, flutes, clarinets, harp, Helen got them organized, and handed out the music. Marika meanwhile placed microphones, while the players played passages on their instruments, and Lisa adjusted the balance from their portable sound booth, and gave instructions to Marika via headphones. As she had the night before, Marika planned to videotape the recording.

They rehearsed carefully. Helen was uncertain of the pieces, and was taking no chances. She constantly apologized to Natasha, who calmly gestured to Helen to carry on. "I trust you," she said.

They got ready to record the first lied, called _Die Engel_ , The Angel. It was a lovely poem set to music, and was thought to be a study for Wagner's Tristan und Isolde. Natasha sang it beautifully. Helen had gotten everyone so well-rehearsed that they had every phrase mapped out, with detailed decisions as to how each instrument would treat it.

As the last note faded away, Natasha gazed at Helen, fascinated. It was so clear that the different music required a different sensibility. The informal audience broke in with cheers. Helen turned round smiling and asked how it had sounded, and the verdict was unanimous.

They went on to the next, and the next. Natasha longed for Helen to pick up a violin and play, but she concentrated on conducting. It was tiring, but Natasha didn't complain. It had been her idea in the first place, and she was obliged to see it through, and she did. Helen could tell as soon as her voice began to tire, and called a halt, in spite of Natasha's protestations.

"If you lose your voice, you will have to become a conductor, like me!"

Natasha laughed. It was getting clear that Helen was destined to become a great conductor of the times. It was not a silly fancy on Helen's part; she really could conduct better than many conductors whom Natasha new well.

They went out to get lunch, and then home to rest. Lorna worked hard, organizing transport, seeing that the children were happy, arranging for meals, scheduling rehearsals, checking on Helen. Suddenly life seemed to mean something. She was doing it for Helen. Lorna loved music, and she admired the way Helen could bring music to so many who would otherwise have been indifferent. With the Wagner CD, she knew, many people would probably buy it simply because they trusted in Helen, and knew that if she made a record, it would probably be something they liked. They needed something to fill the CD, and they decided to record some Brahms lieder and some Schumann.

They met at two again, and recorded for another hour. Then the rest of the orchestra turned up, and they rehearsed the last three sections of the oratorio.

"I should start running again," Helen declared. "I'm beginning to tire too easily!"

"My gosh," Lorna said, wiping her face with a moist towel and handing one to Helen, "If you're so tired now, you'd be dead if you had run before!"

"No!" contradicted Natasha. "It's true. If you run, you get tired less."

They were just about ready to go home, relax for a few minutes, get supper, and hurry back for the evening's performance.

As they got into the van, Lorna asked Helen if they could set up a bar in the house somewhere. "I need a place to practice," she said. She had made Becky install a dance studio in the new house, but now she didn't want to go there. Natasha listened with interest, as she always did. Lorna squirmed at the knowledge that Natasha was assessing everything she said. Would she think she was spoiled? "I guess I could just use a chair," she said, eventually, looking nervously at Natasha. Natasha gave her an amused smile, and Lorna smiled back, a little doubtfully. Natasha seemed friendly, but so _judgmental!_

"You and I will practice together," she said, smiling at Lorna. "Let her run!"

The second half of the oratorio contained a different kind of mix of choruses, arias and chorales. There were many recitatives, and the star was really the tenor, Tom Gordon. Tom was fluent in German, and had a beautiful, light voice that was very persuasive. Gena had memorized almost all the tunes in the work, just by listening to the rehearsal, and she had been singing the recitatives all day long, much to Helen's amusement.

"Why the recitatives? Why not the arias?"

"I don't know, I think they're cute!"

Helen laughed. It was a whole new way of thinking about recitatives.

Natasha was thoroughly enjoying herself, watching the children, watching Helen, watching how the orchestra rehearsed, watching the people in the street, and watching Lorna go about her work with the quiet intensity that was the result of doing a rather unfamiliar job for her lover. She was anxious not to make any mistakes, especially with Natasha. She totally believed in the current project, and was eager to get it done perfectly on its own merits, too.

Whatever minor flaws there may have been in the final performance, nobody noticed. The immense charm of the work triumphed again, and Gena, who had sung along with every note, could hardly bear to wait seated until the microphones had been switched off. Then she leaped to her feet, holding James in her arms, and almost ran to Helen to give her an enormous hug. The choir, still tense with the strain of the performance, laughed heartily.

"You guys were _muy bueno!"_ Gena said, grinning. They knew that she was a founder member of the choir, and her opinion counted for something. " _Sehr sch_ _ön!"_ It was time for celebration. Natasha graciously spoke to the fans for a while, and then, as a special treat to the remaining fans, Helen suggested that they record the last Wagner lied with the Baroque orchestra. "Let's just try it, for fun!" she said, and Natasha smiled and agreed.

Helen thanked her people. Soon everyone was gone except the seven of them.

"Let's go out and have a drink!" Natasha suggested. I feel like celebrating!"

They went out and had dessert and drinks, and Natasha slipped Lorna a couple of ounces from her glass, indignant that the law didn't let her drink until she was a year older. When Helen told her that they hardly drank, she could not believe her ears.

"How do you celebrate, then?"

They shrugged. Perhaps they didn't celebrate often enough!

Natasha was fascinating to watch as she poured out the wine and supervised the selection of dessert at the expensive French restaurant they had chosen. Lorna had a good view, since Natasha had seated herself across from Helen and Lorna. She knew the tastes of everyone there, and suggested perfect dishes that were guaranteed to suit them. For Lorna she consulted with the waiter in French that even Helen could not understand, and selected something un pronounceable. "Trust me," she said, supremely confident, "this one is perfect for you!"

When they arrived, it was as she said. Lorna's dessert was a cream and pastry creation on a bed of chocolate sauce. Tasting it with some trepidation, Lorna found that it was just barely sweet, not sickly sweet as she had feared. She ate it in dainty little nibbles, watched with great amusement by Natasha.

"Is it good?" Lorna had nodded, expressing her pleasure eloquently with her eyes, and Natasha had smiled. Lorna was beginning to like Natasha. It was just her way to be forward, but she was a perfect lady anyway, and if Lorna had felt truly upset, she would have backed off and apologized, Lorna believed. She had started off very suspicious of Lorna, and now she had changed her mind. At least, so Lorna hoped. If Natasha simply couldn't make up her mind about Lorna, well, Helen would just have to live with that.

Lorna held Helen's hand under the table, and studied Natasha. She had a proud face, her eyebrows arched naturally, her nose sharp and straight, her lips beautifully sculpted, her chin firm and slightly cleft, her jawline smoothly curved, her eyes a startling dark blue, her hair a red-brown. She was Lorna, only older and prouder and with more personality. Lorna wondered if that explained some of what she was getting from the visitor.

## Natasha Enjoys the Nightlife

While Lorna had been absorbed in the woman opposite her, some plan had been settled on, and they were all going home, except Helen and Natasha, and Marika and Lisa were grinning at some private joke.

Before Helen and Natasha set out, Helen drew Lorna aside and hugged her and kissed her, with everyone watching. "I'll be late, but don't worry," she whispered. The kiss burned on Lorna's lips all the way home. She didn't pay attention to anything else. Helen had kissed her in public, acknowledging her! She hadn't even kissed Gena!

Helen was very uncomfortable. Natasha wanted to experience X-rated entertainment. They were both dressed beautifully, not the usual dress for sleazy.

Helen explained that there were movie theaters, and live sex shows. "I advise we should begin with movies," Helen said. Natasha agreed quickly. They found a taxi, and Helen directed it to one of the strips where the adult movies were to be found. Natasha was completely confident. She never lost her cool for a second. She didn't swagger, either, just a relaxed walk into the building. In French, she told Helen that she preferred a movie with pretty women. Helen laughed and said that they were all supposedly pretty women, but in fact they were rather plain. Natasha said that she had expected precisely that, and she had merely wanted a movie where the girls were really pretty.

Helen looked at the advertisements, feeling acutely uncomfortable, aware of the stares of men who hung about. It was a movie about a woman's initiation into lesbian love. Natasha expressed her interest in that one, and, blushed when a couple of men tittered at her excitement. Helen looked about, trying not to make her disgust too obvious. Natasha's fascination with sleaze was stretching her friendship to the limit. They found seats near the aisle, and Helen sat Natasha on the aisle, protectively, saying she could handle men if she had to. Natasha gently brushed her hand and said she was comfortable with Helen in charge. You make me feel safe, she said. When Helen turned her hand palm up, Natasha rested her hand there for a second, and took it away. A strange thought began to run around in Helen's head. Was Natasha anxious to explore bisexuality? Was that all this was about?

The place began to fill up, and the movie began. Helen was frustrated with the acting from the very outset, though the lead actress was a startlingly attractive girl, with a pleasant, expressive voice.

The story was simple. The main actress was unhappy with her experiences with men. She had a few frustrating sexual encounters with boys, and decided to give it up. Then she meets a boy who is more interested in watching sex than in participating. He takes her to a club where you pay an entrance fee, and then had sex with whoever was willing to have sex with you. But once there, he simply watched. But our girl finds that she's interested in the women. She gets involved with a girl, and 'learns the way of women.'

While Helen watched, drawn in in spite of herself, Natasha seemed to watch Helen's reaction every once in a while. In fact, she kept a pretty close watch on Helen. Helen turned and smiled at her at first, but then it got distracting, and Helen ignored her.

But when the big lesbian scene came along, Helen was thoroughly disgusted. Natasha watched enthralled as the women licked each other eagerly faking orgasms right and left. The heterosexual sex had been formulaic and disgusting, but plausible. But Helen was frustrated when Natasha gaped at the lesbian sex, as if she was watching a documentary. The women kissed in an artificial way, just touching their tongues together, and Natasha gasped. _Is that a special Lesbian kiss?_

Are you nuts? Lesbians kiss the usual way, Cherie; don't be fooled.

Don't lesbians do that kind of thing?

Well, certainly they do, but not that way, Cherie; can you imagine getting any pleasure from that?

You're asking the wrong person, Helen. Oh no, I didn't mean to mention names.

Oh... I don't think anyone caught it.

Helen watched a little longer and said she'd rather make love to a rhododendron than to have that girl mess with her body. It was just too much for Natasha, who let out a peal of laughter. Pretty soon the entire room was cracking up, and they were calling out lewd suggestions to the women on the screen.

"Let's go," Helen said, "this is a waste of time!"

As they waited for a taxi, Natasha asked Helen whether it was really much different from that.

"Oh, absolutely. That was just a male fantasy," Helen explained. "It's a movie made by guys for guys, and lesbianism is just an abstract concept there." Natasha nodded, studying Helen thoughtfully.

Helen turned to her, bemused.

"What is so fascinating about it?" she asked.

"Everything! So many women are this way; and I don't know anything about how they live!"

Helen shook her head. "You're not going to learn by watching movies like that one, certainly," Helen declared.

"Then... let's find a live place."

Now that, of course, was Helen's dream. To find a sex club run by lesbians, for lesbians. Where would she find such a place?

They got a cab, and Helen, desperate, asked the driver.

"Listen," she said in a friendly voice, "is there a lesbian club around here that's run by lesbians? I don't know whom to ask!"

He took them straight there. It was in a rather clean neighborhood, and Helen was grateful for that. She gave him a nice tip, and led Natasha in.

The charges were rather steep, but the people were polite, and the music at least tuneful and rhythmic.

After a while, Helen learned where the various activities were, and they headed to where the floor show was, having got a drink for Natasha.

It was incredible. The two of them took their places just in time to see an amazing two-girl show. Helen and Natasha watched, eyes popping, as the girls made love right at their feet. This was the real thing, or at least, these girls knew what they were doing. There wasn't a single fake orgasm. Helen could tell that the two women were not only dance partners, but also lovers. Afterwards, the girls, stark naked, came round and let the audience touch them. The prettier one came straight to Helen. She had eyed Helen for a while, and must have liked the looks of her. She had small, firm breasts, and she took Helen's hand and put it on her breast, while the audience egged Helen on. Feeling a fool, but unwilling to humiliate the girl, Helen cupped her hand over her breast and pressed. Then she offered her other breast, and Helen obliged again, feeling miserable. She got big cheers.

"Guess what I'm gonna do? Because I like you so much, I'm gonna let your sweetie finger me!"

The crowd went wild, and Helen's heart sank. Natasha went pale, but recovered fast. "She will do it," she said to the nude performer, in her rather thick European accent, pointing at Helen.

"I guess you're the lucky one!" From somewhere she produced a surgical glove, and Helen found herself finger-fucking a total stranger.

It was a strange feeling. The woman held Helen gently by the shoulders, and moved against her gloved hand, telling Helen exactly what to do. Helen glanced at Natasha, and saw her watching every detail. The woman put one leg over Helen's shoulder, placing hardly any pressure on it, and she made love to Helen with her voice, telling her she was beautiful, that she had the best hand ever, and she wanted this to be the biggest orgasm ever. It was an unbelievable performance. With her voice she clued Helen, and when the orgasm was upon her, she simply stopped talking, and let the cheers fill the silence. She leaned heavily against Helen, and kissed her on the cheek. For a second they looked into each other's eyes and Helen knew she wanted a kiss on the mouth. But Helen was conscious of Natasha watching, and kissed the girl on her cheek.

"Thanks," she said, and Helen said thanks to her. She peeled the glove off Helen's hand carefully, caressed Helen's cheek, and ran backstage with her partner.

All the women sitting near Helen congratulated her, and said that Kristin seemed to like Helen. "You're lucky!" said a couple of older gals.

Later, as they walked homewards, trying to flag down cabs, Natasha asked: "Was that closer to the real thing?"

"Oh... that was the real thing, all right," Helen assured her, still trying to catch her breath. "That was 100% real!"

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, Natasha. Didn't you?"

She shrugged. "A little, especially when you were participating! You should have kissed her on the mouth," Natasha joked.

Something snapped inside Helen. It seemed obvious that Natasha was flirting with her. All this needling was a courtship ritual! She wasn't trying to be annoying, she was trying to attract Helen's attention.

Helen pulled the surprised Natasha close and kissed her, right on the mouth, forcing her pubis against Natasha's.

"No, no, no Helen, please! Please, no!!!" she begged, struggling to get away, her breath coming in ragged gasps, clearly in a panic. She looked about her and backed off from Helen. Luckily, Helen let her go at once, appalled at Natasha's reaction.

"I'm sorry," Helen said in a hoarse whisper, "I misunderstood! Forgive me!"

"I'm not that way, Helen... I... I..." Helen waited, miserable. "Let's go to the house!" Natasha said in a tiny voice.

As they walked, Helen apologized again, and so did Natasha.

"Why?" Helen asked, confused.

After a long silence, Natasha answered calmly and quietly. "I only wanted to learn more about you, that's all, Helen."

Suddenly it was clear. Natasha was trying to understand Helen.

"Why did you ask me to kiss her?"

"Because I thought you wanted to do that, and you stopped because of me."

It was obvious once the answer was known.

"I was playing with fire," said Natasha, contrition plain in her voice. "You were trying your best to please me. I think I had a little too much alcohol."

Nobody had witnessed the affair. They got a taxi, and presently found themselves at Helen's doorstep. The light was on, but everyone was in bed. It was cold, and Helen quickly opened the door and let them in.

Natasha asked Helen to sit with her and talk for a little while. Helen was anxious to oblige, despite her nervousness. The last thing they needed was to go on with misunderstandings threatening everything they said to each other.

"Why are you so interested in learning more about lesbianism?"

"Because you are an interesting woman, Helen. Of course you know that!"

"But so are you! And I buy your records, and I read about you, and I met you... that tells me all I need to know!"

"Well, I did all that."

"What more is there?"

Natasha's eyes seemed to look right into Helen's soul, and to show Helen her own. It was a disturbing experience. Helen was coming to realize there were different kinds of passion. "We are both so much more than our stories, than our recordings, Helen."

They sat and talked for an hour. What had looked as if it would be a brief chat became a no-holds barred conversation. In the course of it, Natasha revealed that she loved Helen. _There are many kinds of love_ , she said, and what she had for Helen was a different thing altogether. It was based on what she saw as Helen's soul, and her need to learn more about it. She had smiled and asked whether it had sounded like a declaration of love. Helen had found it possible to recover quickly from being flabbergasted, and confess that, yes, it had.

Natasha insisted that one did not need to touch a person to have a deep and intimate knowledge of her. If that were the case, you really know only the one you marry, she said. Her mother had taught her that love and intimacy had nothing to do with sex.

Helen argued passionately that Natasha had mistaken Helen's assumptions; touch was not a means of knowing for her. It was a seal, a way of sealing the knowledge that was already there. Sometimes it was a means of comfort, she added, thinking of what had transpired at the club. Sometimes it was a gift, too.

As they talked, a slim figure silently appeared in the half-dark of the doorway.

"Gena? What's the matter?"

No, it's the other one.

"It's me, Lorna," said a little voice, husky with sleep. "I was wondering what had happened to you."

_Let her come and sit with us; she can benefit from our discussion!_ said Natasha, softly.

_No,_ replied Helen equally softly, also in French, _she would feel patronized, put down._

She's only a child, Helen! How can a child feel insulted?

_But I cannot treat her like a child; she is my lover, Tasha! Some day she will be a great woman, and I treat her as if she is that woman already._ Helen turned to Lorna and said she'd be up after a while, and that they were involved in a fascinating discussion. She could now see a little better and Lorna's slim figure pulled at her. She walked over and tenderly kissed Lorna.

"Don't be too long!" Lorna said softly, and padded off up the stairs, waving to Helen, and Helen could imagine her smile as she did so.

"Come on, sit!" insisted Natasha, though Helen could see that she was on the brink of falling asleep. It would have been crude to say that Natasha was obsessed with Helen, but something close to that was true. Helen had gone past being uncomfortable with it. For instance, she knew that Natasha would never spy on her; she would simply ask to look. And Helen was touched with how much pleasure Natasha got from talking with Helen, and being near Helen. And Helen felt ashamed of her desire to seduce Natasha, for it was becoming clear to her that that was true.

"May I hold your hand?" Helen asked.

She shook her head vigorously, suddenly fully awake. "No, Helen; you must respect that I am not that way."

"Will you rest your hand on mine, then? Just leave it there. I will not try to hold it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a physical person, and if I can never... _have you_ in my way,... please, try."

"And you will be upset if I take away my hand!"

"No, I will not. I promise. Even a few seconds will be enough." She stretched out her hand, and Natasha put her hand on it. It was a rough hand, and it trembled with Natasha's nervousness.

Helen felt her emotions seethe inside her. This had been a bad idea, but it was too late now. Here was a woman whose sexuality was overpowering. In Helen's language, she wanted Helen, but was just too afraid to have her. But in her own language, she was beginning to understand Helen, and sex would only spoil it. Who had the right of it?

"Are you getting some—satisfaction—out of this?"

Helen had to make a special effort to speak. Her chest was so tight, she could hardly breathe.

"If I said 'yes', you would feel afraid!"

"So, that answers my question." But she kept her hand there. Then, sighing, she said, "You need to sleep. _I_ need to sleep." She smiled. "You must go to your friend!" Helen smiled. "She is a good girl. She doesn't trust me, but she tries to be friendly for your sake!"

Helen wanted her to take her hand away, and finally she did, after a gentle squeeze.

"Okay!" sighed Helen, emotionally exhausted. She rose, and held out a hand to help Natasha up. Natasha took it. Somehow the action of pulling Natasha up felt infinitely more sensuous than the several minutes Helen had touched her hand.

Natasha put her arms round Helen and embraced her and let go. "Good night, my friend!" she said, and there was simple love in her voice, nothing more. "I thank God we have found each other."

It was a great lesson, and one that it seemed Helen had learned several times before and forgotten.

"I love you, too!" Helen said, smiling.

Natasha laughed softly and said that she knew that. They slowly went up the stairs together, and went to their separate rooms.

Lorna was wide awake when Helen got in her room and undressed.

"What was all that _about??"_ Lorna wanted to know.

Helen sighed. "She's... fascinated by lesbianism, by you, by me... she's interesting, Lorna! But she's a borderline homophobe."

"Where did you _go_ last night?"

"To a lesbian bar. And a movie."

"Jeeze! So how was it?"

Helen shrugged. She gave Lorna a quick recap as she slid in beside her, and Lorna reached between Helen's legs, and found it hot and wet. Looking at Helen sharply, she asked whether it had been the lesbian bar or Natasha that had made Helen so hot.

"A little bit of everything," Helen smiled, as she gently squeezed Lorna's breast. Helen forgot her drowsiness for a while, when Lorna explained her plans for the night. It was much later when Helen finally slept, sore between the legs, but satisfied.

## Mugged

The next morning, Helen got up early, but Natasha was up even earlier, and was downstairs, sipping coffee which she had made, softly humming to herself. Her eyes lit up when she heard Helen come downstairs, and she gave Helen a welcoming smile and greeted her quietly.

"You're all ready to run, yes?"

"Yes," said Helen, bending to kiss her on the forehead lightly.

"Cherie, you shouldn't kiss everybody like this."

"I don't. You're special. And you love me," she said, tightening her laces. She looked up and caught Natasha admiring her costume, or was it her body?

"I shall warm up with little Lorna," said Natasha, unable to resist the little dig at Lorna's extreme youth.

"You have a dance background?"

Natasha shrugged. "It's better than running!" Her smile was mischievous. Helen shook her head, wondering if there was no end to Natasha's surprises.

Helen ran. Once she started, it was easy. She was now at a level of athleticism where she could perform well even after a few weeks of being sedentary. She hadn't run since Ferguson.

She was almost back home when she was grabbed from behind. Oh no, she thought. It was a lonely strip of road, through a park-like area. Strong hands held her arms down, and a gravelly voice asked her to just stay quiet. Her attacker turned her round, and she saw a tall black boy with a knife.

Effortlessly she shook herself loose, her anger diluted with pity. They stared at each other, he in shock, she in frustration, and with one kick she sent his knife down into the gully. He looked after it regretfully and then turned back to her.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Just a kiss, babe, that's all! Ey!" He made a gesture signifying harmlessness.

"Why don't you just ask?" Helen retorted.

"Okay, I'm askin'!"

"Wise guy!" spat Helen, and ran away. She heard him follow her, and whirling round she threw him into the gutter. Breathing hard she slowly ran off. What did he want, she wondered, was it just some affection, some female company at knife point, a perverse desire to debase a woman, or a prurient desire to be forcibly intimate with a while woman? And if Gena ran this way, would he take out his revenge on her? Helen felt miserable. She remembered with a shudder wanting to be nice to him once she had disarmed him. He could just as easily have been white, she thought.

"Hold up, there! Hey!"

Jesus, thought Helen, I didn't hit him hard enough.

"Who taught you t' fight like dat, huh? Wait, girl, I ain't gon' hurt you!"

Helen turned once more to face him. "If you don't go away, I'm gonna have to hurt you," she said calmly.

"You ain't gonna hurt me anyway," he grinned. He had figured her out. Helen attacked him hard, and beat him until he was retching on the street. Then she pulled out her phone and called the police.

A patrol car drove up in a minute, and she was told all the wrong things she had done. The knife was recovered with great difficulty, using a metal detector. Kevin Bangs was charged with harassment.

Back in the house, Lorna came down and saw Natasha and managed a smile for her. Natasha called her over and made her sit next to her. "Cherie," she said gently, "I must apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. You are a nice young lady, and you have nothing to fear from me. Believe me."

Lorna looked at her solemnly, an uncannily close approximation to Natasha's own youthful self. "Thanks for saying that," Lorna said, graciously. "I was... afraid."

"Don't be," said Natasha. "Now you and I must do some ballet to warm up!"

"Really?"

"Oh yes! I will change."

They met in the living room, and moved the furniture around to make space. Lorna's little portable stereo provided music, and Lorna shyly led the bar exercises.

Lorna was exquisitely beautiful; of medium height, or a little taller, slim, beautifully muscled, utterly graceful. And she had great charm. Once she began to dance, the awkwardness, the nervousness was all gone. Natasha could believe that she was a soloist; she had the utter confidence with dance as Natasha had with music. She wore a one-piece unitard that left her shoulders bare, and revealed her figure beautifully. Natasha found herself dancing better than she had in a long time, simply from Lorna's example. With a soft, sweet voice, Lorna called out the moves, and they did them together.

Gena came down with James, looking for Helen, and the session was interrupted to tell her what they knew. She should be back any time now.

Giving James a bottle of milk, Gena joined them with another chair. "Start from the beginning!" she begged, and they did.

"You two danced real well!" said Lorna, feeling a little bashful at playing the role of teacher with her companions. Natasha was a pretty woman, and she had obviously learned to dance in her youth. Gena had also had a little dance experience, but she had natural muscle control. Lorna was pleased with her session. All three of them were flushed and warm.

"Would you like to see Helen and me dancing?"

"Certainly!"

"Yes, yes! Do you have it?"

Lorna nodded, and pulled out the tape of the Thanksgiving special. It was cued to the dance, and Natasha watched amazed. Not only was Lorna obviously an incredible dancer, and the choreography brilliant, but Helen was a far better dancer than she could have possibly imagined. And Natasha saw, in that dance, something of the love the two women shared.

Just as Natasha turned to Lorna to remark on it, Helen stepped into the house wearily, her face a study in misery. Lorna ran to her, and Gena came behind, picking up James on the way.

"I got mugged," Helen exclaimed, looking at Lorna and Gena pointedly. "I guess it was about time."

They guided Helen to the sofa, got her comfortable, and listened to the story.

"It was the best you could do, darling," Lorna said, almost in tears. "Sometimes I hate this town!"

"No, it isn't the town," Helen said, looking at the floor, feeling the guilt of having beaten the man so viciously. She had rationalized her actions while she walked home, but she couldn't remember how. They talked round and round in circles, arguing about every aspect of the incident, but Helen couldn't help concluding that in the end it was the boy who was the victim, and not Helen.

The day had been set aside for doing all the little patch-up jobs that may be needed. There was a list of 10 cuts that could do with improvement, and Helen and the choir and the orchestra would meet to listen and re-record, if they felt that it was necessary. They went over to the church, and Lisa and Marika set up the speakers, and they listened to the cuts in question at full volume, hearing every little detail with crystal clarity. They decided on four cuts that they would try again.

The rest of the day consisted in re-recording those four cuts, and finishing off Natasha's lieder. There was a holiday feeling in the air, but Helen was understandably preoccupied with her encounter. It was the Wagner lieder that snapped her out of it. They demanded such concentration that for half an hour she had to forget all about the attempted mugging. Natasha was more than happy with the result, immersing herself in the intense emotion of the poems.

Unwilling to go home, the choir and the orchestra began to record anything they could think of; carols, folk-songs, silly things, as well as gems of the concert repertoire that were hardly ever recorded, for one reason or another. They sent out for Chinese lunch, and continued in the afternoon.

Suddenly Natasha announced that she wanted to sing duets with Helen. "There are so many, and you have a find orchestra here, why not?"

"But I have to conduct!" Helen grinned.

"Then here is what we will do. I will conduct, and you will sing!"

"Maestra," said Pavel, smiling respectfully at Helen, "let me conduct. It would be an honor."

They sang a number of soprano and alto duets, and even trios and quartets, from opera, oratorio and masses by Haydn, Mozart and Bach.

It was five when they finally closed down. Each of the choir members and the orchestra came to Helen one by one, and said goodbye. They had thoroughly enjoyed the week. "If only you could be with us regularly!" they all said. Helen said she wanted that as much as they did. "Once I get tired of teaching, I'll come back!"

"How can you leave them and go away? They are yours," Natasha said. She was sensitive to the love they had for Helen, and couldn't understand how Helen could stand to not have this pleasure on a regular basis. Helen tried to explain about Nadia and her students, the College, and how she loved those, too.

They had one more night together, and then Helen had commitments, and possibly a tennis tournament in Australia. If they could set up a concert engagement in Australia, she could definitely go.

Natasha enjoyed her last night in Philadelphia, and swore she would come back. "I love this town," she said, "I have had so much fun here, _adventure!_ And, Cherie, I met your lovely children..."

"There's two more," reminded Gena, "the middle ones!"

"Well, I have to come back to meet them, then!"

Early morning, Helen and Lorna took her out to the airport, and put her on the plane. Helen was touched by the sincere regret with which Natasha went away.

"She's beautiful," sighed Lorna, "but you don't notice that for a long time. And she dances really well, Helen. I like her."

"I'm glad," said Helen.

But that morning, Lorna got a case of the sniffles, and by the following day, she was very sick.

Joe came by and helped to pack up the things Lorna wanted to take to Westfield with her, and Martha came to tell her good bye.

Lorna refused to see her at first, but Helen persuaded her to receive Martha briefly. "Anyone can be mean, darling; I want to think that you're better than the average girl."

"All right," said Lorna, "for your sake."

Martha came upstairs, and looked at Lorna in bed with surprise. "You're sick! I'm sorry, Lorna; I thought you were upset with me," she said, walking in. Helen left tactfully.

"I... asked Helen to send you away, but she insisted."

Martha looked at Lorna with love in her eyes, an awkward smile on her usually genial face. She looked around, seeing Lorna's unmistakable signature on the room that used to be somewhat austere. "You've made the room yours," she said. "You've put your mark on the entire little house!"

Lorna smiled and coughed. She nodded. What could she say? She liked to decorate! She remembered occasions when she had lain sick in Martha's house, and other occasions when it was Martha who had been sick.

"I love you, Lorna! I think you've been hurt because I loved you too much; I wanted you too much for Becky."

She saw Lorna's grey eyes study her face. There was anger there still. Then Lorna dropped her eyes. "I could have taken a bus," she muttered, but I didn't... I was stupid," she admitted. Martha wanted Lorna to love her. It tore her apart that Lorna despised her like this.

"Be happy with Helen, dear, and try to forgive me. Let's shake hands, at least."

They both felt stupid shaking hands, but it meant a lot to Martha. Lorna symbolized some of the happiest days of her life, and it hurt terribly to see them end.

# Lorna Moves to Westfield

The next day they were in Westfield, with Joe helping to move their stuff. Lorna was worse. She had coughed all night and it looked as if she had a bad bacterial infection. Lorna was given a room to herself, and Helen nursed her lovingly.

Meanwhile, Helen was working on getting the other two children back from England, and it appeared that Helen might have to fly out to bring Allie back, but they believed there were other ways.

"Just go bring them," said Lorna. "It's the easiest thing."

Helen moved Lorna down to the music room, and settled her with the TV and a little stereo, and all Lorna's favorite books and videos and CDs and stuffed animals. In spite of a temperature of 101, Lorna smiled at the way Helen fussed over her. But she couldn't think very much, and she went to sleep. Nadia took charge of her, and Helen flew to England once more.

Becky had arranged for a concert with the City of Birmingham orchestra. Rain and her Father were there to pick her up, and after a quiet morning with Erin and Allie and the Woodfords, Helen was taken to Birmingham, where she was to play the Sinfonia Concertante with a violist who was coming to be famous.

Again, that night, Helen slept ostensibly in the pink room, which was a guest room in the enormous Woodford home. (Lord Woodford was anxious that the girl were assigned separate rooms, to prevent any nocturnal adventures.) In fact, though, the two women slept together in Rain's room, on the stone floor, on a blanket. Polly knew this, but they conspired to keep her husband in ignorance of the facts.

Rain wanted to know all that had happened. "Spare me the details; just the big picture, here."

Helen told her the same story again. Rain only wanted to see Helen's face as she told it.

"And yes, we did have sex," she said, not quite able to meet Rain's eyes without looking defensive.

"Well, we knew _that_ was going to happen," Rain said, a little archly. She wore pajamas, and Helen wore a nightie.

Helen reached for her, and Rain pushed her hand away. Suddenly she threw herself into Helen's embrace and kissed her over and over again. It was as if she feared to lose Helen in the very near future. They made love with great urgency, and Helen stole like a thief into the pink room to sleep. But again, Rain slipped in next to her, and they slept together until the wee hours.

The following day, Helen, Erin and Allie set off for the US, and Rain came to see them off. Helen checked in their luggage, and stayed outside the secure area, reluctant to part from Rain. The gentle girl, with her too-big head and enormous eyes and spiky hair and haughty manner had also stolen Helen's heart, or what remained of it. Except for a vague determination to stay together, the two of them had not worked out the details of what they would do once they all got in the same house.

Helen led the way to a corner of the big lounge, seeking a little privacy. Rain waited a few seconds and followed her, having told Erin to keep an eye on the hand-baggage and Allie. Someone had given Allie a traveling game, and she was absorbed in it, her little brown head with its twin braids bent over the game in her lap.

"Help me figure this out," she asked Rain.

"I can't, Helen. It wouldn't be fair."

"Give me some kind of place to start."

Rain steeled herself. She hated this, but it had to be done. The one thing they all wanted next to having Helen all to themselves was pleasant company. And they all needed some kind of privacy.

"How many rooms are there, anyway?"

"Let's see... one, two, three,... six. Six and the attic."

"Seven? Is the attic clean?"

"Yes. It's fully finished, and it can be heated. I don't mind staying there, honest."

Rain smiled faintly. "Maybe we should all sleep in separate rooms."

"To begin with."

"Yes."

Helen looked out the window and blushed, embarrassed by whole thing. None of them wanted to admit that it all came down to sleeping together.

"I'd like to sleep with you some of the time," Helen said, almost choking on the words. It wasn't that she was embarrassed to want to sleep with Rain, but that she couldn't promise to sleep with her _enough_ , not with Lorna around.

"It's not a big deal," Rain said, predictably.

"It'll become one if we can't have it. Look what happened at Woodford!" Helen turned to look at Rain, and saw her wipe her nose. Rain was crying silently. Helen decided not to recognize that she was. "This is good," she said, trying to show enthusiasm. "Now if there was four of us, we could split up three ways, and on Saturdays we could just go without!"

Rain laughed and cried at the same time. Then she sobered and shook her head. "I'd prefer it if I wasn't _expected_ to... entertain anyone except you."

"Would you feel slighted if I kept two days a week for you, two for Lorna, and two for Sophie?"

"That's not fair; she's gone most of the time; when she comes home, shouldn't she get you right away?"

Helen looked at Rain thoughtfully. She had the right attitude. For the first time Helen began to have hope that it would all work out.

Helen kissed Rain tenderly and picking up Allie, headed out to the security barrier, while Erin and Rain said their farewells. "Look after your mother for me," called out Rain to Erin, who said she would. "And I'll bring Popples with me!"

"Don't forget!"

"I won't!"

"What's a Popple?"

"Oh, a stuffed animal."

# # #

It had been New Year's Day when Lorna hurt herself for the third time. Helen had completely missed the usual New Year's Eve engagements for PBS that earned so much money for local TV stations. It was now the second week of the new year, and the weather in Westfield was blisteringly cold. The girls were very patient, getting out of one plane, to go through customs, collecting bags and hurrying to their little plane out in the private docking area, getting in in sub-zero weather, waiting until Jim got everything stowed, and another hour, get into the jeep, and drive home in a blizzard. They were dressed warmly, so only their faces and hands got cold. Now the question was whether they had picked up a cold on the plane. There had been lots of children on board, and a flu scare in London.

Gena was very happy to see the girls. Erin knew that Gena would be happy to see Allie, but she wasn't certain whether Gena would greet her, Erin, with as much joy. Helen, too was anxious. Erin was a patient and long-suffering girl, slow to anger, and quick to forgive.

They needn't have worried. Gena hugged them fiercely together and kissed them in turn, treating them equally.

Nadia welcomed them all, and Helen squeezed her teacher with deep affection. She hadn't had time to tell her all that had happened in Philadelphia, and she longed to do it, but the kids had to be fed and made to rest, and then she had to check on Lorna.

Gena was on top of it. She took the girls upstairs to their room, got them cleaned up, and put clean clothes on them, and brought them downstairs for snacks. Meanwhile Helen grabbed James and put him to her itching breast, while she went out to check on Lorna.

Lorna was no more sick than she had been, but she didn't look any better.

"How do you feel?"

"Horny," said Lorna, frankly. "I'm serious."

"Your cough is better."

"I'm on drugs."

"Oh no; you're zonked!"

"Yup!"

"Would you like to stay here, where the action is, or come upstairs?"

"Upstairs," she said at once, economically.

Helen went out to the kitchen and handed James to Gena, and came back for Lorna. She put most of Lorna's things on her stomach, and picked her up and carried her to the room above Nadia's room, in the southwest corner of the second floor. Then she made the bed around Lorna with the skill of a hospital nurse, and brought in Lorna's other belongings from where they had been put away in various places.

"All my stuff?"

"Yes. This is your room! It's a nice big one!"

Lorna looked round the room. In her state of health anything looked terrible, but worst of all was the implication that she wouldn't share a room with Helen."

"You're banishing me."

Helen's face went grey. "No," she explained, "We're all getting our own rooms except the kids."

"Oh. Even Steven."

"Yup. I thought that... would be best."

"Uh huh." She smiled suddenly, and Helen had to smile back. "I'm going to be good! No complaints from G.I. Shapiro!" She saluted.

Helen snugged her into her comforter, arranged her water and medicines and books within reach, and bent to kiss her. She felt uncomfortably warm.

Helen's position in the town was such that doctors would make house calls if she asked nicely.

"I don't want to bring her out in this weather, doctor, and anyway, it's better to keep her away from your other patients!"

"I'll be over, oh, let's say noon?"

"Great! Thanks a million!"

He checked everything, her throat, her chest, her ears, her temperature, her wounds—"Good lord! I have to make a police report!" "Go ahead, but it was several days ago, and a report was made in Philly. Honest!"—and he took a urine sample and several blood samples.

"Phew!" said Lorna, after he was gone.

Helen called Lorna's mother and told her.

"Oh goodness," said she, "she's a terrible patient. You've never seen fussing until you've seen Baby fussing." She still called Lorna 'Baby' sometimes. "She just wants company, Miss Helen. She hates to be alone, that's all. If I sat in her room and knitted, or somep'n, she'd be fairly all right."

It seemed as if Australia was out of the question. The early rounds had started, and Sophie was sailing through, and if Lorna was still sick when she got to the finals, Helen could not, and would not go. Helen made day trips out to St. Louis, Cleveland, Atlanta, Baltimore and Seattle, but Lorna made no improvement.

Helen's Seattle trip had been strenuous. She had leased a jet, and flown it out to Seattle early in the morning, filmed all day, and then played a concert that evening before flying back. She arrived back at 3 in the morning, and went straight upstairs to Lorna's room, to find her awake, and shivering with her fever.

The previous morning they had consulted with the doctor, and had been about to have Lorna admitted to hospital, but Lorna had refused to go. "It's just a flu, Helen," she had croaked. "You never go to hospital for the flu." But now Lorna was so sick that she felt hot to the touch, and her skin felt dry. Helen knew that was a bad sign. But she was lucid.

"Drink all the water," she whispered to Lorna. "This is serious."

"What's the t-temperature?" asked Lorna, barely able to speak.

Helen used an electronic thermometer they had bought recently. It was 103.5. It had been around 102 for days. She would have to be taken to the emergency room. Helen told Lorna the situation.

"It's life or death, Baby. You could have a seizure."

Lorna swore. "C-call, the-then. I'll g-go."

"Three glasses of water, before we go. Was Nadia up to see you?"

"Yeah,... the-three times, and she g-gave me the p-pills. G-gena was by later."

Helen called the hospital, as she had been instructed. To her shock, the emergency room told her that there was a minor crisis on their hands: their emergency room staff was down with the flu, and they were referring incoming patients to the hospital in Erie. But there was a blizzard coming in from the northwest, and she had better hurry.

They put the TV on low volume so as not to wake the children, and saw that the blizzard had already hit Erie. In fact, it was just coming down on them in the Westfield area.

Helen thought of Amy, and thought about calling her. She felt rotten about only ever calling Amy when there was a medical emergency. She remembered her gynecologist in St. Paul, and decided to call her.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Singer?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"You might have forgotten me; this is Helen Nordstrom!"

"Helen! What's up?"

"Dr. Cohen, I'm looking after my friend Lorna, she's got flu, she's shivering with fever, a hundred and four temperature, and we're snowed in, and the hospital staff have got the flu, too."

Dr. Cohen's reaction was a hearty laugh, and Helen joined her out of politeness. "Oh my," she said, "at least she isn't pregnant!"

Helen had to smile at that. "I have a four-wheel-drive, and I could take her out to Erie if you think I should, Dr. Cohen; she's on an antibiotic, and she's been on it for a week, but her temperature hasn't gone down below 102 in the daytime." Helen explained that the patient had refused to go to hospital until now.

Dr. Cohen said that the thing was to get the fever down. Force water into her, she said; give her something to reduce the fever: aspirin, Tylenol, anything; and call Erie in the morning. "Work on her temperature, Helen, and if she doesn't respond in half an hour, call me back. I'm going to sleep, but my phone will wake me."

"I'm so sorry! I have a friend in Vancouver who could help; I'll talk to her. I apologize!"

"Helen, I'm glad to help. You'd never call without a good reason; I know you that well. Don't hesitate. I think the problem should be within the expertise of a qualified nurse practitioner, though."

Helen thanked her and hung up, and promptly filled Lorna's glass with water. Lorna drank with great reluctance. "Just sip it," Helen advised. Lorna had been sick a couple of days earlier, trying to drink water too fast.

Helen called Sylvia. Sylvia was a qualified nurse, with a lot of experience. She explained the problem. Sylvia explained other things Helen could do.

"The body is trying to get rid of the bacteria by making it too warm for them to reproduce," she explained.

"Aha," Helen said, nodding to herself.

"But the body can't take it for too long. Soak a towel in water and lay it on her head; that's one thing. Some folks use vinegar."

"I've got that. What about ice?"

"Well, yeah. Try water first, though."

"Okay. What else?"

"Keep feeding her water, like you're doing. Call back if there's no improvement in half an hour. The fever should go down in a few minutes."

Somehow, nursing Lorna made Helen's love for her grow. Even in her fever-crazed mind, Lorna was considerate of Helen, and tried to be as undemanding as possible. She drank all the water Helen gave her, in sips, as instructed, and Helen applied the wet towels, and administered the Tylenol and the aspirin. Sylvia had said that the combination sometimes worked, though it was a long shot. At any rate, it did no harm.

The fever came down to 102 in fifteen minutes, and down to 101 in another fifteen. Sylvia warned that it would go back up. "You'll have to stay up. At the slightest sign of fever, do the water thing. Keep the Tylenol going every four hours."

Helen asked if Lorna minded sleeping with her. There was no way Helen could stay up. She was on the point of collapse. Lorna smiled.

"Come on!" she whispered, "It'll be fun!"

It was perversely satisfying to hold the sick girl close. For the first time in days, Lorna felt just pleasantly warm, not hot. Already the skin felt better. She had left a pitcher of water handy, and set her watch to beep every half-hour. Lorna kissed Helen on the cheek, and Helen fell asleep to Lorna's kisses.

Lorna felt warm again around six in the morning, and Helen repeated the wet towel treatment, and the Tylenol.

"Don't run today," Lorna asked, "stay with me."

"It won't take long, Baby, I'll be back by 7 to feed James, and cuddle with you!"

Lorna began to cry silently, her face twisted up in misery.

"What's the matter?" asked Helen, in a soft concerned voice. It took a long time for Lorna to confess the cause of her misery. Haltingly, between sniffs, she explained that she wanted to have Helen to herself for a week or two before the other girls got there. (Rain was home for the holidays, and Sophie was off in Australia.) She had planned to have sex with Helen every night, she said; instead, she had fallen sick.

"But I had you for one night!" she said, cheering up a little. Helen stroked her temple, something Lorna loved. It was hard to bear when Lorna cried.

Helen dressed quickly to run. Allie walked in, and her eyes lit up to see her mother, and she flew into Helen's arms. She was growing tall, now, losing a little of her chubbiness, but to Helen she was the perfect two-and-a-half-year old. She still had a tendency to make piles of things (the pyramid instinct, Helen called it), and haul things off to her room (the magpie instinct), and wanted to plug things into electric outlets, but apart from such normal things, she was a sweetheart.

"Play with me!" she asked.

"Maybe when I get back? Auntie Lorna is too sick, sweetheart; Mama has to take care of her!"

"I'll help you, okay?"

"Of course! And you help Gena look after Erin and Baby James."

Helen set out, crunching over the frozen six inches of pure white snow. She had to concentrate carefully on where she ran; all the landmarks were obliterated by the thick snow layer. Everything looked snugged down and battened up, a light here and there shone out over the pre-dawn landscape. Most houses had at least a little pine, so there were patches of dull green that would turn bright when the sun rose.

She ran on the middle of the road, well away from the ditch. The occasional snow-plow-equipped truck gave her a wide berth, and the drivers waved to her.

Almost everyone left in town was either a Westfield native, or perhaps people who worked at the college; there were hardly any college students at all. The population had been reduced by at least a quarter, for the holidays.

To her surprise, though, she passed a group of four women running slowly. They all smiled and waved and called her name as she passed, and she waved back, wondering who they were. Later it struck her that they were the women who had moved in to the west side of town, whom Sophie called _Helen's Lesbians_.

Helen saw two new housing complexes, two entire streets of medium-sized homes. The town was growing.

When Helen got back from her run, she found that Rain had arrived, blizzard and all.

After Rain had been welcomed by the children and Nadia, Nadia asked how Lorna was doing. She complained of arthritis, and that she couldn't climb the stairs without a lot of pain. Helen's answer caused a lot of concern. "She's a lot better," she said to them.

Helen took Rain upstairs to meet Lorna, Gena following behind.

"Oh dear," Rain exclaimed, "how long has she been sick?"

"Since she got here."

Lorna was up, watching TV. Helen watched apprehensively as the two girls shook hands and sized each other up. Lorna sort of winced at Rain's hardware, while Rain looked with mixed pity and alarm at Lorna's fever-worn face. She also took in the bandaged wrists and forearms.

"Has anyone cleaned those?"

The doctor had cleaned them up, and they hadn't messed with them since. Lorna cautiously peeped at them, and announced that they were fine.

"Let me look," demanded Helen, and Lorna looked at her fiercely defiant. " _No!"_ she said quietly. Lorna evidently was anxious to keep them out of Rain's sight .

"There could be an infection," insisted Helen. Lorna's eyes blazed. She looked fearsome with her face showing already the effects of a week of high fever. Helen began to think that Lorna was hiding something.

"It doesn't matter," said Rain mildly, throwing a reproachful glance at Helen.

Already Lorna's fever was creeping above 102, and they began the wet towels, the fever reducer and the water.

A call to Erie resulted in their losing any hope from that source: the roads were impassable for the moment; the storm had dumped nearly three feet of snow just south of Erie, squarely on the road between Erie and Westfield. Airports were closed, and power was out for parts of Erie.

Again Lorna's fever came down, and she fell asleep around 10. And Rain quietly took a look under the bandages, with Helen standing by. She had made sure of Helen's support beforehand. She wore cheap drugstore surgical gloves. And they found an abscess in a corner.

"Shit!" said Helen. "Why would she cover that up?"

"I don't think she saw it. It's an infected thread thingy."

"Yes;... _suture?"_

"Yeah, that's the word, _suture_."

"What do we do?"

"Clean it, I guess!"

"You wanna do it?"

Rain shrugged. "I'd rather you did it. If she woke up and caught me messing with her hand..."

In the end they woke her, and Helen told Lorna what she had found. Lorna took a look and nearly fainted. "Do something!" she begged.

Consulting Sylvia again, Helen proceeded to clean the wound enough to give it a chance, slathering it with a salve that Sylvia recommended. It was the left wrist. The right wrist seemed fine.

Rain was fascinated with the wound. She watched from a few feet away, cringing at the sight of the slashed wrist, and the severed vessels carefully sewn back together. "How could you do it?" she asked, trembling with revulsion. "I wouldn't have had the guts," she added, anxious not to appear to be putting Lorna down. Lorna merely glowered at her.

Helen quickly covered it up. Keeping it open didn't do anyone any good. Lorna reluctantly admitted that it felt better immediately. "I didn't notice before," she said, "but it had been feeling warm, a little lump of heat." She sighed. She was too sick to notice things that could be important.

Meanwhile, a call came through from Sophie that shook Helen. She asked Helen very earnestly _not_ to come to Australia. "It's... a long story," she said vaguely.

"Oh dear," Helen said. "Look, Cherie,... I want you to be happy. I don't know what to say, after the silly things I have been doing. I deserve anything you throw at me."

"You're jumping to conclusions, Helen."

"I'm sorry."

Sophie sighed. "I'll talk to you soon!" she said, and hung up. Helen felt a fool.

The next big event was the older girls heading out to St. Paul with Jim. They had a little fun with the local kids, sledding, snow-fights, and the opening of the ice rink at the new community center which was complete now. Mr. Jones had been persuaded to formally be the patron of the facility, but had given Helen all the credit in his opening speech, and allowed Helen to share the ribbon-cutting, and so forth. And against Helen's instructions and wishes, a tiny plaque had been erected over the water fountain: In Gratitude to Helen Nordstrom.

"At least it's small and cute," she had agreed.

While Lorna slowly recovered, Helen slept with her. Each night Helen tucked the children into bed, and went to look for Rain. They sometimes made love, sometimes not, but they always talked. Then Helen went to Lorna's room, and slipped into her bed. Lorna was already asleep, when Helen came to bed, and snuggled against Helen in her sleep. Without Helen's love, Lorna would probably have taken even longer.

The children knew where to find her in the mornings. Helen slept decently dressed now, because of the cold, and because of Lorna's illness. There was always the possibility that Helen would have to get up in the night and attend to her.

It took Helen a week or two to realize that there was a beautiful tree in the living room. One day she stopped on her way out and said, "Hey! There's a tree!"

Nadia was indignant. "It's been there for a week, Helen. Where are your eyes?"

"Mom, we were talking about it at dinner! We said it was Skip's angel, and you asked which Skip!"

And the tree reminded Helen of Gretchen, who had disappeared again in Kansas. She called around, and got no leads on where she was.

Meanwhile, Helen checked in at the College, and was surprised to hear that there were several hundred new music students applying to join the school mid-year. The trustees had approved the scholarships, and Helen was being given an entire orchestra, essentially, of students who would audition to play for her, and a full-time assistant, and a course off every year. Helen was delighted.

They were even hiring new faculty for the music department, to handle the additional load. There had not been a four-member department for years.

Helen spent a little time finishing up her book. The meeting of the ABA was coming up in February, and she had agreed to speak. Gradually the college was winding up for the new year, and Helen began being polled for times to schedule auditions, staff meetings, and meetings with the administration. The weather became a little dryer and a little warmer, and the snow grew slushy and then froze into icy spots. Allie fell every time she went outside, but she wore heavy padding and never hurt herself seriously. It was funny to hear her cursing, "Oh _man!"_ as she picked herself up. "I can't even walk! This is _terrible!"_ Gena always cracked up at her. "I don't know where she gets it!" she laughed, while everybody else knew that she got it from Gena.

# Beginning of Term at Westfield

A few days before classes began, Lorna was well enough to come downstairs on her own, and go out with Helen to be seen by the doctor. It hurt her to wear jeans, so she wore sweat pants and sweatshirt. With great care she had combed out her hair and braided it, so that she looked tidy. Rain stayed home and looked after the little ones and Nadia, who was suffering from an intense attack of arthritis. The old lady longed for Sophie's company, but Sophie had proceeded to win the championship—just barely—and stayed on in Australia.

Helen tried not to fuss over Lorna as she took her to the doctor's office. But she was acutely conscious of her role as Lorna's friend and protector. When they had visited the doctor the first time, Lorna had been very sick, she had been new in town, it was the holidays, and the doctor's assumption had been that Lorna was visiting for the holidays. But now Lorna's behavior was subtly different. She dealt with the doctor for the most part on her own, speaking quietly but confidently about her symptoms, and asking questions. But occasionally there would be the odd look of inquiry at Helen. Would she like to have a gynecological exam? Would she like to have her wrist looked at by a plastic surgeon? She began to speak, but then looked at Helen, and Helen would indicate that money was no object, did Lorna want it? Helen's heart swelled at playing 'husband' to her. One time, while the doctor was busy looking for samples that he wanted to give Lorna of some vitamin supplement or other, Lorna turned to Helen and gave her a secret smile. Lorna had never done that before. Things had changed so drastically, now that Lorna had left Becky. In her heart she was Helen's woman. It was a fork in the road to which Helen had come with other women, but never with Lorna. She had finally gotten another woman's girl away from her.

Helen wrote out a check, and they were on their way home. Helen fussed with her clothing, imagining that her excitement must be embarrassingly obvious. She set Lorna at the entrance to the building, and went out to bring the jeep over, and Lorna walked slowly out. Helen hurried to get to her and help her into the jeep, wanting to touch her as much as she could, wanting to show her affection for her.

Lorna looked at Helen strangely, as if about to say something, but turned away and just smiled.

"Why are your smiling?"

"I don't know... you're so gallant..."

Gallant. Helen blushed bright red. It was an uncomfortable word, almost an insult. But it came close to how Helen felt about herself. _Gallant_.

All day Helen felt pumped. The blood rushed in her veins, she felt full of energy. Once Lorna had been settled back in bed, she had gone off to her own room, and spent a minute thinking as she walked around. She felt hungry, so she went downstairs to the refrigerator and got out some food, and began to eat. She ate a lot. Then she worked out on the universal gym in the basement.

Helen received much pleasure from her visit with Rain each night. They were quiet things, not without passion. When they made love, which they did about half the time, it was sensual and slow, and when there was passion, it was expressed through kissing and hugging. At this time both Helen and Rain felt very much in love with each other.

Rain also realized that Helen was in love with Lorna. The subject was carefully avoided, but the look in Helen's eyes as she smiled at Lorna was nothing if not love. And then Helen looked at Rain, and there was the same look in those eyes.

Helen had stopped sleeping with Lorna. Every night she stopped by Lorna's room and Helen slipped into bed with her and they talked. Lorna was still incredibly weak, and her skin still tender with the aftermath of the fever. But she liked to hold Helen close, and Helen loved to be held by her.

Every night Lorna talked eagerly about how she would transform the house when she got better, how she would sew, and clean, and help with the children, and make herself useful. "You all have been so good to me," she said, "specially that Rain."

" _That_ Rain?"

"Okay, just Rain. Does it sound bad when I say _that_ Rain?"

"Well—it sounds as though you haven't quite accepted her, that's all."

Lorna was thoughtful. "She was very good to me."

Helen's heart swelled. Things were going very well. She rewarded Lorna with a kiss.

Variations on that conversation took place every night for weeks. Lorna gradually expressed greater friendliness towards Rain, while Rain's manner towards Lorna was an even, unchanging sweetness.

Lorna tired quickly, and fell asleep. Then Helen tucked the covers carefully around her, and slipped away to her own bed. There she masturbated for maybe an hour until she was ready to sleep.

In the morning, Allie would come in to see her, and then Rain would bring James in for a feeding, and sometimes watch while Helen fed him. Then Helen would send them away, change into her running clothes, and run.

Then there was working out with weights, and then more quiet masturbation in her room.

Today, though, she couldn't relax. She put away the dildo, washed up, and went downstairs. In the afternoon there would be the interview for the new music professor, and she had to get some errands done before that.

Before she could get started, she was attacked by Allie.

" _Mama!"_ she squealed delightedly. "I found you!" She must have been looking for Helen for a while. She had what looked like an Allen wrench in one hand, and her rag doll in the other. She had been dressed by Rain in flannel pants and a pretty dress-like top, and the look on her face was one of pure satisfaction.

Helen spent a half hour playing with the tyke, putting away her other plans. Then it was almost noon, and she had promised to host the candidate for lunch.

# # #

"Dress nicely!" exhorted Rain.

"Where's she going?" asked a voice from the top of the stairs.

"Lorna! Are you strong enough?" Lorna shrugged at Rain's gentle question. "The interview. Helen's taking him out to lunch!"

Lorna sat on Helen's bed and watched while Rain picked out what she should wear. "A pants suit? It's cold outside."

"No, it's a guy; it's too—I don't know—aggressive, maybe."

"That's true."

In the end they chose a rather feminine outfit of a blouse and long skirt with a short plaid jacket.

"Your hair's a mess," Lorna said, scowling. "It's neither here nor there; it's too short to put up, and too long to leave alone..."

Rain put James on the floor and tried to put Helen's hair in some semblance of tidiness, but Lorna quickly took over. Rain watched with fascination as Lorna's long slim fingers coaxed Helen's unruly hair into a neat coif that minimized the degree to which Helen's ears stuck out from her head, but still showed them off.

"I'm getting late!" Helen complained.

"Oh sit still," Lorna murmured.

## Peter Lawrence

Helen drove somewhat recklessly out to the college, out to the administration building. When she hurried up to the Dean's office and looked inside, his secretary smiled at her with relief.

"I just called home!" she said, admiring Helen's clothes.

"Well, here I am," Helen said slightly impatiently.

"Ah! I thought I heard your voice," said the Dean, coming out of his office followed by a slightly-built man with steel-rimmed glasses, dressed in a three-piece suit. Helen was glad she had dressed the way she had. He looked very intelligent, and Helen's curiosity was piqued. The department had been at an impasse: Richard and Nadia had liked different candidates, and had asked Helen to select the first candidate that they would interview. "Anyway, it's just not going to work with someone you don't get along with," Rich had said. Helen had protested that she got along with everyone, but Nadia had agreed with Rich. And Helen had picked the young man that had been the second choice of the others: Peter Lawrence.

They were introduced formally, and Helen shook his hand. It was an ordinary handshake, and Helen couldn't say anything from it, except that he was rather in awe of her.

As she led the way, trying to put him at ease, she remarked that the car was filthy on the outside, but she had cleaned it out nicely on the inside. He wore a parka coat against the 40 degree temperature, and observed that Helen was dressed lightly for it. "Oh, I have a parka in the car, in case it gets really bad," Helen assured him.

Helen drove them out to the restaurant, and they were seated at the best table in the place. As always, everyone at the restaurant smiled and nodded at Helen, with a little more approval than usual, probably because of being nicely dressed. Helen wasn't always dressed up to the degree dictated by her celebrity status, in the view of the West fielders.

Helen made it clear that she wasn't going to quiz him while he ate. He grinned his thanks, but soon began to talk.

He had wide interests. He was interested in music education, composition, orchestration, chamber music, piano, and secondarily in double-reeds.

"Wonderful!" Helen enthused. On his resume he had only mentioned piano and chamber music. He looked pleased at her approval. He seemed very young, maybe in his late twenties. Still, he had dual master's degrees in orchestration and arrangement, and in teacher education. He was working on a doctorate in 20th century piano composition, which wasn't going very well, he confessed frankly.

Helen said quietly that she personally didn't care. But it could affect his chances of tenure, she admitted. "Really?" She nodded.

"If you're really interested in piano, you should go for it," she advised. They talked about various alternatives. Then the talk turned to the food, and then to Helen's work at the college. He was wonderful to talk to because he was full of energy and enthusiasm, but was a perfect gentleman, always polite, always charming. Helen grew so fond of him that she helped him out of his chair, as she was used to doing for Lorna and Rain and Sophie. He looked at her slightly startled and she blushed. Neither of them said anything, but Helen could feel the wheels turning inside his head: _so it's true; she's a dyke._

She paid for the meal and left a nice tip. She wouldn't bother to report the cost; it wasn't worth the effort. She led the way out to the car, and helped him into the seat. What was the use of playing the lady anymore?

He sighed once Helen had got into her seat and started the engine. "I should have brought my wife," he said.

"You're married!" Helen exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"Oh yes," he said, nervously, "it just hasn't come up before."

"No, that's wonderful. It's a nice town to bring up a family. I have four."

He stared at her, and she pretended to concentrate on driving. "Really? How old are they, if you don't mind telling me!"

"Not at all; Gena is fifteen, Erin is 10, Allie is two, and James is nine months old. What about yours?"

They hadn't started yet. She was still working on her masters in journalism, but she wanted to be a writer.

The interview went very well, and the College decided to offer him the position. Richard and Nadia were both very pleased with him. They liked his wide interests and skills. Richard saw him off to the little airport, and everyone went home. Classes would begin within a few days.

# # #

The first unexpected thing that happened was the arrival of a package in the mail: it was the violin concerto promised by Bill Yves, the brash young composer Helen had met in Pittsburgh. Helen showed it to Nadia and Richard, all flustered.

"What do I do now?" she asked.

Richard grinned. "You've never commissioned a new work before?" Helen shook her head. "Well, you play it!"

"I _know_ , Richard, but..."

When called the music director of the Pittsburgh Symphony, he laughed at Helen's confusion. "Sure," he said, "we'll premiere it!" They made plans to get together and work on it before it was rehearsed. Helen cautiously said that she thought there were at least parts of it that were really good, and he said he didn't doubt it. "He's good," he said, "but he's annoying. Let's just spring it on him. If we warn him, he'll come round and we might just have to kill him."

# # #

Nadia's arthritis was getting worse, and it wasn't responding to treatment. Remembering how she had helped her friend Marion in Ferguson, Helen began massaging Nadia's hands every morning and evening. In a couple of days, there was improvement.

Bill Yves had supplied a piano reduction of the score, and Helen began to rehearse with Nadia. To their surprise, the more Nadia played, the less the arthritis bothered her, and soon Nadia wasn't mentioning it at all. She still had problems with her knees, but not with her fingers.

Students began to arrive on campus for the winter semester, and there was an enormous jam of parents and cars around the town the Sunday before classes began. Rooms that hadn't been used for students since the sixties were cleaned and re-commissioned, and the food service was beefed-up to handle the almost 10% increase in students.

Helen was touched when a half-dozen students came up on Sunday evening, looking for her, to tell how much they looked forward to their classes the next morning.

It was a crazy week. Once again, Helen was teaching Theory 1, while the newly installed Peter taught Theory 2. Helen also taught Orchestra Management as a course, for credit. Students would learn all the work involved in running an orchestra, from maintaining the music library, preparing performing copies of music, to conducting rehearsals.

Helen was in charge of two orchestras now: the specialized Baroque orchestra, which was entirely Helen's, to work with as she saw fit, and the large College orchestra, now more than 60 strong, which was part of her teaching load, and which had to meet regularly. Peter promptly volunteered to co-teach it with Helen, which the Dean approved. Speaking to her privately, he told her that he would try his best to make it possible for Helen to keep up a moderately busy concert schedule.

"I'm surprised that you undertook Theory 1," he said. "Wouldn't it be more reasonable to give it to Peter?"

Helen shrugged and smiled. She couldn't quite explain why, but then she remembered that Peter Lawrence had mentioned that he enjoyed teaching Theory 2.

In addition, Helen spoke to the President to urge him to give the new hire an increase in pay. "Peter Lawrence will play a big role in the future of the music department," Helen said to the President. "I'm here because of Nadia. Rich can't do it alone. And you'll never find anyone better than Peter!"

"We'll take it under advisement," said the president, smiling. Helen left disappointed. But Peter's very first paycheck reflected an increased salary.

Helen's 'full-time assistant' was actually a pair of student helpers, one a freshman, and the other a senior, both of them students from her Fall classes. Helen squeezed in a desk for them to work at in her office. Every morning Janice, the freshman, sat at the desk and kept Helen's materials and assignments straight, preparing and duplicating notes under Helen's supervision. In the afternoons, Jeanne, the senior did the same, and conducted a couple recitations. Helen did two herself, and they rotated, so that all four groups got to see both Helen and Jeanne.

# # #

Lorna was tired after her first full day on her feet. She had taken over the kitchen, leaving the others free to get ready for College. She was learning the confusion that surrounded beginning-of-school preparations: clothes, food arrangements, transport, syllabuses, student helpers, textbooks.

Meanwhile, Allie was hanging around Lorna. Lorna told her she was busy, and the little girl looked up at her earnestly.

"I want to help!"

"Okay, you can come and help by watching."

Allie came and stood on the stool and watched. Then she wanted to cut, and Lorna drew the line at that. But she was allowed to spread butter on the bread, which she did making far less of a mess than most little girls would have made, but still more than Lorna's tidy preferences could tolerate.

Helen and Rain thanked Lorna, who looked pleased to receive their gratitude. But when Rain went up to call her for dinner, she was fast asleep on her bed still dressed. She came down and ate, tiredly, and went straight up to bed.

It was a cold, windy night, and snow was expected before midnight. After everyone was in bed, Helen went to check on Lorna, and heard the wind howl past her window. Lorna was curled up in her twin bed, her toes curled up with the cold. The thin blankets Helen had given her weren't warm enough; tonight it would be down below zero. Helen brought in her own comforter. She found socks in Lorna's drawer, and put them on her feet. Lorna's feet relaxed, and Helen smiled. Then the comforter went on on top of Lorna's blankets and cover. Helen carefully undid the tight braids Lorna had worn her hair in all day, and watched her features quietly relax as she felt more comfortable. Her face was still thin and pinched from the two weeks of illness, but her skin was more smooth and healthy, and her lips were beginning to lose their roughness.

Helen's eyes were drawn to the curve of her body under the blankets, and she felt her own body respond to her memory of the few nights she had spent with Lorna in Philadelphia. Those had been incredible nights. They had made love hard some nights, other nights had been poetic and sensuous. Helen remembered how Lorna's body moved. Making love to a dancer was incredible, because she was so aware of her body, so intimately familiar with each fiber of each muscle. That she had deliberately sliced her wrists was unbelievable. It was the equivalent of Helen destroying her violin. Poison, Helen could imagine. But what Lorna had done was truly an act of self-hate.

Helen was realizing that Lorna was not easy to read. There was never any deception about how Lorna had felt about Helen. She had adored Helen from the first. But how she felt about their relationship, how she felt about Becky, how she felt about herself, these things had been hidden. What went on in her mind? Was she happy? What did she feel about the others? Helen discovered that she wanted to know very much. When they were briefly together each night and Helen asked her if she was happy, the answer was invariable yes, of _course_ , she had never been happier in her life. Everybody was being nice to her, even "that Rain." Did she miss her dancing? No. Anyway, how could she dance if she was sick? She'd given up on Swan Lake. She didn't even care.

The Ballet had called, and hearing that she was down with the flu, had decided to go ahead with another dancer. Lorna had affected complete unconcern about the whole thing. And there was no evidence of tears anywhere.

Helen gently stroked her shoulder through the comforter, and sighed. Her heart was strangely happy.

Helen went to visit Rain. She was surprised to see Rain dressed provocatively in a diaphanous black nightie. Saying nothing, she looked at Helen enigmatically, leaning against the wall, her hand behind her, her breasts carelessly thrust out, her hard nipples contradicting her casual pose.

Helen turned the light out and shut the door. In the sudden dark she slipped off her robe and sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here, girl," she called softly. Rain walked over, just a blur in the dark. She put her arms lightly on Helen's shoulders and stood smiling.

Taking her time, Helen felt her body through the luxurious fabric. By the time she was done, the garment was stained with the moisture that oozed out of Rain's body, its musky odor exciting both girls. Helen carefully picked up its hem, and raised it over the head of its wearer, and removed it.

A few minutes after Helen had settled in her own bed, still hungry for the feel of a warm body against her own that cold night, she heard the door open and close softly, and a soft body with familiar metal ornaments slip in beside her.

In seconds they were kissing passionately. "Just tonight?" "Okay."

## Beginning of Classes

Rain was gone when Helen woke up. She had been restless all night, and Helen guessed that she had the jitters. She knew her material thoroughly, but that was Rain. She had to be totally confident about what she was doing; she hated to improvise.

Helen woke James up and nursed him, and changed his wet diaper. Then she put him in his nice big playpen. Lorna would keep an eye on him when she woke up. Helen got dressed to run; it was still only six. She looked up to see Lorna, all neatly groomed, wearing a clean set of sweats her feet neatly encased in brown carpet-slippers. Her face and hands, all that was visible of the girl, looked doll-like in their pale smoothness.

"I'll take care of them," she said in her quick Philly speech, "you go on."

"Go back to your room," said Helen, "I'll bring him over!"

"Are you sure? Let me bring the pen."

"Okay."

It had snowed all night, but Helen was used to running in snow. It was still snowing, fine, tiny snowflakes, but mercifully it was still. The snow floated straight down. As she ran by the school, she saw more students arriving.

Some of the kids wanted to get every last second of being home as they could. They'd now dome and sleep through their morning classes, exhausted with traveling.

"HI MISS HELEN!"

"Hi, Dr. Nordstrom!"

"Dr. Nordstrom, say hi to my parents!"

"Hello everyone!" called Helen with a smile as she ran past them, leaving a wake of swirling snow. The students exclaimed that she didn't jog, she _ran!_

Though Lorna insisted that she could look after the children, Helen said that she'd take them out to Nicole. "She depends on the income, Lorna. And the kids know her."

"Well they know _me,_ " she said indignantly. "What'll I do all day?" Helen was making breakfast, while Rain put on her earrings. She had dressed like a lady, with a long gown and boots. The visit home had changed the way she saw herself. She had pulled her spiky hair back in two tiny braids, which she had tied using little black rubber bands. Lorna looked at them enviously, trying not to whine, but failing.

"Would you like to come with us? You could sit in one of our offices and read."

"Oh! I think I'll do that, then; beats the crap out of staying home by myself!"

Helen went round to Nadia's side, and found her struggling with her shoes.

"Oh!" she sighed. "This is so stupid..." Helen did up her boots, and promised to undo them once they got to work. Helen put her arms round the old woman and hugged her tight. It felt like holding a little girl. Nadia was rapidly losing a lot of her bone mass, and was in serious danger of breaking a bone if she fell. That was another thing Helen had to take care of. She wasn't going to let go of Nadia for a second, she promised herself.

So they all got into the old Jeep, and headed out to Nicole's, and then out to the College. Helen held Nadia carefully while she walked unsteadily over the snow and ice into the building. Nadia protested the whole time, but the way she looked at Helen made Helen feel wonderful. Helen went back to park the car, while Rain and Nadia headed upstairs to their respective offices.

All the boys looked at Lorna as they walked to Helen's office together. Lorna ignored them, her head held high, her nose in the air. "Little puppies," she murmured scornfully, and Helen suppressed a grin. But she noticed Lorna looking at the students through the corner of her eye. Lorna had worn platform boots, an ivory and chocolate pinstripe pant suit, matching ivory gloves, and a pretty chocolate felt hat. Her hair was now longer than Helen had ever seen, and she had braided it loosely and let it fall forward over her shoulder, thick and silky. Nobody seemed to notice Helen! Helen, too had dressed nicely, in blouse, skirt, jacket and boots in the earth tones she always wore, but Lorna was the cynosure of all eyes.

"Now that we have time," Lorna said, as Helen put away her things and turned to look at Lorna, who had calmly put her own jacket away on a hanger and was fishing out a beautiful comb from inside her purse, "let's tidy your hair!"

Helen's hair didn't grow anymore as fast as it used to. She was able to part it , but it didn't stay down no matter what Helen did. But Lorna could make it sit up and beg. A clip here, a clip there, and it lay close to her head obediently. Helen loved the feel of fingers in her hair, and Lorna's attentions were incredibly pleasurable.

It was time. Helen gave Lorna a quick kiss, instructions how to deal with anything that could come up while she was gone, picked up her bundle of materials, and headed out to class.

She had known that it was a large class, but she hadn't quite realized how tight it would be in even the large room they used for Theory 1, Helen's own classroom. There were nearly 60 students there, all seated quietly. The murmur had died down as soon as she came into the room.

She greeted them quietly and they murmured a greeting to her. It was a completely different atmosphere from that of the Fall class.

Once she had handed out her syllabus and the first day's materials, and looked up to begin, she felt a little more relaxed. She introduced herself, and launched into the opening topics.

Soon she felt removed from what was transpiring. It was as if someone else was teaching, and Helen was watching with interest. She noted how less dynamic she was this semester than she had been for the opening lesson in the Fall. That had been a dynamic lesson; she had grabbed their attention with her very first words. Here she was plugging along, feeling uninspired, just anxious to teach them what she knew. Her heart felt like lead, disappointed in herself, but the _other her_ in front of the class kept going, sounding peppy but relaxed.

"Let's stop here for any questions!" she said and waited.

A hand went up, and a shy young thing smiled at Helen expectantly. Helen smiled back and nodded to her, and she asked in a soft voice why rests were important.

It was an opening. Helen explained as well as she could. Now her voice needed no artificial enthusiasm. Her natural persuasiveness came out, and she had them all nodding. She played examples at the keyboard and they listened eagerly. Then there were more questions, and yet more. It was several minutes before she resumed. She praised them for their questions, and they looked pleased with themselves.

The hour sped by quickly. She assigned homework, and they departed, leaving her to clean up. A few of them stayed behind just to talk to her, and she recognized a cheerleader from the Fall.

"Crystal! How nice to see you in Theory 1!"

"I decided to be a music major," she said, blushing. "I know some, but I'm a little rusty!"

"Wonderful!"

They helped Helen put the room together nicely, and after talking to them, Helen headed back to the office.

Betsy and Lorna were talking in her office. Lorna looked a little cautious, but they seemed friendly enough.

Helen greeted Betsy warmly. She had lost a little weight and looked smart in her casual outfit and her parka coat. They talked about the weather for a minute, and then Helen sat down with Betsy to get everything lined up. During the holidays Betsy and she had kept touch only as needed, but now Helen expected to meet her daily.

When they were done, Betsy stood up to leave. She turned to Lorna and held out a friendly hand. She knew Lorna as Becky's girlfriend and Helen's close associate.

"Betsy, don't go yet; there are some things I'd like you to know."

"Oh dear," said Betsy, looking at Helen worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

Lorna's face was wooden. Helen looked at her, feeling again Lorna's beauty making pudding out of her heart. Lorna looked down at Helen's desk, her thoughts obviously in a jumble.

"No; not for me, Betsy. Sit down..." Betsy sat down slowly. "Lorna is joining us here; she won't be going back to Philly."

"Oh," said Betsy, thoughtfully, and turned to Lorna. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be," said Lorna. "I'm happy to be here. I'm very, very happy!" Her face looked tense, but her words had the ring of truth. She smiled then, a strange smile that had both happiness and sadness in it, but a lot of sincerity. Betsy waited for more, but Lorna looked away, still smiling to herself.

Helen took over. "Can we get medical coverage for her, insurance, change of address, driver's license, all that set up?"

"Gosh," said Lorna after she had left, "you're really organized! I was going to volunteer to help!"

Helen grinned. "Of course you can," she said. "You'll probably see what we're not doing. There's lots of things we could do better, too."

"I just can't talk to... you know who."

Helen nodded.

Helen had forgotten to take Nadia's boots off, and Nadia had spent the whole hour in her winter boots. Helen took care of it right after Betsy left, and took Lorna round the school. They watched Peter lecturing, without being seen, went round to the library and the art gallery, and then it was time for lunch. The four of them ate at the deli across the street, a new business that had come up over the holidays. Then it was orchestra time.

Lorna watched Helen as she got the orchestra started, very much as Rain had watched months earlier. From a group of kids who had never played together, she made an orchestra that was pretty decent within fifteen short minutes. Then she proceeded to make them really good.

"Hello!"

"Hi," said Lorna, startled. It was a woman of about forty, rather heavily built, with glasses and a pleasant face.

"I'm Kate Hensman, from Biology," she explained. "Are you a new student?"

"No, I, er, I'm visiting Helen," Lorna said, vaguely.

"Oh! Well, welcome to Westfield!"

"Thanks!" Lorna turned back to the music. She felt vaguely frustrated, but she couldn't think why.

"Good, isn't she?"

"The best," agreed Lorna. "They're sounding a lot better than they were fifteen minutes ago!"

"I'll bet!" said Kate with a chuckle. She watched and listened for a while and stood to leave. She held out her hand, and after Lorna had shaken it, said to tell Helen she had said Hi. "If you tell her Kate, she'll know!"

"Okay, Kate from Biology!"

"Right!" And Kate was gone with a cheery wave.

There were others who came and sat at the back, watching the proceedings. Sometimes Helen turned and smiled at the little audience and said something to the orchestra that made them laugh. Other times, Helen turned and stared blankly at the small crowd, and Lorna wondered if she had forgotten that Lorna was there.

The others, mostly students, watched with various reactions. Some watched in awe, others watched because they knew someone in the orchestra, yet others chewed their fingers, as if wondering whether to join. One girl had a look of pure joy on her face, as if she was on drugs. Lorna only glanced at them occasionally, and they glanced at her, since she was dressed more like a visitor than a student.

It was cold in the large room in which the orchestra rehearsed, especially at the back. In spite of the lined jacket that Lorna wore, she was feeling the chill, and she huddle close to the wall. There was a radiator two rows ahead, but Lorna was too proud to move her seat, and she suffered in silence. Her joints ached, and she felt tired, but she knew for a certainty that if she had stayed at home, she would have been miserable.

That first Monday of the Winter semester, Lorna enjoyed thoroughly. She also realized what enormous tension there was between the two of them. Every time Lorna stood, Helen's eye went to her legs and her buttocks. Lorna softly closed the door around four thirty, when they were almost ready to go home.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that!" she said softly to Helen.

"Like what?"

"You know... like you'd take me right here against the wall." Her violent words were softened by her voice, and her soft smile.

"Do you want to be taken like that?"

"No!"

Helen drew the back of her hand across her lips. "It's very hard for me, Lorna." Her voice shook, and Lorna's smile evaporated. She had never seen Helen as tense as this. What was wrong? Perhaps it was the sexy outfit. She should have worn something simpler, less provocative. She didn't own anything simple. All her clothes were expensive, provocative clothes, the clothes of a dancer who knew she was beautiful.

"Let's go home," she suggested in a tiny voice. "Are we waiting for Rain?"

They left a message for Rain, and collecting Nadia, they headed out to the parking lot, drove out to pick up the kids from Nicole's house, and headed home. Rain was to either get a ride, walk home, or call.

Putting James in his pen with a bottle, and giving Allie a new toy to play with, Helen grabbed a robe from her room, and hurried to Lorna's room.

"Helen! I'm just... I'm not ready..."

Lorna was a lover again.

Many miles away, it was late night in Paris. Natasha was seated in the living room of their house. She had just put a CD on the player, and was listening. Marika and Lisa had sent her most of the music they had recorded reduced to one CD, just for fun. It was the first time a recording company had treated her with such respect and with such consideration. For the first time she had worked for a record producer who made records for the sheer pleasure of it, with no thought for the profitability of the product.

Natasha had an agreement with the biggest record company in the world, a giant that had absorbed most of the other record labels by the end of the previous decade. They had agreed to let her do one project with an independent label, but that, they said, was all. If she did more, they would cut her loose, and would stop selling her other records.

Making an impatient noise, she listened. It was _Träume_ , the version she had made with the Impromptu. It was uncanny how the innocent notes of the recorders changed the flavor of the piece. Instead of the lasciviousness of the clarinets, there was the soft dreaminess of a heavenly scene, where angels flew by smiling and waving. Natasha lowered the lights and sat in an armchair, her eyes closed, her body heavy with a strange lethargy.

As the last note of that _Lied_ faded, before she could wonder what came next, she hear the introductory notes of a duet she had sung with Helen. She listened closely, her ears straining to hear any emotion in Helen's voice.

[ _Lied_ in German means a composed song, or a poem set to music. _Song_ may mean a folksong.]

Those four days with Helen had been wonderful, but they had also shaken Natasha. From the time they had met, Natasha had suspected that Helen was attracted to her. It was only reasonable; men and women alike had always found her attractive. At the convent she had attended as a child, many girls had offered her flowers. It was the proper etiquette to accept, but she had never encouraged them. She had despised homosexuals of all kinds, until Helen had come along.

But Helen had been a perfect 'gentleman', not at all aggressive. She had been affectionate and courtly without making Natasha feel in the least bit threatened. She was fascinating. Her behavior was completely normal and civilized, with no hint of her sexual preference at all, except for when she was with the young woman, Lorna. Even those two together acted very civilized in public. And even at home, they had been absolutely discreet.

Natasha recalled with a shudder her idea of asking to be taken out on the town. If Helen had feelings for her, Natasha, it would have tested her sorely. Natasha still remembered Helen's outburst on the street. To a naïve intelligence it would have seemed as if the offer to kiss Natasha was proof that Helen was falling in love with her. Natasha wiped her mouth at the memory of that kiss. She still felt slightly sick at the memory of Helen's gloved hand inside the vagina of the nude dancer. It had been both incredibly ugly and incredibly fascinating.

Helen's voice throbbed with love... but it was a love song. Natasha could hear the love in her own voice. As a singer, it was impossible to sing a love-song in any other way. The love for a brother for his sister, the love of a girl for her guardian angel, the love of a woman for a man. The love of a maid for her beloved mistress. The love of a young man for the chosen of the emperor. Composers enjoyed writing about love.

_She loves me,_ Natasha told herself. But it is a pure love, not a dirty, sexual passion. She loves me as a sister. As I love her. Surely there was no shame in a love like that?

# # #

Lorna came down to dinner around seven wearing a beautiful old minidress and pajama bottoms.

Rain stared at her, and she smiled back.

"Like it?"

"It's gorgeous!"

"My legs are cold," Lorna explained, slowly bending and straightening them. She picked up James from the pen, and very matter-of-fact-ly began to feed him his jar of food. Rain looked at Helen surprised. Lorna intercepted the look and smiled. "I know the routine from looking after Allie," she explained. She was gentle but efficient, and Rain admired the style with which Lorna did the job. James was soon charmed by Aunt Lorna's ways, and leered at her like a little old lecher.

Helen brought Nadia round, and they sat round the little kitchen table, just big enough for the four adults and two kids. They looked at each other, beginning to realize that this was the first of many days like this. Nadia looked quite the professor with her bifocals sliding down her nose. Helen looked the least glamorous with her T shirt and boxer shorts, her hair still in the clips in which Lorna had done it up that morning. Rain looked tidy, spiky hair pulled back in two little plaits, a heavy high-yoked tunic and cable hose, all black. Lorna looked a little less perfectly turned out than she usually did. Her hair was braided loosely with a couple of strands out of place, but she looked happier than Rain had ever seen her. And Rain began to believe that they could be happy like this.

Helen had just come to realize that she was going to have a relatively easy semester. "Two orchestras and Theory 1! I can't believe it!"

"Then you can help this old crock with her work, Cherie!"

"Of course, Nadia, I'd love to. How can I help?"

"I was just joking, Helen, I can manage!"

"No, tell me. I've been promised a full-time assistant, too!"

"Really? How will that work?"

"I don't know; I guess if I have to be gone, I can leave her—or _him;_ I hope it'll be a _her_ —to conduct the class. Some simple assignment, maybe..."

" _I_ hope it'll be a _him_ ," said Rain, mischievously.

Lorna nodded at her vigorously. "But knowing Helen,..."

"It'll be a student. I don't mess with students."

"We sincerely hope," Nadia said.

"That's _terrible!"_ Helen exclaimed indignantly.

The phone rang, and Helen reached out a long arm to get it. "Hello?"

"It's me, Sophie," said a tired voice. "I want to come home, Helen. Is there room?"

Nadia sat and read the children a story. It was a story they had heard many times before, but none of them cared. Allie nodded at certain points, and James nodded, too. Soon he'd fall asleep.

Lorna was washing up at the sink, and Helen was drying. Rain had put the leftovers in little containers and was busy stowing the dishes in the sink.

When they were done, the three of them looked at each other a little awkwardly.

"I didn't help at all today," Lorna said. "Thank you for fixing dinner, Rain." She looked very embarrassed and very Jewish. "Tomorrow I'll stay home and clean."

Rain looked at Helen. It was not her house, and to tell Lorna what to do would be impertinence.

"You should tell us what to do, Helen. It's your house," said Rain.

Helen sat down thoughtfully and the others followed. "Let's see," she said, "I'll take care of maintaining the house, repairs and stuff. I know that kind of thing."

"Oh, yes," agreed the girls quickly.

"Someone needs to know where the children are, at any time, and make sure we don't forget them," Helen said. "I know _I_ should do that, but... I don't trust myself, and I'll be away a lot of the time." She looked from one to the other.

Rain dropped her eyes. If she did nothing else, she wanted at least to have some control over how the kids were looked after. It had been a shock that Lorna had looked after Allie, and by all accounts, done a wonderful job when she was just a teenager.

"Rain could do that," said Lorna to Helen. "I'll help a lot, really. But she could be in charge."

"Would you, Rain?"

Rain nodded quickly. "Yes," she said.

"Next, what about housekeeping, linen, laundry, cleaning? Listen, we can hire a local girl to come in and do for us. You needn't bother with that."

" _I'll_ do that," said Lorna quickly. "At least until I get a job."

"You don't need to get a job," said Helen firmly. "If you dance, that's different. But I don't like the idea of you working at a drugstore, or whatever."

"Why?"

Helen shrugged. "I want you to keep up with your dancing. You're a dancer. That's what you are."

They stared at each other for a long time, and Rain felt utterly left out. For a few hours Rain had almost thought that they were an ordinary group of people, loving each other, helping each other through a difficult period. Dinner had been almost a simple family meal, a scene from any one of a million non-traditional households. But all that evaporated in a second as Rain felt the strange needs that these two women had. How could Rain have imagined for a moment that she had a chance to hold the love of this unusual woman? All she could do was make sure that her equally unusual children had all the love and support they needed.

But it was getting awkward. Lorna had slowly stood up, and her whole body radiated pride. Helen gazed at her in consternation.

"As soon as I'm well enough, you have to let me work," she said quietly. "I'm not going to be a charity case."

"You'll ruin your legs!" Helen exclaimed, indicating the limbs in question. "Varicose veins... you know what'll happen!"

"I'll find _some_ thing," Lorna insisted. "At least enough to pay for my board and lodging!"

"Whatever you do," said Rain, quietly supportive, "you should keep up with your dancing. We could fix up a bar somewhere..."

"Yes, yes, all right," conceded Helen. "Sweetheart, you know I'd love to keep you with us and feed you forever! How important is paying for your board? Compared to all the suffering you've put yourself through..."

"It's the principle of it," Lorna said, stubbornly. She looked at Rain and appealed. "Tell her. I need to know that I'm paying my way. And I need to repay my ballet school loans."

Rain looked at Helen, her eyes shining. "We can find her a job that won't hurt her legs," she said gently.

"Yes, I've already agreed," Helen said resignedly. "Anyway,... Lorna's going to do the housekeeping, at least for a while."

"Yes," said Lorna firmly, sitting down, her leg folded under her. She glanced briefly at Rain, and Rain thought she saw gratitude in that glance. But Lorna wasn't going to fuss about things like that.

"Then, we need someone to take charge of the food, grocery shopping, preparing meals,..."

Helen looked at the two in front of her. Rain looked at Lorna, until finally Lorna raised her enormous dark eyes to Rain. Her eyebrows rose in a query, and her lips twisted in a tiny sardonic smile. Rain laughed, and Lorna's eyes crinkled with humor.

"I think we're going to share that one," Rain said, smiling at Helen. Lorna nodded.

There were a few more details, but that seemed to be the greater part of the household chores. Lorna would do most of the work, but Rain had slightly more responsibility. Lorna also undertook to keep the family calendar, with Betsy's help. She refused to answer Helen's phone for fear that Becky would call. She'd answer the house phone.

# # #

Sophie arrived very late on Tuesday, and Jim dropped her off at the house. Helen was still at orchestra rehearsal, James was in his high seat, and Sophie was received by Nadia and the girls.

"Where's Helen?" asked Sophie, as she sat in the kitchen, her bag still in the hallway.

"Orchestra rehearsal," said Rain and Lorna together, and Nadia nodded. Allie walked over and climbed on Sophie's lap.

"I'll take your bag up," said Lorna, and tried to lift it, but put it down fast. "Yeah, it's heavy," admitted Sophie, sheepishly. "I'll bring it up later."

"Let's go clean a bed for her," said the girls to each other. They hurried up the stairs, Lorna still nursing her wrist.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know," said Lorna, clearly shaken. Obviously she could have hurt a tendon with her antics over the holidays.

"Where are we supposed to _put_ her?" asked Lorna in an urgent whisper.

"I don't know! She usually slept right in Helen's room, but,..." It had been Rain's idea that they should have their own rooms, and who slept with whom should be something they decided, rather than took for granted.

" _I_ don't care _who_ sleeps with Helen," Lorna said, flushing.

"Oh, be sensible," Rain said gently. "It's nothing to be ashamed of... I'd be upset if she didn't come to me at all."

"Well... there's one room left."

"All right, let's put her there."

_There_ was the room next to Lorna's. The rooms, going clockwise from the stairs were those of Rain, Helen, the children, Sophie, and Lorna.

They heard someone coming heavily up the stairs, and realized it was Sophie hauling her big bag up.

"Hello! What are you two up to?"

"Oh!" Both of them blushed bright red. "We were figuring out where Helen would want you to be put," Rain said, "and this is really the only available room, right round the corner, here."

"I see. My things are in Helen's room," Sophie pointed out, politely. "Oh, I forgot... you must have moved them out, or something. Which... er," Sophie blushed, looking flustered. She giggled in embarrassment. "I'm causing a problem already, yes? You tell me."

"This one, definitely," said Rain, nodding to Lorna, as she pulled Sophie's bag on its wheels round the corner.

Lorna quickly found linen, and set to work making the little room home-like. She scolded herself as she worked for not having done this earlier. "She put me in charge of this stuff," she said, but I never got to this part."

"You've done a lovely job," said Rain warmly. Everything looks perfect, doesn't it?"

"It really does," agreed Sophie. "So she divided up all the work?"

"Yeah, I'm in charge of housekeeping," said Lorna, with just a tad of self-importance. "And Rain is in charge of the kids." She looked at Sophie, challenging her to make something of the implied difference in status.

"Then what about me?"

Lorna glanced at Rain, who shrugged. Lorna straightened up, and with the air of queen dubbing a brand new knight, declared that Sophie was in charge of athletics, parks and recreation. And the environment, added Rain, and they laughed.

Rain began to get out of her jeans. As Rain made to leave, Sophie made an impatient sound and indicated that they should stay.

"I want know everything... I want to talk... I've had a terrible time," she said.

"What happened?" asked Rain.

By the time Helen got home, they had thoroughly debriefed her, and made Sophie feel normal again. In turn, they had had a heart-to-heart, woman-to-woman discussion about sex and love, and tried to analyze what they needed and what Helen needed. Rain had said that she was most interested in the children. Anyway, she said, she had responsibilities back home, and she couldn't be too interested in Helen, or love or anything like that, because she would have to go back some day.

"What about you?" she asked Sophie.

"Me?" Sophie got into her nightie, sat on her bed and studied her hands thoughtfully. "I love her very much—as we all do—I like to have sex with her;" she looked at them steadily for a while, as if she wasn't ashamed of having said that. "I think she will be a great human being, and I want to help her, support her, give her love. Keep her human, when so many things are trying to make her a monster."

They looked at Lorna, who still stared at Sophie in amazement. Lorna wasn't a cynic, but she felt small next to a person who expressed such noble sentiments. And Lorna could believe the sincerity of them.

"I've been in love with her," said Lorna. "For two years. When Lalitha wouldn't sleep with her, I did. I moved in with Becky, and... I realized I was wrong. But I loved Becky, too, at first."

But she couldn't go one. The tears came and they comforted her while she wept. Sophie said gently that they needn't talk any more, but Lorna said she had to try.

"The end of December was terrible," Lorna said. She looked at Rain and tried to smile. "She had come down to England to be with you... I wanted to see her, and ask her to tell me what to do. It seemed to me then that I'd be miserable with Becky, and I'd be miserable with Helen. What good was it, if Helen loved... you know? Anyone else but me. So I wanted to die." Her tears were over by then, and she was more interested in telling the story. "But here I am, alive and very happy. I thought Helen would feel awkward, and Rain would feel upset, but—everyone has been real nice, and... I just live for today. I never think of tomorrow."

She looked at each of them, searching their faces for a sign of understanding, and found it. "You two have useful things to do... the children, Helen; I only have selfish reasons for being here. I love her, and I know she loves me. And I know she loves you, too, both of you." She shrugged. "I don't know what'll happen."

"Do you want her all to yourself? Does it bother you to have... other women here, do you see us as enemies?"

Lorna thought about that, and finally said, "No. I did at first, but not now."

# # #

# Yves's Concerto

Rehearsing the new violin concerto with Peter was easy. Peter understood the sense of the music very fast, and Helen was ready with it within a week. The concert was the last Friday in January. Helen left for Pittsburgh on Thursday afternoon, and rehearsed with the symphony on Friday morning.

It was an absolute hit. There was humor, romance, pathos, sheer high spirits, everything. Helen wore a gorgeous black strapless gown, and her hair had been done exactly according to Lorna's instructions. Lorna had called up a hairdresser in Pittsburgh, and given her specific instructions. They had merely encouraged Helen's naturally curly hair with moisturizing gels, and instead of simply frizzing, her hair stayed put in tight curls.

Helen played like an angel. She had studied the faces in the auditorium unsuccessfully to find Bill Yves. Not inviting him to rehearsals of a premiere of his own work was close to being a breach of etiquette, but the orchestra had pleaded with Helen, and she had finally relented. She was almost certain that she had understood his intentions. In any case, it was a very mature work, in the sense that its intentions were clear in every note. During the rehearsal the conductor had said that it was going to be a hit. "This one will make Bill Yves a rich man," he said. "Would you play it again?" he asked Helen.

"Of course," she answered, without a second's hesitation.

"Well, there you go. It's going to become a part of the repertoire. It's unbelievable! It's going to stun them!"

And he had been right. The slow movement, in the traditional place, was pure poetry, one of the most beautiful movements Helen had heard, 9 minutes of heaven. And the last movement was an incredibly clever _rondo,_ where everyone in the audience was taken by surprise, but knew what was coming along at every moment.

The audience leaped to its feet, led by the composer, whom Helen saw at the last second, right in the middle of the auditorium, dressed in a tuxedo. The applause was deafening, and there were loud calls of _Brava, brava!_

Bill Yves ran onto the stage and clasped Helen in an embrace and kissed her on both cheeks. Tears were threatening to pour down his cheeks. Helen had never seen a happier man!

The applause only got louder, and Helen gestured to the orchestra, the conductor, and to the composer, and called out his name to the audience.

He was so overcome, he had to be shepherded off the stage by Helen.

"Well, how did you like it?"

He sputtered in frustration. "You didn't give me the slightest idea that it would happen so soon! Here I was thinking, maybe March, maybe later!"

Helen grinned. "I wanted to surprise you!"

"You never wrote me, not one question, one comment!"

"It was all perfectly clear!"

He gazed into her eyes, his own full of gratitude and adoration. Helen, slightly uncomfortable, looked at the conductor and the others with them waiting offstage. "They're calling for you," Helen said gently to the excited man.

"Please wait,... I have to tell you how much this means to me," he gasped. He took off his glasses and wiped them nervously. "You have changed my life," he said, emotionally. "Thanks for having faith in me."

"Let's talk later," Helen said nervously, "we better get back on stage!"

There were several more curtain calls, and finally Helen offered to play the slow movement again as an encore. They did that, with the composer on stage. The applause was more restrained this time, but easily as heartfelt.

The Yves concerto became a staple of Helen's repertoire.

# The Tripod

Occasionally, Helen came home early, especially if she knew that Sophie was away. Lorna would throw herself into Helen's arms and kiss her passionately, and would haul her upstairs. Then they would make love, at first vigorously, pounding into each other, and then softly and slowly. Lorna loved the feel of Helen's great heart thudding against her own.

Lorna sensuously caressed Helen's back, feeling the great strength that was there, the muscle, the bone, the beauty of her. And Lorna felt that she had the most beautiful lover in the whole world.

For Helen, too, sex with Lorna was becoming an addiction. Lorna's alarm would ring at four, and Helen would rush to pick up the kids, so that the others wouldn't be confronted with Helen and Lorna having sex in the afternoon.

It was inevitable that, while Helen and Sophie were having highly athletic sex in the days soon after Sophie had arrived, that Lorna and Rain quietly discovered each other. They were very discreet, because they didn't want a big fuss made about it. In particular, though Rain wanted as much sex as Lorna did, she was easily embarrassed. So Helen actually never found out their little secret.

Once Sophie left for North Carolina, the question came up: what would be their sleeping arrangements? At dinner Lorna and Rain kept looking at each other, trying not to laugh. They had talked it over for a couple of days while they were in bed together. Now, accustomed to sex every night, neither one wanted to have to sleep alone. In fact they were very unhappy about the prospect of it.

As soon as Nadia had finished up and washed her plate and silverware, and headed off to her room, the girls turned to Helen.

"Well? Who's it going to be?" asked Lorna, impatiently.

Helen kept chewing her food thoughtfully.

"I haven't decided."

"Well, decide, then. If you don't, we're going to sleep together!"

A slow grin spread across Helen's face. "I knew you two were up to something!"

All three of them slept together for the first time that night. The sex was awkward, but Helen had some idea of the issues. All three had to be aware of the others, so that none of them were left out. If two got too deeply involved, it was easy to forget the third. And then, one had to try and avoid playing around with little snatches of sex. That wouldn't work for Lorna, for instance, because for her it was a long hard climb to orgasm.

So Helen orchestrated the first night in detail.

As they put the children to bed, Rain and Lorna began their foreplay. They touched each other, on the arm, the shoulder, just being affectionate. As Rain put James in bed and talked to him, Lorna stood close, her thigh rubbing against Rain's leg.

Once the house was quiet and everything put away in the kitchen, and the lights turned out, Helen came out of her room naked, carrying a dildo harness with her. The girls gasped.

"Where did you get that?" Helen only smiled.

"Please, Helen, I don't want anybody to get hurt," said Rain, anxiously.

"I promise."

[The details have been omitted; your imagination would probably do a wonderful job of detailing how it went.]

Rain woke several times that night. The wind was so strong that it shook the house, and Rain wondered whether the kids were all right. She could feel the two girls on either side of her; Lorna had put her arms round Rain and even covered the soles of Rain's feet with her own feet. Helen's face was nuzzled against Rain's breast, and her soft wavy hair was in Rain's face.

"Helen!" Rain called softly, "Move over!" She gently shook Helen's arm, and somehow it turned into a caress. "Helen!"

Helen sleepily raised her face to Rain. It was eerily bright outside, the snow in the sky reflecting every bit of light it caught. They were about a mile from where the streetlights stopped just near the College.

Helen was awake quickly. Rain could feel the alertness through her body. Without a word she rolled out from under the heavy comforter and got to her feet in one smooth slow movement, and stretched. Then she softly padded out of the room. She was gone for a long minute, and reappeared with the children in her arms, still fast asleep, and a heap of blankets. Rain peeled away the comforter, but was hit by the extreme cold. The radiator was struggling to fight the cold with only limited success. "Stay where you are, darling," Helen said softly, "I've got 'em settled." Rain could barely see the little ones lying on the floor near the radiator. Helen had put them together, so they'd keep each other warm. Rain hoped Helen had the good sense to prop a pillow between the radiator and the kids.

"Aren't you cold, walking about like that?" Rain asked when Helen had got back next to her and given her a soft kiss and a smile. Helen only shook her head, and kissed her again. Helen's body felt cold and clammy for a few seconds until Rain warmed her up with her own body.

"Thanks for waking me up, sweetheart," Helen said in a whisper. A heavy gust of wind buffeted the house, and they heard a branch of a tree somewhere come down with a creak and a soft crash. She could see Helen's eyes studying her face, lingering over her ornaments. Behind her, Lorna's arm circled her waist.

Rain found Helen's hand and, feeling rather forward, placed it between her legs, and rubbed herself with it. "Go on," she whispered, sliding her palm sensuously up Helen's body to her breast.

Rain woke with their bodies huddled together, but she felt utterly relaxed. The other two were fast asleep, but she knew that Helen was about to wake up. Helen had a sense of Rain being awake, somehow. And she always kissed Rain as soon as she was up.

Helen kissed Rain's neck softly. Her warm breasts smelled of milk. The harness lay near their heads where Helen had tossed it. Rain turned to Lorna and kissed her on the lips, and Lorna smiled and greeted her with a soft, sleepy "Hi!"

"Good morning!" said Rain, smiling.

It was the first of many mornings that they woke up like that, their bodies tightly huddled together. In the coldest weather they put the little ones to sleep in the same room. Rain had wondered if perhaps they should keep the kids enclosed between their own bodies, but Lorna had said that kids needed less warmth than adults. "Their feet are a lot closer to their trunks, see? The blood has less of a distance to go before its back in their chest, where its warm. They get really hot."

"You just want them away from us," Rain accused, rather half-heartedly.

"No, I don't, really. I don't think they'd be _comf'table_."

"Well," Helen said, casting her vote, "we do have heat. It never gets below 50 degrees anywhere in the house, I'm sure; it only _feels_ cold because of all the wind and stuff. If we ever _lose_ heat, we'd put them between us." The others agreed vehemently. "And Nadia, too."

Nadia had said that she felt fine in the nights, but of course she had her own temperature control, and set it to 75 degrees.

# James's Progress

One day Helen announced that it was going to be James's birthday the following Wednesday. James grinned hearing his name. By now he hardly ever cried, rather he talked all the time, words that sounded suspiciously like English. He stood and walked along coffee tables and walls for long distances, and would run to his mother when she came to pick him up at Nicole's. And in those three days, Helen managed to toilet train him.

"Do you need to go potty?"

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

"Un-huh."

"Come here James, little boy." He trotted over, and let his mother remove his diaper. "Let's see you do a nice one!"

This was great fun. With great concentration, James would produce the best he could, and his mother seemed always delighted with his efforts. Oh she'd praise him and clean him up! And the following day he decided that he would only ever poop in his potty. He and his potty were firm friends, and he had to take it to Nicole's and everywhere.

With his diaper gone, he found that walking was easy. In three days he had joined the world of upright locomotion, diaper-less freedom, and creativity in the potty. Life was good. Could it get better?

Unexpectedly one day in early March, Helen received a phone call. Helen was at home working at her computer. It was Tuesday morning, and her first recitation was at 9; it was still just 8. She'd dropped Nadia and Rain off at the College, and given the car to Lorna who wanted to buy fabric for something or other.

"Hello?"

"Helen? It is me, Natasha! Am I disturbing you?"

"Oh, no! How nice to hear from you!" Helen said, thoroughly pleased. She had thought of calling Natasha a dozen times a day for the last several weeks, but hadn't had the courage. "How are you doing? Been singing anything interesting?"

Natasha sounded unhappy. "No, I think the label has been upset over our CD. It is doing too well. Cherie, everyone is buying it over here; have you read the papers?"

"Actually, no, I haven't. See, Becky usually sends me the reviews... anyway, tell me what they say over there!"

"Wait, I have cut them..." Helen could hear her walk over to her little desk. She could just imagine Natasha's graceful walk, with a swirl of skirt about her legs. She could still remember the taste of her mouth when she had kissed her. It was an incident she wanted to forget, but just couldn't. Thank god she had called; Helen had imagined that Natasha was trying to forget she had ever known Helen! "Here they are: 'Mlle Helene Nordstrom...' I will read in French, mon Cherie:"

'Once again, Miss Helen Nordstrom has created a jewel of perfection. This disc set, featuring our own beloved Natalia Zemanova, and Mlle Nordstrom's Impromptu Ensemble and Chorus, presents the most accurate, tasteful and joyful recording of the Bach Weihnachtsoratorium released in this decade, possibly the best ever.

'Using a choir consisting of men, women, and children of both sexes, and original instruments, some of which have been built in Mlle Nordstrom's own workshop in the USA, Mlle Nordstrom creates aural magic. The music is not too polished and artificial. It isn't rough and crude. It isn't restrained to the point of cool emotionlessness. It isn't exuberant to the point of being undisciplined. But it is perfect: the perfection of real, living music. The beauty of adults and children who love what they sing, and love Mlle Nordstrom. Every note, every breath reveals the respect they have for the composer, the music, and each other.

'The remarkable perfection of the ensemble singing of the soloists is just one aspect of the quality of the performance. The soloists are uniformly good, the evangelist is exceptional, the soprano a wonderful discovery, with a pure, sweet and expressive voice reminiscent of Mlle Nordstrom in her early youth.

'For those who insist on value for money, there is a bonus disc of duets by Helen Nordstrom and Natalia Zemanova, included in the packaging. The set is worth the price for the bonus disc alone. I urge you, buy multiple copies of this set! There is no better gift you could ever give than this set! Helen Nordstrom, once again, our hats off to you!'

"Goodness! Which one was that?"

"That was _Paris Match_. The other ones are even better!"

"Really?"

"Helene, it has been going on for weeks! Some papers have given it a blue ribbon; they are not waiting for other recordings! What do your friends in England say?"

"I haven't heard from them!"

"Helen, I am leaving my label."

Helen gasped. That meant that Natasha wouldn't be recording solo albums with her label, AMI. Presumably she could participate in other projects by special invitation, but any projects she had already negotiated would be cancelled.

"Why?"

Natasha sighed. "I have thought about this a lot, you can imagine. The way it is, I can't record with you again. And with them... I have to work with the same old boring people! They have some certain things they want me to sing, and that is all. No Wagner, no Mendelssohn, no Brahms. Just Bach and Handel."

"But your income?"

"I talked to Pierre. He says he doesn't care. But he warns, they will cut my recordings from their lists."

"I will buy the rights," Helen said, making a quick decision. "We'll sell them."

Natasha gasped. It was her first encounter with the sheer financial power Helen wielded. A few minutes later, Natasha became an artist in Helen's own label, and Helen had also acquired the ownership of all the recordings Natasha had made with AMI for half a million dollars, and the right to market them. Many of them had been cheaply made in her youth, with outdated technology, but AMI had chosen not to invest in the expensive process of re-editing them by hand. Marika and Lisa, of course, were delighted with the prospect of working with the original files which had been archived on various media from the late 1990s.

Then Helen cautiously brought up the issue of their performance of the Matthew Passion.

"Of course, Cherie, why do you have to ask?"

"Tasha, this is not the Impromptu Chorus; these are just my choir at the College, all students! We're very rough, as you can expect!"

Natasha laughed. "Cherie, I hope I never become too much of a professional that I cannot sing with amateurs!" Helen laughed. "You know what I like about you?"

"I don't know, Tasha; I'm just happy there is something!"

"It is because you are happy to work with anybody!"

"Why, how sweet of you! Yes, I pride myself because of that."

"When do you want me there? Where is it, really? Is it near Philadelphia? New York?"

It took only a little more than half an hour to set it all up.

All sorts of excitement was in store for Helen. Marsha Moore was the means whereby Helen decided to masquerade as a new, unknown talent, and make a couple of movies in disguise. The unexpected result of that adventure completely dominated Helen's life. The beginning is recounted in _Helen and Sharon._

<<< The END >>>

# Author's Note

The Story of Helen is now complete, ending with _Helen's Concerto._ As an amateur author (to be something which no self-respecting author should ever confess) with a manuscript of some two million words weighing heavily in her hands, I had initially felt great and conflicting imperatives as to what to do with it. At first I started publishing little excerpts of the story, beginning with _Helen at the Beach_ —under a different title, but never mind.

At that time, the ending of the saga had not yet been written. After several little chunks of the saga had been uploaded to _Smashwords_ , the need to finish the thing off was like some psychic urge. So when the idea came to me to set about completing the story—I still had not arrived at the ending—I grabbed it, and on the longest day of 2019, I sent in that final volume of the story, quietly satisfied with how I had ended it.

However, having read the last two installments of the story: _Helen & Sharon,_ and _Helen's Concerto_ over and over, (and discovered numerous errors which I have resolved to repair, but which I haven't) and become bored with reading them, I have resorted to digging bits of Helen manuscript out of various subfolders in order to read them, and have begun deploring the fact that so much detail has been left out, in my hurry to get the _Helen_ story off my figurative desk.

Helen's first year at Westfield (the latter being a fictitious four-year college in Western Pennsylvania) is one of the happiest, most productive, most triumphant, and busiest times of Helen's life. This chunk of story not only describes all that, it also fleshes out the personalities of several of Helen's closest friends.

Given even that she was an entirely fictitious character, there were just _too many_ events that need to be squeezed into that first semester:  
Helen meets Sophie, and Rain, as well as Betsy Schoorman, her personal assistant; Helen is invited to conduct the massed bands of the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, and the Marines; and Helen is invited to be the soprano soloist in _Messiah_ in London.

All these activities are not possible for a single real person, and I should not try to shoe-horn them into the same period of time even for Helen. If they had taken place within those last four months of the same year, Helen could _not_ have been a good teacher; teaching takes time, and attention, and focus. Still, if every month only had _forty_ days, instead of the usual thirty or so, Helen could have managed it. And that's what you have to keep in mind!

However, warning: This description of Helen's life in Westfield has already been heavily abbreviated, to remove the more gratuitous portions of my writing. (Yes, it was even more gratuitous than what you're reading here.) But even what remains is just too raunchy for my tastes, and future editions are going to be further sterilized. If you come across a paragraph that is just a little too much purple prose, just leave the book aside; a better-edited edition will be uploaded later this year.

Kay Hemlock Brown

# # #

